I realized today, as I scrolled past a barrage of Drudgereport headlines reading “Massive Waves of Rockets Strike Northern Israel” and “300 Killed, 1,000 Wounded” and “Iranian Missile Surprises Washington,” only to click on "Man Catches Fish with Human-Like Teeth," that I don’t really care. I Really don’t have anything else to say, mainly because I don’t care enough to say it. That fact of the matter is, if you’re foreign, I don’t care about you. If you’re from a different state, I don’t care about you. If you’re from a different neighborhood, I don’t care about you. And if I don’t know you, I don’t care about you either, unless I can make money off you someday. Pretty much if everyone on earth was killed except my friends, all women from Miami, some guys who know how to make beer, all the puppies of the world, my acquaintances down at the Asian massage parlor, and their illegitimate young Asian sons, I would be fine.

And just to stir things up in the middle east, here is a picture of the Profit Muhammed:

I just read Bill Simmon’s article about choosing a soccer team, and I don’t want to sound like a queer or noth’n, but “Arsenal” is a pretty cool name. And even though soccer it a cute little gay sport for prancing fairies, how cool would it be if your team was called the Arsenal? Not only does it make mere Bullets sound one-dimensional and pathetic, but it also sounds like “Arse,” which is British for “Anus.” So eat that Abe Pollen’s and your stupid name choosing wife.. and whoever drew up the Wizards logo. In fact, I am more pissed off about the Wizards name and crappy logo than I care about the 50 children murdered everyday by some evil psychotic primitive murderous barbarian seriously fucked up in the head Arab who thinks paradise is a suicide bomb away.

As many of you know, I took a lengthy hiatus from drinking. People would come up to me and say “Sir Nasty, you’ve lost your edge since you quit drinking” and “your writing sucks” and “kill yourself.” So I decided, for the dozen of you who read this blog and the thousands of others that probably read it as well and hate me, that I would start drinking again. While I hoped this would inspire my writing, all that has resulted is bad gas and malaise. Oh yeah, and a [pending] job [offer].

Yes friends, I am being flown to ____ city to attend ____’s annual meeting. Soon I will probably be trying to sell you life insurance. Now let me in fill you in a little knowledge those of us in the business usually keep to ourselves- some of the wealthiest people in the world have made their fortunes from cashing in on life insurance policies! Here’s how it works:

Before you get too old and your wife gets ovarian cancer and your prostate has to get amputated, buy a bunch of life policies on your wife- make sure the payoff is in the millions. While your monthly premiums will be high, you don’t need to worry about this for long. Soon after you’ve got your long term plan together- insured primarily off the life of your wife- take her to our in-house Chinese restaurant. There, our expert chefs will serve your wife poisoned blowfish. It doesn’t matter what she orders, as we all know women can’t tell the difference between a diamond and cubic zirconium, so there’s no way they can tell the difference between fish, chicken, vegetables or meat. Anyway, the poisoned blowfish will quickly paralyze then kill your wife. Just sit there and act horrified. Maybe yell out a “call 911!” The key is to act genuinely surprised and flummoxed. When all is said in done, all you can say is “what they hey? These things happen in Chinese food restaurants” Then explain that is why they all have disclaimers written in Chinese on the menu saying “not responsible if our food causes you to die a slow, painful death.”

So there you have it, all parties are innocent and poor innocent you gets to cash in millions from your wisely bought insurance! As an added bonus, women will be on your grieving penis like it’s a $100 bill. Conversely, if you’re a woman and you want to get rich, you don’t need to have your husband killed, just divorce him and take half. That will at least murder his soul, and we all know destroying a man’s soul is what really makes you women happy.

posted by Sir Nasty Natroneus, Ph.D Orator Excelsior

Bo Jackson

Is awesome

Welcome

Welcome, ladies and esteemed Gentlemen, to our new site. As you may have heard, we had a contractual dispute with our previous server. Apparently "prostitution" and "plans for world takeover" don't agree with the tripod mantra. So here we are, with an easy to remember, hyphen-less name, albeit sans fat man in fox hat drinking beer. Yes, you win some and you lose some in life my friends, but remember, there are always opportunites ahead. Opportunities that you will probably be too drunk to remember, that might leave you in a jail cell playing little spoon under a bench to Carlos's big spoon, or in a pile of feces in someone's backyard- but opportunities nonetheless.

As for our old site (linked on right toolbar), after weeks of litigation at the behest of my esteemed colleague Sir Francis Xavier Esq., we have managed to hold on to its rights. Yes friends, you may view years of creme de la creme at any time. For our friends doomed to eternal damnation, you may also view this picture of The Original Virginia Gentleman at any time.


In my time away from the blog, I have had much time to ponder the world. I would like to share some thoughts with you:

When you're hanging out with a girl dog, known in layman's terms as a filthy bitch whore, does it want to hook up with you? I always feel a little awkward around them thinking about this. I keep telling myself, no Sir Nasty, you don't want to hook up with the dog and the dog doesn't want to hook up with you, but then it nuzzles up to my balls and licks the peanut butter, chocolate or what have you right off! Certainly there is something fishy about this, and that is why it's awkward to hang out with bitches.

How do wires always get tangled? This question has always perplexed me, but over the past weeks has hit a boiling point. How does it happen? You've got your DVD wires, your TV wires, your stereo wires and your vibrating butt plug wires. Somehow, simply by plugging them in next to eachother, they become a mangled mess. Even if I tried to weave them all together to make an unweavable shit storm, I couldn't do it as well as just laying them next to each other. Science cannot explain this phenomenon so it must be proof that there is a God, and he's fucking with us. And also that when it rains He's peeing on us.. and thunder is, in fact, His farts. Perhaps lightening is fiery hemorrhoids, but I digress.

The real question is, when is some Scientist going to create the untangleable wire? something where you put a blowdrier over it and it straightens out or some bullshit like rooting for the Eagles. I will get on this.

Speaking of hemorrhoids, I made my monthly trip to the analgesics section at CVS to restock my anal care stockpile. Much to my dismay, Tucks- maker of the ever-necessary and refreshing Tuck's wipes- has bought out Anusol. That's right ladies and gentlemen, you better get as much Anusol as you can, because those tubes on the shelf are the last you'll see. Hopefully Tucks has the good sense to keep the good name alive, if only for the sole purpose of female guests, when searching throught the medicine cabinet, come across the clearly labeled Anusol tube with the reddish brown goopy used applicator still attached.

Also speaking of poo, I'm sure you all saw that French guy headbutt that Italian. I never thought a Frenchman could be so aggressive and was quite amused by the ramming headbutt to the chest. Various lip readers have claimed the Italian called the Frenchman a dirty terrorist because his parents are native terrorist. This begs the question, where did all those balck people on the French soccer team come from? I thought French people were all skinny, white, hairy and rude. I suppose the Tony Parker's of the world have to come from somewhere, so I guess they're all naturalized gay lovers.

Well, ladies and Gentlemen, I have much more to share but I have some errands to run. These consist of being unemployed, eating a lot and masturbating three times a day. Until next time, faretheewell and God Bless the Queen of my Rectum.

posted by Sir Nasty Natroneus, Ph.D
Orator Excelsior