Corvin's Blahg

Pork Chop Filibuster Revivalist

Wed, 22 Aug 2007 19:43:04 -0500

Ever had the urge to pack more spam than was necessary into corrugated banana crates and ship them to various individuals whose line of reasoning was suspect due to thier toxic ingestion of fluorocarbons that they managed to scrape off the inside of broken radiator caps that were left to the hier of a futuristic matador from Bavaria who just recently sold his favorite pig to the Sultan of a very tiny nation known as "Aradiuulazstickistanistan" for twenty seven million cases of wax lips to provide the safe passage of lunatic boll weevles who have been ardently dismissed by the the creator of multiple universes who is a psychopath with a penchant for glueing matchsticks together for the amusment of several small stylized ornothologists who have never been anywhere near the pudding you were saving for 'lycanthropic disco wrestling night' at the local tavern where you like to divulge to the bartender your childhood dream of packing more spam than was necessary into corrugated banana crates and ship them to various individuals whose line of reasoning was abject due to thier toxic ingestion of hydrocarbons that they managed to scrape off the inside of broken radiator nozzles that were left to the hier of a futuristic boyar from Latvia who just recently sold his favorite clam to the Sultan of a very tiny nation known as "Abaniuulzastickistania" for twenty seven million cases of heart worms to provide the safe return of lunatic chop sticks who have been ardently dismissed by the the creator of multiple personalities who is a psychopath with a penchant for glueing gerbils together for the amusment of several small stylized plagerists who have never been anywhere near the burnt popcorn you were saving for 'spelling bee championship wrestling night' at the local tavern where you like to divulge to the waitress your childhood dream of packing more spam than was necessary into corrugated banana crates and ship them to various eccentrics whose line of reasoning was banned due to thier toxic excretion of genetic waste that they managed to scrape off the inside of turbulant destabilizers that were left to the hier of a homophobic pancake chef from Romania who just recently sold his favorite schnitzle to the President of a very tiny nation known as "Aramiutulastinkastarchinitov" for twenty seven million cases of fromulated yak blood to provide the last vestages of lunatic wolf noodles who have been adoringly dismissed by the the squelcher of multiple flame retardants who is a plastic nose with a penchant for welding children together for the amusment of several small stylized reptillion cult leaders who have never been anywhere near the nuclear foam you were saving for 'howler monkey shaving night' at the local tomb where you like to divulge to the kindergarten class your childhood dream of somehow making it all stop but you can't?

Driving ME Crazy (WARNING! Foul Language)

Mon, 30 Jul 2007 22:24:09 -0500

Okay America, I'm sure you all have heard this gripe before, but I simply must know;

Where in the Hell did you learn your driving skills?

One of my dear old Dad’s favorite phrases was “Ya git yer license from a Cracker-Jack box?” (This was usually followed by a stern looking at in his general direction from me Ma) Way back then it was hard to understand his frustration from the backseat with my nose stuck in a book. Then that terrible day came when it was time for me to slide behind the wheel, crank over the ignition and hit the road. Remember how we all couldn’t wait for the day when we got our first license? How it felt to take that particular leap toward adulthood? The exhilaration of the open road for the first time? Not to mention knowing we were all one more step closer to getting away from our parents…

Anyway, now that we have been driving for a while I figure we should have our shit pretty well lumped in one pile when it comes to road etiquette. Yup! Let’s get in the car and go for a drive. Sounds like fun, eh? Why, I bet we can get there in no time. Vroom, vroom! Wheeee! But wait, what’s this? Why is this lady in front of us going twelve miles under the speed limit? It looks like she’s talking on her cell phone. I would pass, but there is too much oncoming traffic. And now the guy behind me in the pick-up truck seems to be in a big hurry and is riding so close to my bumper all I can see is a big chrome grill. I can’t help it if the traffic in front of me won’t go any faster. Now the lady in the mini-van in front of me can’t seem to figure out where she’s turning. And she’s still on the phone. I hope she doesn’t make a quick stop or that pick-up will be in my back seat. Oh good, she’s finally turning. Hmm… It seems as though Mr. Pick-up isn’t satisfied with going the speed limit. Holy shit! That guy pulled out right in front of me! That was a close- now wait a sec… He’s turning left. You pulled out in front of me just to turn LEFT a few yards down the road?!? There’s nobody behind Mr. I’m-gonna-ride-your-ass-all-the-way-to-Kansas-if-I-have-to! You nearly got me killed! Okay, calm down. We’re coming up on a double lane highway. This asshole in the truck can pass and everything will be fine.

Except that’s when you get caught in the melee of the pushy fuckers trying to pass everybody and the slow fuckers that won’t (A): Get into the slow lane and (B): Aren’t paying attention because of kids, pets, reading material, radio dials, DVD players and, yes, you guessed it, CELL PHONES!

So now instead of one slow fuck in front and an ass rider behind, you’re stuck in a cluster of angry, stupid and apathetic people with large metal (mostly) boxes of rolling death and they are apparently all out to kill you! That doesn’t even include the asshole truckers. Yes, that’s right. I said it. I was a trucker myself for awhile. Most of you are assholes. Especially to other truckers. But I don’t blame you. Driving for long periods of time will do that to you in a quick hurry. That’s because of all the other assholes on the road who apparently just don’t give a damn about anybody else behind the wheel. And a big hearty fuck you to those dickheads that ride the ultra fast rice rockets. My message to your kind is this: If you’re going to ride a motorcycle like that, you get what you deserve and there will be no sympathy from me when they have to scrape you off the pavement with a spatula.

It’s really no wonder that road rage exists. What happens to us when we get behind the wheel? Does it regress our psyche? I tend to believe you can really see a person’s true personality when they drive. The thing that scares me about that statement is most people just don’t drive very well, and I find it very hard to believe it has anything to do with their driving skills at all. Oh, I know there are exceptions to the rule. But I can also tell you that going out on the roads in America will give you an insight as to what’s missing from our modern society; Common Courtesy. And that, my friends is one of the places where it is needed the most.

So the next time you’re on your way to work, or to the grocery store, or even your Grandma’s house try to think about how your actions affect the people driving around you. Just because you’re in a metal shell doesn’t mean that the universe stops there. I don’t expect you to drive perfectly all the time; Shit happens. But you need to pay better attention, ‘cause you’re pissin’ me off and if you don’t get the fuck out of my goddamn way I’m going to run you off the road.

Prescription Pollution

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 22:26:47 -0500

How come the side effects on a lot of medications seem worse than the actual illness that is being treated? Is America so hung up on 'healthy living' that we are willing to accept the possible risk of growing a partial third extremity from the base of our necks because the pills make life better? Well, I don't like the implications of that. No siree! In the rare times I am supposed to take prescription drugs I won't have anything to do with them if they say much more than 'take with water'. Naturally, of course, if they say not to take with alcohol I rush right to the liquor store on the way home from the pharmacy*. Unless I happen to have a partial fith of Vodka rolling around on the floor of my truck. But then chances are if that's the case I am probably already drunk by the time I get to the doctors office in the first place. But I digress... Ah yes! Anyway, I am sure there are plenty of legit reasons for a lot of folks to take various kinds of pills for whatever ails them. But there are also plenty of abuses going on either on behalf of the medical and/or insurance community or the hopeless hypocondriacs to keep the market flooded with 'designer' medications specifically made for the various neurosis developed by flabbergasted soccer moms who are probably so high on SUV fumes they couldn't tell if they were really sick in the first place. I guess the point I'm trying to make is unless there is really something seriously wrong is it worth throwing chemicals down your neck if the warning label reads something like this:

Side effects may include: Muscle aches, diarrhea, heartburn, the hives, itchy scrotum, mushy skull, ear flatulence, mung, the heebie-jeebies, hammer-toe, sudden bone disappearance, spontaneous combustion, interrupted ventricular flow, cotton mouth, pizza face, noodle head, unexpected heart loss, the sudden appearance of lesions that resemble the Virgin Mary, allergic reactions to anything made up of atoms, substantial body hair growth, incriminating outbursts, anal leakage, misshapen eyebrows, the urge to kill, bacterial meningitis, alien pod growths, intense blistering of the feet, a dire need to eat ham, discoloration of the genitals, a waxy buildup behind the eyes, a strange resemblance to Walter Cronkite, unexplained nudity, psychological dysfunction, heartworms, a tendency to be slovenly, the desire to wear pork chops as cloths, paranoid delusions, re-birth marks, patchy hair loss, disheveled appearance, nostril fungus, may cause armpits to smell like back bacon, feral regression, pompous attitude, constant craving for human flesh, exploding teeth, over-zealousness, lack of any morals what-so-ever, invisible leg syndrome, myopic lung juxtaposition, cranial hemorrhaging, the desire to see Liza Minelli naked, facial warts, glandular pustules, intense dislike for anything that smells like citrus, various larval staging, morbid sensibility, super chronic halitosis, burning sensation in the left eye, rib cage collapse, onioning of the liver, the ability to see spirits, perpendicular mustache syndrome, the inability to feel emotions, methane burn, frothing of the ears, the false sensation of being immersed in a vat of marmalade, brain melt, uterine slag, emotion sickness, an uncontrollable urge to become a midget, joining a cult, pectoral fin growth, personal hygiene neglect, various welts, skewed vision, facial warping, blatant disregard for the elderly, disturbing behavioral traits, weeping pores, blockiness of the head, disdain for things manufactured by elves, tail regeneration, uncontrollable vomiting, bodily temperature drop to well below freezing, unstoppable whining, annoying nasal whistling, droopy eye syndrome, blog misuse, and cranial foppishness. If one or more of these symtoms persist beyond your insurance’s ability to provide hospitalization for more than six years consult a mortician.

And that's why I still chew the wolf's bane.

*Sometimes the pharmacy also sells liquor. How convenient is that?

A.D.D. vs. Proper Time Management: The Horrific Truth!

Mon, 18 Jun 2007 21:03:06 -0500

Just in case anyone is reading this you might want to remember that the whole reason for being here in the first place is something funny or interesting might happen at any moment. And who knows what could happen! Surely I don’t. Why, the most unexpected and dazzling thing might be lurking right around the corner and you may never even get to find out what it was because you didn’t hang around long enough. And you know damn well that just as soon as your attention gets diverted for that one microsecond that you looked away it’ll pass by in a flurry of spindly legs and monochromatic geometric shapes that you’ll just miss seeing because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the naked silhouette prancing around in the ad for a practically free mortgage. You almost clicked on it to, had you not heard the barely audible wisp of something inexplicably strange right behind you. But alas; you didn’t hit the back button fast enough and it was gone…

Too bad, 'cause it was really COOL!

Is this thing on?

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 02:20:48 -0500

Here is the place for one and all to peruse my psyche. While I don't expect you all to agree with everything I say, hopefully no matter what kind of emotions I invoke there will at least be some kind of entertainment value which is what I hope to incur. Laugh, cry, throw rotten fruit. Bad publicity is better than no publicity at all. So feel free to reply as long as y'all keep in mind that an objective, intelligent opinion is what's important here no matter how strongly we may dis-agree. The key issue is to have fun and stimulate a few brain cells at the same time. If nothing else we can always make fart jokes...