Friday, August 29, 2008

Smeagol? Success?

Smeagol was down at my mom's house borrowing 50 dollars, and he started bragging that he, Smeagol J. Raptor, has been promoted to assistant manager at McDonalds. He then stopped their toilet up, ate some food JJ's girlfriend had foolishly left in the fridge and thonged up to sleep on her couch that night.

I will get more info if you like. How awesome would it be to go complain to Smeagol about the quality of a sandwich. Why is he still making payments on an 1800 dollar car with 225000 miles on it and rusted out? Why did he need 50 dollars if he was making "big bucks niggie!"? WHy did he sleep on the couch at my mom's house? Why did he eat food that had already been eaten on my JJ and his girlfriend, who we all must assume has JJ Jizz taste in or around her mouth?

Who's Corp? Hardcore!

tiny hand grasps schlong
as small boy poops in the yard
at least he hid that!


So I plan to dress up in the tutu and just walk around without the kids this halloween. Halloween has always been a great time, and it made me reminisce about the only good times we all shared in my childhood.

During the 1980s we lived in various places, all of them being in Westport. Mr. Z's was still the most awesome convenience store on the planet, Volker park was where you could go watch the emo guys sit and not care about anything, their dark mascara and popped collars belieing a hatred of their own father, gentle sounds of the Cure wafting up from an unseen boombox as everyone made sure their Thriller jacket was on prominent display...

Wait that is how it still is.

Anyway, Halloween always meant Smeagol would allow us to tag along with him for a little while, at least until his buddies showed up, when he would push us down and take our candy, disappearing into the night. I was 6 and JJ was 4, I was no longer a virgin, having bedded my babysitter numerous times (score!) and was the most awesome Scorpions drill team member to date (more on that later)

We would spend the evening "getting culture" at a local cemetary, then whatever my mother decided we would be we would dress up as, and it was usually something gay, like one year she made us dress up as girls, and not just any girls, hookers (great for a 8 year old, huh?). We would then get dropped off at Southwest Trafficway and 39th, and my parents would meet us at 39th and Rainbow. We were expected to go up and down each backwoods, weird looking house, dirt path, large foreboding faux mansion with the weird guy who had a beard, stringy hair and was a little too eager to give us candy in the region, and we did. How JJ and I, along with my sister, who was always with us, managed to avoid molestation is STILL beyond me.

We would have my sister wait with a trash bag, and go up and down the block alone, trick or treating. Once we finished, we would dump our candy and pretend we were starting over, looking appropriately pathetic and thus getting more candy or other crap. Smeagol would come by, 5 or 6 pumpkin pails full of other kids' candy, and dump them in our bag, push us down again and walk off with his buddy, skateboards and rolled up sleeves in full display. We idolized that raptor, and he let us down.

Once home, Mom and Dad would go through the candy to make sure it was safe, give us each 1 piece, and put the candy in their closet behind the X-rated movies and assorted dildos and such. It usually took us about 2 weeks until we worked up the courage to brave the dildo fields, stalactites of blunt vag scent rubbing vigorously into our clothes as we excitedly clamored over them to get to the candy, and by then Smeagol had already ravaged everything but the damn peanut butter taffy and Smarties...

I dunno, I miss those times... we looked up to Smeagol, which in essence made us lame, but back then he could still defeat us in physical combat, so not all that unwarranted...

Monday, maybe more on other topics, and a little more on drill team.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


Look at Number 2. Tell me that is a hoax.


do you know Hawkwind?
Probably not, me neither...
so how 'bout them Chiefs?

"White men are the natives of this country!" - Random klansmen trying to moisten his sister up I presume.

"You know, I am pounding your hole less and less lately. You're not a gay are you?" - Me, to my wife last night. She informed me that that was one of the top 10 most sensitive things I have ever said to her, and I almost stopped watching the football game long enough to look at her. But then someone threw a touchdown, so I thought better of it.

"Those men wanted to have SEX with me!" Dan Akroyd, 1983 (kudos if you can remember the movie, it was on HBO last night)

"Stevester you are the sexiest fairy I have ever seen, let me lick your Hershey Kiss nipples!" - My very male neighbor after my wife showed him my tutu pics.

"Move it, turd burglar" - some random person in the store last night. Not to me, though, or it would have been funnier.

"You fuckin' go gay to get on Hollywood TV, promote your Democrat politics...." Richard Burgess (Youtube him, it is awesome)

"Let me know when you get it up and I will come down and watch" A federal judge to me yesterday. MMmMMmMmmm......

"Well all I have are these skinny short white ones. Don't you have anymore of those big thick long black ones?" Courtroom Deputy, talking about AV cables but I never wanted someone to walk by and hear just that in my life.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Tylester, a musing

smelly willow tree
why do you smell like 'da vag'?
why can't I quit you?

So Tylester is finally back from Vegas, and he does not look like he had done what I assumed he had, as I had pictured him in a seedy motel room, maybe at the Howard Johnson somewhere way off the strip, unable to afford the good looking hookers after losing his winnings in what he thought was a slot machine but was actually a glory hole, maybe crying softly as he tickled his own stomach with a feather that had come out of his busted pillow, trying to get his green thong to rise for the 50 something hooker desperately trying to make herself look younger and hotter by hiding the nicotine patches, maybe trying to dig her granny panties out of her sagging crack as she throws powder into her armpits every time his back turns, hoping he will not throw up like the last john did when the hair on her legs burns the flesh on his thighs by simple friction alone.

I wonder, when he was at the blackjack tables, did he inform the dealer "I'm a guy" indignantly? Did he tell the hotel clerk "I'm so tired" as he raptor walked up to his room, desperately trying to ignore the stench of failure that pervades that toilet brush of a city like a foul plague hell bent on destruction of all we hold dear in a civil and just society?

Did he see Tom Jones, and think about me? Or even better, Richard Cheese? Did he stop by a Korean restaurant and order kim chi, or even better Taco Bell and ask for fermented tacos in order to get that home-y feeling back?

Did he tell a random homeless person, maybe the guy urinating in the windows he had foolishly left open on his rental car, a "Karawte Man" diatribe, excitedly hopping from foot to foot while wearing a pair of silk burgundy boxer shorts?

Did he look up Grover Pedophile Reeves, maybe feeling a little sad because Sigfried did not show up yet again, and Roy without him was like buying video games for a console you don't own? Did he, like I found out about Smeagol this weekend, lie to his family about paying off a 1992 Honda Prelude and steal his little brother's computer to pawn to make another payment on it? Did he go to sleep cockroach style in a Burger King and then go to the casino with the money he found in his shoes he had put on top of the table? Did he watch the Chief's game, and maybe for just an instant realize that Smeagol's failure can follow you, no matter how far from Kansas City you should happen to get, and realize he was finally, completely doomed?

Cause that's what I did when I went to Vegas.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Quash the Rebellion!

By-Tor, and Snow Dog
the land of the overworld
shall be saved again!

We got another Karawte Man, though I have yet to accurately name this guy. We get a new guy in the dojo, and he has the military haircut and the same look in his eye as karawte man, minus the suspenders, John Deere hat and look of incest in his eye.

Like usual, I am tasked with teachifying him, my instructor keeps touting me as the best at helping our young recruits due to my patients and penchant for copping copious feels all the time. Whatevs, son, I head over and start trying to show him the low level stuff, and that's when I realized... this guy was taking everything WAAAAAAAY to seriously. Like I show him a basic block/neck strike combo, and he flies off with this uber loud "HAAAEEIIIIGH!" and comes thisclose to blowing out my fucking carotid artery. Holy shit asshole! I teach him some more stuff, and then ask (as I do everyone) if he had taken a martial art previously. "Well, I took shotokan and blah blah blah" he says proudly. OK, that's fine. This guy needs to be taken down a peg. Time for some Stevester magic!

I start to show him this roundhouse move, which is when someone throws a punch, you deflect it, taking them off balance, and then roundhouse kick thim in the face. I swing my foot fast enough you can hear my pants flutter in the wind, and stop it close enough to see his perfectly coifed feathered hair jiggle just a bit. He looks less than pleased at this turn of events, though he should have seen it coming, me being a 2nd dan and all. I mean come on! This goes for awhile, our punches and kicks getting faster and faster and closer and closer to eachother, until I notice there is quiet on the other side of the room. We stop, sweating profusely, and I notice everyone else is simply standing there watching us. I think I am gonna like this guy, though he is gonna bite a bunch of nut hits with his propensity to blobk with his legs open.

So we leave karate, and being a nice guy I stop by McD's. I make my order, trying to be as polite as possible because I know what happens when you mouth off to those guys, and my order is messed up. No matter, I have yet to get my order correctly from them, so I drive around and get the other half of my order. I get home, I had ordered a salad, and notice a few things: there is no dressing, silverware, or fruit in my fruit and yogurt parfait. Whatevs, I start eating anyway. I should have stopped when I got to the M&Ms that had some of the candy shell sucked off. That almost made me hurl. But I picked them out and kept eating. I now realise why I should have laid off. At about 5 yesterday morning, I almost recreated the bedshitting incident again. I had to call in all day with a violent case of mudbutt. How the fuck do you get food poisoning from salad?

So I have 2 options: option 1 - complain to management, and get even MORE food with jizz and feces wiped on it.

option 2 - and by far the more satisfying - go wait for some smart ass kid to leave and kick his ass, or get Smeagol hired on there to truly ruin him. The options are almost overwhelming...

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Heard today...

"OK so once I finish loading this can you restart my internets?" I kid you not.

Smeagol Drives Me Crazy

Rolling in the hay
stocking feet, autumn draws near
I poop outside now

So we are driving home from karate class yesterday, and this comes on the radio:

We are all listening quietly for a little while, (If you cannot access this song, it's "She Drives Me Crazy" By Fine Young Cannibals) driving through the countryside, and a little aside here: what fucking retard says the country air is fresher smelling than city air? You always hear farmers and other assorted old people saying shit like "Man, this city air is stifling, I need to get some fresh country air"? Country air smells like horse and cow shit, and I personally would rather smell car exhaust any fucking day of the week.

Anyway, back to the story. We are riding along, when my oldest turns to me and says "Hey Dad, I like this song, it sounds like Uncle Smeagol is singing!"

I almost wrecked the car. We hadn't been talking about that crazy raptor or anything and my kid makes fun of him? I'm so proud!

As an aside, skool starts next week, and I for one could not be any fucking happier about it. Finally 2 of those little jerks are the state's problem from 7-5! Woot Woot!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Firebird and Riviera, Pt. II

Why am I so fat?
situps should cancel out lunch
though gut still jiggles

So there we were, Smeagol once again profiting off of the misery of others (I think the greatest part was that he didn't bother going to the funeral as he was too busy raptoring his belongings into the house), and I felt horrible taking from this sweet old man. I took the room upstairs, it was a long, narrow stairwell that led to a 10 x 20 room that had a closet that opened directly into the attic. The reason I did not take any of the other 2 bedrooms is twofold:

1) Someone died in each of those rooms, and I could never get over that.
2) I did not want to be in close proximity to Smeagol or Mystery or have to smell their funk.

So I was upstairs, cleaning out the attic, looking with sad remembrance upon stuff my uncle had left behind: Wrestling Insider, 1979 edition, with Hulk Hogan, , a Louis L'Anour novel, Split Open Beaver, Tranny Delight... wait WTF?!

I paused, not wanting to see but needing to nevertheless. I tried the Beaver magazine first, since I was assured of at least seeing females. This was disgusting. The twats in here were nasty looking enough (think "seedy titty bar in the desert somewhere with meth-addicted 40 year old crack whore who has a trachea pipe" and you nailed the photos), but there were thick late 70s porn-looking tufts of pube hair that made those vags, not known for being something you wanna stare at too much in the first place, look even less appealing. It looked like they took a picture of an ear in an afro and called it a vag. Not for me... not for me. Plus the pages were stuck together, and that was also less than appealing, since I had to lick each page in order to turn it. (I kid)

I opened the tranny mag, not because I wanna see that nasty shit but because I have to see that nasty shit, it's like Greyskull's leather miniskirt or Enticement: You hate yourself the entire time you are looking, but you cannot turn your eyes away... It was also nasty, the chicks had these nasty fake looking boobs, 5 o'clock shadows and tattoos on their forearms. How could you not know that was a dude?

Anyway, this post is not about my uncle's long lost porn collection (I threw them away, and none of them, including the wrestling mag, made it to the trashcan), it's about the 1973 Buick Riviera.

So we had this pristine, absolutely beautiful piece of machinery in the basement. I know what you're thinking: "Well did you restore it to it's original brilliance and enter it in a car show, win millions of dollars and become successful business men?"


I come home about 3 weeks after we verified that the entire car was in fact all there, intent with a Hayne's auto manual, a 4.88 walmart tool set (the best 5 dollars could buy!), a raw fish to keep Smeagol occupied and my assless chaps on. I went down to the garage, noticing the door was open, and also happened to notice the huge 1973 boattail Buick Riviera was gone.

I stood there, shocked, for about 5 minutes, my mouth agape, sphincter hanging loose, and Smeagol pulls up in his car. He hops out and raptor walks into the house, with a bag from Taco Bell and another from an R/C Hobby shop in his claws, Mystery in tow strangling the kitten she had taken along. Hmmm.... how had he gotten the money for those?

I head in and ask Smeagol nicely where he had attained the funds for said R/C auto parts and taco bell he had already ensconced in a mini fridge he kept in his room when he did not want to share with me.

"Oh niggie I sold that car in the basement, I got 200 dollars for it too! I bought this sweet 50 watt gasoline engine for my remote control car and also some Taco Bell!" He gushed like a real asshole.

My brother, Smeagol, sold a 193 Buick Riviera for 200 dollars in order to buy a tiny gas/ electric engine for his remote control car and some taco bell that ended up rotting as he and Mystery forgot about it and I had no access to it for almost 2 months. Thus started the long decline of 5401 Woodland into the abyss that is Smeagol's failure.

Friday, August 15, 2008

1973 Riviera, 1968 Firebird, PT. I

a nice, cool August
raptorphile-induced weather
could muffles Smeags screams

1968 Pontiac Firebird:

I know what you're thinking: "What the hell do I care about this, Stevester?" This is not a post about this fine automobile, or the 1973 Buick Riviera, but about Smeagol. Bear with me as I take you even further into the thong that surrounds those who enter.... the Raptor Zone.

Smeagol claims he owns one of the above car. The story goes like this: Apparently while Smeagol was living in Tarkio, which is right outside of Maryville, Missouri, he said he was raptoring along a dirt road in the middle of the country, no word on what he was doing out there, so I will speculate he was catching fish by dipping his naked asscheekc into the stream, laying a pathetic-sounding but horrible smelling poot that caused the fish to instantaneously die and lose their immortal souls, which he collected in his last tooth like a raptor Sheng Tsung.

Anyway, he was raptoring along a dirt road, and he says a farmer asked him to clean the bird crap out of his barn. Smeagol, looking like a raptor himself, was well suited to this job, as since he looked like one of them the other chickens didn't raise a fuss as he mopped dookies off of everything with his thong.

When he finished, he went to the farmer's house, with plenty of shit smeared all over his own bird chest, though inexplicably it was not his own (I am making some of this up, if you didn't know) and asked for payment. Apparently, the farmer informed him that while he did not have any money, Smeagol could have his 1968 Pontiac Firebird convertible, which he was using as a chicken coop, nay it was one of the things Smeagol cleaned out.

I have never seen said automobile. Smeagol talks about going up to get it all the time, though he does not have a title, bill of sale or piece of toilet paper with the farmer's name. He brings this up whenever someone speaks of having a nice car, as if he is effectively upping the ante.

1973 Buick Riviera

This is a 1973 Buick Riviera. It is absolutely beautiful. I almost cry just looking at it, and it is very hard to look upon such beauty and not instantly start masturbating furiously.

My great uncle owned one of these. It had 31000 miles on it. It had a 455 in it, and was in great condition, no rust whatsoever. He had lovingly taken it apart and oiled the bolts and shit, and the doors were under heavy plastic and hanging, along with the rest of the car, in the basement of his home on 5401 Woodland. How does this have anything to do with Smeagol?

In 1999, my uncle died of a stroke or old age or something, not too long after my great aunt died in the front bedroom in the house. Smeagol was electric with excitement and anticipation, as he had planned to move in and take over the house as soon as their dead bodies were removed from the premises. "It's a free house, niggie!" He would giggle, his thong jiggling like a Santa's belly.

So we moved in, not a week after my dead great uncle and great aunt were removed from the home, and there started the Reign of the Raptor.

Monday: part II of this story, or I will never finish it like I never finish any stories I start because that raptor gives me too many reasons to post his antics.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008


Wilkinson's maxed out son!

Homeless women? Sad
Homeless winos? funny times!
double standard? Nope

The gay-off

OK so I just finished telling the Tylester about this but figured I would share with the rest of you. THis story is not so much about Smeagol, but the implications are.

It was a beautiful summer in 1997. I was a young lad, full of love and unspent jizms, a private first class in ROTC and a strapping stud on the football field. I went to go pick Smeagol up, he had been fired again for something random, this happened almost once every other month.

Smeagol's job was a breeding ground for Freddie Mercury stunt doubles. Literally EVERY other dude who worked there was as gay as the day is long, and could barely contain said gayness. I have posted about Ted, the super gay football player who would wear his hair in a flip and routinely got arrested for male prostitution, including taking 4 cocks at once in a back alleyway, and TH, the gay guy who looked like Milli Vanilli and was known as a vicious scrapper who would ride your cock after he knocked you out, you have heard the story so there is no need to explain.

There was Don, the gay/homeless crackhead who would literally spend his entire check on alcohol and crack rocks, and this was during the times of the Mystical Retard, who worked down there at the same time, so there may have been a little more going on at that time. Don enjoyed taking it, and telling us or anyone he could corner in graphic detail how his lover for the night slid his cock into Don's unlubed ass, how he enjoyed shitting all over the unlucky gentleman's stomach as he plunged hir cornhole with much gusto.

And finally there was Freeman. Freeman was normal looking, a little soft spoken, 6'3 and pretty muscular. Freeman was in love with JJ. He offered JJ 1000 dollars to come "dance on the table" at his house, and JJ informed me he had planned to go, saying 1000 bux for just dancing on the table, his naivete showing like I would assume Ted's red ass when the cops had to cavity search him, giggling like Mr. Slave as the mag light was shoved into his pooper.

I informed JJ that he was NOT going to just dance, and informed him, as he already knew, that Freeman was gay. I tried to gently press the issue by telling him that Freeman outweighed him by several dozen pounds and almost a foot. I looked at him knowingly, waiting for what was going to happen to sink in. It finally did and JJ is still grateful to me for saving his anal virginity.

Monday, August 11, 2008


coddle my cock, girl!
10 bux should buy more than licks
ask Senator Craig

Today sucks. I am alone and the phone is ringing off the hook (meaning I took more than 3 calls today). I cannot spend the time I usually do building a post, you know, going to the storyboards, creating a rough outline, and then ignoring all that and copying and pasting from the book I am writing because I am too fat and lazy to bother coming up with original content, and since it's true I don't need to.

I saw my old manager the other day, from da Firm, and had an awkward reunion with my nemesis.

Apparently she had heard about the tutu, and wanted photos of said outfit. Who told her? Was it lazy Santa? I don't remember a puce Fiero driving by and hearing a distant giggle as I frolicked, but it is possible. Could it have been Flanders? Nah, I didn't have a cross or rosary on so he is probably still crying while Jesus strokes his head gently, wishing he's shut the fuck up so he can finish watching the Chief's game he TIVO'd. Des? Nah, he is still conducting experiments to find out all the ingredients that go into greens. This is a mystery that I will solve, if it takes the next 3 minutes to do it!

More tomorrow.

Friday, August 8, 2008

I'm Ugly

drink some beer, man-whore!
Tylester dance all night long!
there's party in pants!

I dunno if I have posted on this before, but before and after the crack had transformified my mother into the Mystical Retard, she was a little weird. Known to grab crotches and chests on anything that moved for little to no reason, one of her favorite stories about me is how ugly I am.

She would tell random people, apparently any woman who shared a restroom with her, anyone who would listen, and then they would walk over and look upon me, waiting for me to do something else to boost their ego, or possibly to dig into my knickers and throw shit at them I dunno, I tried that once and she seemed surprised.

Anyway, here is the tale, the best I can recall, as it is usually told out of earshot:

When I was born I had clubbed feet. Severely clubbed feet that were so deformed you could actually touch my heel with all of my toes. Back in those days, doctors fixed that by rebreaking your legs, setting them and putting a bar with some crude orthopedic shoes on you for about 3 years. This would make any child slightly annoyed, but according to my mom and dad, I was the most evil child ever, apparently Omen-like. I didn't cry or anything like that, but I bit and scratched everyone, including my own family, and she said I would just stare with what I am assuming is an awe-inspiring malevolence at random people for minutes at a time. How an infant with a mean look frightened people is beyond me.

Anyway, on to the meat and potatoes of this story: Apparently, being evil was not enough, because I was blatantly hideous. Her favorite story was that she hated breastfeeding me because she couldn't stand to look into my hideous visage, I am assuming so ugly it caused nausea followed by spontaneous diarrhea and anal warts. I kind of doubt the veracity of this story since she also said she breastfed me for 18 months, and if I was that ugly why bother?

Anyway, she said when she was feeding me she would put a book or something over my face to not have to look at me, and on this particular occasion (cue "Family Matters" acoustic guitar "life lessons" music) she was doing just that, doing a crossword or something, maybe poking me in the face with the pen in a misguided attempt to give me ink poisoning (I kid about that), when I apparently took the book away and threw it on the floor, as if to say "look at me", which, I dunno if it is the same with other things, is something you should listen to when someone has your tit in their mouth. Life lessons, write that down.

Anyway, she picked her book up and put it back on my face, and I did it again, and apparently there was this....epiphany, when "I finally realized you were a beautiful baby, it was so spiritual Haggety haggety haggety Haagen-Daas! I'm an orange!" Which is how she ends each sentence nowadays. From then on she always looked upon me with pride and blah blah blah happiness and love what the fuck ever.

She told every girlfriend I have ever had this story, thus ensuring I would never get to mate with them.

Great times.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Why I love

G. Pedophile Reeves
possibly best name ever
sometimes writes itself


If you hate sports, are a woman or Will, you may want to skip this post. WHile you do not need to know anything about sports or anything like that, a very small amount of knowledge for retarded people's love of wide receiver Bobby Sippio will make this post more enjoyable.

I am not going to explain a whole lot, but my name in this thread is Herm's the Man. Herm's the Man is some moron who posts the exact thing on every story (relevant or not) every day on, along with his retarded half brother, Paul Levy. I am parodying his name, but it quickly turns from a discussion about whom the 2nd wide receiver is to everyone calling everyone else gay over and over. Observe:

I know Darling was a big time hitter in college. Let's just hope Carl doesn't blow this too.
Posted by: jimmychiefs

Hey, Jimmy. WRs aren't usually big hitters. If Darling doesn't play well, Franklin will end up playing more. It is up to Darling to keep Franklin in that 3rd spot, not Carl. I can't stand CP and I wish he would just freaking go away. But he won't look bad if Darling can't step up. He didn't throw a ton of money at him.
Posted by: JackMO Rob

I hope "The Helicopter" gets his chance. I think he can be a good reciever in the league.
Posted by:

I wonder if they even gave Sippio a chance...looks like he's a full-time special teams player.
Posted by:

Bring back Samie Parker
Posted by:

I've finally gotten my girlfriend to go braless while wearing a tanktop.
Posted by: KC Fan Stuck in Texas

It was at this point I decided to inject some Stevester goodness into this forum... coming up in a few lines.

Hey texas, I think we would all like to see that
Posted by:

What texas is not telling you is that those ta ta's hang to her knees. But i guess by KC standards thats hot.
Posted by: Aaron

wheres bobby sippio in this whole mix? hes the only one that can catch everything including accross the middle
Posted by:

PS Almost forgot, Sippio cannot play in the NFL. Like him or hate him, it does not matter. Nobody in the NFL wants him, GET OVER IT.
Posted by:

I like how those people who get on here and try to pretend they are above the rest have the spelling and grammar of a retarded middle schooler, no offense to actually retarded people. Also, to those in the Sippio fan club, yes his 31 second highlight reel on youtube looks great, but in all honesty if he was NFL worthy he would be out there on the field, not warming the bench for the first team. You Sippio fanatics are probably the same people who still think Iraq has WMDs. In that same vein, if we had a great threat in Sippio we would have used it already, much as if Iraq really had WMDs they would have used them already. Get over it.

Also no one has any idea whether or not Brodie Croyle is a good quarterback, though the fact that 55 sacks and he is still standing and actually came back for more should quell the yammering from some of you naysayers and prove he is not weak... let's try to look forward to the season instead of whining about things we know nothing about.

And Texas, I got your girlfriend to omit a bra when wearing tanktops almost a month ago, and no amount of therapy or PBR will get the image of those brown bunny rabbits she has in a headlock under each arm out of my head.... ugh.
Posted by: Herm's the Man

Herms the man , Wrong Herms King CARLS LITTLE PUPPET ,Herm has no control of this team . And your stupid Comments are Worthless , so wash the SKIDDERS ON YOUR underwear and CLEAN your Room Sget a life your starting to smell up the House
Posted by: YOUR MOTHER

ah, the first moron gives me ample ammunition, let the games begin:

herms the man -
since you know everything then i guess you shouldve known that the ONLY reason sippio isnt on the field is he doesnt have the break away speed the chiefs want as #2...2nd the chiefs i guess never realize talent till its too late right (examples i can go as recent as tynes and kawika and as far back as JOE HORN) your the moron for just thinking because he hasnt cracked the rotation he must be a jobber or could it just be the chiefs dont know how to USE there talent?

unlike you iv watched more than a youtube highlight of sippio i watched the afl mvp play for the rush living up here in chicago...not only does he catch everything hes never afraid to go down the middle and can throw more than half the db's in the league around to boost our running game...just cuz your all about herm dont hate on people who have actual common sense about someone whos had 1 winning record in his past 2 head coaching jobs...but yet "herms the man" right? gimme a break that guy still has to have one of his assistants keep track of their timeout situations...gimme a break
Posted by: littleitaly

As far as my braless, tanktop wearing girlfriend goes, I was just trying to inject something positive in the middle of all this negativity. But some people just have to find something to complain about.
Oh well...I tried. All you guys who think it's a bad thing need to quit watching football and become opera fans.
Posted by: KC Fan Stuck in Texas

forget wide receivers get Farve to KC
Posted by: jades71

YOUR MOTHER, I like how you insinuate I am stupid and then misspell some of your insult. Bringing my mother into it is also a nice touch. I am sure your guild members on World of Warcraft are LOL at you PWning me, you totally r0XX0rs.

Chief's fan stuck in texas, I sincerely apologize for my misguided insult. I assumed you, like YOUR MOTHER,had just felt the intimate touch of a member of the opposite sex who was not your own blood and felt the need to gloat. Again, my sincere apologies, please post pictures of said girlfriend in said outfit.

And that's awesome about Bobby Sippio. I am sure if he got his hands on the ball he would be a force to be reckoned with, but without the breakaway speed he is as useless as a one legged man in an a$$ kicking contest. The entire job description of WIDE RECEIVER is being able to get away from the gentleman defending you, whether through your speed (Dwayne Bowe), your strength (Tony G), or your plain ol' moxie (Randy Moss? I don't really have an example for this one). Blaming Carl and Herm is not very productive. They are not going anywhere for the forseeable future, much like Carl's 1974 wardrobe. Venting your frustrations out on me is also not going to get you anywhere, as:
a) I don't care
b) I can come up with better insults
c) you look like more of a no talent stooge.
I do not pretend to know everything, and you are seriously misguided at best and one of "God's special little clowns" at worst if you assume since I can spell that I do know everything. Herm sees something in these guys. If they turn out to be simply more in a long line of Ryan Sims, Elvis Grbac, or 95% of the Chiefs drafted between the late 70s and early 80s, then the insults and random dementia spewed forth on these pages by D&D playing no talent armchair quarterbacks is warranted. Until then, shut up.
Posted by: Herm's the Man

Also little italy, there is a huge difference between ARENA FOOTBALL and the NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE. While the NFL has the cream of the crop, higher salaries and enjoys better ratings than probably any other sport that is televised (I have no research to back that up, I'll at least be honest) Arena Football, though sometimes displaying gems who could hack it, is more like the slow kids who ride their own bus with the darkened windows.

I am not saying they are retarded, I am saying they are slower, maybe not as coordinated, otherwise they would be in NFL uniforms or on the Practice squad. I have watched quite a few Arena Football League games, and it is like watching old people make out: sure, all the principles are there, and on paper it should be hot, but in the end it does nothing for you and you know deep down inside that it is wrong.
Also, the "Herm's the Man" moniker is supposed to be a subtle joke. I am not a huge fan of Herm either, but he's here, he's not going anywhere, play the cards you are given or watch another team.
Posted by: Herm's the Man

Herms the Man and his little Gay Side kick that writes comments for him are sick,you need to take down the picture of herms PEEPE off your bedroom wall and get help . Your 45 years old Son its time for you to get out of the House . But one Things For Sure HERMS THE MAN MY SON LOVES SORRY KC FANS
Posted by: Your mother

I don't understand the idiocy I am seeing in these posts by Your Mother and littleitaly. You guys couldn't write a post without misspelling one word eh? Your insults are completely ignored by the fact that you have the intelligence of a fifth grader. Here's a recommendation for your future insult filled posts.. Bring correct facts to the table instead of pulling $hit out of your ####, don't mouth Herm's the Man because he is kicking your @$$, and learn how to use correct grammar. It's sick knowing you cheer for the same team as regular human beings from K.C.
Posted by: Jarrad Page, Eyo!

I don't need help, but this was touching... indeed

Jarrad Page loves it from Herms The Sperm.chiefs suck but you two no that cuz thats all you two like doing ,you two need to quit sneeking to the shed every night and just look back at the last 20 years Carl has built nothing here in kc but a door matt team herm couldent even coach your gay bird watching club thru the woods , and jarrrad we know whos licking your A!!!SSS and balls

Herm's the man and Chief's fan stuck in Texas: You two should get a room and stop flirting with each other on our board.
Posted by: Missouri is still picking cotton

Your diction is a force to be reckoned with, YOUR MOTHER... you should be proud of yourself. And for your information, I am neither gay (though there is nothing wrong with that), 45, or "sneeking behind the shed", unless it is to slop your wife along with the rest of the livestock. I like how you changed your name from "YOUR MOTHER" to "HA HA HA HA HA", causing me to believe there are 2 retards posting here, but also letting your other fans know it is you by leaving the CapsLock on the entire time. As to the last comment, I made no homosexual offers to Chief's fan, in fact I asked to see a pic of his girlfriend sans bra, mimicking the thoughts of what I assumed was an entire forum of heterosexual males.

Like YOUR MOTHER/ HA HA HA HA HA, you have lain open your own repressed sexual desires by leveling a charge that until now had not been brought up, much like half of the Republican Party, who seems to have a flair for finding the "gay" in every situation yet emphatically denying said desires in their own person. I want you to know that I don't see any problems with you or YOUR MOTHER/ HA HA HA HA HA being in a union together, it's one of the things that makes this country great. If you will post the date of the upcoming nuptials, I will bring over a cuisinart or some other long-extinct kitchen appliance.
Posted by: Herm's the Man

GOOD TRY ,HERMS THE MAN LOVER .BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS YOUR show up to a football game just to find a tight end,your mother posted your hobbies shoping for shoes ,getting Your Butt waxed,and Stalking Herm edwards . your 45 and still live with your mother shes said shes tired of you wearing her Shoes . and that you got your dress for next years Draft Party All ready, soon herm will be gone and so will hes little Sperm fan Club ...................................................
Posted by: 9 losses in a row ,Herms the man,the coach with talent on a team that could only pull it...

Your right only a ranting little freak would post the same Comment over and over every day.
Posted by: JD

Finally, FINALLY, someone gets the original joke, or so I thought. THis guy finally realizes I am using the same name as the other guy. Geez only took 2 days.

*sigh*.... really? Come on, this is getting annoying (I kid)... Let me go through your post and help you a bit on your grammar before we discuss your huge inadequacies (get a grown up to read/ explain that word to you, you will hear it often in your life) before I attempt to respond:

"GOOD TRY ,HERMS THE MAN LOVER .BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS YOUR show up to a football game just to find a tight end,your mother posted your hobbies shoping for shoes ,getting Your Butt waxed,and Stalking Herm edwards . your 45 and still live with your mother shes said shes tired of you wearing her Shoes . and that you got your dress for next years Draft Party All ready, soon herm will be gone and so will hes little Sperm fan Club ................................................... Posted by: 9 losses in a row ,Herms the man,the coach with talent on a team that could only pull it... "

OK first you do not need to capitalize every letter and every word in your opening sentence. If you get confused by what needs to be capitalized, ask a 3rd grader. I am sure you see many of them walking by on your way to the Topeka Turnpike tollboth you sweep up every day (good job, by the way - it looks great). So, in essence, "GOOD TRY ,HERMS THE MAN LOVER .BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS YOUR GAY" should read more like "Good try, Herm's the Man lover. But the bottom line is you're gay." I also took the liberty of adding in correct punctuation, as well as changing "your", which insinuates I somehow own "gay", to "you're", which would give off what I assume your original impression was, that I am gay.

You have also failed to read my post, in which instead of positing an engaging, insightful rebuttal to my thoughts on Bobby Sippio and his lack of skills to perform in the NFL, you go after my sexuality, which is fine since that appears to be the only battle you think you can win. I like how if I do not have the same thoughts and opinions as you that must mean I have sex with other men. If that were true then everyone with a double digit or higher IQ would be gay, and that would make heterosexuality the "odd man out"... how's that for topsy turvy?
You, sir, are a moron. Just like YOUR MOTHER/ HA HA HA HA, as well as little Italy. Please stop posting your diahrreal rhetoric on these message boards and go back to your studies. Next one up... "the cow says...'Moooooo'".
Posted by: Herm's the Man

And JD I am not that Herm's the Man. That guy, along with Paul Levy, are the scourge of these message boards. For a fun game, though, try this with your friends: See who can get to both posts first. Winner gets a shot, loser has to sit and listen to YOUR MOTHER/ HA HA HA HA and little Italy brag about their bardric mage characters on World of Warcraft and how awesome they are in the game because they lead the Raznaroth guild before they start making out on the carpet, smelling of old mayonnaise, Mountain Dew and failure.
Posted by: Herm's the Man (but not that one)

LOOKS LIKE ITS THAT TIME OF THE MONTH FOR HERM THE MAN *AKA* HESHE , somebody please get him some MIDOL ,and itching cream for his culo..
Posted by: His EX Boy George

good job you got herm the sperm all upset. Spell this Herm the man LOSER just look in the mirror your poor Mother
Posted by: kc follower

OK ladies Lets talk football Herm half man this is not the place for you
Posted by: Football fan

On the contrary, I am not the least bit upset. While it is a little distracting, reading how so many of you have chosen to use a forum talking about the 2nd receiver to out yourselves as closet homosexuals or retards or both, the dreaded gay mongoloid (I kid), but the fact of the matter is since you have no intelligent rebuttal to my thoughts on why Bobby Sippio is in the first, second, practice, or water by teams, you must "contribute" by transferring your gay tendencies, feelings of malaise, and general loserdom onto me.
I know what you're thinking, looking like a Michael Moore stunt double, Chiefs cap faded and 2 sizes too tight, which you think is cool but is really just sad, maybe a shirt that is 3 sizes too small but you can't pull yourself away from the hotwings long enough to shop for clothes that fit, working yourself up into a froth of idiocy because this is the only exertion you experience anymore, you're a failure in both life and love and feel that attacking some guy on the magical Internets is your way to being one of the "cool kids" again, and losers like you are what is wrong with the stands at Arrowhead. It's the mongoloids like you who whine and complain, spewing out such gems as "Put in and we'll win!" around your hot dog, chili dripping onto your shirt as you wonder why you never seem to be able to attract a mate.
If you hate Carl Peterson and feel that he is running this team into the ground, fine. If you think Herm Edwards is the black version of President Bush, good for you. Post the reasons why and I am sure others would read it and find it interesting. But simply calling those who are not fair weather fans gay and butt-lovers and misspelling everything so you look even more like a choad is not the way to stimulate engaging conversation.
Posted by: Herm's the Man

And finally, football fan, I am not going to brag, but of the few women goodly enough to sleep with me, not one has ever commented that I am half a man. I would like to posit that your wife, or husband if you are gay, would be more than impressed with my junk. I am not saying I am porn worthy, those gentlemen are freaks of nature, but I am definitely not a half man. Unless you are referring to me as an amputee, in which case I hope a real amputee beats the crap out of you, leaving you alone in the gutter, bleeding mayonnaise.
Posted by: Herm's your wife's Man

I know this post is a little long, but I just wanted to show how far the subject has swayed from the original subject, and how proud I am that I riled so many idiots.

If there is more, I will post it, you will read it. Great times.

I did omit a few posts that were not relevant, thats why you will see extra.

More tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008


summer heat, burnt feet
yet Smeagol seems most at home
Raptors just dont burn


So the Tylester and I were at Wendy's, munching down on a salad and a bacon cheeseburger (hey, fuck you, that's progress)and I was telling him about douchebags at the Firm. Of course, no list of douchebags is complete without Grover Reeves (not his real last name, but close enough employees of da Firm will know who I am talking about). THis no talent ass hat was a receptionist for some of our more douche-ridden lawyers in Washington DC, and routinely overinflated his worth both within the company and as a human being.

I will regale you all with the tale, and if you already know it just read and reminisce:

We get this new guy, and a little link to the intranet shows his picture. Like a wannabe thug who just needs love, Grover had cornrows, those pencil-thin mustache and bear highlight things that are the reage with the gays, and shirts that would make any Walmart CEO proud. I had heard he was a bit maladjusted, and this was confirmed not only in the inane and usually nonsensical calls he would post to the helpdesk that somehow only Santa understood, but also in his insistence no one call him by his first name. He informed me on numerous occasions that he would like to be called "Mr. Reeves" as opposed to Grover. Well, a quick check on the Sliding Scale of Importance told me that he was not high enough on the food chain to be a Mr., thus whenever he called me he got a good-natured "Hey Grover, what's up!"

I was telling Tylester all about this, and we were laughing about it, when Tylester wondered why he didn't just go by his middle name. Without even thinking, I blurt out "maybe his middle name is worse, like maybe his whole name is Grover Pedophile Reeves", and with that I almost got soda to shoot out of Tylester's mouth. Since he was such a douche, I am going to put forth the theory that that is the truth, that his entire name is "Grover Pedophile Reeves", and he looks like this:

I would like to post a real picture of him, who could help me with that? Hmmmm......

On another note I will get Smeagol's work schedule and post it here for all to see shortly...

Monday, August 4, 2008

How I feel today...

The Rhythm Method

The wedding day? Set
all guests accounted for? Yep
Is Smeagol there? Nope

So last summer my sister calls me out of the blue. With love in her heart and cheese on her breath she informs me that she is going to get married, and asks that I give her away. While I am truly honored, I know for a fact that her real father was not only not dead, but living less than 50 miles away, so I gently, diplomatically ask "Whaddafuxuppwiddat?" (Desmond ask a black person if you need help reading that, you will know who to ask as he/she will be eating "greens")

Apparently she would rather not have her dad meet her new hubby, which is fine by me bearing in mind certain details about him which I will refrain to put into print. I graciously accept, and get ready to ogle all manner of bridesmaid's boobage, as this was to be a Renaissance wedding, nay one of my very favorite dressing periods: The boobs, on full display, codpieces, mandatory!

Anyway, like all great things in life, this one as well comes with a caveat: I was not allowed to tell ANYONE in my family, as she was afraid either Mystical Retard, Mystery, or Smeagol would show up and she recognized their powers to ruin any social occasion. As far as my mother, she is a great lady, don't get me wrong. But it has been argued by scholars and experts alike that even though she is no longer on the pipe that holds crack she is still as strange as she had been whilst on said pipe. My mom has always been a little....eccentric. Ask Smeagol and that description turns to bugfuck insane. Ask my mom and she will grab your package.

Although it almost kills me inside to not tell anyone, I do as I am asked, and show up at the wedding to also see my aunt, fresh from the incident with the shit on the couch (or maybe not, I don't care to check my dates. I just like bringing that up whenever possible) and in full annoyed-with-whitey mode. I love her for that. Not that I condone it, but she is consistent, never faltering in the onslaught of oppressiveness she perceives, always toiling away in the daily struggle to not fall victim to the forced communication skills her idiot managers try to pimp her out to... even I fell victim to an extent, getting a diploma in communication skills, which did not help me come raise time or at any of our managerial meetings I learned to love and covet, much less when I brought it up in team meetings (though those always led to good times)...

More later.

Friday, August 1, 2008


guzzle suckage, fiend!
taste your better's warm vag milk!
Oh, You Ligget Steve!

Question 1: Why is it now whenever I go to do an office visit they look disappointed that I wear clothes other than the tutu? Do you really want to see something like that all the time?

Question 2: If Miller High Life is the champagne of beer, as the Tylester so eloquently puts it, then where does my favorite, Boone's Farm wine, fit in? Would that be more like the malt liquor of champagne?

Question 3: I was scratching my balls this morning, and as usual sniffed my fingers. Why did they smell fruity?

Question 4: Should tobogganing down some stone steps in the middle of a snow storm in super tight burgundy boxers become an olympic sport? I mean come on, it sounds funny but if curling is a sport...

Question 5: do only gay people and God's special little clowns actually watch the Olympics?

Question 6: Can Smeagol have his car towed to your house? My dad will not let him tow it to his until he pays him that 10 dollars he borrowed those many years ago....

Question 7: Apparently Smeagol works evenings. Would you drive all the way to Liberty just to get a Big Mac?