Saturday, January 31, 2009
When you squeeze this Monkey Groan Ball it emits what can be described as the groans of a monkey that has been inhaling helium. Plus animal sounds are just funny no matter what!
Not only does this pliant rubber marvel reduce stress while it amuses you, but keeping a disembodied monkey head on your desk serves as a warning to other primates of what will happen if they cross you. Hysterical!
Size of Monkey Groan Ball: 2-3/4" diameter
Get your own Moaning Monkey for only $3.95!!
Here's another really useful gift. Yeah, I know so many helium-addicted primates. And animal sounds are just funny no matter what! I just love the NO MATTER WHAT part. You can picture some corporate CEO type saying, "That's my final word. Animal sounds are just funny NO MATTER WHAT! Put that in the damn ad."
Okay, I realize I could lose a few of you readers on this post. I just refuse to be safe or to patronize your asses in order to keep readers. Great art must take risks, people! If I don't teach your dumb asses anything else, let it be that. I HAVE TO POST THIS SHIT. MY ASS IS COMPELLED! You see, SB has this weird love for TBN's Jan Crouch. I don't watch Jan regularly, but for some reason, whenever I see her overly-made up face on TBN, MY ASS IS COMPELLED TO WATCH!
I seriously love Jan. She makes SB's heavy, cold stone creamery heart. . .well. . .lighter. Jan's joy is infectious! She cries A LOT, too. Maybe Jan needs meds (but we're not here to judge). She is always talking about getting her joy back and shit, AND THEN SHE CRIES ABOUT THE JOY! Quite frankly, I think she may struggle with bipolar disorder (but again, WE'RE NOT HERE TO JUDGE!). I just think Jan's endearing mood swings make her more warm and human, and that just makes SB love her all the damn more! My heart is especially joy-filled when Jan wears the pink wig (see the splendour of that shit in photo above)!
WARNING: And don't you be hating on Jan. That shit will not be tolerated here. Sarcastic Bastard is going to be a safe haven for Jan's joy!
Here's Jan discussing her joy and then losing it and then getting it back again in the video below. I think the Stevie Nick's dress sort of adds to her angelic aura, don't you? It really sends Jan's heavenly message home.
Friday, January 30, 2009
SB: Did it say whether or not they had toilet paper during the Civil War? I've often wondered. I would not have gone away to war if there was no toilet paper. Somebody needs to write a book on the role that buttwipe played in the Civil War. It's probably why the South fell. The North had all the supplies. The fucking Yankees commandeered all the buttwipe! That's why we lost.
Uhmmmm, okay. Does anybody else see a problem with this, besides the fact that the black dye might rub off on your penis, vag, or no-no hole? How do you know when you are done wiping if the damn buttwipe is black? Also, it's five bucks a damn roll! In this economy? And get this, they're sold out currently! Stupid rich fucks!
[Actual Ad Print]
We're sorry, this product is temporarily sold out. Email us, and we'll notify you as soon as it's back in stock!
Why stock your bathroom with boring white 2-ply when you can treat your toosh to luxury European bath tissue in sophisticated black, orange, red or green? Already popular in the hottest clubs and restaurants from New York to Milan, this soft, elegant 3-ply tissue is a great way to accent your bathroom for parties and will certainly get your guests talking! Three rolls come packaged in a chic gift canister.
This toilet Paper has been dermatologically and gynecologically tested. It is a biodegradable, non-toxic, soothing tissue and does not bleed any color when wet [BULLSHIT. Personally, SB is not anxious to test this theory. The dye probably gives you rectal cancer]. Made of 100% biodegradable, virgin pulp [virgin pulp, people, so that's why it costs five bucks a roll!] that is chlorine-free and entirely recyclable. A fun, stylish gift for the hostess that has everything! Made in Portugal. (Sorry, no returns on this item.)
Available in Red, Black, Orange and Green.
As seen on HGTV's I Want That!
[End Stupid Goddamn Ad] [The parts in parentheses were not a part of the orignal ad.]
First of all, if your damn party guests are talking about toilet paper, either it's a REALLY BORING party, or you have mentally challenged friends, or both!
Talk about a conversation stopper--
What do you do for a living?
I test toilet paper dermatologically and gynecologically.
1. What is your occupation right now? blogger/writer/editor
2. What color are your socks right now? black
3. What are you listening to right now? fuckers talking about lunch
4. What was the last thing that you ate? Bubblegum—I try not to swallow, but I can’t help it.
5. Can you drive a stick shift? yessiree
6. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? the husband
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? yessiree
8. How old are you today? not fucking telling
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? UGA football
10. What is your favorite drink? red wine
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? countless times
12. Favorite food? Donato’s pizza
13. What is the last movie you watched? Napoleon Dynamite
14. Favorite day of the year? St. Patrick’s Day
15. How do you vent anger? my blog
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? my Cher doll
17. What is your favorite season? Summer!
18. Cherries or Blueberries? cherries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? I don’t give a fuck.
23. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday, when I saw how bad my old flame, Jan Michael Vincent, looks.
24. What is on the floor of your closet? shoes
26. What did you do last night? watched Nancy Grace
27. What are you most afraid of? the CANCER
29. Favorite dog breed? bulldog
30. Favorite day of the week? Sunday
31. How many states have you lived in? Three—Georgia, New York, Ohio
32. Diamonds or pearls? Cubic Zirconia
33. What is your favorite flower? sunflower
34. Your favorite book? Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace
35. If you won the lotto, what would be the first three things you
would do? quit my job, move to Savannah, buy an expensive bottle of wine
37. If you could be anything in the world you wanted, what would you
38. If you could have any superpower what would it be? The ability to drink a swimming pool of wine with no hangover. SUPER LIVER!
39. Where is your favorite place you have vacationed? Savannah, GA
40. If you had one thing to change in your life what would it be? I’d like to have a better chin.
41. Favorite item of clothing to wear? Levi’s, Converse
42. If you could be anyone else, who would it be? St. Angie Jolie
43. What is your favorite CD? Anything by Rufus Wainwright. I can’t name a specific favorite.
44. What do you do to pull yourself up when you're feeling down? drink A LOT
45. What does being spiritual mean to you? I don’t believe I have a soul.
46. What is the biggest change you plan to make this year? my underwear
47.If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be? a tree in the yard of a hippie who hugs trees a lot
48. Go out to eat or home cooked? OUT, OUT!
49. What is your biggest pet peeve? Evangelical Christians who think they know God’s plan
Thursday, January 29, 2009
That sermon was entirely too long. I grew up Methodist. We have the Evelyn Wood's version of sermons because Methodists have the attention spans of gerbils.
[Okay, okay, I said it. What's it to you? Are you a damn Methodist? If not, you're comments ARE NOT WELCOME.]
"NORMA JEANE perfectly captures the mystique that was Marilyn, in Alesia's uncanny recreation of Phillipe Halsman's iconic LIFE Magazine photograph. Call for a price quote. 410-683-1562 or email firstname.lastname@example.org."
--from the Newman-Breen Web site
Of course it's a Newman-Breen, people! This shit's uncanny alright. UNCANNILY FUG! Look at the damn chin on this ho! Marilyn never had a weak-ass chin like this shit. MM ought to come back and haunt Alesia Newman-Breen's dumb ass for making her fug.
Also, Alesia's ass needs a damn copy editor for her site (and NOT A DAMN PROOFREADER EITHER! They're NOT the same thing. Do you hear that you dumb fuck Mazers?). That quote from the Newman-Breen Web site is not punctuated correctly. Since I'm an English major, that shit just sticks in my ass!
I think the workshop guy who makes these could probably bring in some extra bucks if he made the Jesuses a little more useful. Maybe he could stick a clock or a cameo-sized photo frame in their navel areas or something. Then, they wouldn't take up so much wall space without being useful.
Is it sacrilegious to embed a time piece or photo frame on Jesus? I think the Lord would like us all to be useful. He probably wouldn't mind leading by example. I am asking for opinions here, people! This will give me something to think about while I run tonight, or at least during the commercials, as I watch Rock of Love Bus reruns for the fifth time this week.
And don't act like you KNOW the Lord's will, either! I'm warning you! That shit pisses me off. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE LORD OUR GOD WANTS, so don't you SCARY EVANGELICALS be railroading everyone else with your damn opinions! I've had enough of that shit for the last eight years! Being the loudest and pushiest doesn't make your ass right at Sarcastic Bastard!
No, not the damn Talk Soup guy! I want Ty Pennington's job! SB would just love to give houses away to poor, needy families all over America and barely lift a hand doing any of the work. I am just as crazy as Ty! I could do this shit. Give me that damn bull horn!
Extreme Home Makeover is one of my favorite TV shows. I get all caught up in it and start shouting: MOVE THAT BUS! MOVE THAT DAMN BUS!
Sometimes, I even have tears of joy rolling down my cheeks! I never let anyone see my vulnerability, though. I have a reputation to maintain, people!
This morning my grouchy ass was awakened by the Disdainful One, climbing in and out of a large brown paper shopping bag in the closet.
First Words of the Day: MERCER--YOU ARE NOT YOKO ONO--GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THAT BAG!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Jan doesn't even know who Brad Pitt is! I'll bet that hurt Brad's feelings. You think you're REALLY FAMOUS, and then Jan Micheal Vincent comes along and puts your lofty ass in its place! That did make me laugh for one tiny moment, and then I started weeping again. COPIOUS WEEPING. It may melt my cold stone creamery heart.
I am only embedding one part of this tragic interview.
I AM SO SAD RIGHT NOW.
WARNING: Stay away from the alcohol, kiddies. If Jan's overwhelming beauty looks this beat, most of your ugly middle-aged, liquored-up asses are going to look like TOTAL HAMMERED SHIT. THINK BEFORE YOU DRINK!
An excellent Elizabeth day today. I managed to be solicitous, open and spontaneous, and genuinely caring. We had only an hour together, and it wasn't our most intense engagement, but it came after she'd already spent several hours as a backup. She was a bit frayed at the ends, but in good humor, when she came back out for an encore.
When I got to the workroom, I told John the situation, hoping he'd head out to the desk right away, but apparently, I had understressed the need for Elizabeth to be relieved, and John seemed determined to stay put until I returned. Then, in a strong voice I didn't recognize as my own, I said, "John, could you go out front and relieve Elizabeth? She needs to get away from the front. She's been out there for nearly three solid hours and could really use some relief. John would you mind covering the front whilst I track down Genevieve?"
I was telling the WONDERFUL Mr. SarcBast, who took about 45 minutes to scrape my entire vehicle off from stem to stern (and also broke my ice scraper, which had sentimental value), about my friend, T., who happens to be from Vietnam and toils here at THIS PLACE, along with me.
On every cold, snowy day, T. offers to go out in the frozen-tundra parking lot to start the cars of his co-workers before their departure from said place of toil, so that they can sit their fat American asses in a warmed-up car on the journey home. I suspect he does this, not only because he is especially considerate of others, but also because his ass came over to this country on a VERY SMALL boat, loaded with WAY TOO MANY other unfortunate fuckers, some of whom expired on the trip, and they ACTUALLY HAD TO EAT THEIR BODIES TO SURVIVE! DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE EITHER--your fat American ass has likely never been starving--you don't know what you would do if you were that damn hungry! And T. probably knows what spoiled pussies most Americans actually are, and I think somehow, he may actually get some sort of unselfish enjoyment in coddling us further.
T. busts his nuts for America almost every day because he appreciates being here.
Thanks Dear Aunt for the link!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Also, some of the fuckers in the cubes nearby are driving me nuts. Everytime it even threatens snow, all these guys talk about is the weather. They pull up the radar. They speculate on how many inches we might get. They talk about going home to work if the snow gets heavy. Who gives a shit? What is going to happen will happen, and we'll deal with it then, I figure.
Also, one group discusses lunch all the time, beginning at about 9:30 in the morning. Where are we eating today? What sounds good? I think pizza sounds good today. I really could go for a large pepperoni. Do you think it's on special? Then, when the fuckers get back from lunch, they starting talking about where their asses are going to eat tomorrow for lunch. Several of these folks should not be eating at all for about a month or so. Got me?
Tonight, after work, I'm going to a nearby bar for a drink or two with some of my really fun co-workers. This is pending the weather for some, of course. I can tell you this: SBs fucking ass is going. SB would drive through a whiteout for cheap beer! It's dollar draft night, people!
Dear Mrs. Jones,
Here is some danceable George Michaels shit to start your day. Actually, in this viddy it REALLY is George Michaels with an -s, because there are two of him. Double the fun! I know he doesn't like the vadge, people. You don't need to remind me. My heart was broken a thousand times!
Monday, January 26, 2009
CORRECTION: Bonnie Prince Charlie was NOT from Scotland, and to my shame, he is NOT even particularly beloved by the Scots. In fact, Alec thinks he was pretty much a WANKER. Read Alec's corrective, somewhat harsh, and chastening post at http://alecbeattie.blogspot.com/ .
I apologize to the ENTIRE Scottish nation on behalf of the ENTIRE United States. I hope it won't endanger my chances for my own Travel Channel show.
'Worst poet' outsells boy wizard
McGonagall would be pelted with food when he read his poems.
A private collector has paid £6,600 for poems by the man ridiculed as "the world's worst poet".
A total of 35 of William McGonagall's works - many of them autographed - have been up for auction in Edinburgh.
The ditties by "The Tayside Tragedian" went for more than a collection of Harry Potter first editions signed by author JK Rowling.
McGonagall, who died in 1902, was often mocked and had food thrown at him during readings in Dundee.
He was born in Edinburgh in 1825, but spent much of his life in Dundee as a handloom weaver in the jute mills.
He did not start writing poems until he was 47, but went on to write about subjects including Scottish battles and Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee.
He also took pleasure in writing about death and catastrophe, and his most famous work was a poem about the Tay Bridge disaster of 1879.
A section from it reads:
"So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay, Until it was about midway,Then the central girders with a crash gave way,And down went the train and passengers into the Tay..."
Alex Dove, from auctioneers Lyon and Turnbull, said: "He was a confident gentleman who thought that his poetry was some of the best.
"He once walked all the way to Balmoral to try to become Poet Laureate. Unfortunately the Queen wasn't in.
"He spent a lot of time on the streets of Dundee trying to sell his poems and performing them, much to the amusement of the residents.
"Poet-baiting became quite an activity for the students of the time, where they would encourage him to perform, and then they would throw eggs and vegetables at him.
The new owner's bid for the poems was £5,500, but once commission is included they will have to fork out £6,600.
The Harry Potter books only brought in £6,000.
David Kett from the library service in Dundee believes much of the criticism McGonagall receives is unjustified.
"He's really popular because he promoted himself to an enormous extent and he produced this interesting and unique verse, which has resonated down the ages," he said.
"Because some people take offence with it and ridicule it, they fail to realise what McGonagall is trying to say, which is a narrative of all the events he saw.
"It's bad in parts, but there are parts of the poetry where he does achieve a certain extent of lyricism, describing one of the country parks he mentions 'the bees buzzing in the lyme trees' - really conjures up the image."
Story from BBC NEWS:http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/tayside_and_central/7402920.stmPublished: 2008/05/16 14:19:54 GMT© BBC MMIX
McGonagall once wrote:
The most startling incident in my life was the time I discovered myself to be a poet, which was in the year 1877.
It was pretty damn startling to the rest of us, too.
If you want to read more of William's poorly-rhymed, pretentious shit, after sampling the poem below, here's a link to HIS ENTIRE WORKS, including Poetic Gems (Poetic Shite, more like).
Oh, mighty city of New York, you are wonderful to behold--
Your buildings are magnificent-- the truth be it told--
They were the only thing that seemed to arrest my eye,
Because many of them are thirteen storeys high;
And as for Central Park, it is lovely to be seen--
Especially in the summer season when its shrubberies are green
And the Burns Statue is there to be seen,
Surrounded by trees on the beautiful sward so green;
Also Shakespeare and the immortal Sir Walter Scott,
Which by Scotchmen and Englishmen will never be forgot.
There are people on the Sabbath day in thousands resort--
All lov'd, in conversation, and eager for sport;
And some of them viewing the wild beasts there,
While the joyous shouts of children does rend the air--
And also beautiful black swans, I do declare.
And there's beautiful boats to be seen there,
And joyous shouts of children does rend the air,
While the boats sail along with them o'er Lohengrin Lake,
And fare is 5 cents for children, and adults ten is all they take.
And there's also summer-house shades, and merry-go-rounds
And with the merry laughter of the children the Park resounds,
During the live-long Sabbath day
Enjoying themselves at the merry-go-round play.
Then there's the elevated railroads about five storeys high,
Which the inhabitants can hear night and day passing by;
Of, such a mass of people there daily do throng--
No less than five 100,000 daily pass along;
And all along the city you can get for five cents--
And, believe me, among the passengers there's few discontent.
And the top of the houses are mostly all flat,
And in the warm weather the people gather to chat;
Besides, on the housetops they dry their clothes;
And, also, many people all night on the housetops repose.
And numerous ships end steamboats are there to be seen,
Sailing along the East River water, which is very green--
Which is certainly a most beautiful sight
To see them sailing o'er the smooth water day and night.
And as for Brooklyn Bridge, it's a very great height,
And fills the stranger's heart with wonder at first sight;
And with all its loftiness I venture to say
It cannot surpass the new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay.
And there's also ten thousand rumsellers there--
Oh, wonderful to think of, I do declare!
To accommodate the people of New York therein,
And to encourage them to commit all sorts of sin
And on the Sabbath day ye will see many a man
Going for beer with a big tin can,
And seems proud to be seen carrying home the beer
To treat his neighbours and his family dear.
Then at night numbers of the people dance and sing,
Making the walls of their houses to ring
With their songs and dancing on Sabbath night,
Which I witnessed with disgust, and fled from the sight.
And with regard to New York and the sights I did see--
Believe me, I never saw such sights in Dundee;
And the morning I sailed from the city of New York
My heart it felt as light as a cork
[NOTE: We're glad your holier-than-thou ass sailed out of New York, McGonagall. Fuck you, if you didn't like it. New Yorkers don't give a rat's humping ass. SB is a little touchy about New York, due to 9/11 and shit.]
You dumb network fucks ought to give Graham another shot! Maybe he was just too saucy for American audiences. Saucy means fun!
Alec is Scottish, and he talks about stuff like wee yappy dogs and taking a wee in his blog. For all you dumb fucks, who can't figure it out on your own, wee means both small and to take a piss in Scot's speak. I guess I've got to translate damn English for your dumb asses now, too.
And don't go over to Alec's site and do something dumb and embarrass me, like mistake Alec for a Brit (he's Scottish dumb asses, not a Brit--the Scots were oppressed by the Brits, like practically everybody else on this planet). I am trying single-handedly to fix our reputations as Americans overseas as part of my Bust a Nut for America campaign, so don't fuck it up and be insulting Alec with your damn stupidity.
SB has fond memories of Scotland. I once visited Dundee, Moffat, Edinburgh, and Turnberry, Scotland, where I met Arnold Palmer, but didn't recognize him. We talked lawnmowers, people! I said something like, "This sure is a damn big lawn to mow." Of course it was, it was a damn golf course! I didn't realize the man was a damn pro golfer. Golf was invented in Scotland. I am always teaching you people. They ought to pay me for this shit.
In Edinburgh, the Mums and I were nearly run over crossing a busy street, until a handsome and highly-amused bobby saved our dumb American asses. I owe my life to a Scot!
While in Edinburgh, we checked out the Firth of Forth. How's that for a name? We don't have any physical landmarks named that eloquently over here, instead Americans name places stuff like Big Bone Lick State Park (actual place). I rest my case.
Before I got sidetracked by ranting, I was going to say that when I visited Scotland, I collected weighty tins of Walker's shortbread, which are biscuits, not cookies. So don't be telling them in Scotland you want a damn cookie. They don't know what that shit is. They'll just think--you dumb-ass American, learn to speak the King's damn English! And they'd be right, too.
One of the cookie tins I collected celebrated the escape of Bonnie Prince Charlie. He was a cross-dresser, so I really dug him! I'm not quite sure why Chuck's so celebrated in Scotland, because he abandoned the Jacobite cause, escaped Scotland dressed as a chick, and then screwed a lot of French ladies while in exile. Maybe Alec B. could help me out and explain why Bonnie Price Charlie is so loved. I mean there was a certain panache in the escape.
Below is a photo of Bonnie Prince Chuck. He was a good looking cuss, and you can see how he might have made an attractive woman in makeup and full dress. [And don't be making insulting comments about the Bonnie Prince's manliness because the Scottish get pretty offended when you poke fun over this particular bit of their history.]
The Moms and I also visited the very haunted Greyfriar's Cemetery when we were in Edinburgh, but I was disappointed because it was in broad daylight, and I didn't get slapped around by the angry poltergeist of Bloody George MacKenzie. George was another dumb religious asshole, who persecuted and murdered a lot of poor Covenanters. His spirit is said to roam the cemetery, scratching and slapping visitors, because some dumb-ass street person got cold and made the mistake of breaking into angry George's crypt to get warm. And because this unfortunate fucker couldn't find a damn blanket some place, he released a wrathful, avenging spirit, who slaps the shit out of dumb-assed tourists on ghost tours.
Anyhoo, check out my friend Alec's blog. I highly recommend it.
Anything I've got wrong here, Alec, please feel free to correct. It's been about twenty years since SB has had the pleasure to be in Scotland, so I may have hosed up some of the historical details. I think those dumb network fucks at the Travel Channel ought to give me my own history show though.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
This one goes out to Baz. Love you, man.
La Pequena Sarah Palin is packing in that swimsuit! EL GRANDE Sarah Palin!!
But, I think it might have been a more affective message to not try crack if he looked like this.
And, I didn't say motherfucker once in this whole entire post, Moms! Oops.
Anyhoo, I digress. Happens all the time. The point of this story (yes, there is a point, smart asses) is that I come by my foul mouth honestly. I've simply always had it. I was probably cursing about in the womb at the cramped conditions. I was a kicker in utero. I was born an angry rebel, man!
I was even a cursing toddler. When I was about three years old, daddums asked me to take my new shiny red purse, that was sitting on the kitchen table, upstairs to my bedroom. Since I was a defiant motherfucker, like Steve McQueen, even at three, I stomped right out of the room. Daddums, likely highly amused, but making a fierce face at me anyway, followed behind me and listened to my enraged stomping up the stairs. As I was crossing the threshhold into my bedroom, he heard me mutter: Goddamn purse! At three years of age, people! There's no correcting that filth when it's happening that young. I guess daddums told the Moms, and he and the Moms had this great, gleeful laugh over it all. And then, they just pretended that they didn't hear it.
It's probably not so funny in retrospect. I talked to the Moms at the Retirement Trailer Park of Nirvana the other night, and she said, "Your blog is funny, but do you have to use the word motherfucker?" I proceeded to inform her that I JUST LOVE the word motherfucker. And I do. In fact, it is my favorite cuss word of ALL TIME. Then I asked the Moms if she would do me a favor and post fliers advertising my blog all over the Retirement Trailer Park of Nirvana. I think the silence on her end of the line was a no.
END NOTE: And of course, when thinking about truck drivers, the movie Thelma & Louise always comes to mind. SB loves that film! Here is the official movie photo.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Admittedly, SB is not much of a porn watcher, however, I must admit that I am totally fascinated with the seamy underbelly of humanity in general. I just love stories involving vice, kinky sex, drug addiction (heroin, crack, meth), suicide, and/or murder. Not so oddly, I suppose, the lives and deaths of porn stars often involve many of these elements. Take for example, the life of our Dead Porn Star of the Month, Lolo Ferrari.
Here is a very interesting link to a story on Lolo's very odd death. She may have been strangled by her own chichis! Definitely NSFW, due to some nudie photos accompanying the scholarly article.
I have a few important questions after watching this.
1) How do you poop when you only eat two chocolate squares and a few cereal flakes each day? If you can't poop, don't you die?
2) Also, why would they refuse service to poor Isabelle if she wanted to eat at a damn restaurant? Bullshit.
Come on over Isabelle. I'll take your skinny ass to McDonald's. They won't refuse to serve you with SB around! Let them try!!
If I had a million dollars, I'd probably still eat Kraft dinner, too. I'd just add jumbo shrimp to it and wash it down with a $10,000.00 bottle of wine. Then I'd go join Brad Pitt (even though he's sort of looking like a broke-ass pepaw lately) in the hot tub. If I had a million dollars, I could eat lots of Kraft dinners and afford to go have my omentum all sucked out by the liposuction, just like Britney Spears' dumb ass.
Somebody needs to give Court a TV show (like my good friend, Libby). Those stupid fucks at the networks ought to pay me to scout talent. They're not doing too well or we wouldn't have to watch the damn Kardashians and crap with Jessica Simpson's dumb ass in it.
Here's a link to Courtney's YouTube page with her complete selection of viddys, in case you fuckers want to see more of her precious cuteness.
Verdict: More Libby, less arty shit. Lib needs her own damn show. Help a bitch out, and set her up. Look how photogenic she is!
I am also just aghast (but not surprised, mind you) that our current system of law allows the nation's workers to be treated like this.
Here is the link for those of you who would like to see the news footage of this fuckery (printed story below).
By Darius Radzius
Reporter / WJHL
Published: January 23, 2009
A new development has added insult to injury for former employees of Mazer Corporation. Former employees are finding out their health insurance was gone long before they were sent home.
“I would have never in my wildest dreams would have believed this is the way things would have ended,“ said Chip Hanneken, former production manager for Mazer Corporation.
Deep disappointment settled in for Mazer Corporation employees like Hanneken. He worked there for more than a decade and a half.
“I was proud to work there. I enjoyed the people I worked with. I enjoyed the company,“ said Hanneken.
Three weeks ago Mazer Corporation told their employees they’d be laid off, but they left one thing out—that their health insurance had lapsed a month earlier.
“According to our handbook, anytime a termination at midnight that night that’s when all your benefits and health insurance is terminated,“ said Hanneken.
Instead, health insurance was terminated on December 3, but Mazer continued to deduct premiums. During that month, the Hanneken family visited doctors several times.
“We had a surgery take place in our family. Two little boys had stitches. Ct scans,“ said Hanneken.
Hanneken says he could have covered that period through his wife’s insurance, if he was told in time.
There’s a 30-31 day grace period for preexisting conditions,” said Hanneken.
Now instead he has no job and expects a hefty bill.
“It’s about 8-10 thousand dollars,“ said Hanneken.
He’s checked with state regulators and he’s learned neither Mazer Corporation nor the insurance company broke any laws.
“The only thing we can do is file a suit through an attorney and have a judge determine who’s going to pay that,“ said Hanneken.
We tried to reach Mazer Corporation Thursday, but all we were able to get was an automated telephone answering system.
Friday, January 23, 2009
It has always been my suspicion that I will die of pancreatic cancer, a hideous and unyielding disease. I have charged Cousin Sheila, WHO WE ARE VERY PROUD OF, and who is in med school, with finding a cure for the pancreatic cancer and possibly saving the life of her beloved cousin. [But NO PRESSURE Sheila. I know you are under enough stress planning your wedding and keeping your grades up. You can worry about a cure for cancer later.]
Our grandfather, Cliff, died in his forties of some mysterious, undiagnosed illness. They called it Disease X on his death certificate, but my psychic powers, which tend to be unfortunately pretty accurate, tell me that it was, in actuality, the pancreatic cancer. Anyhoo, the propensity for pancreatic cancer is genetic, people, and this is the sort of shit lottery SB wins.
I have accepted that I will likely get the pancreatic cancer, along with the other good genetic shit I have inherited, such as a propensity to handle liquor like my Native American forbearers, my round, fat Indian face, a ridiculously poor work ethic, and clinical depression.
Right now, I'm just trying to enjoy life some before the shit goes down. It could be any time, now that I have hit forty. It will likely spread quickly, due to my enlarged omentum.
If there is a sale on sympathy cards, you might want to put one back, the Moms is going to need a lot of support when I become one of the living-challenged.
Anyhoo, I have been going around driving Mercer and Ginger nuts, yelling this phrase over and over. I even called the Moms last night and told her about it, so she could interject it during conversation at cocktail parties in her retirement villa (trailer park). If there's some BENJAMIN BUTTON'S SHIT going down, it's surely going down at the park.
Kanye's a good looking motherfucker. The grey won't hurt him a bit.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I tried to run really quick tonight so I wouldn't miss the third rerun of Rock of Love Bus. You can't miss Bret telling a sorry-ass ho to get the fuck off the bus! Fuck Shakespeare. That's drama!
When I was getting in the shower tonight, I asked Mercer whether it was my imagination or did my omentum appear to be a little less hangy. Her response was noncommittal disdain, but I think this fitness shit is paying off.
I find that running is sort of meditative, and I can't help myself, try as I might, I usually think deep thoughts. Tonight, I was pondering a question that Michael (God of All Bloggers) at Dlisted asked earlier this week. The question was: Do you think it's okay to rinse and reuse dental floss? It came to me while jogging that it is probably only hygienic if you swish the floss in dish soap before the rinse, but then it should be okay to be a cheap motherfucker and reuse it.
Your thoughts on this highly important matter, people? We may all need to reuse floss soon in this economy. You can post your thoughts in the abandoned ghost-town fucking comments section if you like. There actually is a COMMENTS FEATURE to this blog, people. Please motherfucking use it once in awhile.
p.s. SARCASTIC BASTARD LOVES TO HEAR FROM ENGLISH-SPEAKING JAPANESE PEOPLE!
SB welcomes the two readers I saw logged onto the site yesterday from Japan! DID I MENTION I LOVE THE JAPANESE PEOPLE?! PLEASE INVITE YOUR JAPANESE FRIENDS TO VISIT SARCASTIC BASTARD! [Japanese ass-kissing]
I don't feel really daunted by the fact the two blog visitors from Japan were logged onto the site for about zero seconds. THE JAPANESE ARE SMARTER THAN AMERICANS, I'M SURE THEY HAVE PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORIES or some shit and are now enjoying Sarcastic Bastard in their minds.
Did I mention I love Hello Kitty like the Japanese???
Actually, the two Japanese readers probably only logged on to check out my Pete Burns posts because Pete, like the Hoff, actually IS REALLY BIG in Japan.
You can tell that the Bengal in the back is slightly retarded. He just doesn't get the whole process. Front pussy WAY SMARTER! After retarda-cat gets his ass booted off the wheel, front pussy shoots him a your-dumb-ass-was-impeding-my-progress-muthafucka look. Watch.
Clearly this was a BIG BUDGET production. They had to procure the Queen's crown, people! Damn.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Sometimes, when I am doing the laundry and hanging shirts, I chase the cat and dog around, shouting: No more wire hangers EVER! They really seem to enjoy it.
Correction: A reader was kind (anal) enough to point out that the star-of-yore with the wire-hanger fetish was in fact that big-eyebrowed ho, Joan Crawford, NOT BETTE DAVIS. I REPEAT: NOT BETTE DAVIS. Easy mistake--both fug.
To order this shit: http://www.newbreen.com/
Anyhoo, it started out that I was just a little expansive in the waistline--you know--a little spare tiresy. You just buy the large-size underwear and walk around with camel toe in your too small pants, but now my omentum (thanks Dr. Oz!) is starting to take over. Now, I've got fat hanging OVER the waistband of my Hello Kitty underwear. [NOTE: There is no extra-large size in Hello Kitty world. The Japanese, the biggest Hello Kitty-wear buyers, are all wearing small. They're not fat, gluttonous fucks like Americans.]
This post is for the Moms, who could give two shits about my obvious literary talent. She just wants to see a photo of her grand-cat, damn it!
This is Mercer disdaining all you blog-reading fucks.
You can tell Morrissey is thinking get this fucking kid away from me NOW! He looks about as awkward as ass holding that damn bebe. That said, there is something great about this photo. It was my computer wallpaper for awhile.
As far as SB is concerned, Morrissey is a lyrical genius, but sometimes he'd be more fulfilled making Christmas cards for the mentally ill. Me, too!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
He's just a warped, frustrated old man!
God bless America, and God bless our new President! It's a new day in this country, and I'm feeling hopeful.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The really great thing about this video, besides the funky song, is the look on the Japanese lady's face during the cut away. I just love Japanese people! PLEASE READ MY BLOG JAPANESE PEOPLE!! I've always wanted to be "a hit in Japan" like David Hasselhoff.
Clearly that guy has mistaken the Joaqster for a homeless dude and is about to offer Joaquin his half-drunk beverage. It was an honest mistake. Look at him!
Obviously, the helpful guy is one of SB's blog readers, and he is putting my Bust a Nut for America plan to work. He's out trying to help the homeless, people! He's making America a better place for you and me to live! I bet he even 'splained to Joaquin: "This beverage is compliments of Sarcastic Bastard and the Bust a Nut for America campaign!"
In honor of W's departure tomorrow, I've written a poem. Short live King George!
Goodbye you Fuck Fucking Fucker
Goodbye you worthless asshole
You are the worst leader in the history of man
Except for Hitler maybe
You shall not be missed!
Goodbye you moronic greedy dickhead imbecile
Even your own dad wishes he didn't spawn you
He curses his own loins
Every time you grin like a loutish dolt
Now that you have some time on your hands
You can finally learn to read
Or ruin another oil company
Or go back to drinking and waking up piss-soaked
America doesn't give a shit
As long as you go away
And don't ask me for a contribution
To fund your ass-wanking presidential library either motherfucker!
The answer is NO.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Anyhoo, in the spirit of the inauguration, I decided to work harder today, so I actually SHAVED ONE LEG for the President. If you knew how badly I hate to shave my legs, you would understand my personal sacrifice for this country. So now, I have one itchy leg and one not itchy leg, but I did it for Barack, so I am trying not to complain a whole lot. Complaining sort of negates the sacrifice.
If the President reads this tale of personal sacrifice and decides that he wants to erect a statue with one shaved leg in honor of me, I guess I'll let him, but only if Bill Clinton shows up for the dedication ceremony and I get to hold his hand. I'm not getting out of bed for anybody but Bubba.
Since I have a full-time job and a diarrhetic dog and don't have a lot of time for volunteership, I figure my contribution will be to use this blog to implore you readers to get off your dead asses and get out there and volunteer in my place. SO GET OUT THERE AND BUST A NUT FOR AMERICA! You can volunteer in my name if you like. Feel free.
I'm thinking of starting a Chris Crocker fan club. He sort of reminds me of a tranny Britney, bitch!
Chris, I'll be your bridesmaid at the wedding, honey! Your ass WILL get married.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Sarcastic Bastard: Yeah, I have warm family memories of this place. I used to come over here to the State (liquor) store with Grandpa to buy his hootch. I loved coming here. He used to buy me candy at the counter.
Friday, January 16, 2009
This UK program is of Pete and a psychic talking about Pete's childhood. It also explains the horror of Pete's plastic surgery gone wrong and why he elected to do something so radical and permanent in the first place. I found it pretty interesting.
After many, many plastic surgeries, this is Pete today.
Pete is absolutely one of my favorite celebrities EVER. I recommend Celebrity Big Brother 4 (UK), which is available on YouTube and also Celebrity Wife Swap, also available on YouTube. Pete is one of the most bitchy, witty, entertaining celebrities I have ever watched, and he's my idol. And don't you hos hate on Pete because he's beautiful! You're just jealous.
Answer in the Comments section. Just click, you lazy fucks!
Then I remembered the conversation we once had about Lee. Grandma said, "I wouldn't kick Liberace out of bed." I retorted like the big smart ass I was/am, "Well, Lee wouldn't be in your bed in the first place because he's a flaming homo."
Well, the scorn--let me tell you--Grandma simply would NOT accept that Lee could possibly be gay. SHE WOULDN'T EVEN ENTERTAIN THAT RIDICULOUS IDEA--even when I pointed out the National Enquirer tell-all stories about Lee and the big beefy blond chauffer he bedded. Even when I pointed out Lee's flamboyant dressing habits: the flashy diamond rings, the sequins, the laquered bouffant hairdo. I'm not saying flamboyant dressing makes you definitively gay people so don't even start. I'm just saying it could possibly be an indicator is all.
Uhhh, no, he's not gay. What would ever give my dumb ass that idea?
I like to imagine Grandma up there in heaven, in bed with a bejeweled, hetero Lee. They're just lying there smiling--they're not doing anything--that would be gross as hell. So, get your damn minds out of the gutter, people (that was another Grandma Pegism--except she didn't say damn because she was against cussing)! Anyhoo, I hope Grandma's heaven is nice.