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Sunday, November 27, 2011

Twiligh Saga: Breaking Wind (A positive review!)

Most "normal" film reviewers and bloggers will work themselves into a sweat drenched frenzy in order to bring their reviews to the readers before the readers actually watch the movie. Obviously as the owner of multiple websites, I simply cannot work like that. I am a gentleman of leisure, so fighting my way through a rabid pack of menopausal women to see a movie I knew was based on a terrible story was very low on my priority list. But I could not postpone the inevitable forever. To be totally honest, I was curious. Even among groups of rabid Twilight fans, most will admit that the book Breaking Dawn is a clusterfuck of poorly developed bad ideas and massive plot holes, mixed in with references to "pillow biting" and pedophilia lite. In short; adapting Breaking Wind is a screenwriters nightmare. I knew it would be dreadfully delightful.




This moderate fan has already seen it 78 times! She is also single.
Before we dive into the movie itself, I must first attempt to summarize the book for the uninitiated. Here it is in the fewest possible words: Edward Colon is a vampire and preening little twat; he lives with his "adopted" vampire family in the feral town of Forks WA. His adopted father is the night doctor at the hospital, who also looks like a runway model. Edward has two "brothers" and two "sisters" who are also "in high school" and also "openly boning" which of course is totally unnoticed by anyone in town. Edward is the only Colon who has no sex in his life, presumably expending his energy on mind blowing vampire masturbation sessions (he is 17 forever). It all changes when Fella Swan, the police chiefs daughter moves to town (her mildly retarded mother was hitting the road with a minor league baseball team). Suddenly Edward wants to eat/bone Fella. She just wants the sex part. Edward tells her that he has skin which is icy, and hard like diamonds (sparkles too); at this point everyone makes a joke about Fella Getting "cold cocked"; which is low hanging fruit to say the least, something author Stephenie Meyer seems determined to provide. Did I mention that there are also wolf human hybrids who "imprint" (sort of like falling in love at first site) and it doesn't matter whether it is reciprocated, or the imprintee is a baby? After something like 1,700 pages of uninteresting and non romantic romance, we come to Breaking Wind, where Fella Swan will finally become a Colon. They get married, go to Brazil for their honeymoon, and Fella gets impregnated. After that, the entire drama in the first part of the book hinges on the unlikely premise that the wolf boys (good guys) will kill Fella (the heroine) because she is pregnant with a half vampire. Also the baby is slowly killing poor Fella (did I mention that she is a huge bitch?). This brings us to the movie version of Breaking Wind...

Review: Twilight Saga-Breaking Wind, Part one
Score: 9/10

When reviewing the movie versions of The Twilight Saga, one must always consider the source material. Speaking for myself, I have never read a worse story with less likeable characters and more plot holes than The Saga. As such, to hire professionals and adapt it for the screen is to rub the proverbial honey on the proverbial shit. Polishing a turd. It is simply impossible to use any "writing" by Stephenie Meyer and create something of quality. That said, I think the crew has done a marvelous job in taking horrible and obnoxious characters and making them decent. Not likeable, but not nearly as bad as they are in the book. Breaking Wind was no exception. For those keeping score I attended with The Missus and The Child (in Noarlunga, South Australia).

High Points:

1) They had at least one good make-up artist
In the previous Twilight installments, the supposedly good looking Colon family has such a strong resemblance to rapist mimes that "look like transvestites". Breaking Wind is no exception, that is, until they have to show Fella Swan dying. By golly they nailed it! For about 30 minutes poor dying Fella looks as much like a dying crack head I was starting to fiend for drugs I have never tried! Every tiny vein was showing through her translucent skin and her bones were clearly visible. It was great!


2) Stephenie Meyer made an appearance
In 98% of the reviews, it has been pointed out that Stephanie Meyer is actually obsessed with her own fiction. Even the films stars have made mention of this fact. I love her little personal touches, because everything she touches ends up hilarious (unintentionally). Sadly I missed seeing it, and I will have to wait for the DVD because I am not going back to the theater.

3) The honeymoon was funny as hell
Awkward, and as neutered as one would imagine from a movie which had to have a PG-13 rating so its Mormon author could watch it (this is NOT a joke). The thing I always found amusing was that the Colon family (who are sworn to secrecy about their vampiric state on pain of death) have housekeepers come out to the island. Not just any housekeepers though, but housekeepers from a mountain tribe which believes in vampires. Naturally they are suspicious. I wonder if it ever occured to the sleepless Colons that they have plenty of time to clean, and it would be a lot more secretive if they took care of it themselves. Another highlight was when Fella Colon was swooning away in the bedroom while Mr Colon waited in the ocean (to cold cock her). It was at this moment when The Child spoke up: "She really likes her bed!" Thankfully I was not drinking anything at this point.

4) The Volturi
For those who have no idea what Twilight is, there are some characters in it called The Volturi. They are a council of I-talian vampires who are especially sinister and good looking. They look like this:


In the world of Twilight this is a badass. In the real world he promotes bondage parties and has a "no cocaine left behind" policy.
As you might imagine, it is nigh impossible to keep a straight face while the Volturi are on the screen.

5) It only took about 100 minutes of my time
Stephenie Meyer only writes books over 700 pages. Here is a sample of what that is like: "The fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body" which of course is fairly standard for all 2,400 pages in the entire series. I am not entirely sure, but I think she used the phrase "perfectly muscled chest" upwards of 20 times. Needless to say the books are like undergoing surgery with a shot of whiskey and a leather strap to chew on when pain gets too intense. The movies thankfully are much shorter.

6) Science: Twilight Style
Because the fetus/baby was half vampire it wanted to drink blood. So in typical Stephenie Meyer style, the characters "solved" the problem in a really stupid way which would not have worked at all. They had (human) Fella Colon drink human blood, which using their combined brain power, they concluded would "feed the baby blood" sadly, even the "doctor" agreed this was true. What they failed to understand is that the baby would still be getting fed with digested food, so it would not matter what protein she ate, and she could even drink animal blood without the baby becoming any the wiser.

7) Renesmee
The birth scene is famous in the books because the baby is breaking Fella Colon's back and shit (due to its incredible stremf. The Child got scared so we covered her eyes. When the baby popped out, she started laughing though.

"That baby needs a wash! They need to clean it up a bit! Hahahaha!" She was right. Also they named the baby Renesmee, which makes me feel like gouging out my eyes just reading it, let alone saying it. One nice touch in the movie was the wink and nod the screenwriter gave this when they discussed what an ugly name it is. I recall Robert Pattinson looking down when he said he liked it. I am sure he was having trouble not laughing. Also Jacob the wolf boy "imprints" on the baby, so there is the pedophilia again.

8) I got my I-Phone back
The day after the movie I realized that I had left my I-Phone somewhere. This of course made me hopping mad, as I have limited funds. Luckily, someone had found it and turned it in at the theater, so later that day I recovered it.

This may be a slightly unconventional positive review, but hey, when you have a 26% positive review rating on Rotten Tomato's you take all the help you can get!

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Rejected BS: Behind The Scenes (of a genius at work)

During the past week I have attempted to write one failed blog update. I was attempting to show the world how silly, and irritating "Movember" is. I realized too late that I could simply do this:

We can only hope he ends up like Isadora Duncan!
You see, being funny is not a hard science for me (like being an egomaniac, or having body odor). Some people may be able to write regularly and hilariously, but it seems I am irregular. So today I give you a couple ideas I have been toying with.

1) America is Jesusland

For those who want it as simply put as possible, its not. It never has been. Yet still people (jackasses) insist on calling the USA, "A Christian Nation"! Sadly for them, it is not true. To refute that theory in as few words possible: If you read the bible, you will see that Jesus was in favor of paying even "unfair" taxes, and our founding fathers did not. Of course it doesn't matter. Even if I were willing to do the research and try to "write it out all purty" I would only reaffirm those who already agreed with me, and the others would call me a "dickfor" (they would be correct). Also, why waste time writing when this picture is available:

The America part is communicated through the "subtle" color scheme.

2) My Personal Life

Going from very single to very much in a relationship with a hilarious child, I am tempted to write about it. Yet, I want to keep some aspects of my life private (such as the staggering amount of Barbie washing I did this week). What is the balance? Will I start giving out sex tips? Who knows what the future may hold. But all you get this week is a family picture:

"Hotness" is a disease we suffer from.
3) This guy:

writer - m4w - 31 (renton )
Date: 2011-11-17, 9:31AM PSTBottom of Form
Hello, I am a writer who is printing a script, I need a king county library card number to print, ive used my allowance up for the week, plus my dads and my unlces and my moms, anyone want to help me out and donate their 75 page printing allowance to me?

His "unlces" lent them their library cards, will you?
Wrap up:
I hope you learned something in our time together today, though I suspect your mind was elsewhere. That is fine. Mine is as well. Obviously. So goodbye, God bless America (courtesy of Toby Keith),
with love,
Buzzsaw

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Lost: Austin Texas, October 2011

Help me! I lost my virginity! Just kidding! Here is a look at the lost and found in Austin Texas. My top 3. There were lots of dogs, cats, and jousting sticks, but these stood out.

3) The Post:

Lost trombone (Willowbrook dr Hutto)


Date: 2011-11-03, 9:08PM CDT

606 King trombone. 6 th grade music student needs for band
Jason
Buzzsaw's Inventive Technically Creative Horseshit (B.I.T.C.H.)- When I saw that some dumb bastard had lost a whole trombone I knew I had to open this. I have lost cars and stuff like that, but a trombone is a specialty item. Speaking of Trombones, have any of you ever had to threaten disciplinary action on a radio DJ for saying "Tromboners" during an on air announcement of the college trombone quartet's fund drive of trombone Christmas songs? The tromboners were listening to the radio and were slightly peeved. But back to Austin, its kids! Kids! Those darn kids! Like the four year old who has been asking me if I like "Percules" and "Xena" or asks daily to watch Harry and The Hendersons, and who even now is ordering me to sing but won't allow me to sing about nudies! But she is only 4, and would make me carry the trombone so it wouldn't be lost. ["Come on boy clap" she just ordered me] As far as this kid in Texas goes though, I think it is perhaps more rock and roll.

He is the Liam Gallagher of trombone. Also known as a tromboner.
It is my theory that the kid in Texas perhaps "smashed his shit" or even "lit it on fire" while "rocking the hell out"! He may have left it in a "house of ill repute" while he was "horny" or he got his ass kicked for being in band. These are my theory's. And from what I know about tromboners, it is probably not too far off base. They are wiley bastards and are capable of anything. Especially those who play the "King Trombone"!

You just got "tromboned" and now you are pregnant!
2) The Post:

Lost Jewelry? I can Help (Ft. Hood, Killeen)


Date: 2011-11-02, 4:19PM CDT
I have a metal detector and can help you find it around the parks and areas around here. Send me an e-mail telling me what you lost and where at with the best discription you can. The more info, the better. :) Ill let you know if I found it or not. I do this as a hobby every weekend. I promise you I won't lie about finding it as I have had a ring returned by someone with an ad like this one. Thanks.
B.I.T.C.H.- Do your hobbies include helping random strangers on your days off? Do you help people once a month? Not at all? Well this guy is pounding the parks EVERY WEEKEND! Listening to his beeps and clicks, digging for treasure. And he only wants to return it. Is he a better person than you? Certainly. But that doesn't take much. I know my readers.

You are a terrible, terrible person compared to him. Think about it.
You are what you eat. And these are made of kindness. Perhaps you need a few more.

1) The Post:

Scuba Diver and Boyfriend Left in Florida Water? (Austin)


Date: 2011-10-24, 7:28PM CDT
Does anyone know what ended up happening to the Austin man who went scuba diving a few weeks ago in Florida and was left in the water with his friend? News said he has a family in the Austin area. I guess he left the family at home and made a trip alone to go scuba diving with his special friend, then almost died after the boat left without them.

B.I.T.C.H.- This post was found under lost items. Written by someone who knows how to use Craigslist, but not google. Whoever wrote it is also WAY into the idea that the diver and married father of 6 is gay. Perhaps though it was written by the man himself and it is all an elaborate way to come out of the closet. Of course being creative, I would posit a better way to do that.



Why the elaborate ruse? Just come out!

Closing statement: I hereby solemnly swear that I was not drunk when I wrote this. Seriously.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Hills Are Alive (With The Sound Of Nudies...)!

Pictured: Not Nudies
Those who have had the good taste to read The BS Report lately may have noticed more than a few references to "Nudie Beach", which of course is right down the hill from the house I am currently living in. You will probably not be aware that I have recently been watching Sound Of Music with my old lady's 4 year old daughter, who is also my boss. That is where the title comes from, and from here we depart.

Ever since my old lady had to sack her only full time server at the pub, I have been going in and helping her get the furniture set up for each day. Today was no exception, and when I was finished and enjoying my coffee and an internet session, I was conscripted by the child to water flowers. Then I was told that we were supposed to go into the office and do some important work for her mum. I can only remember one instance of her trying to get me to eat a chalk covered piece of blu-tack. Soon her Nan arrived and they left to inspect the 8 Barbies her Granddad bought her on E-Bay. I decided it was time to go home, but we needed petrol, and The Missus foolishly gave me her bank card...

Now you know I love the beach, but the truth is I have been stuck at the house for weeks. I know what is there, exhibit one being a stupid ill-mannered puppy whose sole positive attribute is her cuteness. It was not a great draw. So I filled up BlueBell (the vehicle) and reluctantly turned towards home. At this point I decided to do something rash. I was going to Kangarilla! Since The Missus was stuck at work and my phone was dead, I was essentially a free man!

So I wheeled Bluebell down Kangarilla road, and out through the small town of McLaren Flats. The vineyards stretched on either side, and soon the wide gum trees were stretching their light green leaves nearly all the way across the road. Once I cleared McLaren Flats, the land was mostly occupied by various farms and vineyards. A citrus orchard, a camel farm, a group of recently shorn Alpacas. It was not long until I was right up against the foothills, the road curving to the left. The houses are old out there, one storey stone and brick, with wrap around porches and galvanized water tanks to stay wet during the dry season.

In about 15 minutes I had reached the town of Kangarila, and there was not much there. A petrol station, a primary school and a post office, and the end of Kangarilla road. I decided to take a right, which lead me into a deep valley between the steeply sloped hills. The old houses were mostly on the left side of the road, hidden in a lush fold of land behind various trees and flowering bushes. It was clear that there was at least a seasonal stream running through it which made it so green. On the right hand side the round hills were a mixture of gum trees and grass. The cloudy sky grey behind the green and yellow color field. Then I rounded a curve and saw a small pine stand, and as I passed noticed a parking lot and a gate. Since I had no plans beyond shirking my duties, I turned around and parked. I was the only one there, it was a good day for a hike.

Starting up the path I hoped it would not start raining, but soon I was in under the trees and that was forgotten. The pine stand was planted, the trees in neat rows, but they were tall and I could hear many different bird calls, so it was clear it was inhabited. The pine grew to my right up the steeply sloping hill. To my left grew a mix of gums and pines, with various paths leading off into the forest. A bird called and I glanced up to see what looked like a small hawk flying back away from the opening made by the path. Ahead I saw magpies and some sort of crow with white tips on the wings. The crows made a much more bearable sound than the ones I am used to, perhaps it is their Australian accent. On the path I saw what I figured were Kangaroo droppings. I was watching the trees for any sign of movement.

The sounds of birds were constant and varied. From short chirps to croaks and coos. Some I could see, but most stayed invisible. I saw a path of grass open up to the left and the gums, so I followed it up, until it looped back to the main path, right up between the split forest. I was hiking hard. I wanted to be sure I got to the top, and I had no idea how far I would have to go. I took off my tee-shirt and continued on in my undershirt, which was wet with sweat. It seemed like mosquito country, so I listened for the tell-tale whine, but hearing nothing kept heading up the steep grade.

A path intersected mine from the pine grove, but I was not deterred. I could see what looked like the top of the ridge through the trees. First through the gums because they did not grow so close together. It was not long before I saw that the pines were not stretching up so steeply, and then I saw sky. In a couple of minutes I was at the end of the track I was on. I had reached the top of the ridge, and at this point the path became a T, on the left leading back up into what I knew to be more hills, the right leading to a viewpoint over the valley. I turned to the right to see where I was at.

It was probably only 100 meters before I came to a gate with a sign that read "Authorized Personnel Only" it was open. It was a huge dilemma for me. I knew I was not authorized, but I wanted to see the view. Ad the gate was open. So I snuck through far enough to see the view of the Onkaparinga Valley below. It was amazing how much elevation I had gained, far below me the vineyards in their pale green rows stretched diagonally from the road. I could see the farms and the snakelike form of Kangarilla road. But I was worried about not being authorized, so I walked back through the gate and turned left, keeping the neat rows of pine to my right. To my left was a barb wire cattle fence. On the ground I saw a large turd that looked bovine in nature (a bovine which had been eating bad Mexican food judging by consistency). There were no cows to be seen but I was on alert. Suddenly I heard something to my left, and looking over I saw a pair of adult Kangaroos moving in the fenced in planting between the field and the pine grove. They had probably been eating the young plants which had been carefully fenced off from the cattle.

Sort of like these two, except they were both adults and jumping away from me!
The bigger of the two 'roos took a couple of bounds, turned left and cleared the fence in a single bound. The smaller one was slower, and perhaps unsure. Instead of clearing the fence, he somehow managed to jump through the middle strands of barbwire, and they both bounded out of sight down into the pasture land. What struck me most aside from their grace and beauty, was the obvious power in their tails. They used them when they jumped, and when the big one cleared the fence I could see the large brown tail flex as it sprung. They are strange and beautiful animals, and I felt oddly honored to have finally seen on in the wild. I continued my trek, hoping to see more, but knowing that the chances were slim, as the pines seemed ill fitting to the grazing habits of kangaroos, and I soon came abreast of the cattle herd.

The path swung right up to the steep edge of the hill leading down to the road, and then swept in under the pines. I saw a few jumps constructed by mountain bikers much braver than I, but no more 'roos. Soon I was back at the car, sweaty, hungry, and very happy I had not gone home. I made my way back to the pub, where I told The Missus about it all. And now I am telling you (all 4 of my readers). Sincerely, The Kangaroo Hunter

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Black Light Fun? I'm in!

People have asked if I am homesick now that I am living next to an historic Australian nudist beach instead of in a filthy bungalow in Fall City WA, USA. Short answer, hell no! I am content to fill my time learning about Australia and in general getting comfortable with my new lifestyle! Yet there are those wee hours of the morning when I wish I owned an internet connection at the house so I could check up on things back home. So I did today. Via Craigslist. Here is what I found:

1) Black Light Fun? - m4w - 29 (n.everett)

i have two 4ft black lights in my living room and a couple of posters...Im seeing if there's a women out there that would like to have 420 & drinks with me tonight and rock a sexy black light outfit if u have one or we can go buy one


Im black 29
5'8 200lbs
i have my own place
no into BBW

My Thoughts: I have never lived in Everett, but luckily I have some cousins who grew up there, and they taught me about NEWT's, or North Everett White Trash. It seems that this man is hell bent on changing the reputation of North Everett, through the power of blacklights, glowing posters, and sexy blacklight outfits (which he has offered to buy!)!!! Though it is clear from his post that he is not overly concerned about puntuation and grammar, he is obviously a stickler about getting stoned and tripping out at all times! This is such a great offer of a fun time that my only misgiving is on account of the Big Black Women (BBW's) who are excluded from the fun!

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Vote For ME!!!! (American as apple pie!!!!)!!!!-



Having recently relocated from Seattle to South Australia the approaching summer is making me very happy. Of course the whole not having terrible traffic thing is OK as well. But there is more. Next year is 2012, and aside from our impending doom due to the end of the Mayan calendar, the good old US of A is facing an even greater threat. The presidential election! Now some of you may not view it as a threat, but in my experience there is almost nothing worse in a first world country than “election year”! I decided to utilize the bulk of my limited intelligence to detail in list form just why I hate election years so much. The following is based solely on opinion, my opinion. If you disagree, I hope you enjoy being incorrect. Thank you. PS- I used some "foul language" so if you hate that, you have been warned!

I LOVE my country! And I HATE my cat!

            10) It ruins all media:
           An American election year our media industry’s proverbial “box of porn next to the couch in the woods”. Not that they were particularly hard up for stories, but like said box, it takes away their need to run around looking for them. I am sure this has something to do with the way our elections are staggered so that we have something going on all the time. In an elaborate scheme of deviltry the media agency’s have conspired to keep us constantly approaching a vote of sorts, giving them “news” to report…this thing could be big…but I diverge.
                During election year the general populace are paying closer attention to their news than on “off” years. This allows even the most non-event happenings to suddenly become a big deal. Not only that, but the politicians are feeding the PR machine with as much money as they can, the ones with the most money probably getting the most interviews. Our whole media system is awash with politics. It is a dog and pony show of epic proportion. Not only do you hear politics on talk shows, but our comedians are writing jokes about it, and more than likely Conner Oberst will have a musical outburst about it. Of course what you are hearing is probably not true either, so have fun trying to make sense of it. Luckily you can always turn off the TV and go home for the holidays…

9) It ruins all holidays
You thought you were going to celebrate a Thanksgiving dinner and just reflect on what good things you have enjoyed in the past year! Ha! You’re fucked! Remember the dog and pony show? Well the holidays are the perfect time for American politicians to flaunt their: religious convictions/revere for the American military/their love for poor people/general inability to be mere mortals in an effort to get sweet, sweet government jobs. This will be covered by the media in the form of speeches, press conferences next to monuments, or by showing a smiling candidate standing at a homeless shelter smiling a toothy grin (while he is contemplating how he can capture the homeless in order hunt them for sport)! And that is if you are lucky! I come from a family not really given to political debate, and our holiday fights usually involve someone  being late or something petty like the type of baste used on the turkey. We are probably part of the one percent. The rest break down something like this:
You have two bitter enemies facing off against each other, or you have a group of people patting themselves on the back (and being wrong). The first group is fairly obvious. I am sure that sometimes the arguments are pure political ideology disagreements. They are still a pain in the ass, and when you know that Uncle Mark and Uncle Kevin are going to be at each others throats if the national debt comes up, you can bet that the rest of the family will try to avoid the subject like Superman with kryptonite condoms. But it will come up. It is not like the pugilists have forgotten their war, it more than likely has been going on since long before the two uncles became interested in politics. Quite possibly these two just always hated each other and the national debt is a nice way of finding a neutral ground on which to war. Either way, a political argument will ruin a holiday faster than Steven Segal could punch your face in!
The other way your holiday could be ruined is through a self indulging “hurray for our side” gathering. This happens when a group of people who know enough to pick a side and cheer strongly for it get together. Be they Republicans or Democrats, whenever you are surrounded by a chorus of opinionated and vocal people, you are being a fucking idiot. I don’t care if you are 90% correct about all things political (probably not possible, but this is all made up bullshit anyway), you are still going to completely wrong about some aspect of it. But because you are in a group that parrots out talking points and agendas (or need the validation that comes from raising your kids to be exactly the same as you), you are in short, fucked. Though you may have a “happy” group, chances are that anyone who feels slightly different about things will simply write you off as dickbrained fuck, and your chance of influencing him to your side is gone. But the ones who need to feel constantly affirmed are not the ones actually trying to win people over. They simply want a fight (then a victory party where they smack each others asses).
8) It causes undue stress
An election year in the States is one of the most stressful things you can experience. For me personally I start to second guess everything. I feel guilty about not paying close enough attention. Then I feel guilty for paying attention to a couple of bastards talking out of their asses. Next I worry that I will start an argument with a friend causing unneeded discord. An American election year is like walking through a minefield/funhouse/set for a Japanese game show!
Take work for instance, there are just certain parts of your life which should not be turned into heated debates. Hungry after a long morning making boat davits you are relieved to hear Robert Hager say “LUNCH TIME” so you get your lunch out of the fridge. You go upstairs to eat with Robert (he ate the same sandwich everyday and an apple). Sitting in the dingy room you are relieved that at least for a half hour you can relax. Then without looking up Robert says “IF ‘BAMA GETS ‘LECTED HE’S JUST GONNA HELP OUT THE COLORED PEOPLE!!!!” In order to get the conversation closer to sanity you add “Robert, ‘Bama is half white you fucking jackass!! What makes you think he is only gonna help the “colored” people?” “OH SURE! I SEEN IT ON THE TV!” Realizing the futility of the situation you run down to the company computer (the password was: boat), hoping for a laugh. So you log onto facebook to check your news feed…
It is filled with things like this:
“If you are proud to be proud to be American re-post this status on your wall. Most of you are turncoats and will not do this. This is because you have no soul.”
Try and be relaxed when this is going on. By the time it is time to get back the making boat davits you are glad about it. Just imagine working in an office job. At least Robert is not prejudiced, he is just a relic of my country’s not too recent past.
7) It is like gambling, but with no chance to win money and a non-existent  pay off!
Americans like to talk about money when they talk about politics. Not the obscene amount of money that the candidates need to have in order to market themselves enough to become potential candidates, but the money that we will lose through taxes if candidate ______ gets elected. Of course like the rest, a huge percentage of these conversations come straight out of the speakers ass (just like this blog). But it can make you feel like you are actually going to see more money if certain things happen. While this may be true to some extent, for the most part it seems like a bunch of bull shit. I am willing to bet that the money we actually save or lose through taxes is pretty much the same whichever group of brain surgeons are in office. And to answer the debate, yes dumbass, your taxes will go up this year.

6) It makes you feel dirty even if you have a good time
One of the main activities of an election year revolves around making jokes at the expense of the opposite group. The problem with this is political jokes are low hanging comedic fruit, and the market gets flooded with terrible punch lines and retreads of humor that was stale in the neolithic period. Not to mention the fact that jokes making fun of other people in general will make you feel sort of shitty. They will either give you an overinflated sense of self worth, or they will make you feel guilty for being a dick and making fun of the stupid man with the fat, sausage like fingers. No matter what, a full season of political humor will turn you into the guy everybody hates to party with. And it will make you dumber and less discerning with your humor. I would much rather see a resurgence of Three Stooges type antics than hear whatever witticism Jon Stewart and his team of crack writers can come up with. Better yet, let the politicians act out classic Stooges scenes for our amusement. I would love to see ‘Bama eye poke Sarah Palin, her lenses hurt his hand, then she gives him an ear twist and a “Why I oughta! Why I oughta!” while marching him around the room. Of course what I am imagining is possibly some of the lowest hanging fruit around…
5) It breeds mistrust
The object of a political candidate is to make a majority of people believe that he is the better option for whatever office he is running for. This is a recipe for slander. And if not slandering the politicians are working their asses off to make themselves look like great people. Of course they are lying. Or at least it looks that way…And the media. They are simply trying to elect people they want, so they don’t tell the truth. Or do they? Are they truly just being objective (probably not). No matter what, by the end of an election year a true American will be off his rocker with paranoia. This seems to be the objective of the whole thing. Hell, I bet most of you don’t even trust me! But trust me, I am a trustworthy source of information.
4) “Election Year” takes more than one year
The true fallacy of an election year is that they have named it “Election Year”! In reality it probably takes 4 or maybe 6 years. Though (I am making a guess) candidates cannot officially campaign before election year, they all do. Unofficially. Prior to “Election year” notable and notorious potential candidates will strive to remain in the media. Some go so far as to get caught in sex scandals just for the press, but sadly America is not Italy so it rarely works. In years leading up to elections, politicians will be sure to release books and make speaking tours, though they only hint at whether or not they will run. Of course they will be seeking funds the whole time. The amassment of which will allow them to seek more power. The years leading up are almost worse because of the facade everyone can see through. For example: Sarah Palin, who has not stopped campaigning since 2007. Of course you do have the actual election year. Which is fucking awful.
But after the men are elected, doesn’t it all get quiet? Yes, for about 4 minutes. And then the speculation begins. The side that lost the election will be bound and determined to make the side in office look terrible. The ones who won publicizing their great work. This continues until the Congressional election and the whole thing begins again…
3) It makes you feel stupid
I am sure a man exists who knows the best way the world should be run. That man would probably get his ass kicked a lot. He would learn to stop talking so the frequency of beatings would flag. No matter how smart you are, or even how wise, there is not much hope of coming to a very clear understanding about the world of politics. There are simply too many factors. Even the smartest people in the world are almost constantly making the wrong decisions in the world of government. Think about that from the point of view of the average person. It is mind boggling when you try and make a choice between two candidates. It is a mind numbing whirl of acronyms and statistics, not to mention constitutional law and science bullshit. All I can say is that after I watch the circus, I feel my (abounding) ignorance is growing by the day. It is difficult to process all the frivolous information, let alone the important stuff. Human beings are limited organisms, elections are more than we can handle.

Hat's off to you America!
2) Celebrity Endorsements
I would rather be groped by a group of menopausal chimps than subjected to the political opinions of any celebrity less insane than Ted Nugent. At least “The Nuge “ is entertainment incarnate. Of course in my country, we love our celebs. So much so that we export even our reality show celebrity mills are sent overseas (to make us look even more ridiculous?). During 2012 I am expecting a banner year. Rest assured that Oprah will find her way out of retirement to wax philosophical with Ashton Kutcher, Billy Bob Thornton and Heidi Montague. The cast of characters employed to stand on stages and on beaches revealing their bloaty beach body’s (when they are in need of a career boost) will suddenly leap from our TV sets and assault our brains with their political savvy. Also, Toby Keith is sure to do something ultra-“American” which will increase his record sales and his chance for becoming governor of Oklahoma. Of course we cannot forget the forgettable campaign songs that pollute the auditory landscape. Michelle Bachman-Turner-Overdrive, lookout for some really horrific things being spoken, sung, and broadcast during 2012!
1)In America we like having only two choices
It makes no sense to me that our country has been essentially run by two groups for at least the past 100 years or so. Two. Two choices, obviously they are the best two possible choices in our country, but seriously two? In theory we have “infinite” political party’s, but the truth is two. Two. The best two choices. Of course ONE of those two choices is completely fucked! Evil! Hell bent on destruction of the human race! A bunch of morons! Evil! Two choices! One of them comprised of murderers and evil bastards! There are two choices, one of them right, noble and A M E R I C A N. And one of them the worst people in the world. The choice is obvious. Will you make the right choice?

Saturday, October 8, 2011

It's cuddle time!

This isn't even my soft side! I am THAT loveable!
Cuddling? - m4w - 26 (Bloomingdale Area)

I'm 26 years old, single, 6'0", 195 lbs, and am a world renowned cuddler who is offering his expertise to one lucky woman.

I am just looking for somebody to share a bed with - nothing sexual, just two bodies for cuddling. I have a big bed I'm hoping to share and would love to hear back from somebody. It would obviously be nice if it was with a person I got along with or enjoyed talking to, so write a little about yourself in your response. Hope to hear back...
It seems almost like blasphemy to even question this post, but though I know it is true, it left me wondering a few things. Firstly, what does it take to become a “world renowned cuddler”? Is there some sort of organization in charge of cuddling rankings and expertise measurement? Did he study cuddling or was he born with a gift? Is cuddling the same as snuggling (I am clearly showing my own naiveté with this remark)? Will this cuddling expertise, when passed on, qualify the above mentioned “lucky woman” as a “world renowned cuddler”? If so, will you instruct her to “pay it forward” and create her own Craigslist post? It would be a boon to all if he did.
Now it seems natural for a cuddler to want to do so in bed, but with the renown this individual has, is he able to cuddle on couches? Verandas? In the tall grass? In a canoe? Because I don’t think he should limit himself. I am also curious as to the possibility of group cuddles, can he do it? Is it even possible? Because that could change the world!
Lastly, I am heartened to know that he would consider cuddling with someone that he did not get along with, or even like talking to. I know he would prefer the opposite, but he leaves the possibility open for a nice hate filled cuddle session. This man is truly a master of his trade. Please take some time to reply to him, you will learn so much!

Friday, October 7, 2011

10 Harmonica Greats who make Bob Dylan look like a clown (part 1 of 10)

As you may have noticed, I have been absent from the online these days. It is because I m in Australia taming kangaroos with boomerangs and drinking copious Fosters. I have also been working on finishing the first draft of my book and playing music for the first time in what seems like two years. It got me thinking about one of my main obsessions which is exposing the element of fraud behind Bob Dylan's harmonica playing (he claimed that Little Walter taught him how to play). So in order to combat my natural laziness as well as get back at Robert Zimmerman for his blatant lies. So for the next 10 updates I will focus on one of 10 legendary harmonica players. Not to be included on this list is Neil Young, though he is still worlds better than Dylan.
He is throwing his clown nose to the screaming crowd!
10) Greg "Fingers" Taylor. The long time harmonica player in Jimmy Buffett's Coral Reefer Band, Fingers was born to play the harp. Interestingly, he got the nickname Fingers from a band he was in as a keyboard player, not the fast and furious fluttering he did while creating the scintillating vibrato that was just one element of his soulful playing. Always wanting to be a musician, he was enrolled in University of Southern Mississippi until the day the draft for the Vietnam war was ended. When it was announced that the draft was over he threw his books on the lawn of the school and promptly joined a band. Fingers is still rocking to this day as seen in the following video:


And at some time in the 80's on a slow jam here:



And in his heyday as a Coral Reefer here:



Here is Fingers personal favorite song from the Buffett days (by Keith Sykes):



And in closing with some blues:

Or perhaps, it is a blues song in the making. Hope you enjoyed the music. If not, check with your doctor to see if you have pulse. Barnes.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Learning about Australia: The Footy Championships!

Footy, sport of the ruling class!

Being new to Australia I have been working hard trying to learn about the place so I don’t seem like a complete buffoon. As difficult as that task may seem to most of you, I have succeeded surprisingly well. The main reason for my success is due to the fact that I have hardly spoken to anyone in the past week or so. Communication for me has regressed back to a series of nods and grunts (as opposed to nods, grunts and hand signals). Aside from my few sojourns to the local nudie beach, I have limited myself to hanging about the house, tidying up the place and solitary walks along the bluffs and through wine country. This has been nice, but it has taught me little about the culture. So today I have dedicated myself to watching the “Footy Finals” otherwise known as the AFL Premiers Cup, or Aussie rules football championships. Here is what I have learned:
A)     No matter how much scorn the majority of Australians hold for Adelaide, the weather is better here today than it is in Melbourne. Sure that may not matter to you, but it would if you were at the Footy Finals. This is because the big news of the day was whether or not rock star Meatloaf, or “Loaf” would cancel his pregame concert. All I can say is that if the game were in Adelaide, the weather would have been fine. Despite some wind, the sun is shining here at nudie beach.

B)      Meatloaf is the biggest selling foreign artist in Australia. I was very surprised to see that anyone cared about his appearance, but clearly people were worried. The only parallel I can think of is the uncanny popularity of The Carpenters among Japanese college students. When I visited Japan in 2005 I was very surprised that all my friends were sing Carpenters songs at karaoke. It was amazing. They knew most of their hits, and probably some of their B sides. It was a strange phenomenon. I doubt that most Americans in their 20’s have even heard of The Carpenters, let alone knew their songs by heart. I have to assume it is the same with “Loaf” here down under. This fact has been mentally noted.

C)      Meatloaf did NOT cancel. As they say, “Loaf” must have “hardened the f__k up!” because after being escorted to the stage by half a dozen Harley riders, Loaf proceeded to show the world why the world has forgotten about him. His “performance” consisted of a quick 7 songs, two of which I had heard previously. As with many aging rockers, “Loaf” was supported by a much more talented backing band, the “backup singer” being the actual lead singer. He strutted about the stage as much as a man who is aptly named Meatloaf can, and his singing was best when he was pausing to breathe. The most pathetic aspect of the show was when he tried for “audience participation” one of the saddest tropes in rock and roll. The highlight of the show was that “Loaf’s” microphone was turned down so low he was difficult to hear.

D)     The shorts. Yes, I am “not a gay” though I have many gay-centric tendencies. One of the last things I bought in the US was a vintage copy of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion” and I got it for a bargain. Being comfortable with my “heterosexuality” I simply do not see the problem in admiring world cl-ass ass-thletes in some tight, sensual, revealing, shorts.

E)      The Australian national anthem mentions: gold, soil, and history’s pages. It does not mention ‘roos, dingo’s, or Vegemite. I never would have guessed. It is also fairly short.

F)      Game on. Now I need to try and figure out how the game works. A guy just kicked a field goal for the Geelong Cats. Meow. And the game is underway. It seems that this game is a combo of soccer, volleyball, and field goal kicking. There are no cheerleaders. One complaint I have is that the Collingwood Magpies (“pies”) are wearing uniforms with black and white vertical stripes, which makes them look like referees. This is quite confusing. As are all aspects of play.

G)     Resting. I find that watching the footy finals is a great opportunity to rest. I closed my eyes while concentrating on the rules of Aussie rules, and when I was done meditating, the score was 45 to 35, Pies.

H)     Injuries. A Cats player got his shoulder dislocated. The medical team was attempting to put the shoulder back in while he was on the field to save time so he could get back into the game. They ended up having to get him “stretchered” off the field, losing 20 minutes. He will get his shoulder relocated, inject painkillers, and send him back in. Either footy players are incredibly tough, or astoundingly stupid.

I)        Halftime. After the pregame performance from “Loaf” the viewer is left with little or no information about the halftime entertainment. I am personally hoping for a kangaroo rodeo.  So far they are playing Link Wray's "Rumble" at a high volume and showing people talking about sports. Not bad. Also footy locker rooms have no benches and the players sit on the floor. It seems that they will be having a sprinting race which is a “time honored tradition”! Patrick Dangerfield of the Adelaide Crows just won!!! $5,000!

J)       Bikie wars. Is it sad that I find myself much more interested in a news story about the possibility of bikie (bike gang) wars? It seems a gang member’s son was killed by rivals, revenge is probably in the works. I can’t help thinking that the word “bikie” sounds hilariously cute. This of course is not to be confused with “bikkie” which is a cookie, or a savory cracker. I cannot remember.

I have decided to watch the second half with the volume off playing guitar. If I learn anymore about footie, I will include it in my next entry. Cheers!
Note: In the end Geelong won. It changed my life.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Riding Lessons!

As my readers surely know, the sheer volume of mail I receive on an hourly basis makes the inbox at www.Santaclaus.com look as empty as a supermodels stomach at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade! One of my most passionate readers named Laci has even been asking me every hour on the hour for "riding lessons"! Now that is funny! Not only am I extremely limited in the "coordination" department, but the last time I even rode a horse I fell off! Chalk that up as one of those "trying to shoot a basket while on horseback" type deals! Ha! Well I figured that the next best thing would to be to do what sounds closest, "writing lessons"! So here you have it, the official BS report on "how to write"!

Goodbye horsies! I won't be needing you now!
Step one to being a good at writing is quite simple really. Never under any circumcisions write if you are in any way happy. It would be preferable for an aspiring writer to be stone dead than to be content, or God forbid, ecstatic! Just think of all the dead or dying writers who killed themselves! Ernist Himmingway, Hunter S. Thomas, Thomas Kinkaide, and the lisp goes on! Anger is the spice in the stews which are "books" as well as "pamphlets" & "textbooks"! Please, do not leave home without it.

Step two is a simpleton as well. Please underline the following (if you are writing on your computer monitor be sure to use PERMANENT markers): Truth is sort of important, but not really. At the end of the day, will your reeder say "Gee, that pamphlet about my gun safe sure was truthful!" No writer would want that. A truthful pamphlet is just about as memorable as the results from your geriatric fathers last stool sample. After awhile the truth sort of blends together into a brown color or maybe gravy grey. What your stool sample (pamphlet, book, textbook etc) needs is those little pieces of corn, or the purple color which comes from eating only beets! Make your writing "pop" no matter what it takes. The history of the world is created by those with a knack for storytelling, it is how we GET THINGS DONE!

Step three to becoming a great writer is to be born a genius. This is a wonderful addition to anyone's "toolbox" without which I would only be writing for free on the Internet instead of as a WEBSITE OWNER OPERATOR! So if you want to play with the big boys, this little asset is a "must have"!

Step four is to never overestimate your reading audience. If you do the fear of defeat will destroy you like a modern day Icarus! One step I take before I put fingers to keyboard is to picture my audience as a work gang of prisoners. Or as a large and lovely gaggle of naughty nurses. Another special favorite of mine is to pretend that my readers are trapped as geisha in a Japanese geisha house, and only my brilliance (and rugged sexuality) can save them. My readers need me. Without me they would die! At the very least they would be taken advantage of by aging Japanese businessmen. In other words, I am VERY IMPORTANT!

Step four is that the writer is always right! Or write! No matter what, any negative feedback is created by simpletons and chippies. Treat any "you might try doing _____" as a ducks back would treat water. It is not to be minded. Do you think S. Scott Fitzjerald would listen if he were told The Grate Gatsby was a steaming heap of whale dung? You can rest assured that he would not! He would have challenged his critics to a jewel!

Step D is simply this, a writer is his own best friend. Get over the fact that others will do that for you. As such it is key to champion your own work. In the modern day of Internet writing, this can be accomplished by creating multiple accounts on various social media through whom you can give yourself positive to glowing reviews! Or positively glowing reviews. Only remember not to give yourself HIV positive reviews. And if you do have an audience which is smarter than "dumber than a spoonful of idiots" you may want to make sure you have several computers with different IP addresses (I am lucky not to have to worry about this, I do not know what an IP is!). Please, enjoy step D and be safe.

So there you have it, a simple 12 step program on becoming "being good at writing"! I hope you like it, you really have no choice!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Intro to Nudie Beach!

As you may have gathered by the title, this particular entry in the world of BS is directly related to nudie beaches. Well, truthfully one nudie beach. My readers may be aware that I have recently transported myself from Washington State (the cold wet corner of the continental US) to South Australia, in particular Maslin Beach outside of Adelaide. If any of you are brave (or pervs) or brave pervs, type "Maslin Beach+Nude Olympics" into your google image search. If you must know, I am about two minutes walk from the "Unclad" section of Maslin beach. The other day I had some down time and decided to take a walk.

Scene: The sun is shining and a strong westerly wind is blowing strong and cool on the wide strip of sand which curves below the cliffs and rocky outcroppings that shelter the beach from prying eyes. I walked slowly, surveying the land. The water was cold, and I decided that due to the strong wind, it was not a great day for swimming. But a lot of people (men) seemed to think it was a great day to enjoy the beach. There are a lot of little canyons which pairs of nudies disappear into, at an alarming rate. I decided to stick to the beach no matter what. At one point I looked up and saw that a nude man had managed to scale the cliff, popping out proudly to survey the land. I continued down the beach. Finally when I decided to turn back, a geezer walking down the beach struck up a conversation with me.

Geezer: Aw, it's like a bloody sandblaster out here today!
Me: Yeah, it seems like it's a bad day for swimming!
Geezer: Right! So you from America?
Me: Yeah, I have been living up the beach on Oleander road.
Geezer: You get your gear off? (do you go nude?)
Me: Well I had a bit of work to do, just wanted to take a walk on the beach!
[a long haired nudie goes jogging by in what seems like slow motion. Majestic]
Geezer: Alright, well I'm just gonna drop these things and let the wind blow about my balls a bit!
[We nod and go our separate ways]

Editors note: please imagine the geezer with a thick Aussie accent.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

How to fly to Australia (like a total rock star)!!!!

I am currently sitting in the “coach” section of a United Airlines flight en route from San Francisco to Sydney AU. To begin with, I am simply happy to be here (that is unless we plunge into the Pacific at some point, or a baby starts caterwauling). It was tense at the gate, flying standby; I was terrified that I would miss the plane, and thus my connecting flight from Sydney to Adelaide. Needless to say, I made it. But the fact that I was pacing the concourse muttering vulgarities when I thought I would not be called is less interesting than the items presently of note.
Item 1: Business class. Yes, I am in coach, and if I had chosen to fly out tomorrow I could have gotten the upgrade. Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for you, I can only watch the proceedings up there through a mesh screen. This is what I know about business class. Clearly there is a lot of towel play up there. The one man I can see has a towel draped over his shoulders (which he much enjoys). He was also delivered a towel after his meal. I just saw one of the flight attendants flourishing a towel, an extra towel that she draped over the food/towel cart, just perhaps to flaunt the fact that they have as surplus of towels. In the coach section I see nary a napkin, let alone, a soothing, milky, delicious towel…
Item 2:  The classical music. It is said that classical music makes your brain grow. If this is truly the case I plan on growing my brain at an alarming rate. I have been listening to classical music (sonatas and symphonies for the idiots out there) for OVER AN HOUR!!!!! By the time we touchdown that will be more like 12 HOURS! Which in my opinion is similar to being a genius!
Item 3: Pirates of the Caribbean. Number 3? Watching without sound, I will attempt to summarize it. I do not think this is the first movie, I have yet to see Orlando Gloom. But let me try and summarize it for you. At some point the gay handicapped British naval officer was peeping at Depp (who is sort of a cross between Bob Marley and that pick up artist guy). The officer had a “moment” with a closeted naval officer. Also Johnny Depp's dad (they look the same) was making the ropes turn into the snake from Anaconda and tie up Depp’s men on their own volition (in a painful sequence I call “Rope-Anaconda). Also the female lead is very good at fighting without getting dirty. I then stopped watching in order to eat. When I looked up the useless guy who was previously tied to the mast was stabling a hot mermaid through the tail. Now Depp and the female lead (she is wearing a hat I think I saw Sheryl Crow wearing) are in a jungle. The mermaid is pining to death in a tiny aquarium. Zombie Laurence Fishburn is hoping to kill the mermaid. Now Depp is flirting with Sheryl Crow. Funny, he kind of looks like Kid Rock might look like if he were gayer and a pirate. Well, since this movie is bound to last for another 8 hours, I better stop watching it. It stands to reason that the idiocy which is the Pirates of The Caribbean series will undo all the work that classical music is accomplishing in my mind. I cannot risk this.
Item 4: The chicken meal. Having seen the movie airplane, and knowing what airlines can do to “meat” I opted for the ravioli. It tasted like a Hungry Man dinner. Decent.
Item 5: I would like to thank my friend, code name L.O.G. for getting me a buddy pass. It allowed me to fly for $372 from San Francisco to Sydney. That my friends, is a very good thing. For now, I bid you farewell.
Postscript: This movie is almost making me wish they were showing Avatar. Not really, but sadly that might be an improvement. Several of the passengers have freaked out and had to be restrained. If they were listening to the “movements” I am engrossed in, their lives might have been stable enough to allow them to watch this vulgarity. I am depressed to inform you that it was a huge hit. A terrible and huge blockbuster.

Postscript two: The “piece” I am listening to has a refrain which was lifted directly from Alan Shermans “Camp Granada”! See, I am already getting smart!


Of note: We now have four hours left. The in flight movies were: Water For Elephants, in which Robert Pattinson does all he can to be taken seriously and Reese Witherspoon has a weird chin. Next we watched  Rio (I wish we were watching Brazil). It was like every Pixar movie, I could summarize it by taking a review from Toy Story and changing the characters and setting.  But that is uninteresting. In front of me an Aussie guy is trying to drink himself to sleep (6 wine bottles in three hours). He has been cut off by the flight attendants. His last bottle was delivered about 20 minutes ago, and the flight attendant said it would be the last for awhile. So he rang the bell, and when she arrived she asked him if he needed a bikkie. He drunkenly said “you’re not gonna like this” at which point she told him that they had been discussing it and he was getting cut off for the time being. She brought another attendant up to help say no. Lastly, the man with the towels is now completely draped in a bundle of white. He could be a polar bear for all I know. Thank god he isn’t hungry. And the drunk guy was asleep less than a minute after his last attempt at wine. That is all for now.
Of note: we are now watching a Discovery channel show in which people do their jobs. Perhaps it is called “Marble Slab Extractors” or “Snow Slabbers” because they are doing that.
The current situation: Drunk guy roused himself and has attempted to get wine twice. I think he is currently asleep. Instead of a movie, they are showing an episode of “House” in which Hugh Laurie grimaces, pops pills and acts like a dick, all while saving lives. It also seems odd to me that at this hospital the staff will go to your home and go through your things to figure out what is wrong with you. Perhaps they are doing this for all the illegal aliens who are sucking the American health care system dry. Also in this episode, Hugh Laurie hobbles a lot. I find it amazing that they continue to find subject matter for this show. Oh, and some guy tried to kill himself, the nurses went and looked through his freezer, showing each other his steak. House is as watchable as road striping.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Too many Weirdo's of Females (Pahoa )

Today’s BS Report is not so much a piece of writing as it is a celebration. A gift unequaled in its merit and free for the taking. There are times in life when a beautiful flower will reveal itself to us, a sunset give us it’s dying light as a gift beholden. These days and moments are like symphony’s of the soul, the balm of the heart, and our lives are better for having seen them. What follows is one of these. The words of an anonymous traveler, etched forever on the Oak tree which is the Internet. It is a heart carved with a space left for each and everyone of us to carve our own initials in that space. So please my friend, read this, bathe in the glory, and carve your own initials next to it. I pass on this blessing, as a soothing elixer for your soul! [Also I am sure it is even funnier if you are a bit drunk]

Too many Weirdo's of Females (Pahoa)

My gosh, as a visitor from the mainland visiting the isle of hawaii Pahoa town...i cant believe HOW mentally off many young women are there in this Pahoa town, caucasian and locals alike who talk to trees and talks to there invisible friend (no blue tooth on there ear)...

We will never know if She have Blue tooth on the ear!
how can anyone live in this beautiful isle's with many many Mentally ill females there, Plus i see prostitudes there and obnoxious men there who hangs out at the bar there in the heart of pahoa town, How disgusting pahoa town has turned up to be...as a visitor from the east coast...I rather be back in my homeland where there is many normal, descent respectable middle class neighbors who dont go strutting there bodies out there looking for any goons to bed down with,
Goon to be back! Goon to meet ya! How's it goon? Here today goon tomorrow!


Plus the men there in Pahoa town who hangs out at night is revolting..ugly, toothless, and smelly, and Messy.. the females there too smells pretty "rotten" and Mouthy and roudy to boot !! bad feedback will be spread around my state about this drug infested, hookerland, drunk, hippie pahoa land!! Thumbs DOWN to Druggie Slutland pahoa!!!!! I hope the Fed's will Crack down on Pahoa town and ARRESTS all these weird Hooker's and druggies there!! and stiffen up the law's there!!

Editors note: If I in anyway could imrove upon the body of text here, I would be more than a genius. I would be a superhuman. Alas I am just a man. A man who is looking for a goon.