Hopefully, the Most Offensive Post Ever

Aaaah, back in the proverbial, digital saddle. In case you were wondering, I passed my stupid class and, after 20 minutes (of my given 105 minutes) in an eerily quiet and solemn testing dungeon in Tigard, OR, I passed my stupid test. That’s right, certified, after many hours of training and studying, by the oldest and most tireless nemesis I have: The State.

I was driving to the office this morning, after almost two weeks absence, knowing full well that a blog was very much in order and trying to snare an idea from the buzzing hive that is my brain. At a stoplight, I saw what I consider to be the ultimate in limp-wristed self-expression. Desperate to articulate their political and social opinions concerning current events, but unwilling to permanently mar the paint job on their new Subaru, this douche bag TAPED a bumper sticker into the rear window of his station wagon. This miserable ass-hat feels so inclined to expound on the news of the day, but apparently isn’t brave enough to scratch his paint job, or perhaps wants the option to drop the subject when he drives outside of Portland (read: into the real world). But this subject is tired, and frankly I don’t care anymore.



Then, when I arrived at the office, I check my good pal’s blog only to be linked over to another blog where the author is pontificating on the worthlessness of a series of young adult books he’s never even read, seemingly, for purpose of dropping names like Joyce and Fitzgerald, as if most of us weren’t required to read the two in high school. Shall I retort further than the few words I felt compelled to leave on his site? I think not. At least, not yet.

I thought perhaps I’d make addendum to my completely not-sarcastic entry about my endless love for capitalism and the “virtue of greed” by adding a few more bizarre products I’ve collected over the last few weeks, like Spray On Mud or Liquid Ass or the ever-popular Banana Guard. But perhaps that subject is best left unresurrected.



Unfortunately, as I scan the news wires, there is no news with any humorous potential, except for the woman who fell out of her car on the highway while hanging out of the open door, attempting to hock a lugie onto the asphalt. Even that, however, warrants little more than a brief chuckle.

On The Rocks has been around for over a year, now, and I recall all the fondest feelings I’ve had while acting as Chairperson and CFO of the OTR Institute have been when you losers, my readers, have gotten really angry and started bickering like crazed geese. Granted, these outbursts are mostly warranted because they follow revelations that I felt compelled to bring to your attention, like how both god and racism are both mostly figments of the imaginations of people best poised to profit from their existence.

What patently offensive remark can I make now, in order to churn the shit and get you hornets moving in this mid-summer heat? Shall I make a highly unsavory and offensive comment about homosexuals like, “Wake me up, before you ejaculate on my face!”?



Shall I rail on about pretentious assholes that think everyone that hasn’t read Metamorphosis (Kafka or Ovid) should be dragged out of their pickup trucks, mesh hats politely removed from their unwashed heads and shot in the streets like dogs? Shall I take it in the other direction and endlessly scorn the sponge-heads that proclaim audio books as “just as good as the real thing,” while somebody chews their food for them and fucks their spouse on their behalf, following up with a full written (or possibly recorded) report on the experience?

What’s it take to get you people going?

How about this?

Means Testing

Okay, seriously, I thought the purpose of requiring state licensing of drivers was supposed to weed these people out and keep them off our busy streets, armed with several thousands of pounds of steel.