Tsunami victims ain't got nothing on me

It is raining. It has been raining since the day I was born and it doesn't show signs of stopping. That's a bit over the top but god damn. It's been the worst wet 5 days that have kept me from playing Golf. The Lesbian office manager who tells me what to do is gone and my parents seem on the verge of World War 3. I feel like a teenager again. My father even went so far as to say "I think I'll be drinking tonight." For a recovered alcoholic this shows that things aren't skipping along too smooth. But on a more positive note The heavy regimine of blunts has helped quell the uprising in my loins. That rash is almost history, along with my sperm count. Stoners don't need condoms. I also read in the news recently that we've stopped looking for weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. I sincerely thank the good lord that they didn't feel the need to plant any. Although that they thought "what the fuck, we've already fought the war and won the election so lets just stop the charade, no one will care that there weren't any weapons" really scares me. Although what's even more scary is that the powers at be have been spot on with every gamble and every cynical judgement they've made about the american people. If only their underestimation of the Iraqi's had gone as smoothly.
Smooth is a good word. It's enticing, kinda like smoothness. It also means something, unlike a slew of other words (such as slew for example). Smooth doesn't just mean not rough, no, it implies a sheer surface that won't bring you down with friction but excite you with ideas like perpetual motion machines and a person's ass. Smooth is also a way of describing a person. A smooth person is more than style and good transitions, a smooth person is a sort of social demi-god. Smooth also features in the song Smooth Criminal. Which hails from the golden era when Micheal Jackson made movies with children instead of sleeping with them. I keep searching for a picture of his penis on all the celebrity mugshot websites but to no avail. With that pic, some superbowl stills and enough photoshop skills I could totally make a flash Micheal-Janet incest video. anyways, I don't have anything much of substance to report other than my parents are fighting, I'm kinda down, Micheal Jackson's a perve, the weapons of mass destruction were under Saddam's mattress and we missed it, Bad was an amazing album (which doesn't excuse molestation, although R Kelley certainly seems to get away with it), oh yeah, and keep it smooth baby ... real smooth. To all my loyal readers, I'll catch you cats on the flip flop.


-D.J. Smooth (who's really upset that mommy and daddy aren't getting along right now)

Happy New Jeer

Ben has left. He has flown back to the woods of western PA where single handedly he will attempt to discover if he can feasibly create a hypothetical co-op. Ben's life is so post-modern it hurts. But that's not what I want to talk about. I will miss my friend but more than that I will miss making fun of his family's financial difficulties. During this past two weeks I have come to discover that making fun of Ben for being really poor is good good fun. It is made all the more fun because Ben's family isn't really poor. So throwing comments at Ben about how he can't afford water, not only passes the time but eases my feelings of inadequecy regarding my choad as well*. But now ben has left and I find myself with only the choice of becoming a repre- repere-... bad person for now when I mock the poor they could very well be poor (and that just isn't as funny). And speaking of the seriously unfortunate, I was planning to travel to Sri Lanka in April, I was wondering if people think I should still go or avoid the disaster area. It will certainly be less picturesque but I also imagine it might be more interesting. I don't mean to perpetuate the illusion that anyone actually reads this thing, but if someone does read this, Should I still go to Sri Lanka? Oh and while I'm asking questions, I've got this golf ball textured rashlike thing on my scrotum and I've been told by my mom that it will only go away with a special topical ointment, but do you think I could just get rid of it with some peroxide and a heavy regimine of blunts? And one final question, Should I continue to live on Cape Cod or should I move south and sell flood insurance? (yes those two are mutually exclusive) But I don't come armed with only questions for my millions of loyal imaginary readers, ho no, I also come with an answer to a question as old as wireless modems themselves:
It was stupid cousin larry (you know, the one who fell off the bleachers at the homecoming game and hasn't been quite right since) yeah that dumb fuck was the one that let the damn dogs out. So if you want to know it was dumb fuck Larry, but don't worry, we broke all his fingers with a tack hammer so the madness and repetitious chorus will soon abate. That's all for this arbitrary slice of 4th dimensional space, until next time, give to the poor people in SouthEast Asia, hunt Jeb Bush with a high powered automatic rifle which it is your constitutional right to have in order to defend your home and family from either King George or the damn homos. Although it's altogether most likely that the real threat to your home and family which necessitates your gun ownership is posed not by the ethnics, the sodomizers, or the government but from Dumb Fuck Cousin Larry who just happens to be a member of the local Gun Club.

*A choad is a penis that is more wide than it is long, generally being only 1-2 inches long and rather wide. I thought a little reference info would help clear up any confusion. So while I do in fact have a choad and it does make me feel bad, I don't worry so so much, cause I had a surgery last year to make my penis taste like lindor truffles and had a barometric pressure gauge so my cock can give accurate meteorological information including wind sheer and give a five day forecast. I am more than I was but I am not yet all that I will be.