This Halloween I Will Not Be Participating

This Halloween I will not be participating. Cuz, like, I’m a grown-ass man and I don’t have time for all that baby stuff. I mean, I’m twenty-fucking-four years old. I can’t go around wearing some stupid clothes, spooking people, and eating a bunch of candies all night. That stuff’s for babies. Plus, I’ve got to be up early in the morning to get the oil changed in my ’92 Honda Accord DX before work. That’s grown-up stuff. Helllllllo! I work at Best Buy! How many little babies do you know that work at Best Buy? None. That’s how many. There are laws against that kind of shit. I know I’ve never called up the Geek Squad and been greeted by a nipple sucking toddler. Babies can’t understand the responsibility it takes to be the associate sales associate in the home theatre department. Do you know what that means? I’m third in charge of all home theatre equipment. All the Magnavox televisions? That’s my world. All that bass bumpin’ surround sound? Me. Every laserdisc player we got on the floor? You bet your ass I got that shit covered. Home theatres, candy-tits. That’s my domain. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I’m under? More than Freddie Mercury featuring David Bowie that’s for sure (Get it? Like cuz of that song?). That’s why I’ve got much more important things to do than carving big fat pumpkins and getting their gross guts all over my hands. Like paying bills for instance. Or ironing my pants. Or whitening my teeth. Grown man shit.

This Halloween I will not be participating because I respect women. The materialistic patriarchy tells young women that they have to dress like pussy-eating slut nuggets. They dress like slutty cops, slutty cats, slutty referees, slutty nurses, slutty zombies, slutty Steve Irwins, and slutty Frankenstein’s (which doesn’t even make sense because if you’d read a book for once in your god damn life, you’d know that Frankenstein was the Doctor, these sluts are thinking of The Creature.) And I have had it up to HERE with all this objectification. These girls are somebody’s daughters. They are somebody’s sisters. They are somebody’s boss at Best Buy. Women are more than just a big fat pair of ovaries for you to drench with your tallywhacker juice. They are sacred and mysterious beings. Like, more sacred and mysterious than a Dan Brown novel. Have you read The Vinci Code? I mean seriously, Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) is always getting himself into these sacred and mysterious pickles. Like how bout the time he found out that Jesus was a woman? Or how bout the time he figured out that Masons built that building? Mas. Ter. Of. Suh. Spense. Dan Brown, if you’re reading this I just wanna say I love your work. I love how you take historical themes and codes and symbols and stuff and make really bitchin’ stories with em. That’s so cool how you do that.

I’m not participating in Halloween this year because I don’t believe we should teach our kids that it’s okay to stuff their fat little cute ass faces with choco and taffy and lollies. Do some research. Each year over 13,000 young people are diagnosed with type-1 diabetes. That’s 13,000 Wilford Brimley’s we are creating each year by having these kids pig out on Wax Lips, Bazooka Gum and Necco Wafers. That’s 13,000 people walking around like a pirate with a peg leg, all cuz you wanted to have some “harmless” fun and play dress up like some adolescent mama’s boy. Well, I won’t have that blood on my hands. No siree Bob. And don’t even get me started on the negative effects on their lil’ pearly whirlies. My soon-to-be father-in-law is a oral hygienist and you would be appalled by the shit those two eyes have seen. APPALLED. Kids these days don’t even floss. They don’t understand that flossing is just as important as brushing. Yeah, sure it makes your gums bleed like a miscarriage but it’s like they say- no pain, no gain. That’s the problem with this generation. Nobody is willing to get their hands dirty. Nobody is willing to shed a little blood for the good of society, which brings me to my next reason…

I won’t be participating because I am a C. I am a C-H. I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N. And I have C-H-R-I-S-T in my H-E-A-R-T and I will L-I-V-E E-T-E-R-N-A-L-L-Y. Jesus Christ The Lord Amen died  on the cross for our sins. Except guess what? Spoiler alert! He came back to life three days later and he is supposed to be coming back again any day now. So the last thing we need to be doing is going out participating in some Satanic holiday with witches and ghoulies and goblins and Ouji board seances. Shit ain’t right, y’all. Shit just ain’t right. You mess with the Devil and you are playing with fire. Literally. Because he lives in a lake of fire which is made out of fire, unlike normal lakes which are normally made out of water. Haven’t you seen Paranormal Activity 2? So Scary! It grossed $169,448,048 worldwide opening weekend, so you know it’s good. It’s about the devil, right? And he is totally possessing some little girl and her head spins all around in circles like an an owl and she pukes blood all over priests because priests MAKE HER SICK because the devil is so crazy. Red Box that shit if you haven’t seen it. Cray-cray.

These are the reasons I will not be participating in the Halloween this year. Swear to God. It’s not because, as a registered Level III sex offender, I am legally prohibited from loitering within 300 ft. of Child Safety Zones such as playgrounds, schools, childcare centers, bus stops, D-Z Discovery Zones, anywhere with laser tag, or any location where children congregate. It’s got nothing to do with a municipal edict requiring that I post signs telling trick-or-treaters “No candy at this residence (cuz I raped somebody tiny).” And it certainly has got nothing to do with the GPS around my ankle and the mandate from the U.S. District Judge requiring that I stay inside my home. I mean, sure, those could put a damper on my Halloween IF I WANTED TO PARTICIPATE. But I don’t. Cuz it’s a dumb holiday for pussy babies. It’s like, so whatever.

Kill/Boff/Marry: Pt. 2

Boff

Leonardo “the Vinci” DiCaprio 

Face it guys, it takes more than hitting the gym and torching those Delts three times a week until they are more swoll than my labia at a John Mayer concert, to make a few stains on my futon. A pair of cowboy boots, some Brett Favre Wranglers, and an ass tighter than a baby blue whale’s blowhole won’t get you too far with me. Been there done that. That don’t impress-a me much. I mean, don’t get me wrong I think your alright but that won’t keep me warm in the middle of the night. Ultimate sex appeal takes brains too. Smart is sexy. Everybody knows that. Just axe Charlie Darwin. He was getting maaad poonan from all over.  That’s how he came up with Evolution. He was getting so much slit that his dick evolved, and began vibrating on its own accord. I tell people all the time, “If you ain’t packin’ upstairs, then I ain’t worried bout cha luggage downstairs,” and I truly do mean it, y’all.  That’s why I want to boff the beard off of Leonardo, who Zagats rated 3rd smartest man ever. And those muscles don’t hurt either! Take a gander at the photo to the right of Leonardo early in his modeling career. This was right before his stint on Growing Pains with Dr. Alan Thicke.  Such defined pectorals. And look at the Shmeckel! Oi vey!

Plus, he is such a Renaissance man. He paints. He sculpts. He invents. He engineers. He maths. He sciences. He musics. He is an awarding winning author. His work Da Vinci Code talks all about how Jesus is fake and how Tom Hanks should really have four Oscars instead of two and won Oprah’s 2004 book of the year award. Not to mention his acting. Ever heard of a little film I like to call “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?” I’ll tell you what was eating him: his mom was super chunky and his brother was retarded. Or was he? What poise! What commitment! You almost had us fooled Leonardo! Probably the best rendition of a normal guy playing a retarded guy since all those movies with Owen Wilson. Hey Owen Wilson, your nose is crooked. Your voice is annoying. You play the same role in all your movies. Go kill yourself. Ok, that was maybe a little harsh. Marley and Me was pretty cute, I guess. But like, when the dog dies, it is so sad. I mean death is so depressing, you know? Cuz like when someone dies they are gone 4ever :’-( <-That’s how I felt you guys. It’s a crying face.  

Plus, he’s got an Italiano accenté (which gets me moister than an oyster). And that long beard and those flowing locks will give me something to hold on to when I’m riding rodeo style. Buckin’ bronco. Giddy up, Leo! And I bet he’s hung like a summer squash. Overall, I gar-an-tee he would be a great pokin’.