A Gefilte Fish Speaks the Truth

David Karp's autobiography.

Karp on his nicknames:

"Karp, well... to start, I am most commonly referred to as Karp, Krap for the witty ones. My mother calls me David, which I guess is hilarious to some people, b/c from time to time I get mocked, which I guess is actually mocking her, because they call me David, trying to impersonate my mom. Now, when my brother is around, There is a whole 'nother strew of names. He gets Karp also, or Karpy. Karpy II, was a name I received in my 'youth', but I have more recently been promoted to being known as ' the better Karp', or Karpy, and he gets Karpy II... Fish is the next most common. The least complicated way to go, is 'DK' and 'BK', probably easiest, and most common, We also Like to refer to him as 'B'-urger, 'K'-ing. or Brittish Knights. So from time to time, in our drunkin excursions, we will stumble across a new clever term to replace 'Karp'."

...but when it comes to women...

"But I try to introduce myself as Dave, to the ladies, and when it's weird to say, 'Hi, I'm Karp'... But most girls will go by my first name... But don't worry, it's not mandatory"

Karp on his current lovelife:

"the girl: what kinda shit has Bob been talking about me...ha, But I did bring this girl when I met them, she's from the philly area, she goes to drexel too, but I actually knew her already, so we've been hangin' a bit, she's no "full-time" girlfriend though, I recall Bob telling me to marry her... not yet."

Karp explains relativity:

"Karp Time, a term widely understood here, was inveted by my brother... I believe it is explained as t x 3... meanly if a Karp says 10 minutes -> 30 minutes, 1 hours -> 3-4 hours... Not very complicated."

Karp on growing old:

"Thats what happens, peoples change. But that's the fun of it. By the time you leave, you know a million people, right?"

Karp's plan for alternative energies:

"I am moving west of where I am now, cause it is like five minutes from campus, whereas I am like 25 minutes right now. Thats by bike, cause I ride me bicycle everyday."

Karp proves his viruosity at all the arts:

" I am becoming a master of french though. J'ai rencontré votre mère par le passé, et elle était sexy, comme un renard. Mais êtes ainsi vous, vous renard, vous. Il n'y a aucun lait ici !"
[the translation roughtly comes out to: "I met your mother by the past, and she was sexy, as a fox. But are so you, you fox, you. There is no milk here"]

Karp tackles the holidays:

"...lots a freshman art girls, wearing wings, and short skirts... I think that is the standard female costume... isn't that what halloween is all about. At some point you actually forget that there was once candy involved. Alcohol and slutty angel costumes are to college students as pillow cases full of Resse's are to ten year olds. I've realized that Thanksgiving is the best holiday in terms of food and homeliness, and Halloween tops it as the best excuse to party like a fool. Am I wrong?"

Karp suggests public transportation:

"SEPTA, the public transportation system in philly went on strike yesterday. This is some serious shit. There are no subway trains, no trollies, no buses, nothing! For me I don't care yet, cause I am still ridin the bike, until it gets too cold... and there are no buses in the street, which is a plus. But the amount of cars in center city today was absurd. It was re-god-damn-diculous. There was like grid lock throughout the whole city, I was weaving in and out of every one, cops on every corner... Mayhem I tell you meyhem."


Karp dissects college life:

"Rows of college student houses, shitty basements with kegs and beer pong, drunk kids on the stoop, fallings down in the street, yelling obscenities at passer-byers (is that a word?)... I've come to realize that school is exactly the same everywhere... In the words of a tee-shirt I once saw on phish tour... 'IT BLOWS GOATS!'"


In closing: a recap on the true meaning of life, his interpretation on God, and the justification for performancing-enhancing drugs

So, ummm...did I tell you I was drunk...
I just got back from the bar... I walked like ten blocks through the snow and rain. Uphill too.
I'm drunk and sleepy, and have class at ten o'clock...and I'm drunk.

Your Fish,

DK

Top 10 Marshall Puffer Facts

1) Marshall Puffer isn't short. He's actually the world's tallest man compressed into the body of a lawn gnome.

2) He once impregnated a girl just by looking at her. Then he gave her an abortion through telekinesis, stating that "There can only be one Highlander."

3) After years of misleading information concerning the death of General Custer, it was determined that Puffer had actually been the one to scalp, and then kill him.

4) He is the voice of the busy signal heard on telephones 'round the world.

5) His ideal threesome would be with Bob Dylan and an abacus.

6) Puffer's sperm is so potent that Chuck Norris habitually drinks it with whey protein.

7) He feels that the 69 position is a criminal injustice to mathematicians everywhere.

8) Was actually the one erratically driving OJ Simpson's Bronco.

9) His autobiography is appropriately entitled "The Bible".

10) He will force you to stare at his tree-trunk thighs and listen to stories about the Circus if you don't swallow.

the pencil that almost took out my eye

Highschool - a time of adventure... a time of discovery... a time of experimentation... a time of fantasy and magic...

It was during highschool that I first adventured into the slimy death grasp of the po-nizzle, it was during highschool that I discovered the wonderful world of the vag hole, it was during highschool that I experimented with slew of fantastic mind-altering drugs like marijuana, vicoden, percocet, codeine, xanax, muscle relaxants and tranquilizers, mushrooms, ether, LSD, DXM, and of course, cocaine (MDMA, N2O, 2CI, and opium waited for after graduation). Those were the good ole' days when "responsibilty" was some silly, meaningless word your parents threatened you with during their almost too predictable lectures and hissy-fits. A time when popularity (the meaning of life) was easily gained through blowjobs and lost even more easily through more blowjobs.

I was never the popular kid, not in my entire life, maybe off at camp where I could reinvent myself into a mysterious and dangerous gunslingin' hunk from South Africa, but never in school. I didn't care or try, and definately wasn't about to be giving head out like free candy in order to climb my way to the top. I was cool. Just like Karp, but not as suave or stylish, and just like Karp, too cool to even be considered "cool". I'm not sure why I tell you all this, as it has nothing to do with the epic story to follow.


Somewhere in the heat of a glorious battle between my concentrating on Germnay's political history and my thoughts about Jenna, the girl 3 seats in front of me, and her disproportionatly huge breasts, I was gracefully spinning my custom-made, entirely diamond, Mont Blanc pen around my rather handsome thumb. And in a once in a lifetime display of technical miscalculation, I ever so slightly lost control of Stanley, my pen, sending him flying off into oblivion at speeds quickly approaching Mach 3!
He wasn't ready for this! Poor Stanley! Worse yet, he turned on his master and was jetting directly at my perfectly shaped and well manicured face... and more specifically at my lucky left eye!

What is to happen to Phunky Bob? Will he die from being a famous celebrity? Eating 15 scorpions alive? Kryptonite overdose? The suspense must killing you!

But don't you worry, I'm alright everyone! I came out jsut fine, but thank you all for the thousands of emails and letters expressing your concern for my wellbeing.

Yeah, I survived because my eyes are made of pure adamantium, and that doesn't even matter because I shot the almost too stylish projectile clean out of the sky with my recently acquired photon lasers... of course none of this could have been possible if it wasn't for my faster than the speed of time reflexes and command of quantum physics, let alone my to ability to alter the space-time continuum and shit.

You can learn how to spin pens also if you want. I learned my nifty pen tricks from my highschool debate teacher. Oh that is it! I told you about the good times I had constantly getting laid and smoking drugs in highschool because I was going to explain how I learned to be an action hero and spin pens at the same time. There is a world of dorks waiting to teach you to master this ancient art, check out this uber _|33+ website: click me to become a true warrior.
And to help inspire you to be just like me, I suggest you watch this video I made of myself fighting off legions of zombies.

more on Karp

Where did he go?
Supposedly he made the big transfer to Drexel University, located somewhere in the scumpits of Philadelphia. Reasons? Unknown.
Some say he hated it in Vermont. Can it be related to his nasty allergic reactions to snow? Or was the air too thick with patchouli that a fresh change to the city streets was needed to clear his head? Personally I blame it on his secret, sick obsession... something to do with giant bells and crack. And anyways, we all know that his favorite artist is Will Smith, what more reasoning do you need to move to the 'City of Brotherly Love'? No sales tax on clothes for starters! (And I know that heavily influenced Karp's decision)

Now cool is cool. Karp is cool. Too cool. So cool. Cooler than cool.
Cooler than thefacebook.com cool, I'll tell you that much.
However, one of his cloned babies isn't quite that cool.
I'm very pleased to introduce...
David Karpuk of British Columbia.

I sent him a friend request immediately (and you should too!).


Good news for all you ladies out there, he is permanently single. This is an assumption made based on a few observations. He is a David Karp, but with some silly reference to puke or the UK or something about NASCAR and hockey in his already laughable last name, but more importantly he is just hideous. And look at his fucking blazer! I mean come on now, facebook deserves more than something you found on the sale rack at Marshall's! Can we say fashion emergency? Too bad the real Karp isn't here to save the day! In a previous post somewhere, it has been pointed out that Karp was once dubbed "Best Dressed of iLLS" by fashion expert, Hillary Birch, and I whole-heartidly agree with her.
Beleive it or not, Karp models for GQ.






I search for Karp every night in my dreams. Last night I counted 43 Karps jump over the moon and promptly vomited all over myself upon waking from this horrific nightmare. Once I had a terrifying dream that Karp had hot sex and reproduced with:
Courtney Love > their child was Lindsay Lohan at the height of her blond-hair coke binge, but with droopy man-boobs
Rosanne > stillborn goat fetus with tenticles and a brand new copy of "The Catcher in the Rye" clasp in its partially developed, but mostly deformed right hand
Michael Jordan > Tiger Woods with red hair
Micheal Jackson > their child dies of cancer, but gets a hot sex adventure with a famous celebrity (I vote for Yani) a week before he is supposed to die, he never dies actually and goes on to have phone sex with Jay Leno, goes to the cops, loses in court and is unheard of for 20 years until VH1 has the "Where Are They Now?" bit, inwhich he admits to shooting up heroin through his eye while at Epcot and that he has a chronic masturbation problem that has resulted in an inflamed prostate, and he would like to sue you over it.
Joan Rivers > down-syndrome freak with a hot sense of style
Brad Pitt > minituare versions of Johnny Depp
finally with George Bush > a cannabilistic Texan devil cyborg he-bitch with a snuff film fetish and a taste for Saudi pussy

I will admit that one was little disheartening and made me reconsider if life was really worth the trouble. Usually though I have sweet dreams about defeating Karp at manly games like thumb-war or dots. The meatiest dreams have me succesfully completing simple tasks that Karp fails miserably at, like bipedialism for example. I can still remember the best dream yet, that Karp was only able to affirm every claim I made while he slapped himself silly over and over again. So when I told him things like that "Katy" is not pronounced "Caty", and that he was soooo metro, and that I was better than him in every way imaginable, he quickly agreed, slapped himself thoroughly and then began to massage my feet.

Chuck Fu

This is a tale of one of the greatest adventurers in the history of man. He is known as Bob. Bob has trained for ages in the dark arts of the Phunky -- one could call him a Master of Phunk, a position far above any royalty and unmatched by any. This small excerpt comes from a recent episode in Bob's travels, questing in the unforgiving depths of Austin Hall...

...horror filled his eyes, as he saw his chance at glory literally being thrown away because of his poor marksmenship. His partners cringed with disgust as Bob failed to carry them into another round.

At this point, however, Bob caught sight of a horrible abomination of a man. Known only by his first name, Chuck was a legend in the wicked world of ghouls. There was something in his unhallowed eyes, something in his nefarious smirk, something about his wretched demeanor that set Bob off. The foulest Chuck approached Bob as to confront him. Bob, preoccupied with his glory at the Beruit table was not interested in bouting with Chuck, and thus when the baneful Chuck approached, Bob fiercly pushed him back and told him to leave them be, to go elsewhere!

Chuck! O' poor, misguided Chuck! Chuck walked back up to the great heros and violently pulled back his arm, swinging it forth and smacking the mightiest champion Ian clean across the face! Ian was astounded, but not as astounded as Bob, who, watching the whole thing frozen in place, was the follow up on Chuck's cowardly and dishonorable attack. Chuck continued through with his violent motion and smacked the feared hero Bob across his face as well!

For a quick moment the room was dead. Nobody moved, nobody did anything, said anything, or even thought anything. Shock. Shock was felt amongst all at the disrespect that was just served at this table of glory!

Immeditaly reacting in a true warrior's spirit, Bob returned the favor with a vicious smack across Chuck's deplorable face! Fear began to gather in Chuck's vacant eyes. He stumbled back a bit, which gave the mighty Bob an oppurtunity to get the real justice he had been waiting for. With one swift and mighty strike, Bob laid his monstrous fist into Chuck's face. Chuck sharply ricocheted back from the tremendous force of the blow, and quickly cowered with fear of an even more severe beating. If it wasn't for the great wizard Dan's minions stepping in to prevent further conflict from escalating, the wickedest Chuck would probably have met the boatman at the River Styx that very night!

more from the depths of vile

YUCK!
I totally was just playing with this fat, chunky loogie in my mouth out of sheer boredom - violently swishing it back and forth, squeezing it through my teeth, trying to take a healthy bite out of it, letting it slowly drip on down the back of my throat only to hock it back up for more hot action - and for reasons still not understood by NASA or even by a genius such as myself, in the middle of this hoppin' party in my mouth, I opened my lips ever so slightly, just barely enough to allow said loogie to flippy flop onto my readily awaiting lap. I saw the whole thing happen in u l t r a - s l o w motion. A glob of phlegm the size of an apple squeezing through a gap as big as a dime... it was almost like child birth... minus the baby. Just a coagulum of placenta, angrily oozing its way from my agape mouth, taking a leap of faith into the unknown. Seven napkins and a wealth of obscenities later I still have a gross, yellowish streak mark across my rather bulbous crotch.

It's mindless shit like this that seems to plague my life. I will be there, you know, probably just vigurously whacking off in my room, wearing my nipple clamps and lipstick, right. And when I'm finally getting all hot inside I'll hear a key being inserted into my door -- *click* *click* *click* -- and the door being opened -- *rrrreeee* -- and of course I'll get a quick adrenaline rush out of all the excitement and fear of being caught, and it will cause me to start to ejaculating all over myself and the TV remote, and then on my roomates shoes as he does the tango into our room. The poor bastard always ignores my cries for him to "WAIT!!" when he is hopped up on coke like that. It's sad, but at this point it is his fault that his shoes are covered with my cum- the shittiest part is that I won't be able to blame him, you know. Like what am I gonna say, "Shit dude, you shouldn't be walking into the room at 3:40 in the afternoon! Who knows when I'm gonna feel like jerkin' it on your bed! What the fuck is your problem, you sick perverted freak!?"

A Winter Word to The Wise...

Now that we have all returned from Thanksgiving break, all the mountains in the area are unlocking their gates and open to the public for what they have available to ride. Now I know how annoying it was for every kid to have their parents demand them to wear helmets to ride their bikes around back in the day, and although some wore them and some disregaurded and put there dome safety at risk...snowboarding and skiing is a different story. Not one season goes by that I have not heard of someone getting themselves into a serious accident or screw up on the slopes. Here is a simple visual message for what Im try to get across....

GET ONE, and wear it when riding. Otherwise the next time this happens to you....


YOU MIGHT NOT BE SO LUCKY IN THE END!

A Note To The Drinkers Out There....

On a voyage I took not to long ago to the wonderful destination of Miami, I was lucky enough as an underage kid to enjoy the wonders and festivities of a full blown beer festival. With a vast amount of lagers, ales, IPA's, and a huge spread of light and dark brews, wines, and liquors all at my disposal with the permission that my free wrist band admitted to me, life was great. It was as if I was a kid in a candy store, an 18 year old surrounded by booze with a wine glass in hand that could be filled as many times with as large or small of a variety of drinks as I wanted. Tents were set up to seperate the types and origin of the beverages. My favorite beer would have to be a belgian brew called Chimay.

A dark, slightly thick ale with a delicious after-taste. Along the lines of a Guiness as far as the consistency that one can easily drink themselves full for dinner with it's heaviness. Another beer I had the privledge of trying was called "Beach Babes".

A local Floridian brewed beer, that is on the verge of being purchased by Anheuser-Busch. This would lead to a mass distribution of the drink around the nation. That way not only would everyone be able to enjoy it's full flavored light lagerish taste, but they might just have the privledge as I did...to meet and possibly get freaky-deaky with the Beach Babes themselves!
So next time your are at the local distributor and you just so happen to see the beer on the shelves, Go ahead and give it a whirl, cause these girls might just pop out of one of the bottles and fulfill your wildest fantasy.

if you think you are slutty...

Well I won't argue with you. In fact, I'll tell you it like it is - you are a dirty whore. Let me assure you that you, and all other humans for that matter, aren't the only slutty horndogs out in this strange world. I was up late last saturday night, all by my lonesome, with nothing but a 65 inch TV, TiVO, and some beer. Naturally, first I thought about finding some porn, but my dad doesn't have the Playboy channel or anything of the like, so it would have come down to simple Skinimax bullshit -- in other words I would only be able to enjoy about 1 min of fake tittty, no penetration what so ever, and dialogue and acting comparable to Troy (which I had just finished watching for some sick reasons I have yet to understand). I opted out to the Discovery channel, which had a special -- well not really a "special", considering they have segements like these all the time -- a special on...


"Predators of the Sea!!"

Starring: The GREAT White Shark and The Dolphin ;)

The segment on sharks wasn't only the great white, but they spent about 20 minutes of the 30 minute segment focused on those beasts. Same with the dolphin segment, they spent the most time on bottle-nosed dolphins, and then the rest on Killer Whales (which are actually dolphins! Scientists are so silly with the name game sometimes). Let me say that the program was fucking sick! Great Whites are just riduculous monstrousities, merciless killers, and scary as all hell! For shits and giggles, these scientists get out on a 12 foot boat and video tape the Great Whites feasting on perdy lil' Elephant Seal. Two guys are floating there, with lifevests on, in a very small motor boat while an 18 foot, 4500lbs fish swims around below them, tearing the fuck out of elephant seal with it's massive 3 1/2 foot wide mouth that has a biting force of 3 tons per square cm! These geeky fellers have balls of steel I tell you! Your a slut, why don't you go suck them!

Speaking of sluts, let me get back to the lecture at hand... We humans aren't the only things that like to fuck. This brings me to the dolphin. Yes, if you didn't already know by now dolphins love a good fuck. Well who doesn't? Should the smartest fish have his fun when he needs it? I mean, a bottle-nose is rocking a 12 inch cock, it's a sad thing to let that go to waste! 12 inches you say? Where do you get this information you ask?

Curtousey of WWW.ZOOPHILE.NET

"Q6: Is it true that a dolphin's penis is prehensile?
A6: The penis of an aroused dolphin is painfully rigid. A male dolphin nearly dislocated my knee, while I was allowing him to pleasure himself on me. Most of the times I've seen a dolphin's penis have been during sexual arousal, so the penis has been pointing in the same direction, toward the dolphin's head and slightly to the left. When it is erect, the only flexible part is the tip. They will hook it on objects in order to pleasure themselves. Most of the time their penis is close to their body, but they can push the head of it away from their body to hook large objects {like a leg}. However I have been informed, that when not aroused they can use their penises for other activities. A male bottlenose dolphin can curve the last 3 inches of their 12 inch penis around something with a diameter of at least 1 inch. The dolphins penis is all muscle (a very strong one I might add), not vascular like a human penis. The reddish color is due to increased blood flow to underlying capillary vesicles near the surface. I still wouldn't consider this to be prehensile."

Anyways, back to the lecture at hand...agian... Ummm, so... Yeah... dolphins love to fuck. As you can see above, one dolphin tried fucking some perverts knee really hard. Which brings me to advisory: please we aware that when trying to get freaky with animals, most of them have never had sex with a human and therefore don't know how. I bet if this dolphin was trained a little better he would know to stick it in one of 3 holes... they are quick learners you know. Plus they have spatial control 1000s of times beyond ours, so much so it isn't even possible for us to comprehend, but I would imagine that means they would make for a great fuck...
Anyways, what I have really been trying to get at, is that dolphins fuck for pleasure. And when they do, they have orgies. One chick will have a train ran on her, where male dolphin after male dolphin will come up and stick it in here real hard. Sadly for them they have yet to master tantra, and this sex seems to last for 15 - 30 seconds (atleast on the program they showed about 6 dudes fuck this one chick and they were basically in and out... and she didn't even complain). I continue to read up on these zoophile websites to gather more information for you people, and am becoming extremely disturbed the more I read...
Cutousey of www.sexwork.com/family/dolphins1.html

The clitoris of the female is located at the top of the genital slit, and is a prominent lump when erect. You can rub this with your finger tips, or lick and suck it, but with the oral aspect, you might end up with a bruised nose as they thrust up into you.

MMMM... I heard that dolphin pussy smells like human... ok, bad joke. But it is good knowledge to know that dolphins have a vagina that is almost 2 feet deep. I would imagine you could fit your whole head in there if you wanted to. An average man's penis wouldn't do that much, so I would recommend cock rings and a vibrator - either to assist with pleasing her or to stick in your ass.

When a male dolphin is interested in you, about the only thing you can do, if you are male, is to masturbate him. WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....

O.K. At this point I am absolutely disgusted and shocked. Please refarin from dolphin sex people! But if you do choose to partake the good news is it is apparently pretty safe...

Q4) What diseases can I get from dolphins? Can I give them any?

A4) I have had no experiences with Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STD's) with dolphins, so I couldn't rightfully say. I do know, however, that you can pass the Flu between you, along with other respiratory problems. (I got a cold when a dolphin sneezed on me once. It cleared up after a week or so.)

A Simple Thank You for My Existance....

Where The fuck would I be without these two wonderful women. Both woman standing just arounf 5 ft tall and shrinking by the day...my Grandmoms, on the left Cissie Vizak, someone who has been all over and had the same hair style for the past 40 years. On the left a wild lady, Shirley Rosenberg. Combined they stand responsible for the birth of my momma and poppa dukes. This is what eventually led to the birth of myself. So to these people I say thankyou, you fucking rule.

AFTER FURTHER REVIEW.....

In a recent post regarding the best of the best in the costume world of Holloween 2005, I presented myself in the list. I did this not to boost my ego, but simply because the Tigger costume is a classic, extremely enjoyable and fabulous costume. Since my post, I have come to a conclusion that the costume contest does not only grant victory to the best costume in general...but more to the point of how well one rocks the fabulous costume. Due to this recent finding of enlightenment I remove myself from the winners, but in my position I leave the same costume in the better form. Becky Berman style! Not only does her spectacular, yet loveable and cute face help to acentuate the costume...but her size is the kicker. Many may have noticed, but I have long outgrown the Tigger costume. When I prounce around Jolly as a crackhead who just got a free rock, with my tail hitting off the back of my legs and lower back, and I am as warm as a bear with my full body fleece coverage, life is good! Although this sounds great, my Tigger presentation is off. you see there needs to be slack for the costume to work. space for the bounce to cause a ripple affect. This is where my good friend Becky excels. So enough of the bullshit. Check this shit out and you'll see what I'm talking about---->

Casualties of The Booze.....

Anybody who has tried it will agree: alcohol is one hell of a substance. In the situation that it captivates all of your sense and inhabitions...and passing out becomes the best solution, there is a style to follow for success. If at a party and you are feeling over the line of wastedness the best way to handle things are as follows. Either quit being such a bitch and get your drinking weight up, or post up in a quality place and position.
HERE IS WHAT NOT TO DO....

Middle of the floor, face down, holding booze, hat still slightly on in the middle of a party.
Here is what you should do.....

Find a nice couch to post up on, lie down on your side so that if worse comes to worse...you wont choke on your tounge. There is a trashbag in sight for puking purposes. He has his pillows set up and hes ready to snooze, on the edge of the party but not in anybody's way. The only thing he has done wrong is falled asleep with his shoes still on, allowing for legal mark-up by other drunken idiots who are still awake and rearing to go.

The King Of Phunk's 2k5 Costume Contest Winners...

The votes were close, the costumes were of extreme quality as well as creativity, and boy oh boy did we all have a good time. So without any further wait.....I give to you the victorious dresser-uppers of Holloween 2005--->

BATMAN AND TIGGER

THE DUTCH-MASTER

PEPTO-BISMOL

THE BUD_LIGHT REFFEREE's

That Creepy Rabbit From Donny-Darko

and of course...THE MOST LOVEABLE PIRATE THERE IS-

Turkey-Day

A TIME FOR FUN....

A TIME FOR FOOD....

BUT MAINLY, A TIME FOR FRIENDS AND FAMILY TO BE CLOSE.....

Last tuesday most UVM students as well as humans around the world, began to pack up their bags with big plans of heading home. Back to the place where you had settled for most of your life, or perhaps a short vacation to have fun, wholesome times with friends and family. Thanksgiving is not only the one day of the year that man-kind stops to honor the existance or death of the turkey, but also it is a short time before Christmas season to be with the ones you love, and who love you. A period of time to catch up on whats been going on in everyones life, as well as to stuff your face with as much mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce as humanly possible. A slight "breather" before the long haul of final's preperation and suicidal thoughts. The days went quick, but the nights were long. Seeing friends and family that although there had been gaps of months to years of seeing eachother, still had endless amounts to talk about. All in all, a good time! So a loud GOBBLE GOBBLE to everyone who feels me on the splendidness of the Holiday, and as far as this King of Phunk goes....I'm already looking forward to next years Turkey-day festivities.

Les... He's a hell of a guy

Let me tell you why...

When anyone is asked the illustrious "Who is the best at..." question, they inturn, usually point out a variety of flaws in that type of labeling - different styles, personal prefernce, different time periods, it's all art...
There is no answer to this question. When you are just that disgustingly nasty at creating music that you step into the territory of "Legend", there is no best.

My personal prefence------ Les Claypool

          

>stop the music on the side bar now
                 turn on any player below

^^^ Les Claypool's Frog Birgade - Ding Dang ^^^

^^^ Les Claypool's Frog Birgade - Hendershot (live) ^^^



Les Claypool tackles the bass guitar like nobody ever could have imagined. Not only does have have some of the most impressive technical ability, but his style is so unique.. so... weird, so fucking awesome --- his music, his shows --- it's like an evil circus that taps deep into your soul and takes you away to another dimension.

His origins take him back to Primus, an ill-nasty hardcore rock band with a strong overtone of progressive rock, some freeform improv, but mostly composed explosions of sheer rage. Les Claypool's sound is the main influence on this band - complete domination by the terrifying bass. He is well complimented by the mean guitarist, Larry LeLonde, and the monster of a drummer, Tim "Herb" Alexander -or- the even beastlier and more horribly awesome drummer, Brian "Brain" Mantia. If you are not familiar with these guys, PLEASE check them out. They rule my face!

^^^ Primus - Jerry Was a Racecar Driver ^^^

These guys did the South Park theme song and of course it rocks.

Les has gone on to a variety of new horizons, most notably being Oysterhead (inwhich he teamed up with Phish's Trey Anastasio and Stewart Copeland from The Police, to form one of the best super-bands eva). These guys combinded my two favorite artists at their respective instruments, and create some of the most strangely awesome sounds ever. With sounds raging from classic Les, to funky Trey, and to something more obsurded, their audacious vibrations can reach far beyond the taste of jambanders.

check out this little clip>>>

These days, he is off touring the North East with his Fancy Band, ripping peoples faces clean off their heads. With a devil on distorted saxophone, a caveman on drums, a fighter pilot on percussion (the most amazing display of xylophone and vibraphone virtuosity), a freaky chinese lady on sittar, and Satan himself on the bass guitar, these guys are sure to rock you fucking socks off, and then eat your first born. I saw these bad boys three times this past weekend, and there is no doubt in my mind...

Les Claypool is the best bassist ever.

An Underated Invention If I've ever known one....

"THE BEER HELMET"- THERES ALWAYS THAT GUY AT THE CONCERT OR AT THE CARNIVAL OR YOUR WASTED UNCLE AT A FAMILY GET-TOGETHER...THATS ROCKIN ONE OF THOSE BAD BOYS. TRUTHFULLY THOUGH, I FEEL ITS SUCH A SIMPLE CONCEPT THAT NOT ENOUGH LIGHT HAS EVER BEEN SHINED ON ITS USEFULNESS, STYLE, AND CONSIDERATION.

WHO WAS THE MAN THAT WHEN IT CAME DOWN TO IT, INVENTED SUCH A STYLISH WAY OF DRINKING. HE DID SO IN SUCH A WAY THAT EVEN WHEN YOUR TO SMASHED AND WASTED OUT OF YOUR MIND TO EVEN HOLD ON TO A BEER....THERE YOU STAND WITH NOT ONE, BUT TWO JUST CHILLING ON YOUR HEAD. KUDOS MY GOOD MAN FOR YOUR CREATIVITY, I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR NEXT STAB AT THE DRAWING BOARD.

WHAT NOT TO DO WHILE INTOXICATED......

Never attempt to double fist, without expecting to spill all over yourself









Don't attempt to smoke a cig and a blunt at the same time, unless you can pull it off with as much style as this dude.

Rip your pants at a wild party, then proceed to duck tape them back together.



Steal the "W" from the Wills dormitory. However, The name "Ills" truly did sum up the crew in the building.





And last on this list, but most importantly....please dont take a stapeler to your own ass. Its just painful for everyone- yourself and those watching.

Drums for Drummers

Check out this gnarly pic of hard-hitting powerhouse, Mikey Rivera, from The Kinison. Not only does this cat rock out with his shirt off, but he does it with custom drums. To be exact, my man Mikey playes Orange County Drum and Percussion; some of the finest drums in the world.

Unlike most standard drum companies who have very few options when it comes to what can be done to their drums, OCDP takes great pride in customizing almost every aspect of theirs, along with any ideas that the customer comes up with.Talk about service!


Here's a small taste of what OCDP will do if you shell out a few grand:


1) Finishes-Thousands of different finishes from standard laminates, to glass sparkles, to satin stains, to metals, to hi gloss lacquers, to acrylics to custom paint jobs.

2) Powder Coating- Just about any color powder coating is available. Powder coating is a process that changes the color of the lugs, hoops, spurs, claws, and air vents from chrome to just about any color you want such as black, red, blue sparkle, purple candy, etc.

3) Gauger RIMS Mounts-The Gauger Rims mounts are an additional option that enables you to suspend the tom from a tom stand or rack without drilling the bracket directly onto the shell, allowing for maximum resonance of the drum.


Though these are just a few of the many options one has when choosing their custom kit, OCDP's snare drums are undoubtedly the most exciting and aesthetically pleasing part of this prestigous business.


Ranging from their highly-popular vented snare to their revolutionary hybrid snare, which combines two separate materials (i.e. wood-acrylic, wood-metal), Orange County Drum and Percussion is most certainly a force to be reckoned with. If you can afford it, that is.


The snare drums alone can cost up to damn-near $2,000 depending on your choice of options.


As for the kits themselves, you can get a basic 4-piece set(no options) for around $3,000 or a little more, assuming that you lay low on the snare drum.

For those of you who demand more out of life (and your drums), you can expect to pay anywhere from $4,000 and beyond. Yeah, that's American currency, pal.


It doesn't take a nuclear physicist to figure it out. Orange County's formula is quite simple:


More drums+More Options= More Money.


So if you do decide that these are the drums for you, make sure you have a solid line of credit and that your house is entirely paid for, because these drums will be certain to set you back.



Because they're standard?



Nah, because they're custom.



Orange County Drum and Percussion, to be exact.

THE-PUNNISHER-DUNNISHER-BLUNT-OFF-2K5....judged by none other then Dready Benny Stien-Lo and The King of Phunk

IT WAS A CLOSE COMPETITION JUDGED ON 4 FACTORS....
1-LOOKS ( HOW PLEASING THE BLUNT WAS TO THE EYE)
2- THE "BOAT FACTOR" ( HOW WELL IT BURNED, IF IT NEEDED TO BE DOCTORED FOR THE CHERRY TO BURN STRAIGHT)
3- BURNING TIME ( HOW LONG THE BLUNT BURNED FOR)
4 QUALITY OF TUG ( IF THE SHIT MADE YOU COUGH YOUR BRAINS OUT, OR IF YOU PULLED AND GOT NOTHING)



DUNNISHER WAS VICTORIOUS IN THE LONG RUN.....PUNN HAS BEEN PRACTICING STEADILY AND THE TABLES COULD TURN THIS YEAR....WE LOOK FORWARD TO THIS YEARS GAMES!

The Day The Stump Died......

"It wasnt just any game" some would say hailing from the Chitty-Buckham Dormatories. The game involved nails, a hammer, a relatively large chunk of a log, and some students with the desire to consume alcohol. "Stump" was the name the activity was granted and BOY!, did those kids ejoy it. Two large nails were hammered slightly into the center of the stump....the participants all would put an average size nail somewhere infront of their standing position and hammer it partially in. The individuals whos turn it was would then flip the hammer. If the hammer hit either of the center large nails in, then it would be a "social" and everyone would drink, if the hammer hit someones individual nail...the person who's nail got hit in or out would then have to chug-a-lug and finish there brewsky. Although I never played the game, it seemed to have good fun intentions to it;however, the regular participants were assholes.

While me and my buddies would entertain ourselves on the Central Campus green with a casual gentelmenly game of Bocce, occassionaly we would wonder into "stump territory" and they would give us some issues. We may have played through and continued our game peacefully, leaving them with the mindset that the had won the battle....but let me tell you my friends......WE WON THE WAR FOR SURE!!!!



STRIPPED_HAMMERED_THEN THROWN BACK INTO THE RAIN OUTSIDE ITS RIGHTFUL BUILDING...GOOD TIMES INDEED!

If you drink Snapple you support the deaths of thousands of Americans and tens(hundreds?) of thousands of innocent people in Middle East.

But gosh darn it, it sure does taste delicious!
MMMMMM, strawberry kiwi! I love something that's made from the "Best Stuff on Earth", yet is only 5% juice and contains 54 grams of high fructose corn syrup.
FUCK SNAPPLE first of all. It's as good for you as drinking a Coca Cola, so don't drink that shit and think you are maybe doing less injustice to your body. Secondly, Snapple is owned by a family of hardcore republicans, who make very large donations to the GOP frequently. Which means they heavily support their taxes being lowered, poor people's opportunities being squandered, environmental protections being rolled back, and the needless death of hundreds of thousands of innocent people for the sake of greed.

Everytime you drink a snapple you are giving money to the Christian Fundamentalist Group. Every sip of that soft drink from hell, is supporting the Republican extremists perogative.

If you drink snapple, you are evil.


FUCK SNAPPLE

Not just an opinion. A way of life.

This is Vermont in the winter. This is where most of us either call, or have come to call home . It's a remarkably beautiful place; having much more in store than Ben& Jerry's, hippies, and good pot. When it came time to post, I was hesitant about posting this particular picture, for fear of sending anyone who reads this into a "I'm not ready for winter" induced shock.

But ya know what?

Having a blog is about being bold. Living life the way you want to is about being bold. Sometimes it's even about succumbing to such trite lines as "Go where no man has gone before". I don't care. I could care less if you're reading this and getting all pissed off because it's not even winter yet. But the fact of the matter is, fall isn't all that long around these neck of the woods. Hell, I love fall. It's one of my favorite seasons. But Vermont is about winter. It's about snowy, picturesque sunsets and frozen boogers on the face of a beautiful girl. Those who disagree are simply afraid of the inevitable.

In the words of my good man Nick Hexum, "Fuck the bullshit, It's time to throw down."


And indeed, we should. Winter is gunna be coming up faster than we know it. Sure it's still occasionally warm out. Sure the leaves are falling. But no one is skiing. No one is snowboarding. No one is throwing snowballs at cops or leaving a trail of blood in the snow. And that's not right.

If you don't like the winter, than you definitely aren't in Kansas anymore.

It's time for some snow. Some good old fashioned, ass kickin, cow tippin, skoal dippin snow.

Sure last year wasn't really what people expected in terms of a true Vermont winter, but it doesn't mean that you should fall into the category of "Idiots Who Don't Believe in Snow".

The time has come. Get ready. Get your fuckin gloves on, and size up your first white-wash victim.


I know I will. So if you're with me, then props to you.


And if you're not, then you should go out, buy some summer gear, decorate your room like Hawaii, leave the lights on, close your windows until your room heats up, and convince yourself that the word "winter" and "Vermont" couldn't possibly be put into the same sentence.

Either way, you're gunna be sorry. Not just because you'll look like a tard-face when I see you in your "Yay, We're going to Hawaii" room, but because you're gunna be the first person that i white-wash.

But you can't say I didn't tell you so.

Mogue

Mogue is the man. There's no two ways about it. He eats, he sleeps, he humps(like Rordan Josenberg), he jumps over stone walls, and he climbs trees. In fact, Mogue is so flippin' crazy, he once ate Mike Dunn's socks! Both of them!



If ever you should be fortunate enough to meet this master of mayhem, be sure to take off your shoes and bow to him. No, he's not from Japan, but he's just that daaaamn good.



Free Mogue. Stay up.

I swear to Drunk I'm not God

Hey there, all you Fall Weekend Fanatics! Man, exclamation points sure are stupid!!!


More importantly though, why is it that everyone is going home? I'm sitting in the dark right now typing this out while my roomate sleeps on the couch. What the fuck. If you're like me, you're probably extremely good looking, talented, and bulgy like a moose (if you know what i mean). But then again, if you're not completely like me, you're probably wondering where all the goddamn alcohol is, where the party is, where the night's prospective sexual intercourse is. Sooooo I decided to take a little trip downtown for all of you, in hopes of getting some of those questions answered. It's 5:00 right now. I'll be back in a little bit. I promise................



Hhkaye so itls like 8 ot 9 now mand man i wasnbt expecting to be drunk jsnow but i went downtoan like i said. the piytcture up top is what haoepopend when i went hahah/. i found the big bus fgull of jageirfmemestier or whaterver you isepll it. it was rtight outsdide nectrars rof some promotoiions or soething. man i hope the doctor doesent get mad fi he treads this cuz im druhnk..i wenti sinsde and got fuckin takned with the guys gfrom the booze cfocmpnay. they letm me tkae pictues and shit too, iut was the tits. so hopek amll of u havve a good ngiht and myabe find the booze bus too guy,.



but i gto back andf no ojend was here, everyones estil home. i nbeed another drink. enjouy jafgermestirer and dont dridnkve if u drinek guys. later gatrtor.





PS DOCFTOR PARENT DONT ?BE MAD

A Beautiful Slinky Is A Beautiful Thing

Yet another picture from the vault; a mysterious man with a mysteriously flourescent slinky. I'm pretty sure that doctors are gunna start giving these things out at birth because they're pretty badass.



"Cut off his embilical cord,Nancy."



"No problem. Just make sure that goddamn kid gets a slinky!"

Think Twice Before Giving Spare Change

UVM's Newest Jam Scene

Here at the University of Vermont, the jam band scene is quite large and popular. That's a given. However, instead of always hearing the word "jam" and assuming that it has to do with smelly hippies (which is redundant by the way), Phish, or cannibus sativa, why not take a closer look at the real JAM.


In the picture, you will notice the large can of jam in the left hand of my fellow man. Though this creature of habit is an adamant fan of jam bands, it is quite evident that he flourishes in his natural environment with a fresh can of jam. When was the last time you saw someone with a can of JAM BANDS in their hand? Huh? Ponder that for a bit if you're stoned enough.


Last but not least is the picture behind the jam-smearing culprit. For those of you who failed your eyesight tests in high school or what have you, I'll help you out. The picutre is the crazy monkey from the hit show "Family Guy".


1. Look closer at the picture

2. Look closer at the culprit

3. Compare the picture and the culprit

4. Assimilate


There you go, cacca-poo-poo-heads. This has been another stimulating picture from the archives of Sir Spank A Lot.


*** Not "Sir Spanks A Lot" or any other ridiculous grammatical blunder or lack of care posted by The King of Fuck.


**** That wasn't a mistake.

It's up to you

What's more ridiculous, the idea of someone trying to start a fire with twigs inside of a sleeping bag while standing up, or the haunting words on the television in the background? Which image sticks out more at first glance? I'm not really sure, but it's definitely some food for thought. Don't get too stuffed. Oh, and save room for dessert, pumpkin.

A Simple Visual Explanation For a Few Things Here at School....

Here is the true reason why we don't have a football team! You stupid bastards probobly thought it was because of the snow or the fact that UVM has a majority of lazy fucks wandering around campus, as opposed to juiced up jocks who like to run laps, break bones, and do dip( images of possible dip-skoal demonstrated in Sirspanks alots post below)



Note the highlighted violation at the bottom of this UCI police log....This is the reason why the UVM ID cards are a neccessity for the Bailey-Howe Library if Ive ever seen one








LAST BUT NOT LEAST.......

Here is one of the few reasons why someone may possibly get there ass kicked, or be considered the coolest person on campus. This is a little word to the wise for the holloweeny holiday coming up in a few weeks.

How you may know SirSpanksAlot...the Man the Myth the Legend!

Though I had taken a short hiatus, to take care of a few of my life-time goals....I managed to meet a man along my travels, who seemed to have no self-restraint to his actions whatsoever, .... I say this to warn you of him! If you see him approaching, nonchalantly shift your eyes to the ground and quickly pace passed him, sneaking just below his radar.
HE MAY LOOK HARMLESS.....
BUT HERE ARE JUST A FEW OF THE THINGS HE HAS BEEN SPOTTED DOING.....
Dry-Humping and verbally abusing a visiting sibling of his roomate.



As well as---- Stripping and possibly more for certain monetary payments......

GOD hates you

Somethings in life are meant for the truely disturbed. If you fall into this category of fucked up, thick-skinned, feces-eating freaks, then may God have mercy on your soul.

If you don't beleive in almighty "God", than you will enjoy a nonstop trip directly to the firey depths of HELL!!!!! (no peanuts on this flight)

As you may or may not realize, Lucifer is the most important manifestation of cerebral masturbation and defecation in the history of MAN. God is great and all, but if it wasn't for the Fallen Angel, the church of Jesus Christ would be out of business. Well, of course they could pull off a little Jewish Lightning and collect on insurance, but that is racist and just like Trent Lot, I am no racist...
    You should note the striking resemblance of Trent to the man in the first video...

Do you know how Luke fell from the heights of Perfection?... Heaven... you know, Levitt Town in the clouds, with their peachy houses and white picket fences, and Valium popping housewives, and alcoholic child-abusing fathers, and their Presidents who ruin country after country (starting with his own), and daughters who fuck on the first date, and priests who touch little boys, and they eat fish on Fridays...

Luke was all like: "Fuck you God, you piece of shit, always nay-saying... 'Thou shalt not steal!' ... 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbors ass!' ... How are you gonna tell a man how to run his life, when he can't even enjoy the fruits of a lady's body and of drugs and stuff? Man, you suck sometimes."

God responded: "Luke, I am your father... Now shut your fucking trap, boy, or I'll kick your scrawny little ass!"

Luke: "You are the biggest bitch in the world! God damn it!" And then he pulled out a Glock and started busting caps in mad angels' faces and shit, and then God got pissed off and beat the fuck out of Luke, and with one swoop of his incomprehensibly large pinky finger, broke Luke's angel wings, and threw Luke into the Hell Fire that lay below...


Luke has been chillin down there ever since, having the time of his life. Fuckin mad bitches, smokin a lot of reefer. He is a big Yankees fan (explains a lot), he also watches a lot of football. He lost a bet with Marino a couple year's ago (this is a long time after Marino sold his soul in order to kick ass at football ...seems there is always a catch to those Devil contracts...) and as revenge the Dolphins suck nowadays. He is trying to become a full-fledged vegetarian, but he has such a taste for human flesh, it's a real strain on him. He loves Sex and the City, and most every HBO program and the OC is is awesome! Ummm, he really likes to knit and stitch things, he's a big silk fan.... And in his spare time he eats the souls of the Damned.



Yeah... so the Devil rocks my world, and he rock yours too, even if you didn't know it yet...

 Pre-marital sex?
   Chronic masturbation?
      Chopped up a wee lil' fetus?
         Wanted to fuck your best buddy's girlfriend?
            Actually fucked her?
               Murdered 2Pac because he is a nukka?
                  Got gay with your neighbor?
If you have ever commited one of these ridiculously entertaining sins, you are already part of Satan's flock. Quit your bitching about eternal damnation, stop worrying about the ultimate fate of your soul... accept the reality that hedonism is the best route, and just realize God doesn't care about you. He is the one who really wants you to live in misery. Fuck God! Fuck him right in the pooper (just the way he likes it)!!!

LET THE SIN... BEGIN!

Satan is my homeboy.
<<< i'm told he is a hell of guy

When ills ruled the world

Jesus is MY Homeboy

A Public Service Announcement

News Flash:Condomface Posts After Year-Long Hiatus!

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, children of all ages, Jordan"Condomface"Rosenberg has finally posted. April Fool's joke, no. Fluke, maybe. However, this new and improved man seems to be on his way to Blogger-Stardom. After giving up the fashion faux pas of wearing condoms on his face, Rosenberg hopes to take the Blogger community by storm. This picture was taken last year; roughly around the same time Condomface posted his blog before last. Who knows, with the help of modern technology and the unrelentless begging of Phunky Bob's Blogger skills, this misunderstood creature just may jump back into the spotlight he once shined so brilliantly in.

Are The Days of North-Beach Coming to a Seasonal Hault?

Its the place where Burlington Vt. has a view similar to the British Virgin Islands. A location where underage drinking, bocce, barbequing, frisbee, dutches, and crowds of people, are as expected to be seen as a clown at the circus. When you step foot out of your last class of the day, and the 80 degree weather makes you want to take of your shirt and throw on a bathing suit, your stomach craves charcoal grilled burgers and dogs, and your liver craves a few magic hats or whatever your fix may be...there is only one place that comes to mind for most UVM students, NORTH-BEACH



It seems like only a few days ago...the times at the beach with you friends would be available forever. As it always goes the tempetures were high, the humidity was low, sun stayed out late, there was movement everywhere on campus and around B-town in general. One may ask themselves at this point what happened, why isnt Vt. as beautiful as ever?.... Let me tell you what happened, Parent and Alumni Fucking weekend. As soon as the Rents hop in the plane, bus or automobile and make there way up or down to the universitas divermontes.... expecting the sky's to be clear and the sun to set perfectly over the adirondack mountains, the rain and the cold has to come. We have now gotten a taste of what were in store for in the near future...but is this the beginning, are the days of 70 and above, and Northbeach over, for the love of god I hope not. Although in the same note...Bring on the snow

Tales from beyond Sir Spank a Lot

Henry Mingus was quite possibly the world's worst baseball player. Ever. It was unclear to most how one human being could lack even the slightest bit of coordination or talent. But not to us, no. We all knew. Well, not all of us, but the close ones. You see, Henry's mother, Gretchen, was an alcoholic, and had been one through her entire pregnancy. People warned her excessively about the dangers of drinking while carrying little Henry, and she swore that she had given it up. Of course, they believed her, and of course it was a lie. When it came time to breastfeed, Gretchen would give her son any type of alcohol, as long as it complimented her mammary milk. At night, Henry would cry and scream, and throw up incessantly all over his crib. As legend has it, sources close to the Mingus family say that young Henry would throw up so frequently that one time, he even hit the dream catcher a whole three feet above his crib. Why these sources didn't come forward before it was too late remains to be seen. But that's beside the point. There was a newborn baby with an alcohol addiction that didn't seem to be slowing down at any time. In fact, it was just the opposite.

The bus stopped in front of the Mingus house every day at 7:50AM, not a minute early, not a minute late. That's just how Shelly was. She woke up and did the same tedious routine every single morning, but ultimately, that's what made her Shelly. Her Panasonic alarm clock had been set for 5:45AM for the past 13 years, even on the weekends. She would wake up, brush her teeth, take a shower, smoke 2 unfiltered cigarettes in a row (because she couldn't smoke on the bus), and drive to the school to retrieve her beautiful bus, which she loved dearly, and for good reason. Shelly had an arrangement worked out with the town so that she could drive the bus on the weekends. I mean, it's not like she drove around and picked up all the kids who were sleeping, and brought them to school when it wasn't even open, but it was pretty close. She drove the route to perfection, and would sit at each house long enough for the door to open and close, as if a child were boarding. No one ever rode the bus on the weekend. Except for Shelly.

Some people were meant for college. Others, not so much.Robbie Pertinini was not meant for college. I take that back. He wasn't meant to do work in college. It was as if his parents had knowingly conceived him for the sole purpose of smoking pot and having unprotected sex. But then again, their family had quite a long history of that, and it would be a shame to ruin that upstanding legacy. Mr. Pertinini, or “Tony Fats” as most of his colleagues called him, was in the fishing industry. That's all anyone knew. That, and that he wasn't really in the fishing industry. But that's all. His mother, Edie, was a stay-at-home mother, which really meant that she mooched off her husband's money and slept around with all of his best friends. Of course, no one knew. They never seemed to know. People today don't ask nearly as many questions as they used to. Sooner or later, it comes back to bite them in the ass. Right in the ass. Not Shelly though. She never got bit. She just didn't. It wouldn't seem fair. After all, she had been Robbie's bus driver since he was tiny.

Shiver me timbers!

ARRR!!!

What fine day it be for sailing the high seas of Vermont! As ye all should know b'now, it be Talk Like a Pirate day!!!

AVAST! Did ye know, pirates kick land lubber ass?! Since I be a pirate, I can 'test that there be nothin mer vile than these here buccaneers like mi self! Yaahaarrr!


Aye! I could blabber me mouth on fer days about the sweet trade, but I must be getting back to bunrin scallywags and lootin m' way to Fiddler's Green! I bid ye well!

Famous pirates to consider:

vespucci

^^^^^^^that is the moon. THE MOON.
you must note "the" infront of "moon", for this distiguishes the terrestial moon from our solar system's 156 other known moons. my god us humans are short-sighted and self-proclaiming superiors of the universe. worse yet, we decided that our super star, fuzzy ball of nuclear fission, is not just any sun, but rather is THE SUN. i bet an america named these celestial bodies; few other peoples are self-centered like us fucking awesome american PIMPsters. that is what rocks about america, that we see ourselves on some higher plane of existence than the other 6 billion heads out there, but moreover, we don't give a flying fuck. we just don't. you don't like america, say hello to a daisy cutter right in your backyard, bitch. that's gonna shut your yippity yappity trap hole up real good. you know what they say - america, love it or leave it

i shorten it to a simple, yet deeply profound statement:
AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!

Phunky Bob has made comments regarding the quantity, length, and stylings of my posts....but I continue to be a lazy human being; however, I keep on enjoying my life. I recently grabbed hold of some interesting shit.......so Phunky Bob chooses to come out of his room after masterbating (as he has previously stated as one of his favorite past-times... in malls and shady places of public locations) into the hall! I just so happened to meet a kid who found himself conveniently located in the hallway with a digital camera at the time.....What Luck!
Hope everybody enjoys this candid photo

This is the face of a legend. He eats the neighbor's cats, wears nice collared shirts, and drinks the world's most expensive champagne. From 1986 to 1990, ALF was the talk of the town.

To put it bluntly..........ALF was the tits. Nothing more, nothing less.

So why is it that America's pop culture is still deeply infatuated with a creature from the planet Melmac more than 15 years after his disappearance from television? I'm not sure there's even an answer to that ridiculuous question. But hypothetically speaking, let's just say some ALF-obsessed junky living in his grandmother's basement comes across this post in search of cartoon porn, and decides to respond with some snide answer (that I don't even want) like "That's not true, ALF has a new talk show and has appeared on various commercials. Get your facts straight, you premature blogger". Well, ya know what I'd say to that guy?

It took me a few minutes but i got it.......

Fuck you, Freakshow! I didn't write any of this in hopes of shedding new light on the career of an ass-ugly puppet from Planet Smoothie or wherever he's from. I posted this to piss off nerdlings like you; people who have nothing better to do with their time than masturbate in their grandmother's Town Car and try to prove me wrong about the chronology of a fuckin puppet. Go back to your hole, eat some disgusting meal your grandmother cooked from her deathbed, and leave me and my blog alone, because it has nothing to do with ALF...............

OR DOES IT?????

Sadly, this is also the face of a legend. Granted, he isn't your typical GQ material, but regardless, a legend in the hearts of many. He eats peoples' pineapples, argues incessantly, and has kankles. That's right, I said it.



From 2004 to 2005, KARP was the talk of the town. Burlington town, that is.



A man so set in his ways, that you'd think he was from the Paleolithic era.



A man so simple that you'd think they were beginning production for Rain Man 2.



The list could go on infinitely, or however long it took KARP to spit out his "point" at the end of an argument-a-thon.



But the big question around these neck of the woods is, why is it that nearly 4 months after his disappearance from our lives, is this strange creature (also from the planet Melmac) still on our mind?


Is it because he was once quoted as being "The Best Dressed Man"? or could it be because more than half of his facial hair (including eyebrows) was once burnt to a crisp with a lighter and a can of Axe?






The answer may be closer than we think.





The similarities between KARP and ALF are almost frightening. Like identical twins separated at birth, the two brothers went on to lead very different lives. ALF of course went on to pop culture stardom, while KARP did massive amounts of drugs, and allegedly ended up at Drexel. Both ridiculously ugly and from the planet Melmac, it would be impossible to consider them anything but identical twins.




But where is KARP right now? Why is he gone? Is in the Hollywood Hills living off of his brother ALF? Is he coming back? Is he even alive? Did he put too much time and effort into recieving nothing for the fruits of his educational endeavors? Is he still a virgin?




Maybe yes, but if so, why has his sudden disappearance kept many of us on the edge of our seats wanting some sort of answer?



This sad story is easily comparable to the question "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?"












The world may never know.

the fish

Holy shit! Holy mother fucking shit! Ungodly amounts of shit! Incomrehensible amounts of fresh cow shit being sprayed in the ugly and disfigured face of a silly, unpopular, emo faggot ass bitch. Finally, something really tastey to wash away that stupid, silly mascara. Yeah that's right, go cry like a little sissy. Yup, that is correct you fargin tool, I fucking hate your guts.

This is how every blog should start, especially one about cotton candy.



I don't think I have ever met a person who dislikes sugar whipped into a giant poof ball of goodness... I'm sure there are plenty of worthless people on this globe who dislike, or even despise the taste of such a splendid candy. These people probably vote for Pat Buchanan and enjoy watching children get beaten by their parents with 4 foot hickory sticks. I prefer using my belt or chairs or something sorta kinky like a whip or an ass paddle. As is, children love getting spanked, so why not upgrade the beating to a full-fledge paddle, really bust their tokhes into a million pieces. Children are funny like that. As long as you give them cotton candy afterwards, you can beat them absolutely sensless with a variety of household appliance and they won't tell the police on you. What a fucking rush man! Reminds me of hunting for cute, fuzzy lil bunny rabits, or even for puppy Dalmations. Fuck dalmations. They do nothing good for this world. Why did that all-American firefighter squad pick Spot the dalmation as their mascot? Dalmations are down-right nasty dogs, and other than their interesting coat, have nothing worthwhile... furthermore, why do firefighters have a fucking mascot, albeit it is merely an unofficial symbol of firefighting. All I know is when I see a dalmation I think firefighters and about how much I want to skin the dalmation and sell its coat on Ebay. You see, this one dalmation randomly decided to try and attack my preteen German Shepard ball of cuteness, Penelope... so her big brother, Rudy, got all pissed off, and was like, fuck that you stupid emo faggot-ass dalmation. And my Rudy fucking ripped apart the dalmations neck and broke it's leg, and she had to get rushed to the ER and got like 2 dozens stiches. That's right you stupid whore. Don't ever fuck with me or I'll bury you, just like I did with Chandra Levy...





You know what also, in response to our spankadelic friend's ode to zany aliens from Melmac, I have a single name to drop...

DAVID KARP

Shit! Well aparently he beat me to it...
Well, I guess great minds think alike >>>> or so they say...

I was going to save a blog on this kid for another date, but the name Alf makes me ponder the sheer audacity of this clown. What a fucking clown he was- fucking hell, he still is. This poor, distressed soul once attended the great Universitas Viridis Montis back when it was the cool hip thing to do. Sadly for David, he fell victim to drugs like LSD and XTC and DMT which forever scarred his fargile little brain, and in result, turned him into a self-loathing freakshow. Actually, he did most of those drugs earlier in his life, say while he was a highschool student. Mostly he dosed himself mostly at the loathesome Disco Biscuits concerts in Philly, mostly. The Disco Biscuits are a group of wannabe rockstars who masturbate onto a moog synthesizer and enjoy rolling their faces off and fucking their fans. Yeah, that is right, I know somebody who got her brains fucked out by the guitarist. I assume both blew an 8-ball each, turned on some Will Smith, and shot cum in each other's eyes until one of them got conjunctivitis.
Philly folk! aaaahhahahahahaha


David Karp... David Karp... David Karp...



Yeah, I hate his guts. Don't we all? I had a lot to say about him when I started the second half of this entry, but it slipped away from my grasp. Let's put it this way, he is a sick, sad, twisted soul, and as long as he exists, you can feel good about yourself in face of any injustice life serves you, because you aren't David Karp.



Karp leaves this world with many unanswered questions... We don't have anytime to address anymore than the most important question of all...





Who is David Karp?












The world may never know.

Robbie you are one of the craziest motherfuckers I have ever met

Thanks for the comment! Man, it's so great to see people responding to this site! NEATO! Here's a picture from the Burlington Free Press; a local homeless man and the only thing that he has to live for.....HIS VEGETABLES! Eat up and be healthy, kids. Thanks for the comments! Stay off drugs and do sports! YAY!

As for me... well I'm going to go touch yummy little boys in the bathroom of the Fletcher Free Library! YAY!

snip snip

While on the topic of haircuts, it has been about 2 years and a solid month since the last time they gave me the chippity-chop. Cindy used to be my girl, somewhat of an aged hottie... all good haircutteries employ only hot chicks, as do doctor's offices, restaraunts, and of course retail businesses. How could a retail clothing store survive if Mama Cats is trying to sell you those hot hot hot low-rise jeans? It simply wouldn't. And while this is a sad fact of life, a social inequality, and most importantly an injustices to low-rise Levis-- I am all for it. What can I say? I am a sexual heathen! Well we all are, so go fuck off, and while your busy fucking off in the corner, try and tell me that low-rise jeans are not made specifically for the beautiful. OK, fine, yeah, you can have a really ugly face, the kind that makes dogs whimper, babies cry, and mirrors shatter, but this so called "but-her-face" must have a single redeeming factor... one hot fucking bod! OOOH yeah! I mean, she would require, at the least, a well shaped bottom and hips and flat stomach (preferably without any hair) inorder to effectively sport this super sexy fashion evolution.


nice stomach, baby

This reminds me that however much I tend to dislike the girls who wear clothing like low-rise jeans and pink Abercrombie halter-tops for their basically non-existant personality... this being said, I'll probably try and make out with one later tonight. I do not mind for one second the sexual revolution that has occurred in this world over the last 50 years. Well of course it comes with a few major ironies (AIDS, divorce, whoring oneself, knocking up teenie boppers), but disregarding all the bad, this sexual revolution has brought much pleasure into the lives of all! The human body is simply a beautiful thing (well, some of these bodies are), and as with all beautiful things, we as humans must exploit it, which fucking rules in a scenario such as this, because I love the female sex very very much. Again, let's be honest with ourselves, we stare at chicks tits and ass all day long, regardless if we are single, dating, in love, and if you are married you tend to stare even more than any time in your life! Not a problem, looking but not touching is a socially acceptable outlet for one's pent up sexual desires. Actually, looking all day long probably makes it worse. In my case, after a long day at the beach or the local mall, I am forced to vigourously masterbate in the first available location I can find -- the bathroom, the changing rooms of Old Navy, a candy shop, Sunglass Hut -- and then continue on my way disregarding the yucky stain on my pant leg...

But yeah, haircuts are a for the weak minded. Why are you paying somebody like $15 to cut some hair when your friend can do it for you for FREE!!!!!! Only in America will idiots like Spanky waste beer money on getting an unneed haircut. He has a girlfriend... she won't care if his hair is big and poofy or trimmed to his dome, and if she does, well make her do something usefull like cutting your hair or better yet, baking me a pie.

So I got my haircut yesterday.....in a salon. Yea, it wasn't much of a barber shop. Anyway, I'm sitting in the chair and the girl cutting my hair goes, "I used to work at another salon, but it was way too conservative. I had a great view, though. I got to see people walking around outside and stuff while I cut hair." Why I didn't get up and walk out of the SALON, I don't know. I mean, the last thing i want to hear while I'm getting my hair cut is someone basically saying, "I hate my extremely unstressful job, so I think I'll watch people walk by instead of worrying about scalping someone who is paying for my services." After barely surviving my most recent salon experience, I picked up a pack of smokes for my cigarette-hungry roomate. I doubt he even has any left. I guess the moral of my story is that it's good to get a haircut at a window-less place, so that you don't end up looking like you just got scalped at the Battle of Little Big Horn.

Diapers are overrated......just use your hands

Actually, scratch that. Price Chopper is having a huge sale on Pamper Pull-Ups.

there are no more diapers left