Here is my most recent Scare-Chart™:



All this is is a visual representation of what the Federal Reserve TAFs are doing. For the last 50 years, depository institutions have managed to provide most of the funds needed to cover their reserve requirements.

Even though the reserve requirements are exceedingly paltry these days, the banks cannot maintain them (or they have gotten lucky and don't need to maintain them since the Fed has provided this short term lending facility.)

Mainly, it just shows you that this has never been done before. Who knows what it means? Do you know what it means? What does it mean? Is it a temporary blip?

It is February 2008.

The world promises to be different, but will it fulfill that promise?

For the past several years, we'd been anticipating the imminent arrival of the Debtors' Union... and it does seem that The Union could arrive shortly.

The banks are close to insolvent, but it will take more than mere insolvency to weaken them enough... the Federal Reserve has issued an emergency short term lending facility to keep these banks functioning. The banks are weak, but the people do not understand fully how weak they are as of yet.

We've hatched a plan that should bring about the Ultimate Weakening Event that should illustrate to the people that they indeed have the upper hand.

It shall unfold in these simple steps:

1. Commercial Real Estate shall weaken drastically over the next 12 months. This, combined with the bringing of SIVs onto their balance sheets and the many Pier Loans that cannot be rolled, will weaken their general financial health.

2. Once the banks are weakened in the above manner, margin calls (in attempt to call in outstanding loans) will bring about the ultimate collapse of the surrounding hedge funds. This will serve as the catalyst that triggers a global blowup of a notional amount of $50 trillion of outstanding Credit Default Swaps and equity derivatives contracts.

3. As the central banks of the world attempt to flood money into the system, the Bank of England will refuse to follow suite (insisting that rampant inflation is not an acceptable cure to our current ills). This will trigger an even larger undertow due to the hundreds of trillions of dollars in outstanding interest rate and currency swaps.

4. The Bank of England will not realize, until it is too late, that this was the wrong course of action.

At some point, in the middle of these events, the average citizen will begin to realize that their individual debt load is, and has always been, all too onerous. Someone, among the people, will rise up and insist upon the necessity of a Debtors' Union. The people will insist on more fair interest rates on the debts they owe. The people will insist that certain debts be forgiven.

If these demands are not met, the people, in unison, will stop payment on their debts.

Once the system realizes that It no longer has control, the system will collapse. Obviously, there is no reasonable way to share power with the Debtors' Union. The Debtors' Union is fundamentally incompatible with our current financial system.

Pundits will rightly decry the incongruity of the aims of the Debtors' Union with that of our current financial system. They will complain that money can no longer be lent if one cannot have a reasonable expectation of being payed back.

But, in the middle of all of this, other groups will arise. These groups will understand that the fundamental weaknesses in our system have nothing to do with the lending of money. The weaknesses in our system are almost solely the result of predatory lending.

If we, as a people, are lucky, enough people will come to understand this subtle difference between Venture Capitalism and Predatory Lending.

And there will be a great battle between the adherents of The Old Way and those who believe in The New Way.

We don't know who will win.. we can only hope that the battle begins soon. It will begin eventually.

Why not now?

In case you hadn't noticed, the Republican Party didn't even need that much rope to hang themselves by. (I figured it would take longer than a year.. but what do I know?)

So says Blumenthal!

Did you know that, if the price of a house dropped 25%, the
interest rate on a 30 year fixed-rate mortgage would have to go from
6% to 9%? If the price of a house dropped 18%, the rate would only
need to go to 8%.

Mainly, IF housing prices in a certain area dump to where they are 18%
less (i.e. $1 million house goes to $820 thousand house), it won't
make any difference to a buyer if the 30 year fixed-rate interest rate
ends up at 8% (assuming it is at 6%.. most say it is at 5.5%).
Because, over the course of the mortgage.. you would pay the same
amount of money every month.

Did you know that in the '80s interest rates on 30-year fixed-rate
mortgages were above 10% and as high as 16%? That is INSANE! Did you
know that having an interest rate of only 5.5% will DOUBLE the cost of
your home? WOW!

First off, the Serious Bastard has turned off comments since there seems to be some Comment Warfare going on that is not tolerated on this tasteful blog. Second, Serious Bastard welcomes the newly invigorated Republican leadership. He figures they now have just the right amount of rope and welcomes their eventual hanging.

Just in case anyone was wondering.. this whole thing (or this thing or this thing) is all about how George W. Bush is losing the election. Rehnquist will be vacating his seat before Bush leaves office so that he may appoint a conservative replacement. If you were waiting for a sign that "Bush will FUCKING LOSE", this is it. They're taking the door prize (replacing Rehnquist for you slow-types) since they can't win the election. Yes, I know that this is all barfed-up bull shit since it's pretty hard to fake up thyroid cancer... but obviously, I don't give a good god damn. Karl Rove injected Rehnquist with a thyroid cancer-virus to make sure that Bush would get the chance to replace him (Rehnquist is "him"). Get used to it.

Okay, readers.. I know that the Serious Bastard has indicated that the monster in your head is a dangerous thing. I take it all back. The monster in your head is trying to help you. It seems dangerous because the things it tries to tell you are hard to confront. Don't run from the monster. You have to sit down with the monster and drink a cup of tea. Listen to what he has to say (yes, the monster is a male; he has a penis, and he wants to communicate with you.) It's scary, at first, but it's best to just hear what is being said. The monster is a valuable source of energy. He can take you far if you're willing to give him reign. (Maybe even free reign, yes? Hmm.) So, hug the monster. Invite him to dinner. Make his bed. Dress him up in a cute dress. He likes all of that shit. Just make sure to listen closely to the frightful crud he yells at you.

Read William Safire's latest bit. He calls it "The Lowest Blow". This sleazy manuevering by Kerry-Edwards to expose Mr. Cheney's homosexual daughter is unacceptable (I don't know whose fucking italics those are)!! Safire suggest that no one in the world cares that Mary Cheney is a full-bore dyke and that "polls showed two-to-one disapproval of the calculated Kerry-Edwards abuse of the young woman's privacy". Hey, Bill! I'll tell you who gives a big shit about Mary Cheney's muff diving: Fucking Right Wing Evangelical Republicans! Yeah, those assholes who love George Bush's "Jesus Jive". Those assholes who may or may not help carry this joke of an administration into another term. This dyke bullshit matters to them. A cornerstone of the Bush-Cheney campaign is moral rightousness. Dick Cheney should be deprogramming his daughter to save her soul from eternal goddamnation.

It's also a joke that Saffire suggest that the Kerry-Edwards campaign has lost its sense of decency. This tactic doesn't even lick the fucking boots of the shit that is being pulled on the Republican side. The only reason that this is an issue is because a large block of Bush supporters are red eyed, noose tying, fucking bigots. You think Kerry's base would flee like it's the "end of the goddamn world!!!" if his daughter was a lesbian?

If Kerry's daughter was a lesbian, there would be phone calls going out around the country asking, "How do you feel about the fact that John Kerry wants to let dykes like his daughter have a say in the direction this country goes in? Do you want hellbound lesbians breathing the air in the White House?" Eat shit, William Safire. Pray to your god that John Kerry wins so stem cell research can save your dementia-infested mind. (God, tell me, what happened to your writing. It used to be so good.)

******EXCLUSIVE**********
Karl Rove leaking forged documents of Bush's National Guard Service to cast doubt over any documents that may or may not surface before election!!!!!

You won't hear other people figure this one out for a few more days or hours. Read here about the mysterious fake documents! You can expect other bloggers to keep wowing over how the White House screwed up on the release of these "new" (hehehe, newer than you think!! hahaha!) records. No worries, my Republicans. Everything is going as planned.
*******EXCLUSIVE**********
MUST CREDIT SERIOUS BASTARD!!!

Yes, my readers. There is, indeed, a monster in your head. I know that some of you may be somewhat disgruntled by this statement. I understand that it isn't an easy thing to confront, the little monster in your head. It tells you things. Bad things that may or may not be true! Who knows?! They "could" be true! The little monster suggested them! What if they're true?!! What if the little monster knows things that you don't? What if the little monster has been right ALL ALONG?!! There is nothing that you can do. The little monster wants nothing more than to (quote) DEFEAT YOU!!!(end quote) HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! (Maybe that should be in quotes, too.) Serious Bastard wishes that he could help you in your battle with the Little Monster (yes, he gets to be capitalized now.) Little Monster is your little bonus (that does not get to be capitalized). For every insight. For every smart concept that you pick up on. Little Monster grows stronger. Every time you think. Every time you allow your mind to roam free. Little Monster gets bigger. "Look at Little Monster! He's so large, now!! What a healthy Little Monster, he is!" Damn you, Little Monster! I hate you sooo much. I will become zombie. I will end the Little Monster! Oh, how I hate you! Little Monster.

God Punishes Florida for
Election 2000 Fuck-Up!

...refers to storm as "just a warning" and states intention to possibly send it up to New York City to smite site of future Republican National Convention. In reference to the popular bathroom grafitti "Vote with a Bullet", God stated that he was quote Voting with the Worst Storm in Forty Years. Says God, "Pray to me that you do not fuck up this election."

On a side note, would who ever keeps sending me supposedly "EXCLUSIVE!!!" photos of Al-Gin Bin Bahar and John Kerry at Vietnam War protests quit sending them. Al-Gin is three years old and Vietnam was more than ten years ago. We take facts only here at Serious Bastard.

XXXX MUST CREDIT SERIOUS BASTARD XXXX

EXCLUSIVE! AL-GIN BIN BAHAR PHOTOGRAPHS! NEVER SEEN! COVER-UP!!!

Serious Bastard has received unseen photographs of Al-Gin Bin Bahar. His owners have been hiding the fact that he converted to Islam a little over a year ago!



As you can see by the photo, Al-Gin grew a traditional Muslim beard and began covering his head. He is said to have been disillusioned by Western Style animal competitions. FLASH!

DEVELOPING...

XXXX MUST CREDIT SERIOUS BASTARD XXXX

XXXX MUST CREDIT SERIOUS BASTARD XXXX

FLASH!! TERRORIST CAT BREAKS INTO COCKPIT! ATTACKS PILOT!!

Al Qaeda is now training terrorist cats! Serious Bastard has learned of a vicious suicide attack on a flight from Belgium that forced the IMMEDIATE grounding of the airliner. Inside sources tell me that the prized cat's real name is no longer Gin. It's Al-Gin Bin Bahar!!

DEVELOPING...

XXXX MUST CREDIT SERIOUS BASTARD XXXX

Serious Bastard Guarantee

Two weeks, assholes! And guess what? You're going to have to wait longer!! I intend to wait so long to post on this site that absolutely no one will ever read it again. You WILL NEVER READ THIS SITE AGAIN! THAT IS THE SERIOUS BASTARD GUARANTEE!!

Broke Beer Hunt!

Here's something for everyone out there. Screw all the calorie information.. I'm talking about the % Alcohol info. You say, "But if you want to get blastastic, Serious Bastard, just buy hard liqour!" WRONG!! Cost too much. If you're on a budget, alchohol per dollar is what matters. Most specifically, what's your price per ounce of alcohol. Let's see what the score is:

Domestic '% Alcohol'

Schlitz (6.2%) and Colt 45 (6.1%) win this one.
Anything with 'Ice' in the name has 5.9% Alcohol.
(Except Bud Ice, fuck Bud Ice)

Everything else has less alcohol, percentage wise. So, check this out: Say you go on a binge and drink a six pack of 16 oz. Pabst Blue Ribbon (5% Alcohol) This means you had 6x16 = 96 oz. of beer at 96x(.05) = 4.8 oz. of alcohol. How much did you pay for that sixer? I'll set it at $4.80 since I don't live in a convenience store nor do I pay attention to the price of Pabst. So, you paid (4.8)/(4.8) = $1 for an ounce of alcohol. Point being, if a 40 oz. of Schlitz costs less than $2.48 (IF a sixpack of 16 oz. Pabst costs $4.80) then you, in the interest of saving money on booze, must buy Schlitz instead. Also, a 36 oz. of Schlitz must cost less than $2.23 to be a better bargain than the fictional Pabst.

If you found a 36 oz. of McEwans Scotch Ale (9.5%!!!) and it cost less than $3.42 (36x[.095] = 3.42 oz. alcohol), you'd be good to buy it. Though, I doubt McEwans is that affordable. You'd have to be able to buy a six pack of 12 oz. McEwans for under $6.84 to make it a deal. Serious Bastard doesn't see that happening but check just to be sure.

Kristof, What the Fuck?

Alright, I can't help it.. this recent Op-Ed by Nick Kristof at the Times is a little bizarre. Read:

If the latest in the "Left Behind" series of evangelical thrillers is to be believed, Jesus will return to Earth, gather non-Christians to his left and toss them into everlasting fire.

Well, yes, Krissy, that's exactly what the Bible says will happen. Isn't it? I got bored reading it (the Bible, not Kristof's bit) so I quit. I'll have to defer to my more Bible-learned associates to comment on what technically awaits non-believers. Point being, Nick is, quite frankly, 'krissed off' and seems almost offended by the suggestion that Christians believe non-Christians won't be going to the big, happy Christian Heaven (They fucking invented it! They can invite whoever they want.)

Nick doesn't seem to grasp that a lot of Christians, seemingly, literally believe what they say they believe. (Well, hahahaha, we won't get into technicalities like do they literally believe everything in the Bible. Maybe just the big points like Commandments, Heaven, Jesus, and non-partial-believers-going-to-Hell.) My beef isn't with God fearing salt of the earth simpletons (I'm not looking to rain on their parade.) My sticking point is with Mr. Kristof. You should know better than to make such naive statements like, "That's not what America stands for, and I doubt that it's what God stands for." There's no room for the brainiac, God-concept you have stuffed in that noggin of yours, Nick. This is true blue King James edited, translated holy writ from God shit. Non-believers have a special place in Hell.

NOTE: My King James Bible reference is supposed to point out that the quote Word of Fucking God end-quote was edited up and crappily translated by some pudgy fingered Brit. Read this for some filler on this topic. And, don't go on telling me about how, "It's the thought that counts" or "The true spirit of our Lord's word is still there." Serious Bastard doesn't need to hear dull shit like that.

Serious Bastard suggests that his readers watch this. Just skip ahead to 01:07:55 to hear the speech by Seymour Hersh (read about him here.)  Naturally, you can watch the other parts of the ACLU thing, but Hersh's address is the only worthwhile part.  (Though, John Sayles film looked interesting.)

Hey! Serious Bastard has an IDEA!

I've noticed, yet again, that everyone involved in politics is apparently lying. Joe Wilson, LIAR!! Dick Clarke? DIRTY NO GOOD, DISGRUNTLED LIAR!! George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld?? LIARS, LIARS, PUMPKIN FRYERS! Michael Moore???? FROM PLANET LIE! In fact, the only people who will open their mouths these days are capital 'L'-iars! At least, that's what I'm told. Everyone is lying. So, I've decided that politically speaking, I have no more decisions to make. This next election is so important that everyone must lie their asses off to defeat the other side. There's not even room for third party candidates because they get in the way of all the lying.

What does one do about this? Well, since everyone's lying and I get to pick one or the other, I officially pick Democrat for the next 10 Presidential Elections. I want to have a button at the voting booth this November that lets me skip all of this examining and thinking (since there's no reason to think to hard about fucking lies) and just dial in a vote for the Democrats until 2044. I believe it captures the true value of participation in this great society.

In case you were wondering who won the majority in each individual county in the U.S. during the 2000 Presidential Election, here you go.

Hear the rumor on Cheney? (Here's Nytimes on it.)

Yeah, I heard it.. right along with the one about Giuliani being VP and Hillary Clinton teaming up with John Kerry.

This is Serioius Bastard's lunch, today. Delicious!



See, I told you.. DELICIOUS!!!

GO FUCK YOURSELF, LEAHY!!! HAHAHAHAHA! Someone should send this to Dick Cheney. It'd come in handy.

Serious, my readers. Timpac is crazy

Hey! Check out the new fucking link, asshole!

Don't worry, I'm almost Dick Cheneyed out. The "fucking" will stop soon. In the meantime, go check out fatty.dave on the links up top.

Hey! Fuck!

Okay, blogees.. It's explicatory time. Some of you may be a little "weirded out", "freaked", or made just plain "uncomfortable" by some of my posts. No, not by the "fuck, fuck, cuntity-cunt!" posts, but by the "the darkness has descended, oh weary world where is it I belong?" type posts. Rest easy, my readers. Serious Bastard has a complicated mindscape. All people, thinking people, have that complicated area in their mind that feels somewhat uncertain. Most normally socialized intelligent people learn to keep that area private. Others, like... say.. teenagers and the Serious Bastard.. still let it spill into the public realm on occasion. Though, the definite difference between Serious Bastard and a teenager is that Serious Bastard understands "the realm". Serious Bastard may sound despondent from time to time, but he is no blubbering fool. Serious Bastard has no need to pretend that the world really is simple, pretty and silly like a little puppy. Yet, he is not so stupid as to be wholly caught up in self-indulgent destitution.

Here are Serious Bastard's recommendations:

Take comfort in absurdity. Don't be let down by irrationality or illogical thinking (even in yourself). Fall in love. Pick flowers. And, from time to time, use shockingly filthy language.

That's it, readers. One, essentially, must make the world into a silly little puppy. Any other approach, like say, pretending the world is really, truly normal or simple, just requires one to become fairly dull minded. (If one desires that, then, well, Serious Bastard has nothing for you.)

How the fuck about that, eh?

I try my best to hear good punk rock but I get stuck listening to some boxed-up crap instead. Them's the breaks, and I suppose you shan't hear much whining from me. Regardless, let's proffer a movie review for the viewers "out there".. Everyone, go see "Barfly". I've been through this before.. I recommend "Barfly" to someone and they see it. And, then, they wonder aloud, "What's so intersting about that?" Well, if you don't fucking get it, then you don't fucking get it. From what I've gathered, this film means absolutely nothing to just about anyone who's seen it. They are comfortably situated, and one more stupid film about a reckless drunk means very little. To me, it captures every little important thing. Self destruction is an immensley pertinent topic. I bet George W. Bush knew a thing or two about self destruction in "his day". Of course, now he can't even complete a damned sentence, these days, without fucking it up. Oh, for hope of the days when Man simply uses his brain to will himself into some sense of pertinance.

My brain feels sharp, yet my import seems winded. Give me a few moments and I'll voment up a hot-diggity-twinged bit of "something or other".

Hey! Why don't you rural Republicans vote fucking Democrat!

Oh my goodness! I do believe Tarzanza! has written one of the finest political commentaries I've seen in a while. The deftness of his writing lies in the fact that one does not immediately sense the true import of the blog posting. Let me walk you, my fair reader, down the trail of meaning. Okay, well, I'll point the way, but I'm not going to hold your damn hand. Here's the equation set:

Donkey := Democratic Party
Maybelle := Rural Voters
Attraction to Donkey Penis := Perverse Attraction to John Kerry

Mainly, that's sort of how I feel, too. One can also infer that Maybelle has a Husband := George W. Bush who attracts her love no more. It's all right before your eyes. George W. Bush will lose to John "Donkey Penis" Kerrey come November. All those lonely nights on the political frontier, being ignored by the Man of the House... It makes a person desperate for attention, for love. One eventually settles for anything, no matter how revulsive. Don't blame me for pointing this stuff out. It's all around you.

Hey! Why don't you go fucking cry, baby!

Yes, now the Commander in Chief has resorted to cry baby tactics, stomping off stage after getting asked un-nice questions about Kenneth Lay. No doubt it's tough, frustrating work, and I wonder if he even wants to keep being President. Eventually, I hope for Mr. Bush to fire McClellan and bring his mother out as his spokesperson. Then, she could act upset and hurt whenever reporters were hard on her little boy. "How could you say such a thing?!! Can't you see, HE HAS FEELINGS, TOO!??"

Of course, the "dream come true" moment is when he uses the, "Opps, I just shit my diaper" excuse to get out of tough questioning. HAHAHAHA! Take that! Baby!

Hey! Why don't you go fuck yourself!

You know what I want? I want an ocean of doofus-bloggers blogging about things they don't like while, at the same time, obliviously committing the exact acts they impugn (don't question me on whether the usage of 'impugn' is appropriate!!!) Go read gorffy for a taste of his raging rage, such as:

The internet, for all it's wonder, seems to have one little side effect that's starting to annoy me to no end. LITTLE KIDS ARE TOO FUCKING LAZY TO TYPE PROPERLY.

Now, I'll give little Gorffy a pass for his confusion of "it's" and "its". It happens to everybody. The irony is funny.. but not damnable. Maybe it isn't laziness that made him post "it's" instead of "its", but bald, eye-scorching ignorance, blinded by rage. Sadly, for Gorffys (hehehe) sake, he makes consistant (hahahahaha) spelling misteaks (^&*%^%^%!!!). THIS WIPES ME INTO A HATE-FILLED, RED-EYED FRANZY!! GO FUCK YOURSELF, GORFFY! Right now, I'm shouting and people are looking at me weird, wondering why I am so rage stuffed like angry shrimp. Take a tip from Serious Bastard, Gorffy:

If you're going to rage on how "no one can type anymore", make sure to check your fucking spelling!!

Hahaha, I hit him with three tags.. block qoute, bold, italics and heading 3. AND, I got him with a Dick Cheneyism. Also, note how I was nice and didn't bitch him out about using "internet" instead of "Internet".

Serious Basterd out!

Alright, babies.. if you thought last night's entry was upsetting, then you'd better start naptime early, because I'm going off the end tonight. Here's the story: Most of the writing on and about love is generally mushy, flowery and stereotypically poetic or, plainly, gay. As far as Serious Bastard is concerned, there is a significant absence of aggressive, potty mouthed "love talk". DO NOT confuse what I'm saying with the general, run-of-the-mill misogynist, chauvinistic "I'd like to bang her hot butt" crap. DO NOT confuse this with Henry Miller erotica. (Then again, what the hell would I know of Henry Miller since I've only read several hundred words of his writing, en total.) There must be a way to sincerely discuss love using foul words and aggressive behaviour. I don't just think my girlfriend is pretty like a meadow brook or precious as the morning sun upon dew dropped flower petals, I think she'd better get over here and give me a fucking kiss and every other woman on the planet is a no good pale impersonation of the perfect female form that she embodies. I don't just want to whisper pretty-baby nothings in her ear, I want to scream filthy, shocking gut-driven desires into empty midnight streets. I think it would do this society well if a new, modern male evolved. One who could fulfill the traditional, testosterone driven role while, at the same time, bringing a small bit of intelligence to the table. There's a long overdue need to sincerely mix erotica with love.. though, maybe I just don't read enough, and it's already been done.

Serious Bastard out.

Holy shit, people! Serious Bastard is back!!! My minions in the netherworld tell me that Locutious has been copying from Tarzanza! and that crap won't fly!!! There's no place in this world for a no good baby-time blog-copying poon-tang mush-stomper. Serious Bastard Blog is taking a new direction.. AS OF NOW! As far as I'm concerned.. this is now the "Love Blog" and all of my posts will be about the most beautiful woman in the world, my mind numbingly hot girlfriend! IF you have a problem with public displays of affection, then you'd better sulk your whiney ass over to some grump-blog where everyone spends their days moaning about 'blahblahblah' or 'wahh wahh wahh'. There's one thing that spins this worthless planet around in circles and that's "love"... l-o-v-e.. everything else is a waste! I wake up in the night with shakes and quakes and my neural cortex blasts out any number of irregular activities simply because I'm hopelessly captured by this woman of mine. If you have no woman (or man) who freaks the living shit out of you and pressure cooks your loins, then I pity your whiney-ass-no-good soul.

You've got who knows how many pointless groups of dung-schlobbers saying 'this and that' about what one needs to do to make their life right. Let me tell you! Let me tell you, if you aren't in love, then you're waiting to rot. Good luck to you, childrens.. love is stashed somewhere beneath the details.. but I'm not about to illuminate it for you. AND IF YOU EVER FIND LOVE AND DITCH IT, I WILL PERSONALLY UNLEASH AN UNHOLY ALLIANCE OF HELL-DEMON-SOUL-DESTROYING HURT UPON YOU!! Take that as your first warning.

Serious Bastard out.

Yes, my readers!! If you thought the first page of Ulysses was most difficult.. then you should read it in Snoop Doggy Dog format.

-- I --

STATELY, PLUMP BUCK MULLIGAN CAME FROM THA STAIRHEAD, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror 'n a razor lay crossed." A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, wuz sustained gently behind tha dude's ass by da mild morning izzle n' shit. Tha dude held da bowl aloft 'n intoned:

--INTROIBO AD ALTARE DEI, know what I'm sayin'?

Halted, tha dude peered down da dark winding stairs 'n called out coarsely:

--Come up, Kinch! Come up, yo' ass fearful jesuit!

Solemnly tha dude came forward 'n mounted da round gunrest." Tha dude faced 'bout 'n blessed gravely thrice da tower, da surrounding land 'n da awaking mountains n' shit. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, tha dude bent towards tha dude's ass 'n made rapid crosses in da izzle, gurgling in tha dude's throat 'n shaking tha dude's heezee." Stephen Dedalus, displeased 'n sleepy, leaned tha dude's arms on da top of da staircase 'n looked coldly at da shaking gurgling face that blessed tha dude's ass, equine in its length, 'n at da light untonsured hair, grained 'n hued like pale oak, know what I'm sayin'?

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under da mirror 'n then covered da bowl smartly."

--Back barracks! tha dude be like sternly n' shit.

Tha dude added in a preacher's tone:

--For this, O dearly beloved, is da genuine Christine: body 'n soul 'n blood 'n ouns n' shit. Slow music, please n' shit. Shut yo' eyes, gents." One moment." A little trouble 'bout those white corpuscles." Silence, izzall n' shit.

Tha dude peered sideways up 'n gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, tha dude's even white teeth glistening here 'n there wit gold points, know what I'm sayin'? Chrysostomos, know what I'm sayin'? Two strong shrill whistles answered through da calm n' shit.

--Thanks, old chap, tha dude cried briskly." That will do nicely." Switch off da current, will yo' ass?

the setup..

..drop the bomb

Hahahahaha! Yes, my readers view this funny tirade!

Yes!! How hard it is to find dates these days!!

Locutious takes the Tazo Tea challenge

Claim on the back of a package of Tazo Calm tea:

A single cup of Tazo Calm has been known to have the same effect as sitting for 45 minutes in a mountain meadow on a sunny day with your shoes off.

Welp, all right, I'd like to be barefoot in a mountain meadow on a sunny day, sure beats being at work. So the first thing I did was grab my trusty stainless steel mug and head over to the coffee area and fill the mug with hot water. The water was very hot, practically steaming. "Aha," I said. "This will be perfect for my tea experiment."

Walking back to my desk, I turned the corner around a cube aisle into a hallway and some jerk blew right passed, not even looking where he was going. This startled me, and about one third of my scalding hot water splashed out all over my arm, pants, and tummy. "Fucking shitbag, watch where you're going, dickhole," I absolutely did not say, but thought about saying. So, I returned back to the hot water maker and there was a co-worker, Tim.

"What's the matter Locutious, you look a little tense," said Tim.

"I just need some more water for my tea."

"Your pants are all wet, did you pee on yourself? You know, we have bathrooms here. Hey everybody, Locutious peed his pants!"

"I did not pee my pants," I said as if it mattered. "I spilled water."

"You should be more careful, there's no need to be in such a hurry."

"I wasn't in a hurry, it was just a ..."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey when's you're birthday. I'll buy you some plastic sheets. Ha ha ha ha," and then the dick Tim walked away.

"Yeah, keep it up Tim," I thought in my imagination but was probably moving my lips while I thought it. "Keep it up asshole, I am gonna fuckin'... well, I don't know what I'm going to do..."

By this point I had made it back to my desk. Looking down on the desk, the teabag's title, "Calm", looked back at me, almost like it was taunting me. Whatever, I'm ready to go to the mountains, and if this don't work, I'll get a sixpack of Busch and head to the mountains that way.

I opened the teabag, and immediatly, the string broke off. Great. I tried to reattach it, but the little tiny staple on the bag was bent and the string wouldn't stay on. Fuck it. So I dropped the bag into my mug and pushed it down a few times with my pinky. The water was still pretty hot.

I let the bag steep for a few minutes, then hunted for some way to fish the bag out of the cup. I tried using my hand, but the water was still really hot. All I could find was a pencil, and I can't use that because I don't to want to get lead poisoning. I figured I ask someone else if they had a plastic knife or fork or something I could use. I walked out the cube and there was Tim again.

"Hey Locutious, did your pants dry yet."

"Shut up, Tim. Hey do you have a plastic fork or knife or something."

"Maybe, what do you need it for."

"I just need it."

"Tell me what you need it for, and I'll consider."

"I need it to get the teabag out my tea, the string broke off."

"Just use your finger."

"It's too hot."

"Here, let me do it then."

"No, I don't want you sticking your finger in my tea."

"Fine, then I guess you won't get to have any tea today. No, seriously, I don't have any plastic ware, either. Sorry dude. Catch you later, bra."

"Asshole," I absolutely did not say out loud.

At this point, I figured I'd just nut it up and fish out the teabag with my finger. I tried to reach down real quicklike and pinch the bag with the nails of my forefinger and thumb, but that didn't work. I couldn't get a firm grip. No, I had to quickly stick my finger into the water under the teabag and pull it out. So I did. And it was really hot. Hotter than you would think. But, it wasn't too bad.

I drank my tea. I held up the package again and reread it.

A single cup of Tazo Calm has been known to have the same effect as sitting for 45 minutes in a mountain meadow on a sunny day with your shoes off.

Hahahaha! Yes, my readers, see how uncalm the tea is for me! Not so relaxing as it would like me to think, yes?

Here is a joke faithful readers:

-Knock knock.

-Who's there?

-Banana.

-Why, if I do say so myself, you look nothing like a banana. You most certainly look like a person.

-No, I'm sorry, you're supposed to say, "Banana who?"

-Why on earth would I say something like that? That doesn't make sense.

-No, see it was all apart of the setup.

-Setup? What setup? At first when you knocked upon my door I thought you were perhaps promoting some form of political action, but I see you do not have a clipboard and pen, so I know it cannot be that. Then I thought maybe you were a solicitor, but you do not have any solicitation materials, which is good because as you can plainly see, I have a sign saying "No Solicitors" clearly posted. Then, I thought that maybe you were stopping by to announce you lost a pet or maybe you needed to borrow some sugar to make a cake. Are you baking a cake? I would love to try some.

-No, I'm not baking a cake.

-So, it is rather odd, If I do say, that you would show up at my door and announce that there is a "setup." I am terribly confused right now.

-No, see, it's the setup for a joke.

-A joke? Is this one of those practical joke shows? Is this Punk'd? I really do not wish to appear on television. There better not be a camera man in the bushes.

-No, no camera in the bushes, this is just a regular joke, you know.

-Ah, I see. Well, not to be rude, but you're joke isn't very funny.

-No, it's not. That's because the rhythm is all off. The setup was botched, and now the rhythm is off, and the joke ceases to be funny.

-Seesaws? That's a funny word to say.

-No, not seesaws, ceases. C-E-A-S-E-S.

-Oh, I thought I heard seesaw. It's a shame you didn't say seesaw, because I was beginning to think that you're joke was picking up steam.

-Yeah, perhaps I should have said seesaw.

-Yeah.

-Hmm.

-So.

-Yeah.

-Well.

-Uhh.

-Yeah.

-Yeah, this is kinda awkward.

-Awkward, yes. Yes, it is. So, uhhh, I just made some popcorn and I was preparing to watch a movie, would you care to join me?

-Sure, I would love to.

-Yes, come on in, my name is Samantha, what is your name?

-Orange.

-Orange? First you said banana, now you say orange. Are you some kind of fruit?

-No.

-Well, Mr. Orange, come on up.

-It's not Mr. Orange, it's just Orange. Orange is my first name.

-Okay, Orange, come on up.

-You have a lovely place.

-Thank you.

-What's this? This is an interesting item, I've never seen anything like it before.

-It's something I got when I was in Peru.

-Oh really, what were you doing in Peru?

-Oh, it's a terribly long story. Maybe another time, what do you say we start the movie?

-Okay.

-Here's you're popcorn, Mr. Orange.

-No, it's just Orange.

-Okay just Orange. Orange who?

-Orange you glad I didn't say banana.

-Okay, Mr. Yougladididntsaybanana, what do you say we start the movie?

The green play button
on the remote is depressed
and the movie plays

Hahahah! Readers, you will never believe the funny emails I have been receiving. Here's a letter from N.M.:

Dear Locutious,

What is up with you? What are you, like 2 years old? Seriously. It's as if you've become obsessed with poo-poo and pee-pee and cursing and what not. It's ridiculous. This used to be family blog! Now it reads like something you might see at the nickel peepshow at the state fair. I'm fed up with it. First Janet, now this.

Your former reader,
N.M.



Ouch! Next time N.M., why don't you tell me how you really feel. Haha! Here's another from S.D.:

Locutious,

Knock off the potty talk. I don't want this coming into my home.

you still suck,
S.D.



Nice one, S.D. First you accuse me of potty talk, then you use the word "suck". Can you say "ironic". Jeez, what a dipshit. Here's another letter from F.L.:

Hey Tanzana!

U R so lame. I've taken more interesting shits asshole. Witch is what your blog has become.

die.

with hate,
F.L.



Thanks, F.L. Say hi to mom for me! Haha! And one more, who actually has some nice things to say:

Hey Locutious!

Where's Jane? Hup! J.K. dude. Not! No, seriously. U RAWK! Keep up the goodnessless.

Boyeeeee!



Hahahaha! What's that all about? Such funny emails that I have been receiving!

Hahaha. Readers, isn't this a charming, cursing, cheerleading teddy bear? Oh yes.

Oh faithful readers of Serious Bastard Blog, these times are troubled, indeed. I, Locutious, venture forth, in Serious Bastard's stead, to shepherd you through these twilight tinged nights of dark, dark, dark. Yes, we suffer immense loss as of late. If one listens oh so closely, they hear the silence of a quieted soul, they smell a world minus one... still billions... yet somehow less. A brief moment of emptiness reared its head only to be trampled by the frenzied, shuffling masses. Yes, dear readers, Serious Bastard now dwells forever with the stars or the brown dwarfs or whichever interstellar geewgaw suits his stone cold dead fancy. He drifts far beyond the furthest gleaming fusion reactor off the edge of this universe into something we can neither spell nor draw pictures of.

How? How has this end become Serious Bastard? It is a much difficult thing to decipher, but I will deliver comprehension to the best of my abilities. Just this morning, I received a most mystically enigmatic letter from my dear friend, your esteemed Serious Bastard. Here, I shall recreate it as best as possible:

Greetings! Dear Locutious,

A multi-headed, obese humming bird stole me away to a bizzare cloud cafe near Albuquerque, and then its Al Gore head handed me a secret message and directed me to escape down a magic slide. I slid for days clutching this note. I was sure the slide might never end so I studied my encrypted letter. Maybe you can make sense of it.

ZYM IMKBZ QMBZELSME LDMXMQ FZB CKAB KXQ DEMDKEMQ ZL MEKBM TKXNFXQ. KZ ZYFB TLTMXZ LV UMKBZ YLDM, ZYM TLXBZME ZPEXB FXAKEQ KXQ QMGLPEB FZB LAX MXZEKFUB. YLAUFXO KXQ BHEMKTFXO KB FZ HLXBPTMB FZBMUV. KXQ ZYM DMLDUM TPBZ VFOYZ. ZYMS TPBZ QELAX ZYM BLPXQB LV QMKZY AFZY UKPOYZME KXQ HLGME FZB BZMXHY AFZY ULGM. ZYMS TPBZ VLEOMZ ZYM ZMEELE KXQ EMDUKHM FZ AFZY HMUMIEKZFLX. ZYM TLXBZME FB ZYMT. FZ FB SLP.

I've partially decoded it, but its meaning still isn't clear. Maybe you can give it a shot. I feel I am very close to figuring it out. If I decipher the message, then I might escape this magic slide.

Your Compatriot,
Serious Bastard Smith

A few hours after reading Serious Bastard's letter, I heard his voice trickle in from some unknown place. "Farewell, Locutious. I am drifting far, far away, and shall never return." he said, "Please, take over my blog and apologize to my many fans. Spread love and joy and happiness. It's all we have...." Then his voice trailed off into nothing.

I dare not decipher the message for fear of being banished to this nether-dimension. Attempt it at thine own peril. Regardless, I am to be your new steward, who shall guide you down life's contortious path. Though, I fear myself incapable of approximating glee to the extent that Serious Bastard might desire. I shall give it the tops. Until then..