Tuesday, February 24, 2009


rasta man give up
smeagol done take all your fish
Smeags no give dem back!

That's my attempt to use reggae. Ja mon!

Anyway, sorry about the last few days, sickness is tearing through my house like a realistic game of Oregon Trail, every other day one of my kids, the wife, the dog, random homeless people who had been sleeping in my basement, get struck with cholera, dysentery, consumption or "other". Kinda strange, the other day I saw my youngest son trying to ford across the lake, which as we all know from Oregon Trail is friggin impossible!

Alright, enough with the Oregon Trail references, let's move on. Apparently some of the old ghosts of winos long lost still haunt my old job, as my dad gets no end in joy telling me all about the bummetry going on down by da Firm.

Remember Roy G.? No? He was the homeless man who was one of the regulars at the lovely Town Pavilion, known not only for flashing random people, but for being caught in one of the numerous unsecured back hallways, bent over a railing with 2-5 shitty condoms either on the floor or still hanging out of his ass as another bum drunkenly pounded his stinkhole to oblivion, but you already knew that story.

Apparently, Roy is also known for being one of the more active winos, not only content to shit his pants and wander around aimlessly like the others, Roy knows he wants more out of life. Not content to simply sit in a chair quietly until the next roaming security guard comes by to remove him and then leave without a fuss, Roy is known for farting loudly in said leather chairs, wiping all manner of bodily fluids on said chairs, and then coming back over and over again.

On this fateful day, my dad was the unhappy victim of a Roy encounter, and informed him he needed to go. According to my dad, who is now too boring to even bother come up with a lie, Roy got up and pointed his cocked finger at my dad and made gun sounds, and threatened to kill him by way of nuclear arsenal. My dad escorted him out and informed him in no certain terms that he carried around a 14 inch Mag lite in the middle of the day for a reason, and the altercation ended. Fast forward to yesterday afternoon, and Roy was in the char again (he does this 5 or 6 times a day). Dad told him to get up, he did, and started shuffling toward the door. My dad follows, sure he is going to start a fight (I was going to type 'stink', but let's just assume Roy does that by default), and Roy gets to the doors, spins around, and says in a game show hosts voice: "It TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiIiIIIIme to GO!", shuffled out the door and began urinating in the plants in front of the building. It was probably a lot funnier when my dad told me.

Anyway, back to sickness, it finally got me, I was so sick it was late yesterday afternoon before I could comfortably fart without fear of....you know. I briefly thought about keeping a 2-liter and a funnel by the couch so I could a) not have to sprint to the crapper, and b) have something to brag about when I filled said 2-liter up, but then I remembered Toboggan Boy's 3-liter bottles of urine, filled to the brim as he was too lazy to walk literally around the corner to the bathroom, and I don't want that.

I will try to get more this week, including where Smeagol is and what he is doing, other than trying to get JJ arrested by having him drive him to his PO's office instead of going himself because, and I quote, "I don't wanna go to jail!"

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


what is a grundle?
how funny you should ask, friend!
a grundle's a man's taint


Smeagol is out of jail; I survived the weekend watching my sister's kids, Viggo Mortensons was at my house trying to sell my wife a vacuum last night while I was at karate... I think I own 4 pron dvds that start in just that way!

Smeagol got bailed out of jail by someone else, no help from the Stevester. Not much to tell there, but the funny thing is he DROVE his ILLEGAL car all the way to my little brother's house to have said little brother drive him to see his PO. THis is funny because his PO is on Broadway downtown, and he would have had to LITERALLY drive past the Probation office to get to my little brother's house, but he still thinks it's a good idea. Ya gotta love that wily Smeagol.

You know, I know I have brought it up before, but JJ and I were talking last night about how annoying it is when Smeagol calls because he never gets to the damn point, but also screws up the "buttering up" stage of his begging as well. When Smeags calls, first you are treated to a 15-20 second soft moan as...as- I guess as the strain of holding the telephone up takes it's toll on his frail body...

Then, heaven fuck forbid you should show any hint of displeasure, because he launches into his patented "MmmmMm..... what's wrong, you sound down/sad/in a tizzy (who the fuck says that?).... wanna talk about it?" No. You do not want to talk to a raptor about any of your problems. He will ALWAYS fucking trump it, even with something trivial. For example:

you: "I haven't slept for a few days, I am getting tired"
Smeagol: "I know what you mean, I haven't slept for a week, or eaten for almost two, I also have cholera, tuberculosis and pneumonia from working booty ass overtime out in the snow for the last month niggie, I can relate"
you: "But it's June."
Smeagol: "....listen niggie I need a favor and YOU CAN't SAY NO!!"

Luckily ignoring him and asking why the fuck he is calling gets him to the point of his call: money, a ride coupled with giving him money, bailing him out of jail, or signing your name to some contract so he can skip out on it. I know I am sounding cynical, dammit I just don't care.

Anyway, JJ said Smeagol has taken to calling him up and trying to butter him up by groveling with no sense of pride or self-worth until JJ acquiesces. He said at first it was kinda funny, with Smeagol telling him "You really are so strong I bet you could punch through time" or some such shit, but lately it is getting gayer and gayer, like "You are the pinnacle of manliness, I saw you in your skivvies once and it changed my life niggie!"

I get shit like that a lot from family, it annoys me to no end. I don't need to be stroked- wait, let me rephrase that in case my wife is reading this. I don't need to be stroked by people who are not my wife or her attractive friends just in case she was contemplating a threesome (though, since I can't satisfy ONE woman, why would I want two there? All the literature on menage a trois I read change subjects at that point... it's a conspiracy!). Anyhoo, enjoy today's link, it is completely work safe and awesome to the core: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7809160.stm

If you already saw this, well.... good.

I am working on a pretty sweet scam, and unfortunately for you I am too lazy to start another blog, so I will be periodically (maybe once or twice a week) posting the backstory on this current one...

Thursday, February 12, 2009

KRPTR - all raptor, all the time

it's fascinating
what's pulling Smeagol to jail?
we missing something?

So Smeagol's in jail, and the magical day when I have no intention of answering the telephone draws near. Everyone in my family is scrambling, trying to purchase telephones with caller ID so as not to have to pick up when he calls, completely forgetting that Valentine's Day is coming up.
Valentine's Day, there's a shit-can of a holiday...I wonder if anyone knows the real St. Valentine was a priest who married Christian couples illegally during the reign of Claudius II, and was rewarded for this by being stoned, clubbed, tortured and then beheaded after he tried to convert the emperor to Christianity, probably by trying to rub his balls (I know not all priests are gay, and that most of the ones that are turn out to be catholic, but I was raised Catholic so I feel I can make fun of them, kinda like when you have a black friend so you feel you can use the N word). Romantic, no?

I found out why Smeagol has a warrant in Oak Grove. This is also not his first warrant he has had in Oak Grove, which begs the question "does Smeagol E. Raptor get arrested EVERY time he goes to Oak Grove?" I would like to posit that he does. I also wonder if the police have to take turns arresting him, or if only the senior officers get to, and if they thump him on the head and sprinkle crack on him. I lastly love the idea that he could get arrested and sat next to a real live Amish man (the Amish are thick out there, like the swarthy negros are thick on Prospect. Being a swarthy negro myself, I feel drawn there for unexplained reasons too....), which besides being a great starting line for a joke (you can't tell me "A raptor and an Amish man get arrested..." is not interesting and/ or funny) would be hilarious because Smeagol would insult the gentleman (Let's just call him Jebediah) for living a simpler life, and then try to snuggle up to his beard, which would be most distressing.

Anyway, you are probably still wondering why Smeagol would drive 50+ miles out of the way to Oak Grove, and the answer is LOVE, or rather, there is a woman out there who has agreed, with no chemical or physical intimidations, persuasions, or molestations, to allow Smeagol entry into her love hole. How he met her, I am not sure. Why, I am even less sure. Does he take Mystery and make her wait in the car? Likely. I am wondering if he only got a car to do this.

THis leads to so many questions, the chief one being: am I less attractive than Smeagol? I know, and have known for a long time, that JJ is far more attractive to the ladies, what with his unkempt facial hair, lack of a job, poor grooming habits and bad attitude that the ladies seem to find endearing, but I always held out the idea that I am more attractive than a wily raptor, but this shakes my foundations.

I mean, I know I am married, and I would never cheat on my wife, but I like to think I can tell when a lady finds the Stevester irresistible, and I never get that vibe. EVER. Is it because I'm fat? My wife informed me my penchant for eating 20-30 chicken tenders slathered in mayo (don't knock it until you try it) made her fall in love with me in the first place, and I hear all the time how the ladies like big guys, but apparently none of the ladies I have ever come into contact with have. Does that make women who are attracted to me strange?

Or maybe I am not good at reading women, which would explain my recent Valentine's day/ birthday/ anniversary purchases, but I like to think that just like my dad, I am capable of deciphering the naughty language of love...

But let's look at the numbers of this. In the last 15 years, I have had 5 what you would call actual "girlfriends", meaning I went on more than one date with them and/ or married them, and I could remember their names. JJ has by far eclipsed this feeble number this week, so he's out, but in this same time period, Smeagol has had at least 15 ladies he has wasted his entire paycheck on. This makes me, by far, the least lucky in this, the game of love. Now with commitment, I am far ahead, as I have been with my wife for 10 years or 6 months or something like that. I dunno, I think it's because they both have facial hair. I can't grow facial hair, I try, but all I can do is transplant my very plentiful pubes and crack hairs to my face, which is time consuming, costly and stinky.

Anyway, Smeagol has been maxing out on this particular skeezer (as JJ refers to her) for a while, since that other girl he was paying JJ 100's of dollars to hump on in their living room finally became diseased and informed him she would no longer be accepting his raptor love. She has 3 kids, and probably a husband. Wait a second, my wife has been dressing up a little nicer lately, could it be...? Nah, I would be able to smell the failure on her.

Any takers to run Mystery around and help her bail Smeagol out? You will be required to sign with the bail bondsman, so....

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Same Old Smeagol

call of the raptor
brings failure to all who hear
siren song indeed

Smeagol Tyme

So I was sitting on the couch messing around on guitar last Thursday, totally rocking out the emo tunes, when JJ calls with a warning:

"Smeagol just called and asked if you got paid tomorrow, and then hung up when I said I think so."

I was immediately wary. Could Smeagol be coming over to bum money from me? Then I thought about it and realized he would have to drive past the police station in Liberty, Ferrelview and Smithville in order to do so, and that that was an impossibility without the police noticing and/ or arresting him immediately. Literally 2 minutes after JJ hung up the phone rang, and the onscreen caller ID (nay the only good service Time Warner employs(I will explain later)) displayed that name: Raptor, Smeagol E..

I simply ignored the call, and went back to trying to play Menuett by Bach (it's tough!) and forgot about it. Fast forward to Saturday, and I am in the basement playing a game on the computer, and I have the cordless phone which sadly does NOT have caller id on it. We had just gotten our refund, and I was waiting to go buy stuff I would never use again when the phone rang. Thinking it was my most lovely wife I answer only too late to hear the breathing of something not human, but raptor:

"Heeeeyyyy niigie!" Smeagol oozed, eliciting an unconscious groan from me, which brought out his usual "You sound down, what's the matter? Are you feeling alright?" I used to think that meant he actually cared or wanted to help, but from experience was only so he could get some "juicy gossip" to pass along to the rest of the family or anyone who cared to listen. WHat follows is as close as I can get to what actually transpired, S = Smeagol, M = Me:

S - "Listen niggie I need you to do me a favor' - there was a long pause here, I think he wanted me to answer in the affirmative that I would help him, 'it's real important. I am going to jail in Liberty, I need you to pick Mystery up, take her to cash my check, and come bail me out here and then get me out in Oak Grove".... he kinda trailed off, as I sat there, again stunned. I am not sure why this stuns me anymore, but what reason does he have to get arrested out here?

M - "How many times have you been to Oak Grove?"
S - "Just once, why?"
M - "..." I tried to let the absurdity of this sink in, but apparently it did not. "SO what do you want again?"
S (after an exasperated grunt) - "I am going to jail in Liberty. I get paid on the 17th. I need you to go pick up Mystery in the morning, take her to get my check (at McDonald's?!), take her to cash it, bring her to bail me out, wait while they run an FJC-11 (I know there was a number 11 and the letters F and J in it, but he knew the name LOL) and find out I have a warrant in Oak Grove, at which point they will rearrest me, and then bring her out to Oak Grove to bail me out there."

I told him I would think about it and hung up.

To put this into perspective, He wants me to drive 16 miles to pick Mystery up, waste about an hour running her around while she bails him out of jail, take her to pick him up, watch while they rearrest him in the lobby of the jail, try not to laugh, then follow him out to Oak Fucking Grove, which is in the middle of no-fucking-where, and bail him out again. Oh I forgot, he also wants me or my wife to be the cosigner because "no bail bondsman will trust Mystery and I can't get out on my signature since I skipped out on my court date last time." That sounds like a great deal!

Really at what point do you cut ties with someone? At what point is it no longer enough to feel sorry for them because they are hated by pretty much the rest of the populace? At what point do you look at a turd and say "That's a fucking turd, Bob"? I feel lie I am the main character in "The Emperor's New Clothes", at some point I have to come face to face with the fact that I am walking around town with my schlong hanging out and dangerously close to experiencing anal rape? (Come on anyone who has seen the Brown Bear's tush you know you can't resist! Tee Hee!)

I am NOT going to run that smelly asshole all over town, and I am not going to bail that raptor out.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

damn those cursed Steelers!
they clipped the Cardinal's wings
Springsteen's still alive?

I finally feel like writing again after the loss Sunday, really writing to cleanse my soul of all impurities or whatever gay shit Dr. Phil says...

I think I am going to go through with it. I am going to get a tattoo. Originally, since the word "Bear" has been at least a part of my nickname since I was in high school, I was going to get like a picture of a growling bear on my arm with a caption under it that says "Growl."

Pro: It would look awesome, especially since I have been pumping up the guns a lot lately.Con: It would look less awesome as I became more geezerfied, and it might turn the ladies at the nursing home off to see something like that.

Then I thought about getting a barcode on my chest or on the back of my head, a la Hitman, especially since I started pretty much shaving my head:

Pro: It would make me look, like, moody and dark or something.
Con: A tattoo on my head would get me fired, and with my current skillset the only other job I qualify for is Jizz Mopper.

I might skip the tat and just get Spongebob boxer shorts instead.
Pro: I love Spongebob!
Con: I heard people who like Spongebob are gay (though if that's all you have to do to be gay, sign me up!)

So my sister called, she is in the hospital having another minion (I say that in the most loving way possible), and wanted to know if I would be available, should the need arise, to watch the rest of her spawn. I instantly assumed everyone else had said "no", as the last time her kids came to my house and experienced soul crushing discipline I am sure they vowed to never return except to break my own children free from my iron totalitarian grip.

I think the worst part about this whole thing, before I get to the real meat and potatoes of the story, is that for all his other flaws, I hear Smeagol is an excellent babysitter. I am not joking. JJ tells me when he drops his daughter off there Smeagol treats her like a little princess. I assumed that meant he tried on her clothes and ate the snacks he sent over while she stayed locked in the tower, but this time I was happily disappointed. Smeagol seems to genuinely care about children, just so you know, Max, if you ever need someone to watch your kids, he is also pretty cheap, unlike when he needs a ride somewhere and not only does not pay you but asks you for gas money even when he does not have a car... which is weird.

Anyway, you would think with his record of excellent child care, coupled with him living closer to her than me by about 10 miles, and you would think she would jump on the opportunity... sadly, not to be.

Anyway, she informs me that since she is in the hospital, she put some testing strips and such on like craigslist or ebay or hornygrannytranny.com, I dunno. So some guy calls her and offers to buy some of the strips, and she gladly accepts.

He shows up, and she said he was some huge black guy (zing!) and he has a minor league football hall of fame ring on. His name is Ron (I forgot the last name) and she said he told her he was at the Sprint Center talkifying with the Chiefs. Since he is in the hall of fame, I am assuming he was not talking to them as a player, but as a coach. Or a janitor. Could this be a Rooney Rule interview, or is Scott bologna pony Pioli up to some sassy kinda classy tricks? If he gets hired, you heard it here first, bitches!

Also, she said he was looking for linemen to play for the Kansas City Jazz, and gave her his card to give to me upon her description of me (I can only assume the description went like this: "the color of sweet mocha, but not tanned; firm, supple thighs and a chiseled fat ass stomach.... slightly retarded face and a barrel of a chest; thick of muscle and strong of cock")

I am probably not going to call him, though the chance to relive my glory days now that I am taking care of my diabetes would be awesome I am not sure whether or not I would physically have time to do anything... and I doubt the Kansas City Jazz only has practice like twice a week and would all work around my already hectic schedule.

Still, it would be nice, right? Hitting people in the face and having adoring fans cheer, stomping on opposing team players' hands as they lay prone from a bone-wrenching hit; farting while at the bottom of a dog pile and letting the essence waft up.... great times.