Baby Geniuses 3: Adult Geniuses!

When I was a kid, I had this feeling that I was smarter than most of the adults that surrounded me. As I grew up and actually became an adult (in age and penis size only), I realized that it wasn't just a feeling, but, instead, a cold, hard fact.

The following e-mail was sent to me by somebody who works in an office, so s/he has to put up with a lot of inter-office memos. If I ever received something like this, I would probably go to the person's desk who sent this and punch them in the head until my knuckles were covered in unused brain cells and barrettes.

Kurt, here is a solid sampling of the intelligence I am surrounded by on a daily basis.
-----Original Message-----
From: This motherfucker
Sent: Friday, June 24, 2005 5:02 PM
To: That motherfucker
Subject: FW: Yogurt in Refridgerator


what is she talking about?? I can write better than that.
-----Original Message-----
From: The Office Retard
Sent: Friday, June 24, 2005 1:20 PM
To: Office people
Subject: Yogurt in Refridgerator


To keep the kitchen mess at a minimum, I put all of this mornings yogurts are in the Refridgerator when I was cleaning up.

Sincerely,

Mungo the Rockbiter

I changed the names, but the message remains the same.

First, if you don't know how to spell refrigerator, don't use it. It's a tough one, so stick with fridge; people will still understand what you're talking about.

Second, if you're only writing a one sentence e-mail to everybody in the department, it can't be beneath you to proofread it once. I understand how, when one is constructing such a complex sentence using one whole comma, that they can lose track of where they are and fuck up a verb tense or even put in a verb where it's not necessary. But, please, if you can't re-read your 24 words one time before you send it out, you should be forced to simply make drawings that convey what you're trying to say.

Finally, I'm not going to harp on the fact that she doesn't have an apostrophe in 'mornings'. I'm also not going to dwell on her ending the sentence in a preposition. Those are both things that some people don't bother to deal with correcting when they're writing (mostly because they don't know that it's wrong). But capitalizing 'Refridgerator'? Twice? Maybe I was wrong that she was misspelling refrigerator, but, instead, was using its proper name that it prefers.

"Refridgerator says he wants some more yogurt. Also, Coffee Maker and Microwave need tomorrow off."

I wish I worked with idiots. Or at all.

Interesting thought of the day:
If one pushes hard enough, they can actually poop out their own lungs.

Jesus Stole My Internet!

Last night, I got home from my old-folks home booty call and, much to my chagrin, dismay, and discomfiture (thanks, dictionary.com), my internet wasn't working. Well, sort of.

See, I have wireless internet that I connect to in my room through the router in my brother's room. When I tried to use my internet, it was connected to somebody else's wireless internet (which is really slow). For some reason, my computer couldn't find the internet available through my brother's room.

I went and restarted the router and I was able to connect. I figured it was just some weird glitch. But, it doesn't end there. Apparently, since I had the connection open and available for anybody to connect to, somebody nearby in my complex decided to do so. I wouldn't have cared if they did that, really. It's not costing me anything extra.

But, it turns out that it was The Jesus that was monitoring my internet activity and I read in the Bible that he really frowns upon hours and hours of video of man-on-man action where they're dressed in suits of armor and/or like peasant boys being downloaded. Because, shortly after I restarted the router, I was disconnected again. Only this time, the name of it had been changed (to GOOD and then LOCKED) and the password was changed. I couldn't connect to my own damn internet.

I eventually was able to get control over it again, but I wanted to run around my complex knocking on doors and beating the shit out of whatever little kid decided that it would be funny to try to take over my internet. Nobody gets between me and my miles and miles of photoshopped pictures of Bea Arthur in a three-way with Estelle Getty and the dead guy from "Empty Nest."

I can't post any of the "naughtier" pictures, but, this is how they all start. They're always in black and white, and they always involve a Victorian setting.


Interesting thought of the day:
If I found a bigfoot in the wild, I would teach it how to kickbox and take it everywhere I went dressed up in a tuxedo.

Diary of a Mad Black Man!

Well, I have absolutely nothing to write about, so I'm going to put my name into google image search, find a picture of another guy named Kurt, and make stuff up about him.

And, here's our lucky guy:

Kurt is a fun guy to be around when he's had a couple of beers. Sometimes--he's so crazy--but, sometimes, he'll stand up on a table and flap his arms like a chicken WHILE wiggling his butt! But, if you ask his wife's permanent limp and broken eye socket, sometimes Kurt can drink a little too much.

The stain you see on Kurt's shirt is "spaghetti sauce." Who knew that spaghetti sauce came out of his wife's nose when she tried to ask him a question while the Rangers were on TV and, appropriately, paid the price.

Aside from that, though, Kurt has three kids. His youngest, Kevin (9), is much too flamboyant for Kurt's tastes (putting him in football and "taking away that faggy ribbon he always twirls around like a goddamn lady gymnast" hasn't helped) and, unbeknownst to either of them, is going to grow up to set the record for most cocks sucked in an hour (surpassing my 62 by a mind-boggling 35!).

His middle child, Kyle (13), is taking after daddy nicely. He goes hunting with his dad once a month and punches the black kid in class "because he has weird hair." In 2015, he will be sentenced to 15 years in prison for armed robbery and beating his younger brother senseless for "being such a queer."

Finally, his oldest child, Katie (16), is only on her second pregnancy. For being in Kurt's family, that's pretty good. She lost her first pregnancy when she had a miscarriage*. It's weird, though, she "doesn't know how she got pregnant, unless you can get it from kissing boys close-mouthed."

Aside from the family, his job selling appliances takes up most of his time. That's why it's understandable that he gets so angry when he gets home and dinner isn't ready. It sure does help to punch somebody in the mouth when you're mad at them. It also solves a lot of problems. He should know; he was a psychology major at the community college until his girlfriend/wife, then 15, had to go and get pregnant. If she would have just listened and let him put it in her butt instead, he wouldn't have had to take the job at the store and drop out of school. It's her fault that his life sucks.

*repeated steel-toed boots to the abdomen by her on-again, off-again, on-again boyfriend, CJ.

Interesting thought of the day:
"Looking all sexy and shit" is the leading cause of rape in the United States.

Nigga Please!

An 81-year-old Klansman was found guilty of the murder of three black guys 41 years ago and was convicted to 60 years in prison.

See, the thing about this is that he knows he's going to die soon anyway, so the 60 year sentence doesn't mean a damn thing. For knuckleheads (I like to seriously understate the names I call people that do horrible, awful things based on prejudice and racism) like this guy, the judge should do a little bit more creative sentencing.

How about all of his granddaughters are raped by black guys while he watches and, this is done repeatedly until they all have half-black children. Now, some of you may say that this is unfair to the granddaughters because they didn't do anything, but they love rape.



Also, while they're being raped, the convicted killer, Edgar Ray Killen (he has 'kill' in his NAME! How did it take 41 years to catch this guy?), is also raped by a tag team of Ru Paul and Lamar from Revenge of the Nerds--all while listening to rap music and eating collared greens.

I should be a judge. If I didn't have the 32 convictions for kiddie porn, 3 for harboring a terrorist, 9 for sodomy of an animal, 15 for sodomy of an inanimate object, 1 for operating a motor vehicle with only a self-issued license (see picture), 115 counts of "making people uncomfortable with his genitals" (this is an umbrella charge wherein numerous, somewhat similar convictions lie), and various other charges, I would probably make a great judge.




Interesting thought of the day:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Unless you're dead
Then I'm probably having sex with your corpse

Love,

Kurt

So Many Pictures of My Penis!

Well, blogger just added an image hosting service to their weblogs, so now I can post a lot more pictures.

Somewhere down the line, I'm going to post my penile tribute to the Presidents of the United States. It's where I dress my filthy junk up like all of the Presidents and perform a one-act play. You should see the tiny wheelchair I made for my cock FDR. It's fully functional (the wheelchair, not my dick--that stopped working in eighth grade when I put on my first jockstrap and didn't realize until after I told my friends that they could hit me as hard as they want in the balls with an aluminum bat because I was wearing a jockstrap, that it actually has to cover your balls and isn't quite as effective if you're wearing it on your head yelling, "Look at me! I'm in GATE!").

But, for now, I've decided that I've always wanted to know what it's like to be homeless and have to wear your entire wardrobe on your back all the time. And, while I couldn't fit all my clothes on my torso, I did manage to put on 12 shirts and 3 jackets.



My eyes look a little cross-eyed in the picture, but I think that just happens when you try to adapt to the lifestyle of the street urchins; you take on their traits. I also rubbed my balls against the crosswalk button for two entire cycles just minutes after this picture was taken.

Since I have such photographic freedom now, is there anything that you, yes, you, my reader, would like to see? Like I said, the penile tribute to the Presidents is already in the queue. Once I stop menstruating, I'll get right on that. Because, right now, the only ones I can faithfully do are Lincoln, JFK, and Alexander Hamilton.

Interesting thought of the day:
Casper the Friendly Ghost wasn't as friendly as some say. In fact, he has the only documented case of Tourette's Syndrome in ghosts. "Boo. Motherfucker. Graham Cracker! Cockadoodledoo! Boo!"