Wikipedia Jones and The Case of the Dead Wrestler

Here is the first, and probably not the last, Wikipedia Jones story.

To make today’s post easier to read, you can just download or view it in Adobe Acrobat PDF format by clicking here. It is 1.6 megabytes.

Well now!  How does Wikipedia Jones know that the professional wrestler was murdered?

DO NOT CONSULT THE CURRENT WIKIPEDIA ENTRY FOR CHRIS BENOIT FOR THE SOLUTION!  THAT’S CHEATING!

You will, however, need to consult the historical wikipedia entry.  Click here for the Wikipedia entry for Chris Benoit exactly as it existed hours before his, his wife’s, and his son’s bodies were found.

After you have figured it all out, click here for the SOLUTION.

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Hands are Bullshit

Handjobs suck.  Well, no, they don’t suck.  They don’t suck, or bite, or fuck.  They are just handjobs. 

So, I was looking at porn offerings recently and came upon happened upon handjob porn.  These include “Handjob Heaven,” “Hand Job Honeys,” “Handjobs Across America 25,” “Killer Grip,” and Whack Jobs.” These are real titles and, yes, the “Handjobs Across America” series is up to number 25.

Now, apparently, somebody out there likes watching dudes get handjobs.  Who the fuck are you people?

I don’t understand.  Alright, it’s cool when women touch your dick.  I get that.  But it’s cool because maybe they will help you do something you can’t do better all by yourself.  Like maybe a blowjob or a fuck is waiting in the wings.  Maybe she just loves your dick so much she wants to hold onto it.  Excellent!

I don’t like getting hand jobs.  I have far more experience giving myself handjobs than any woman in the world could possibly hope to compete with.  In fact, I think it’s safe to say that I am better at giving myself handjobs than anyone else in the world.  Maybe you are a woman who has given a lot of handjobs.  Maybe you are the biggest handjob slut in the world.  Maybe you think you can teach me a thing or two.  No. You. Can’t.

First let me explain something about jerking off that some women do not understand: men jerk off all the time.  It doesn’t matter how much fucking we get from you.  We do it because we can.  We do it because we can’t sleep or we are naked in the shower anyway or we have a free hand when we are on the phone with the cable company.

It really has nothing to do with sex.  Sure, if we had to compare it, sex with women is usually better.  But we still jerk off.  Because we can.

You know, sometimes I don’t really feel like jerking off.  Sometimes I’ve just had sex or maybe I’m just tired or I have work to do or whatever.  I simply don’t feel like jerking off.  Yet, I force myself.  I rape myself!  That’s how strong the drive is in men to jerk off.

Don’t even bother asking your man if he jerks off.  He will lie to you and tell you that he doesn’t.  He lies to you about a lot of things.

This is a little bit of a tangent, but I have often thought that almost all reality shows have nothing to do with reality.  I mean, how many of us are anything like any of the people in reality TV shows?  I am not a Top Chef or America’s Next Top Model.  I am not an incredibly skilled fashion designer or a brilliant home decorator or even a very good fisherman.  Stephen Hawking sings and dances better than I do.  Damnit, I’m not even a fat celebrity!  But I could probably win a reality show called, “Who Gives Stoogepie the Best Handjobs?” I am the expert at that.  I am da shit.

Does any dude out there actually like getting a hand job?  I don’t mean, “well, if I can’t get a blowjob or a fuck, a handjob will do, and it’s still sexual interaction with a woman.” Okay, I can see the “it’s a substitute for more desirable forms of sex” argument, even though her goddamn mouth and pussy and ass are right the fuck there doing nothing, so only getting her hand pisses me off.  But, fine, that’s not really what I’m talking about.  I mean, would any dude rather have a handjob than any other sex, so much so that he will buy porn that feature handjobs?

Maybe you think that dozens of porn videos that show women jerking men off is not so strange, even if we are up to Handjobs Across America number fucking 25?  Fine.  Different strokes (literally), right?  Well, this picture is worth a thousand words.

Okay, how exactly does this work?  So a dude holds this fake hand in his hand while he jerks off?  While he is jerking off, does he imagine that someone else is jerking him off?  Or does he imagine that someone else is holding the fake hand and using it to jerk him off?  What the fuck is wrong with some dudes?

Years ago, John Stagliano, the former porn stud famous for the Buttman series who today owns the awesome porn studio Evil Angel, said that “pussies are bullshit.” He meant that, in the world of porn, the deepest truth is found in assfucking and beyond.  It’s a profound observation that I will bring up again and again.

Well, in the real world, hands are bullshit.  Yes, I suppose that for some of you it is better to get a handjob from a woman than no action at all, but meanwhile she is doing something that you have practiced and perfected since you were young and can almost certainly simply do better.  Hell, it would be fan-fucking-tastic if I had a woman around to scratch my balls when they itched and to pick my nose when I had a big crusty booger, but not because she could do a better job of it than I could.  Just because it would just be too fucking awesome.

But why the fuck would any guy prefer a handjob?  Why the hell would any dude in the universe rent handjob porn when there is such a wide selection of sublimely disgusting smut out there?  Why would any dude buy a fake goddamn hand when he has a hand.  In fact, he needs to have a hand to use the fake hand?

I don’t have the answers to these questions. 

Anyway, I just don’t get some dudes.  Hands are bullshit. 

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Mister Shorts Number 4

Happy Kink o’ de Mayo! 

For those of you not familiar with Mexican history, on September 15, 1810, Mexico declared its independence from Spain, but it didn’t tell Spain for eleven years.  So you can see how it came to pass that it wasn’t until more than fifty years after its declaration of independence that Mexico fought and won its freedom on May 5, 1862.  From the French.

Enough history.  Today we celebrate this Mexican holiday with tequila and Mexican food.  And explosive diarrhea.  And Mister Shorts.

I hope you have as festive and drunken a Kink o’ de Mayo planned as I do.  Porn and tacos for all!

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Mental Health Mayday Part 2

So, I wrote last time about how May is National Mental Health Month.  Woohoo! 

I want to continue that post here.  I have a lot of very personal experience with insane people that you just might find helpful.

I have dated a lot of women.  And a lot of them have been crazy.  You don’t often find out that women are crazy while you are out in a public place with them.  They seem perfectly sane and very hot until you get them home or, even worse, until your dick is ready to do its business.

There is nothing wrong with fucking crazy women.  Sometimes it can be great.  I went out with one woman who was totally shit out of her fucking mind.  We met at a bar where she was too young to be drinking.  This is almost exactly what she told me that very first night.

Anyway, I went out with her for over a whole year.  I really wanted to break up with her because she was driving me fucking nuts, but I was afraid that nobody else would do all the nasty sex shit that she was perfectly happy to do.  I miss her.

Another time I went out with a perfectly normal woman who was wicked fucking sexy.  We went out a couple of times and it was lame, but her hotness demanded that I keep trying.  So, I insisted that we have dinner at my house.  This was only fair because I had spent like a fucking grand on dinners and entertainment already.

So I made dinner.  Really, I cooked the whole thing from recipes off the internet.  I can’t remember what I made but it was fucking incredible for me.  I don’t even think it cost anything less than going to a fancy restaurant, except that I got to take advantage of my borderline alcoholism by simply serving wine from my vast but cheap wine.com collection. 

We ate dinner and everything was great.  She didn’t eat much, but she was one of those food-pickers who never ate much.  She said she loved the food, though, and asked lots of questions about how it had been prepared.  Then she excused herself to go to the bathroom.  I cleared dishes.  After she came back, I went to take a piss.  While I was pissing, I noticed a smell: vomit.  She had puked.  I made her dinner, she ate it, and then she puked.

Now, what do you do when somebody pukes right after you serve them dinner?  I mean, is it unreasonable for me to want for you to digest the food I make and then shit it out instead of just puking it into the toilet right after you eat?  So, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable.  I asked her if she wanted dessert.  She said, “sure.”

I had actually bought the dessert but I lied and said I had made it.  To make the lie stick, I had looked up recipes on the internet.  I hope you are taking notes.

Anyway, she ate some dessert, then went back to the bathroom.  I cleared the dishes, opened some more wine, then checked the bathroom and, yep, she had puked again.

I was pretty sure by now that she was bulimic.  But whatever.  She was really fucking hot.  So, we sit on the couch and talk, we drink more, we kiss, we start to feel each other up.  She is pretty drunk, I guess.  And, after a while, she does something pretty fucking aggressive.  She moves her face into my lap like she is going to blow me.  I’m thinking, “Yes!”

But, no, she pukes in my crotch.  Yes.  Pukes.  In.  My.  Crotch.  I didn’t even know what it was at first.

So, she had the same reaction to my meat that she had to all meat.  She stayed the night but she just slept.  I was glad to see her go in the morning.  Somehow, I still smelled like puke the next morning as she smelled like she had just washed her hair.

I could keep going.  I have a lot of experience with insane women.  But rather than share a bunch of anecdotes, I have developed some basic guidelines.  Manic-Depressives are awesome if they are in their manic phase.  They are perfect as on-again-off-again fuckbuddies.  Schizophrenics are often boring and suburban once they get treated and their meds are working.  And if they are off their meds, they talk too fucking much.  And I mean I-See-Dead-People talk.  Stay away.  Anorexics are fine if they are early-stage anorexics, and they often look fucking incredible!  Bulimics don’t give good head: hair trigger gag reflex.  Obsessive-compulsives?  Well, it depends.

I did not just make up those guidelines.  They are based on my hard-won experience.  I have not just met crazy women at clubs and such, but also through online dating services like match.com.  My rough estimation:

But you can dramatically improve these odds by looking for — yes, that’s right, seeking — insane women and using my guidelines. 

I recently discovered No Longer Lonely.  This dating site is fucking awesome!  Okay, you will need to join to really get into it but, no kidding, this is the best fucking dating website ever.  Oh, did I mention that you have to be insane to join?  Yeah, you do.  I qualified.

I had my misgivings at first.  When you sign up, you have to tell them how you are crazy.  Here is what the form looks like:

Notice anything missing?  See, I was hoping to cut through the bullshit and focus my searches with laser sharpness, so I had really hoped that either hypersexuality or nymphomania would be listed.  Neither is there.  So you need to choose among the illnesses provided and then use the profiles and email to figure out which women are the real fuck monkeys.

But, I have to tell you, the women here are totally fucking incredible.  There are too many dudes joining the website right now, but that’s because the talent is so good.  About 80% of the women fall somewhere between cute and unbe-fucking-lievable.  I don’t want to post pictures of them here because that would be wrong and I also want the hottiest of the hotties for myself.  But, for instance, here is the most important part of the profile of one totally wicked sweet babe:

Ripe for the picking.

Like I said, a lot of guys are joining recently and that’s no surprise, But the best part is, the competition is fucking nuts!  Here is one dude’s entire profile who has a screen name that is eerily similar to “IKillKittens.”

Here is another.  This dude is a little bit country, and a little bit off his rocker.

Need I say more?

So, if you’re crazy and looking for a crazy chick who also happens to be incredibly hot, this is the dating site for you.  I’ll see you there!

That’s all I have to say about insanity for now.  But, hey, May has only just begun.  Enjoy National Mental Health Month!

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Mental Health Mayday Part 1

May is National Mental Health month.  Woohoo!

There are a lot of crazy people in this country and, I suppose, around the world.  (For those of you just reading for the first time, I am in the United States.  Thanks for playing.)

My general opinion is that crazy people are not really a whole lot different from sane people.  Except for the crazy part.

A few weeks ago, somebody I work with went crazy.  She was sane on Thursday.  Then on Friday, I noticed that she seemed a bit talkative.  Then on Monday, whammo!, she was totally fucking insane. 

Over the weekend, she had realized that everyone in my office was involved in a massive conspiracy to subject her to military training and that we were trying to break her will so that we could turn her into the perfect soldier.  She wrote a fifteen-page manifesto about all of this, which she emailed to me.  It was fucking hilarious. 

Well, it was hilarious for a few days.  After that, crazy people start to get on your nerves.  Everything is about them.  Oh, sure, this is boot camp for you.  Oh, work is like a concentration camp for you.  Oh, the psychological abuse, physical violence, and just plain old drudgery of work in an office are dismantling your spirit and transforming you into a killing machine.  Hey, we work here, too, you know?  Get off your fucking soapbox, already.  It’s not about you!  The rest of us feel the same fucking way!

After about a week of this bullshit, we were ready to frag her ass.  I would walk past her desk and say, “Look alive, private.” If we thought she was watching, we would salute one another as we passed in the halls.

It’s not that we were insensitive.  Listen, mental illness sucks dick for dimes, okay?  We all know that.  But it also wears away at the living.

A while ago, a friend of mine — let’s call him Jake — had a father with Alzheimer’s.  After his dad’s Alzheimer’s got really bad, the family strapped him to the silver trolley and sent him to the senior slammer.  So, Jake’s dad is in this old folks home for a couple of years and my friend’s mom lives alone in a house in the real world, the land of the living.

Well, one day Jake’s mom dies.  So, a couple of days later, Jake drives up to the geezer museum to tell his old man that his wife of like forty years is dead.  Jake is really nice about it, and he hangs out with the old dude for a while and brings him manosaurus treats and all.  And after a little while, the old man asks, “So, how is your mother?” And Jake tells him.  “Dad, I do have some really bad news.  Mom passed away on Tuesday.” So they both cry and tell stories about how wonderful mom was.  And after about fifteen minutes of this, they are in the middle of one of those wonderful stories when the old man says, “So, how is your mother?” Jake is a little shocked at this question but then he remembers that his dad has Alzheimer’s.  So Jake breaks it to him gently again.  “Dad, mom passed away on Tuesday.” So they cry and tell stories about how wonderful mom was again.  And, again, the fossil interrupts one of those touching stories by asking , “So, how is your mother?”

Now, Jake loves his dad and all that, but this happened a buttload of times.  And by the tenth time this is what it was like. 

See, people with mental issues are a lot like the rest of us, except for the crazy part.  And the thing about it is, they make us act crazy.  Insanity is contagious.

I will write about just how contagious insanity is in another post about dating crazy chicks.  I have, unfortunately, plenty of material for that post, so I don’t want to tack it onto this one.  But here is the spoiler: not one — not even one of those psychotic bitches — was a nymphomaniac.

Suckage.

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