July 27, 2009

How to make a Ryan Coddington.


I saw what appeared to be a homeless man on my steps today when I got home from lunch. There was a moped sitting in front of him. He was wearing a ratty-ass t-shirt and two completely different shoes, and drinking what looked like piss from a Gatorade bottle. "Fuck," I thought. "This bastard wants money." So I said, "What's up, man?" And he replied, "Wrecked my moped. Had to sit down." I stopped for a second, then said, "That's cool, man," and then went inside and ate a couple of tasty burritos and went back to work. True story.

Mayhem ensues, continues...

Well, videos from Mayhem Fest in Noblesville Saturday night are being posted. About damn time. Here's some highlights from the awesome shit I saw.

I told you there were four walls of death. One being a "closet of death" even.

Unfortunately, the dick apparently didn't record any of Trivium, so here's a shitty vid in San Bernardino, CA from a pussy too afraid to truly enjoy the fucking metal. His pussy must have been hurting.

July 26, 2009

5 things I learned at Mayhem Fest last night.

I went to Mayhem Festival yesterday, for $10. Top that shit. It's rare that concerts are this heavy, or this evil. How heavy and how evil was it? Slayer, Marilyn Manson, Killswitch Engage, Cannibal Corpse, Trivium, Bullet for My Valentine, Job for a Cowboy, God Forbid, Behemoth, All That Remains, The Black Dahlia Murder, White Chapel, and Mushroomhead left Indy with a new asshole. I learned a few things there, too:

1. All That Remains and God Forbid were better than I expected.

2. Killswitch has vastly improved. And Adam Dutkiewicz is the coolest motherfucker around. "Hey, Indiana...fucking suck on this."
They even got people to do illegal walls of death. I counted four. Yeah.

3. Manson is overrated live. Definitely not headlining material.

4. After seeing Trivium for the fourth time, more and more I see that they're still incredibly underrated and I'd be hard pressed to name a band with more talent.

And the best thing I learned last night:


5. 25,000 people were not ready for real heavy fucking metal. Slayer came on, men cowered, women wept, children pissed themselves, and Tom Araya and Kerry King gave nightmares to everyone. Thrash is a dying breed, but Slayer's here to fucking stay. This isn't Bullet for My Valentine, kids. This is fucking Slayer. Those two fingers you raise in the air, they're called "devil horns" for a reason. And that reason doesn't apply to Hinder or Breaking Benjamin or Buckcherry. Metalhead posers stood around confused and scared when they got their shit ruined by real metal last night. Aside from watching Trivium right in front, this was the only time "Mayhem" truly felt like mayhem. Okay, I take that back. Behemoth was fucking brutal, too. Concerts aren't this hardcore anymore, because people are fucking pussies and just go home crying.

Oh, and I also learned that 30 or 40 heavy metal fans going to Denny's after seeing Slayer and Marilyn Manson, and getting fucking terrible service (or none at all), does not turn out very pretty. Stupid bitch...

July 22, 2009

The machinist complete.

Here I've compiled all of the quotes I've remembered or written down of Slu, the die and tool maker I work with. I've posted three parts before, with new ones each time, but unfortunately the guy only comes in about once every two weeks, for a couple of hours, and I no longer get to hear much cool shit from this man anymore. So, since these lists are getting shorter each time, I've put together every single one I have, with a few new ones from today at the very bottom. Think of it as Slu's greatest hits. The old man is everything I want to be: hardened, bitter, intelligent, and he says whatever the hell he wants to whoever. He's foul-mouthed, hard-working, and as polite as he can be, I often wonder how many people he's killed and dumped into a lake at night. I have no heroes. But if I did, it'd be Slu. The text in red is me speaking to him. The rest is his legend:

Well, I'm heading to the house. If my dinner's not ready, I'm gonna raise hell. If it is ready, I'm not gonna eat.

I have a lot of tools at my workbench, but I've never seen one quite like you.

He's the kind of guy that'd jerk his dog off to feed his cat.

I call my wife Troll. She loves it. (Even has her name in his cell as 'Troll')

I hope your sons didn't get their brains from you. You're a fucking idiot.

You're getting married? Dumbass. I didn't even know people still did that. I guess kids today are just as stupid as they've always been.

I used to drink a 40 in the parking lot everyday on my lunch break. So one day a guy I work with, who was also a preacher, came up to me and said I shouldn't do that. That if I came to his church on Sunday, he could save me. So I asked him if he could save anyone. "Yes, anyone." Can you save a murderer? "Yes." Can you save a rapist? "Yes." Can you save a whore? "Yes, I can save a whore." Then can you save me a whore Friday night? That dickhead didn't talk to me on lunch anymore.

Wherever you find four Baptists, you'll find a fifth.

I'm going home to a hot woman and a cold beer. And it better not be the other way around.

She quit? I don't blame her. Fuck this place. I'd quit, too, if I didn't hate everything else even more.

Three illegitimate kids. I don't understand it. You kids can't just fuck for fun anymore?

Look at her dressed all in white, as if she was still a virgin. Probably hasn't been a virgin since the sixth grade.

When God made woman, He sure wasted one of man's damn ribs.

'M-F-er'? Is that like 'motherfucker'?

What a dick. / He's a dick. / Ain't he a dickhead? / You ever met a dick like that?

Cheap bastard. / Cheap prick. / That son of a bitch is cheap. / Here's a nickel. I know how cheap you are, prick.

Well, I'm heading to the house. Got me some ham salad I made last night for sandwiches. With the old lady sick, I've had to fend for myself. It's kinda nice though, having something different than a hot tongue and a cold shoulder.

I talked to your old buddy yesterday. I guess he got back with his old lady. And I guess he dropped a package off for delivery.
"Really? I heard she couldn't get pregnant."
Maybe it wasn't actually him. Looks like she found someone to stud her out. I'd get the bitch tested.

It's not pretty, but we ain't entering no fucking beauty pageant. Not that any of them here even know what that is anyway.

Don't marry for money, but hang around rich women ‘til you fall in love.

Driving that nice a'car to work at his age is damn ridiculous. It's just like pissing in the ocean.

Here, Don. I made an extra plate for you to take home. I know you're cheap and can't afford to dip into that thick wallet to buy yourself dinner.

Don't thank me. I couldn't give a shit today, or tomorrow.

The only time I ever paid for sex was back in my early 30's, I think. I was in D.C. for work, with my friend, and he said, "While we're in Washington, let's get a couple whores." So he got his, I got mine, and back at my hotel room she was sucking me off, and halfway though she looked up at me and said she'd have sex with me too if I wanted. I looked down at her and said, "I'm not paying you for sex. I'm paying you to suck my dick." And I pushed her head back down.

That ain't skill. That's shithouse luck.

Look at that shirt. Boy, you're sharper than a needle-dick hound.

Back when I was a teenager, and I had just got my license, I asked my dad if I could borrow his car. You see, I had a date that night with this broad that got around a bit. I don't know what you kids call 'em these days, but...
"I guess we call them hoodrats."
What? Whatever. Anyway, this was back when segregation was still around, so in the movie theater they had a balcony where the blacks sat. Well, I didn't really want anyone seeing me with her, so we sat up there. While the movie was playing, I was fingering that pussy. Not more than a couple minutes into it, the most vile, awful smell came up. I'm telling you, kid, fucking rank. Well, it was so bad that all the people around us on the balcony cleared out. I could hear them choking on the way out. After the movie was over, I didn't know what I was gonna do. I mean, that smell almost gagged me, but I was planning on fucking something that night.
"God, let me guess..."
I took her to the park, wrapped it twice, and fucked the hell outta her. I took her home, and she asked me if I was gonna call her tomorrow. I said, "Fuck no," and tore outta there. Halfway home I pulled the car over and puked. Twice. The next morning my old mad came pounding on my door and asked me, "Why the fuck does my car smell like someone fucking died?" I told him that was my date. He never let me drive that car again.

You were broadcasting when you should have been tuning in.

That motherfucker just insulted me!
"What do you mean?"
He said, "Well, I'll let you get back to work and get out of your hair." Do you see any fucking hair on my head? That motherfucker...

Those two butt heads like billy goats.
"Yeah, they don't seem to get along too well."
Take you and me for instance. Now, I may not like you, but we both work for this company. So when we're here, I pretend to like you.
"Thanks, Slu."

He's like a bear cub wearing boxing gloves and playing with his peter.

How's the world treatin' ya?
"Fine. How 'bout you?"
It's not the world. It's the people, kid. It's the people.

Your mouth was in gear and your brain was in idle.

Did I ever tell you about the old, ugly woman I saw at the eye doctor?
"No, I don't think so."
Well, one time when I was at the eye doctor, I saw the ugliest bitch I've ever seen. I'm talking so ugly that a blind man wouldn't marry the bitch. Well, a couple of months go by and I'm taking this tour through a farm, and then I see her walking with a group of people. So I went up to her and I asked, "Were you at the eye doctor about two months ago?"
And she said, "Yes, how did you know that?"
I said, "Well, ma'am, I trained with the CIA for over eleven years, and I always remember faces."
She said, "That's amazing. You have a wonderful memory."
The truth is...no one could forget such an ugly fucking goat face.

I took that blade in there to ol' Don and he asked me, "How much do I owe you?" I thought about saying, "five bucks." He'da swallowed his Adam's apple.

See that guy there? Him and his wife own a store, and on the front window they got a sign that says "Jesus saves" or some shit like that. And he's down here at this bar getting drunk every fucking night.

"You want me to go ahead and load it up for you?"
Nah, I already got enough on my plate as it is. On my way home. Just called the wife twenty minutes ago. Told her to get on the ball and get that soup hot.

One year for Christmas I bought my old lady a gravesite. The next year for her birthday I bought her a tombstone. But I'll tell you one thing, she ain't getting anything else 'cause she hasn't even used those yet.

You need money for a haircut, boy? Or you joining a rock band? Because you really only have those two options at this point.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to work on one of those, Slu."

Saw your friend, James, the other day...
"Why do you always call him my friend?"
He asked me if I heard that he was gonna be a father. Know what I told him? I said, "Well, James, I heard your wife was pregnant, but I didn't hear you were gonna be a father."
"Haha. I still say he needs to get that bitch tested."

"You need a haircut, Ryan. You're starting to look like a woman."
Don, you need to lose sixty pounds. You're starting to look like a beached whale.
"Wow. Thanks, Slu."

July 9, 2009

10 reasons to just shut the fuck up.

Fucking. Seriously. I am so damn sick of hearing people bitch. Whether it's about boyfriends, girlfriends, shitty friends, the government, the economy, foreign policy, the war, your job, your boss, your bills, taxes, speeding tickets, parking tickets, seatbelt tickets, poverty, the rich, school, the neighbors, the neighbors' dog that shits in your yard and barks at night, chores, gas prices, inflation, ignorance, intelligence, abortion, welfare, unemployment, your husband's goat-play fetish, the ruffie you were slipped last week which subsequent in DP and gang-rape by your male co-workers, or the fact that you're homeless after losing your job and your wife on the same day which just so happened to be your birthday and now you expect the whole world to change just to suit your selfish, little, hopeless aspirations that no longer matter to anyone but your lonesome, pitiful self. Have I left anything out? Of course I have. Here's ten more reasons you need to just shut the fuck up, and yes, I see the irony in all of this. Which brings me to number one.

1. Pointing out the obvious to someone who is intentionally saying the shit that they're saying to make an ironic point. Did that go over your head? Big fucking surprise. That could only mean one thing: number two.

2. Either you sell shoes at Footlocker, stock shelves at Kroger, seat obese white trash at Applebee's, or run the cash register at Dillard's. Now, while all of these are prime examples of being very important, completely essential cogs in the big machine, none of it qualifies you to open your mouth about anything of any relevance to...well, fucking anything. You are not capable of calculating simple math equations without the use of a solar-powered, $2 piece of shit machinery from Big Lots. So what the fuck makes you think you understand anything at all about the economy, inflation, or even the total of your five pounder happy meal from McDonald's, you fat, stupid fuck? McDonald's, point three.

3. Why don't the seventeen-year-olds working the drive-thru say "thank you" or "have a nice day" anymore? What happened to service? What happened to respect for customers? Why don't you cry yourself to sleep, eternal sleep, after taking a bottle of downers and slitting your wrists vertically? Those selfish, apathetic kids serving your fat-fucking-ass three double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a gallon of Diet Coke don't give a fuck because minimum wage doesn't pay them to give a fuck, because their boss doesn't give a fuck, because you don't give a fuck, and because capitalist America doesn't give a fuck. So stop pretending to give a fuck, because at the end of the day, you didn't pay $5 so someone would tell you "thank you." You paid just over the cost of one gallon of gas for a whole meal, which your greasy, sausage fingers are shoveling into your big, happy mouth. Right? Number four.

4. Obesity. Stop bitching about the heat. You're fat. It's your fault. The summer is hot. The winter is not. Get used to it or move. Five.

5. Stop whining and moaning and crying and shouting about shit you did wrong. This one is much more literal and lax. Sometimes it may appear more clear, like if you wake up in a puddle of vomit and piss after a hard night of drinking, that's your fault. No issue there. No one else to blame. Not even the ruffie-slipping male co-workers. But I'm even talking about parents who bitch about their kids. You raised them. It's your fault. I don't care if they killed grandma for the inheritance. You should have beat them more. Fuck you and your spoiled, bastard kids. Fuck you Six ways to Sunday.

6. Rednecks and white trash bitch more than anyone else in America. You're poor. I know already. Guess what, motherfuckers? No one cares. Stop fucking for tax breaks, get off of welfare, and get a motherfucking job. White trash need rounded up and put into cages. Kind of like a zoo, but you wouldn't ever pay admission, and you wouldn't ever go in. And employees wouldn't feed them. And by "white trash," I mean everyone. For instance, people who pay by check and don't have it filled out by the time they reach the register, people who buy lottery tickets and scratch them off at the counter while there's a fucking line behind them, people who spend their last five on cigarettes instead of food, people who bitch about gas prices to gas station attendants, people who spend all of their money on weed and can't figure out why they can't afford their child support, people who think KFC is the shit, people who think Fazoli's is "real Italian," and people who wear fucking crocs, just to name a few. Seven.

7. Socialism. You don't understand it. You never will. Publicized health care? Don't even try to wrap your right-winged, Rush Limbaugh-brainwashed, Bill O'Reilly-loving mind around it. You're still stuck in the 1950's, blacklisting all of the pinko commies trying to do whatever it is that evil commies do, and you're so scared of "red" (ironic) working men. You wouldn't want free health care for your children? For your grandchildren? Fuck you and your selfish, small fucking brain. Unions? The United States Postal Service? American public education? Yeah, we're definitely not socialistic. This goes for anarchy as well. Eight.

8. You're right-wing? Fuck you. You're left-wing? Fuck you. You're green party? Fuck you. Fuck every last one of you ignorant, puppet tools. Please shut the fuck up. And nine.

9. Violence and sex. What the fuck is the deal? We fuck to survive. I'm not sure if anyone's picked up on that yet. I know, it's all a bit complicated, but I assure you, it's true. One man and one woman fuck, have a child, and the the cycle repeats. I think they even teach this complicated subject in junior high health class, basically just to make sure that fucking morons like us grasp the idea of repopulating. Adam and Eve weren't ashamed of being naked. They just grew older and became conservative republicans. Seeing a naked body on a movie screen is not going to scar you for life. Not knowing shit about sex until you're eighteen will. Stop fucking up your children. And violence? Jesus fucking Christ. This nation was founded on bloodshed. Read up on some history, grow some fucking balls, and shut the fuck up. Finally ten.

10. You're middle class. Not lower class. Stop bitching and just shut the fuck up. Remember the Great Depression? No, you don't. Shut the fuck up.

There you go. Ten reasons laced in thick fucking irony. I hope I singled out everyone in some way. So shut the fuck up already. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

*Oh, and a side note to the four thick-headed fucks I saw eating at Wings and Rings tonight: if you plan to order, take the menus when the waitress offers, and don't make her read through the menu herself to your inbred, white trash, shit-eating faces five seconds after she asks. You don't need to eat. You need to kill yourselves.
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