“I bought a bag of cheese the other day. It was mozzarella. A small bag of organic shredded. Five dollars. Cash. On the surface, no big deal. Look at the fine print though. Part skim! What? Am I reading that right? Part skim! Ah! Wow. I thought to myself. I was duped. What losers are we? We buy something and don’t even realize we’re being scammed because we go with an empty stomach. It’s wisdom straight out of a Buddhist Temple but I was using the mindset of a frat boy. You can’t always go through life rudderless. Here’s how to solve that. Eat yourself fat before going into a grocery store. It’s the only way to not give a rats ass about desire. Get gross to go grocery shopping is what I say now. Eat a steak. And then have a few more bites. Eat until you hate your retched life and are questioning your decisions. A pauper has no business in a King’s Castle. If you’re horny enough, dancing is no longer dancing. It’s a battle to make your boner less obvious. Wisdom comes when you have nothing left to c*m. The same goes for having room to eat. Get full. Pray. And then maybe you won’t buy a sack of scam milk. I payed full price dammit! I didn’t expect to see that some of the ingredients were swapped with filler milk. You know what I did? I shoved it all down the toilet. I had to. What purpose did it have if it was going to be, excuse me for my language, dry as friggen f*ck?! I had to call a plumber after and explain to him why I did it in the first place. Do you know how hard it is to talk cheese, wisdom, and principles with someone that won’t even pull up their britches? It was a mess.”
“I never said bitch make me a sandwich. I said there’s bread, bacon, and beer in the kitchen, could you bring me some dinner? Way different. But in our society, things get reinterpreted and intention gets misconstrued. It turns out, she was a bitch. But I never said that at the time. I am saying it now though. If you don’t know the backstory, it was my friend’s wife. We were relaxing after a hard game of Scrabble and I thought it was normal to ask for some food. It was 7:30 in the damn evening and to be honest, I needed a drink. Anyway, she asked if there was anything else I required. I said, well yes, a little pep in your step if you don’t mind. That was all it took to her to call me a misogynist. I deserve better treatment. Frankly, I deserve dinner. A sandwich if you will.”
“Lives are devastated by this thing we call COVID but can I get an onion? I try to cry and no tears will flow, I just need to cut an onion. All stores are open but none will suffice. Everything available but onions. That alone almost leads to tears but it doesn’t. Nothing with suffice. Not even the news of COVID-19. My friends come over one or two at a time, devastated with wet eyes. My eyes are dry like cake. If only I had an onion. They’d say oh Jordan, it’s ok. But now I’m just a smiling man who can’t even fake a cry. I’m like Pinocchio and all I need is an onion to give me the courage to act like a real boy. I go to the store and all I see is darkness. Peaches. Plums. They’re all there. As if to taunt me and say, you don’t matter. All I want are onions now but they don’t exist. Did they ever exist? Do I exist? Am I an onion? Now I’m crying. I’m real.”
“Yea, ok. Sure. He’s handsome. But we all know that already. The presidency shouldn’t be a popularity contest based on having a Clint Eastwood appeal. Do I agree with his politics? Well, that brings up another point. I haven’t paid much attention to what he says. Therefore, I can’t tell you how well he would do in the anal office. Excuse me. The bl*wjob office. To go back to the point I was making, I haven’t been pulled in by Joe Biden’s foreplay. He hasn’t enticed me. He hasn’t wet my appetite and therefore what can I say of a man with no words? Sure he has words. We all do. But does he know how to use them? Does he know how to stroke both my ego and my back while flexing his own muscles and making me think he’s a real renaissance man. No. But I do like the man. Superficially if anything.”
“To be frank. And I know many are not going to appreciate this, but you can’t beat around the bush if you want to get in that bush. If you do, you’ll be beating your own male member that night and we know that’s not the noblest of acts but we’ve all been there. It’s typical of western society. If you go on one of these free online quasi brothels like Tinder, talk about yer d*ck. That’s it. Shiver me Tinder as I say. Take the blanket off, walk out into the cold air of free speech and talk about yer d*ck!”
"Bake me a cake as fast as you can. I’ll tell you what, you can go to hell without your damn cake. If I was the baker, I’d have thrown that customer in the sewer. Go with the rats where you belong, I’d reiterate. We need patience in society. Waiting is what grows beards and balls. Ever see an old man with a beard ON his balls? That’s a man of patience. He didn’t rush to the grave. A real man and the mighty oak have one thing in common. Standing still. You want a cake? It’ll cost you. And not just money. Time. Your life. You can come by two years later and get your damn cake. How worthy are you? Can you wait it out? Do you really want it or are you just a materialist with a bad habit of no self control? This is not Twinkie Town where cakes are baked in an easy bake oven with no sacrifice. This is life. It takes muscle to churn butter and wisdom to add spice. The spice of life is not given to stubborn men that want immediate gratification. Patience is a virtue they say. Life is gonna hump you and give you a run for your money but can you hold on for the ride, ride it out, and save yourself for marriage? Can you spare your seed for years and remain a respectable human being like Copernicus? The nectar of success is found in innovation. Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer was a tortured soul but he turned fire into gold. That fire was his nose! He used life’s downs to give him an up."
“What really upsets me about labels is when they stick and you can’t call it what it was before. Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not against politeness and calling people whatever they wish to be called. At all. What I am against is forced label recognition. Years ago, I worked at a burger lounge. Yes that’s what it was called. It was more than a restaurant. Sort of a hybrid between an upscale bar and a burger joint. Anyway, one day I had had it with people assuming I knew what they meant by their vagueness. I went hardline. And I mean hardline. I clearly remember someone ordering a cheeseburger and I said what’s that? After he saw that I wasn’t kidding, he went on to explain that he wanted a burger. With cheese on it. Oh ok well that surely made sense. But the idea of just butt f***ing a hamburger with cheese until it becomes part of the actual name? No. I just couldn’t any longer. A hamburger. With cheese on it. Sure. Not so difficult. Laziness is no bargain in life. You get what you pay for. And ask for! Now, don’t get me wrong, cheeseburger was on the menu but I had to put my foot down somewhere.”