Every Battle Is Won Before It's Fought

Jon and I like to have fun with this blog, and although our readership is minuscule, we do this for your benefit. So after my holiday post I feel it important to make this post. It's 1:15 on Christmas night... or more like 1:15 in the morning on Boxing Day. I didn't go to church today, but I spent the whole day with my family and sending Christmas pleasantries with my friends via texts and calls. I take this opportunity to say, Merry Christmas to you. CHRISTMAS. Not happy holidays. Whether you are Christian, or not you have to understand that the reason that you have a tree in your house, and that your received presents from loved ones today is because that Jesus Christ was born today. Or at least we've chosen this day to celebrate His birth. Love Him or not, believe in Him or not, without Him there's no Santa Claus, there's no egg nog, there's no nothing without Him, or the people who still have the balls to say they believe in and love Him. I say this for the simple fact that when I see a Jewish friend around this time of year I make it a point to say Happy Hanukkah. Because, after all it is Hanukkah time and I respect faith. If I see a Wiccan, after I stifle my vomit, I say Happy Solstice. Because I respect faith. When I see someone around Christmas, I as a Christian, am inclined to say Merry Christmas, just as the Wiccan is inclined to say Happy Solstice, or as a Jew is inclined to say Happy Hanukkah because it is something they believe in. Do I hold belief against someone if it is different from mine? No. I hear alot of keep Christ in Christmas talk. That's fine. He belongs in Christmas. The fact of the matter is that Christmas has taken on a mythic position in the minds of all. We're all a little nicer, and maybe we give the Salvation Army Santa a fiver instead of the dollar we give to the war vets who then hand you a cray paper flower. I say it is time to respect what the meaning of Christmas truly is. A time where we all realize that we are human beings with flaws, shortcomings and not all of us drive luxury cars. A time where I realize that alot of people don't have a beautiful Christmas tree next to them as I do, people who don't own a computer to blog on, great friends who would crawl for hell through them as I have, and a family that stands as a standard against time who's love is truly divine as I believe I have. Those people who don't... they need Christmas. We like it, they need it. Don't take Jesus out of Christmas. If we do, we eventually lose all of what Christmas means, as it is and is always, a very slippery slope. So I say to you as a Roman Catholic, Merry Christmas and glory to the world, as we have been given not only a Savior, but a time of year where we care a little bit more. If that isn't a product of the divine... well I really don't want to think about that.

Merry Christmas from Jon and John. Try to keep it through the year... you might surprise yourself.

Happy Holidays from the Lovely Bastards

Merry Christmas from Jon and myself. Probably won't be blogging between now and ol' Xmas so let me take this time to say... Enjoy your fucking egg nog and your over-cooked turkey. I hope your tree doesn't catch fire in the middle of the night on Xmas Eve and burn your house down. I truly wish that you aren't arrested for drunk driving on Xmas morn and raped by trogaladitic mongoloid inmates on Three Kings Day. Have a wonderful Kwaanza and any other bullshit, made up holidays that you feel important enough to celebrate. I know that this year I am truly looking forward to Crum Day, the day on which you profess your love for your family by eating cheesesteaks and drinking copious amounts of whiskey. May your Chanukkahdhsahjklfsd be filled with the glory of cheap oil heating, as it is this miracle which kept the Jewish people in affordable housing with utility costs at a bare minimum. All you lovely Wiccans out there... well... just die, please, seriously you're pathetic. Go read your "Cathy" comic strips and drink Chai Lattes until your gout finally claims your right foot and you have to hobble around like a chunky disabled witch. I'd sooner believe in the power of Dumbledor than the power of chanting nonsense words in a basement of some spinsters house while Enya endlessly drones on in the background.

Let me end this by paraphrasing the immortal words of The Night Before Christmas...

To My Dear Children, Love... Dad.
"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
and I was upstairs backdooring your mother, and pulling her hair.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I pulled out of ol' mom to see whats the matter?
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
my boner regally poking up against the glass.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but some fat fucker in a red suit chugging a beer.
The moon on the crest of the new fallen snow,
made me realize that tomorrow I'd have to shovel and that just blows.
More rapid than horses his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On Slippy on Drippy on Gassy and Faggy,
on Dermot on Mongo and move your ass Mackey Sasser,
to the top of the house to the top of the wall, now dash away dash away
do it you fuckers!
His deer didn't look healthy and neither did he,
his clothes were all sooty and he was covered in piss. (Thought I'd say, 'pee' didn't ya?)
Snot was running all down his 'stache and his pants were worn away
at the seat of his ass,
His bag of toys was a joke as it was all filled with trash,
and he referred to Mrs. Claus as, "his old, whiney gash"
Santa said I, what the fuck bro?
He looked at me and told me where to go.
He turned and he farted and pull out his hog,
he pissed on my tree and shit on my dog.
He threw some crap into the stockings,
coughed violently for a minute and vomited from hocking.
Santa, do you need some help? I exclaimed
"I don't need your help clown, now get back upstairs,
finish banging that broad but go easy on the hair."
The next morn we woke up to find the presents all there,
but so was Santa as he had passed away on the stairs.
The tox report said that he'd been on ludes and blow,
and the cold air didn't help nor did the snow.
But I'll never forget the last thing he said as turned with a wink,
"Merry Christmas you jagoff, go puke in the sink."

The End

Happy Holidays!!!

The Lovely Bastards Speak!

Join the Lovely Bastards as we exploit the world of podcasting with special guests Alex T, Sweet Daddy Wargs & play "Where In The World Is Jayson Sandiego" with Jayson Smuckface.

Click on the icon to play...

2009 : A Baseball Odyssey

Ok, so let me start off by congratulating the New York Yankees, the greatest team in the history of sports... the most wonderful group of human beings on the planet for their victory over the Phillies in the 2009 World Series. Phillies? Yeah... I want to root for a team named after a female horse. Blow me Jimmy Rollins, you are an idiot. Moving along, I want to convey to you dear reader, what it's like watching a baseball game with my friends. It is exhausting, angering and utterly disgusting at times. I watched the majority of the Yankee games I saw this season (probably close to 145-155 if we're counting radio broadcasts and blackberry alerts) In my own home. The rest of them, I'm gonna say maybe 35, at my friend's house. Lets call him Ray. That's alot of baseball to watch with someone who asks questions like, "are they playing at home right now?" Most of the time, I just shrugged the questions off and enjoyed the game, but after a while it got painful at best.

I don't pretend to be the biggest Yankee fan in the NY Metropolitan area, I am the biggest Yankee fan in the NY Metro area. I live and die with this team and have since my first game at the old stadium against Cal Ripken's Orioles in July, 1990. My Great Grandfather called a game with Mel Allen in the late 1940's, at Yankee stadium, in the booth. That's fucking cool. Needless to say, I am a bit obsessed. Sportswise, I enjoy football. Basketball is alright if its the playoffs. Hockey is cool live. Soccer isn't a sport, its a torture, but baseball, in my eyes, is the greatest game ever devised on this planet. The timing, accuracy and pace are pure perfection. Ken Burns put it best, "It is a leisurely game, that demands blinding speed. The only game, where the defense has the ball." Ok now that you understand where I'm coming from, you will see why Ray, our other friend Gill and Gill's dog, Flerberus made my post season a living hell.

I love my friends. They are great and I depend on them, I can only hope they look at me as someone they can depend on. Watching baseball with them though, well that's another story. Here are a couple instances from the 2009 post season which made my blood boil. Everything in Quotations is from the lips of Ray, Gill and Flerberus.

1. "Ok so wait, why is Jeter out?" Well, because he bunted it foul for a third strike. "But it went foul." Exactly, that's a strike. "I know bro, but it's a foul ball." Yes, but it was a fucking bunt... when you bunt it foul for a third strike, you're out. "Since when?" SINCE BASEBALL WAS INVENTED IN THE 19th CENTURY. "Calm down, I just didn't know."

2. This ump isn't giving Pettitte any room to breathe tonight. "Yeah well I mean shit." ..... Yeah, well? "Well what?" What do you mean? Do you think he's not throwing strikes or... just not getting the calls? "Either way dude." (I don't need to explain why this is aggravating.)

3. "Bro don't even worry I'm getting like 50 wings in about ten minutes, so we can just eat em and then get all drunk and fucked up" That's not the point Gill, we need to wrap this up tonight, I can't take another night of this stress. "Whatever bro its whatever, I mean shit we can win it at home, and so what if it goes to seven games dude, the Yankees always win game 7 at home, you know that." Um, the Yankees have never played a World Series game 7 at home. "Well whatever bro I mean seriously dude, its gonna be fine dude, we got CC going Wednesday." No we don't, its Pettitte on short rest. "Well whatever bro, I'm gonna go get the wings."

4. "Woof." Shutup Flerberus.

5. "When the Yankees win tonight..." - FUCKING JINX. Didn't these idiots ever play a sport before?

6. (I just pulled up to my friends apt. about 15 minutes into the 1st inning, Game 5) Why are you guys out here and not watching the game?? "Flerberus beefed pretty hard dude, we can't go in there right now." Wait, we can't go in because your dog farted? "Yeah bro it was pretty gnarly, he's been eating alot of cheese an shit recently." This is fucking stupid dude, I wanna watch the game, that's why I came here in the first place. "Well it should be kosher by the bottom of the 2nd at the latest."

Ladies and gentlemen, the problem here is that Ray claims to have played baseball as a kid so his questions about rules and the like are even more absurd. Gill likes the Yankees if they're in the playoffs. Palex Mudor, my other friend was there for a couple of games but he kept quiet and enjoyed the baseball. Thank you Palex. Flerberus is just a fucking goon who was put on this Earth to eventually eat Gill's dead body after his girlfriend inevitably shoots and kills him. The Yankees won though, and it was a fun post season I guess. Next year if the Yanks are good and lucky enough to get back to the tournament.... I may just catch the games at home.

Getting To Know Me...

So I've been blogging in some form for a while now and I feel I have failed you the reader to get to know me. With that said, I'm finally submitting my staff biography here at The Lovely Bastards...enjoy!

"Both as a wannabe graphic designer and co-author of this blog, Jonny F is a lifelong problem solver. Companies and semi-professionals of all ilks turn to him for help resolving their graphical and assorted nonsensical concerns. A human being in Connecticut for nearly 27 years, he knows the state's alcohol and Italian cuisine infrastructures in depth. Drawing upon his extensive knowledge and his knack for creative thinking, he prank-calls local laughingstock John “Beatboy” Melnicough on a weekly basis recurrently making fun of the same incessant individuals, oft “beating a dead horse.”

Mr. Jonny’s life encompasses virtually any type of dispute, whether between associates or involving outsiders. Mr. F cut his teeth in the schoolyard, being bullied and picked last in the “gym room”, making him bitter at individuals better suited for success than he. Through the years, he pigeon-holed his life to where it is today. While drinking and pointing out the shortcomings of others remain key areas of his focus, he now represents a wide variety of losers in a vast array of matters. Of particular emphasis to him are sleeping, eating, doing the same routine at the gym, spend money he really does not have and sabotaging any relationship he could potentially have due to his crippling fear of commitment and monogamy.

As his practice has grown and diversified, so has his involvement in community affairs and state and local politics. Mr. F sits on the board of directors of 4B Land-trust Foundation of Connecticut, Local 12 of the Ball Buster’s Union, The International House of Sauteed Onions, and Greater New Haven Alchemist’s Aid. He is extremely inactive in many local non-profit organizations, and has written many articles including Short Arms, Deep Pockets: I Need a Tax-Write-off, Okay? and Volunteerism Only Masks Your Deep Insecurities and Constant Need for External Approval.

Growth and diversification likewise characterize Mr. F’s leadership of the firm as its managing partner. He has been instrumental in helping The Lovely Bastards become one of Connecticut's leading organizations in underachieving. Under his management, the firm significantly lessened and weakened its practice areas. His lack of commitment to community has been a catalyst for the firm's greater captivation in doing absolutely nothing. Additionally, he was recently elected to the Bridgeport Bar Association with limited access to sleep on hardwood floors when applicable.

For his clients, Mr. F’s experience is key - experience in the lunchroom, in the bathroom and in the bar. Clients know that these elements add up to a man they can barely trust to solve any business problem they face, all the while keeping in mind what great hair he has…"

Thanks for reading,

-JF

Labels

First off, let me say that the amount of emails Jon and I have gotten in this unannounced, "off-season" have been really obnoxious. We are busy, just give it some time and we will post. Anyway... hi. So one thing that I have been struggling with lately is the fact that everyone and everything is ascribed a label these days. Nerds are "gamers." Really? I thought they were just dorks who were better at fake situations and using their thumbs than real situations and using their dicks. Closet homosexuals are now, "hipsters." Complete with their own clothing, bicycles and slang. Here's one for ya brah.... hey bro wanna dip down to the corner alley and give each other blowjees? It'll be hella sick. AIDS may not be such a bad thing.

I am at my wits end with all this bullshit. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to kill someone for the simple fact that I can tell they have something like Coldplay, or Frou Frou playing on their Ipods. Fuck this, I'm done writing. Just wanted to let our thousands of fans know we are still alive. I love you all.

5 People You Don't Wanna Leave Your Kids With

Its a fucking jungle out there. Or so the story goes. Anyway, I was thinking about kids the other day, and more to the point my kids (if I ever have any) and I wondered what my screening process would be for babysitters. Everyone is pretty messed up in one way or another, but who would be the MOST messed up? That's who I'd pick. Toughen them up young, I don't want some whiny crybaby who is going to throw a fit every time I say the word "no." Without further ado... here are 5 people that YOU don't want to leave your kids with. Some of them are dead... but you get the point.

1. GG Allin Well just take a look at that picture. It says it all. Alot of people don't know who GG Allin was, and thats kind of a shame. I'm not going to describe exactly who GG was, but lets just say that if you went to a Murder Junkies show in the late 80's or early 90's there was a good chance you would either get raped (orally, vaginally and anally) beaten to within an inch of your life, or had piss, shit, blood and cum thrown on you by that guy right up there. So yeah leaving your kids with this guy would be a bad idea. Oddly enough, GG had a daughter. She's off the grid and with good reason, so we're not sure if she's started raping people yet, but we're almost positive shes thrown piss on at least one person. Oh and GG is dead, but I'm guessing you wouldn't wanna leave your kids with his ghost either.

2. The Character, Vern Schilinger from the Show Oz

Ohhh yeah you remember this guy. He raped Beecher and then carved a swastika into his ass with a red hot ball point pen. NOT a good guy to leave your kids with. Now there are two schools of thought here... Mine (the right one) and Yours, the reader's (the wrong one) Mine goes as follows: with the way the world is going and the direction this country is heading in, it might not be bad for a tyke to learn how to survive in prison, or at least how to make a shank. Yours goes like this: oh boo hoo I need another latte, little Piearson and Madison need to be taken care of when I'm out taking my daily constitutional, oh my stars boo hoo. You fuckin' pansy. But no seriously folks, don't leave your kids with nazis.

3. Lt. Dan TaylorI always liked this guy. Even in Ransom. Sinise is a good actor but Lt. Dan would be awful as a babysitter. Not because of his drinking, or his penchant for banging strippers, or his dirty appearance... but because he wouldn't be able to get around that easy and what if your kids decide to play in the stove? His wheels could get caught on something. Don't leave your kids with Lt. Dan or anyone else in a wheel chair.

4. Janeane Garofalo

Somehow she'd figure out a way to turn your kids into lesbians. Even if you have boys. There is something about this woman that just makes me queasy. She's not funny, attractive or important in any way shape or form in the entertainment business. She's a superfluous jerk. If you left your kids with her for a couple of hours they would instantly lose any future in having a sense of humor. Sometimes I think this woman was spawned just to remind us from time to time that there is always someone worse off than we. I know she has more money than me and that shes a C maybe B list celebrity but I can say without a doubt that I'm better than her. So are you. So are we all.

5. Me

Look at how regally my ascot is tucked into my waistcoat. Sheer poetry in clothing. Anyway no really I suck at watching kids. I was a camp counselor for about 5 years too... that didn't help anything. I used to play a game called "executioner" with my kids where everyday I'd select one of my campers to be my "hitman" and throughout the day we would pick out campers at random, take them about ten feet away from the group, make them kneel, execution style, and he or she and I would whip dodgeballs at the back of the kid's head - much to the delight of the other campers. They actually loved the game, and I got a kick out of throwing dodgeballs at kids. It was win win. I think one of the reasons that I don't think you'd want me to watch your kids is because I really don't like them. Maybe when they're my own I'll change my mind but I really doubt it. So I guess I am going to have to pawn them off on my parents until they reach an age when I won't find them so annoying... maybe around 23. Then I'll do the whole father thing with them. At this rate, I'm not worried about it because I don't even remember what a vagina looks like.

Woe is me.

I'd Run The Gamut If I Knew What The Fuck a Gamut Was

Apparently, a gamut is every note in a hexachord. Great so what the hell is a hexachord? Please don't respond with the answer. Fact of the matter is that everywhere I go during the course of a regular day I am confronted with someone, or something, or someplace which claims to be an expert. For instance; Wendy's. Wendy's has the bacon cheeseburger market cornered. On their high deceptive menu I see at least 10 different sandwiches I can purchase. At least 8 of them have bacon on them. OK I get it, you like bacon. You know that we like bacon. So lets just bask in the greatness of your marketing department who after painstaking research have finally understood that the American people like bacon. That would be like Playboy coming out and giving us new and exciting ways to jerk off. Maybe if you slap your swinebeast between a bun with lettuce and ketchup you'll achieve the greatest orgasm of your life.

Bottom line; I am sick of people marketing things to me that I already know I like. I am also pissed that I am dim-witted enough to buy into the bullshit. I like being clean... but Axe makes you so clean that an army of women will wash me down. I like driving my Volkswagen.... but Volkswagen reaffirms my allegiance to their company. I like beer. Budweiser tells me I am right. Thank you faceless company, life was almost not worth living until your commercial reaffirmed my correctness. I love life. Thank you God. Thank you God: that should be enough. But it ain't. How far have we strayed as a people that non-sequitors become benchmarks albeit subconscious, in our own personal lexicon. I feel like yelling, "just do it." Just blow me. When I'm done, clean me with a warm towel. Only if it's sporting the swoosh though.

Well I suppose that is the nature of life. If it were as cut and dry as we would all like it to be, we would be able to order a cheeseburger, and decide if we want bacon when they ask you, "what would you like on that?" But we're too stupid. They have to show us a picture of a cheeseburger with bacon to remind us that we like bacon. Maybe we all have too much to think about, and this is the product of it. I doubt it though. Fact of the matter is... they realize how stupid we are. They make money off of it. In the end, we're all a little more idiotic, but at least we're eating the burger we wanted. Or at least the one we saw in the picture. Isn't that the point?

Hip Hop Once Saved My Life

Dear Children of Today,

You might hear some of us older (25 years+) fans of the rap genre clamoring for the days of yore as it pertains this creative outlet of artistic expression. Names like Gangstarr, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest and even the Wu-Tang Clan likely mean little to you. If you are reading this, you probably want to know what it was really like. Well kids, this was hip-hop as we all knew it:



If this music video teaches us anything its:

1) You can walk into a complete stranger's house and "rap" your way out of a breaking and entering.
2) Other than the obviously necessary bling and fly kicks, you can "flow" your way into taking whatever you want.
3) DO NOT include your ulterior motives in your rhymes.
4) Have fun!

Make sense? Long story short, my great grandparents might not have been too keen on Elvis' "crazy" (at the time) dance moves, my grandparents probably didn't "get" The Doors, my dad doesn't see the skill in rapping spoken word over a sample and I don't enjoy the new music with the auto-tuner in every song (although I feel my generational gap of good music has ended way too early). Every generation, by and large, dislikes the current trend and clamors back to the old days. Unfortunately, I have to come to grips with this at the age of 26. Can't music just be yabba-dabba delicous forever?

-JF

Flops

Recently, while on vacation I noticed a new trend which seems to be all the rage amongst young women these days. Let me set the scene for you ; walking down the street with my friends on our way to whatever bar looks like the most appealing, dressed well and looking not too shabby for a crew of drunk assholes, we spot a group of girls heading towards us and from a distance and they look great. Then we get closer and I notice that they're out looking for the same thing we are... which not to put too fine a point on it, is sex or any number of sexual activities that will eventually lead to an orgasm. Get a little closer and now we can see that theyre dressed to kill. Expensive dresses, makeup, hair, the whole nine yards. Basically they put some time and effort into looking the best they could for their night out. And then we notice it. They're all wearing flip flops. Did I miss something here? Or more importantly... didn't you miss something ladies?



A couple of months ago I posted about how I think it's ridiculous that women put so much emphasis on getting pedicures. The fact of the matter however, is that pedicures are apparently mucho important to alot of women. That's fine. So when you wear flip flops on a dress to impress night, what are you telling the world exactly? Last night while at a bar I asked the bartender whom I'm friendly with about this whole thing. Without missing a step she said, "Oh you mean dressy casual?" What the fuck does one thing have to do with the other? If I go on a job interview and wear a jacket and tie, you better believe I'm not gonna wear flip flops. So where the hell do the flip flops come in? Who decides this crap? Also... flip flops are annoying. Shoes are meant to keep feet warm and away from broken glass, not to announce your presence five steps before you get there. It's just lazy. Girls, you look stupid when you wear them with some five hundred dollar frock.

The other trend that I've noticed which isn't as bad as the whole flip flop thing but pretty close, is the apparent desire of young girls to walk around looking like Roman Centurions. It is the complete opposite of the lazy chicks who decide flip flops set off the final touch on their outfits. These women are telling the world that not only are their feet fantastic, but to frame that splendour (notice the brit spelling) with the most intricate leather-work sandals imaginable is the only way to go. (Girls thought process) - "I really wanna meet someone tonight, so I'm gonna go for the sexy casual look by way of Gladiator." Ladies, guys don't want to date a girl who looks like she could be pulling an oar on a galley, leave the sandals back in the 1st century where they belong.

In the end, I know absolutely nothing about fashion. I can look good if I try, but most of the time I just bum it. Unless I'm heading out to nice places. So I don't know what women should wear on their feet that would be sexy and not obnoxious. That's where fashion designers come in. They're falling down on the job. Don't even get me started on Uggs.