Thursday, April 30, 2009

I've Got a Dyslexic Heart

Some of my favorite lyrics of all time: Is this your name or a doctor's eye chart? I try to comprehend you, but I've got a dyslexic heart.

Introducing: Midge, My God Dog

This here is the aptly named, Midge, my God dog. Midge is, well, kind of short of stature and all. That shit is genetic, and there wasn't dick Midge could do about it. I'll bet that maybe some of you readers are height-challenged, too, and that's okay. They make those grabber thingys now to help you midgety motherfuckers reach stuff up high.

Since Midge doesn't have opposable thumbs (which is WAY OVERRATED anyhow), the grabber devices aren't going to be a whole lot of help to her--so she's got to put the cute to work. When you're as cute as Midge, people fall all over themselves to help out and get stuff for you.

Midge is SO CUTE that if they held her up in the midst of battle over there in Iraq, there would be a TOTAL cease fire. The fucking war would be OVER in the blink of an eye.

Notice, dear reader, that in the top photo, Midge has got a damn bone or some shit. For a small sucker, she eats A LOT. You wouldn't believe it.

SB is very proud of Midge, so don't be saying any negative shit in the comments, like pointing out how she is a little pop-eyed and all. I do take umbrage to that shit. Comments about Midge's OVERWHELMING CUTENESS are welcome, however.


Practical Swine Flu Advice from SB

I am already tired of the damn American media getting everybody all worked up over the swine flu. One blogger friend, who shall be nameless, is a little tightly wrapped and is already all worked up and hiding under the bed covers, thanks to those fear-mongering morons on the boob tube.

SB NEEDS ALL THE DAMN READERS SHE CAN GET, so in an effort to keep all your precious asses safe, I'm going to post valid advice on how to avoid the swine flu, instead of the fear-mongering crap that's coming from such overflowing cess pools as Fox News. Fuck you, Bill O'Reilly. Sean Penn hates you and so do I.

Tips for Avoiding the Swine Flu

1) Wash your hands A LOT.

2) Don't waste your money on surgical masks. You just look stupid (like Heidi and Spencer) and they don't do a goddamn thing.

SB Favorite Author: Wendell Berry

The below quote from Wendell Berry of Kentucky hung on my refrigerator from right after the start of the Iraq War and all through the real Axis of Evil (Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld). I found it strangely comforting. I was not alone.

"To be sane in a mad time is bad for the brain, worse for the heart."

I consider Wendell Berry the Emerson of our time. Mr. Berry is a gentleman farmer, conservationist, and a religious poet in the best possible sense. And I think sense is the key word. Wendell Berry is, of all things, a sensible man.

Here is a short poem that Mr. Berry wrote that comforts me when I worry about the world as it is today, with the economy and the threat of swine flu looming. This poem also hangs on my refrigerator.

Bless you, Mr. Berry, for your uncommon decency and good sense in a time when a lot of our society's elders weren't so decent or wise.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

A Couple of Useless Twats

Take off the masks! Take off the masks! Here piggy, piggy. Here piggy, piggy.

Visiting Aunt Jean in the Old Folks Home that Smells Like Piss and Is Depressing as Fuck

[This is not Aunt Jean. Aunt Jean is WAY prettier, so don't insult her ass or mine by writing to ask if this photo is of Aunt Jean. Also, Aunt Jean won't participate in ANY art activities, and she gets huffy if you ask her to. Crafts are for children!]

Why do nursing homes always smell like warm piss? Surely they could do something about that smell.

My husband's Aunt Jean is currently an inmate (I use this term intentionally) in an old folk's home near us. Jean's a dear lady, but visiting her gives me the MAJOR SADS. It depresses the fuck out of me (I know this may come as a shock to you motherfuckers, due to my normally cheery disposition. Everybody gets depressed sometimes, people! So if you want to read some Pollyanna bullshit, this may NOT be the post or the blog for you. Go over to Rachel-fucking-Ray's goddamn bullshit Web site, if you want chipper.)

It's always WAY TOO FUCKING HOT in the nursing home, and the old women and old men are usually wearing wool cardigan sweaters. WTF?

In the home, there are a variety of futile activities to try and cheer the oldies up and to keep their brains functioning, such as crafts and sing-alongs on the piano in the dining room. The piano player in the home sucks REALLY BAD. I'm guessing that he is a volunteer because nobody would pay to hear that shit. I wouldn't be able to digest my damn food with that fucker plonking around. Sometimes, they put little pointy party hats on the pensioners in the dining hall to try and make shit festive, but it's futile as fuck. [Aunt Jean refuses to wear a hat! She is a damn rebel! It makes me proud.]

Once in awhile, when Mr. SB and I are visiting Aunt Jean, one of the old loonies smells young blood, and plods over in her wheelchair (always shuffling in the wheelchair by walking her feet out in front of the chair, rather than using her damn claws to propel the wheels forward--I don't get that shit--this takes too much damn time--I feel like screaming at her--YOU'RE NEARLY AT DEATH'S DOOR--USE YOUR GODDAMN HANDS--GET YOUR ASS MOVING--but I don't, because it wouldn't be polite to take that tone with an elder).

Anyhoo, this one particular old fucker always starts showing off when we're there and telling poor Aunt Jean stuff like she just got back from a five-star breakfast at the Hilton with her rich son, Ted. This old loon is batshit crazy, and Aunt Jean just ignores the old whore and rolls her eyes a lot and then asks us if we will wheel her back to her room, which I think is the polite way to handle it.

The other day when we visited, Aunt Jean had the SADS, and she wanted to go home (I can't say as I blame her with the piano playing and all!). Jean told me that she felt bad and that nobody believed her. [I have that kind of face and people are always thinking I'm interested in their complaints and I'm really not.] Anyhoo, I told Aunt Jean that I believed her. If you feel bad, you feel bad. You ought to know, Aunt Jean. I believe you, I said. I think Aunt Jean needs to be on some MAJOR-LEAGUE antidepressants.

I've tried suggesting that Aunt Jean pass the time by dating one of her table mates in the dining hall. I pointed out that the one guy has a lot of hair and what appears to be his original teeth. Aunt Jean is widowed, but she won't go for it. I guess no one compares to Uncle Kenny.

I'm going to blow my brains out if I ever have to go to the nursing home. It's really horrible there, and to top it off, some of the inmates yell continually. I would seriously have to throttle the screamers. My nerves can't take that shit.

The only good part of visiting the home is that one batshit pensioner keeps mistaking me for Nicole Kidman and asking for my autograph. When I sign With Love, Nicole Kidman, I make that bitch's day. [And don't ask me if I look like Nicole Kidman, either. I look about as much like Nicole Kidman as a cat's asshole. It was wonderful dancing with Hugh Jackman, though.]

Now this Shit Is Some 80's Hair, Motherfuckers

Here we have a prime example of BIG ASSED 80's hair, peeps. Fuck the Flock of Seagulls guy--Howard Jones had it going on. I saw Howard in concert multiple times. LOVE HIM. [If you happen to read this Howard, please leave a comment and update us on your life. No promises, but maybe we'll even rename this blog The Howard Jones Fan Spot in your honor.]

Also, I think we have the ultimate question here on this album cover, don't we? What Is Love? Damned if I know. [Did you ever find the answer to this, Howard? If so, help a bitch out and leave that in the comments section, too.]

Howard was always deep lyrically. His ass was singing about Gaia and shit and telling us not to live our lives for one day and all that. I heard that he is living a quieter life now and is a bigtime Buddhist chanter. So that's lovely.

I tried to do some chanting myself to improve my Karma, but Mercer wants to chant along and it sort of ruins the vibe. [If you have any suggestions on chanting with a cat, Howard, put them in the comments. The readers here would like to get to know you well.]

Shoulder Pads Are Back, Hallelujah!

My prayers have been answered--the 80's are back! My ass bought a new jacket yesterday, and IT HAS SHOULDER PADS! Yes, you read that right. And any of you who were born without shoulders, like me, will understand my joy. Now, I just have to wait for BIG HAIR to make a comeback.

The 80's were my heyday, peeps. I wish I had a picture of myself back then. SB ruled! I had big rockstar hair and wore lots of glittery band jackets with VERY BIG shoulder pads. I was flash! Rick James was my personal style icon. Since I grew up in a farm town, I was quite the spectacle. I was a TREND SETTER, motherfuckers! Everybody else wore flannel shirts. FLANNEL SHIRTS! The horror. The horror.

Below is a photo of the ultimate 80's shoulder pad-wearing icon (besides myself, of course). I'm going to dig out my old Howard Jones and Duran Duran CDs tonight and dance around in my new chic-as-a-motherfucker jacket.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

David Foster Wallace's Commencement Speech

I felt compelled to post the below link because Living Bipolar was able to say precisely what eluded me about the late great David Foster Wallace and his commencement speech, This Is Water. I am haunted by the juxtaposition of what Dave Wallace so eloquently said and the finality of the choice he made by hanging himself.

For those Sarcastic Bastard readers who have not yet read This Is Water, I am linking to my own previous entry containing the speech that Wallace gave at Kenyon College in its entirety. I feel like it's one of the most brilliant, illuminating, important pieces of life-advice I've ever read. It is Buddhist philosophy condensed. I hope you enjoy it.

I really miss Dave's presence in the world. He was a sweet, irreplaceable soul, and we are the less for his departure. He is one of the writers I carry with me. His writing has changed me for good.

[This post is especially for Nick because I think he will really get it.]

Motivational Relationship Poster

Don't Fuck with The Village People

The photo above had the potential to be REALLY FUNNY, but then my ass noticed the dude in the white shirt is fucking the 'M' up. Fucking the YMCA spelling dance up is like sacrilege goddammit. You don't fuck with the Village People, man. I'm an expert at the YMCA dance, and I don't appreciate that shit! Get it right, motherfucker!

Sharon Stone with No Makeup

Man, SB should look so good without makeup. Bitch is gorgeous! She's also very smart and kind of nutty. I dig her.

I heard Bill Murray was sort of afraid of Sharon when he worked with her on the film Broken Flowers. That made me laugh. If you haven't seen Broken Flowers, rent a copy. I liked it so much I bought it for my own collection. It was fantastic.

Did They Embalm this Ho?

Sharon Stone is hot, man. I need to know what wrinkle cream she uses. Damn! Or maybe it's the fact that she has been divorced for awhile and has no man around to give her shit. Maybe that keeps a bitch young.


The Diarretic Wunderkind Eats Cat Shit

Ginger, the Diarrhetic Wunderkind, has picked up a new habit. We had to move the Disdainful One's litter box recently, and it is now in the utility closet, nearer to the door. Said door is kept propped open, obviously, since Mercer can't open it her-damn-self (she doesn't have opposable thumbs, people, and besides her ass is not tall enough to reach the knob).

Anyhoo, Ginger has now taken to eating Mercer's shit when the door is inadvertently left ajar. I do laundry in the utility room, so the door is left ajar from time-to-time. Of course, every time I catch the Wunderkind, I threaten to beat her until the PETA intervenes, but she has a VERY SELECT and short-term memory, and the yelling is fairly ineffective.

Sometimes, Ginger tries to sneakily eat the gourmet cat poo, and I go to pet her, and her fucking nose is covered in Tidy Cat. There is also motherfucking Tidy Cat Multiple Cat formula in the bottom of her water bowl, so I have to empty it and refill it all the time because I'm just sure the perfumey shit they put in Tidy Cat probably causes THE CANCER.

There are also occasionally Mercer turds that do not pass muster for whatever reason (these turds are not up to Ginger's obviously lofty culinary standards), lying on the carpet outside the utility room. Then I yell, "MOTHERFUCKER!" And the Diarrhetic Wunderkind shoots up the stairs, only to sneak down again when the yelling dies down, which sometimes takes awhile.

Ginger is also into trying to eat Mercer's new expensive-as-fuck gourmet cat food, so I spend the morning yelling stuff like: "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN MOTHERFUCKER OR I AM GOING TO BEAT YOU TO DEATH AND THEN THEY WILL HAVE TO CALL THE PETA AND THEN YOU WILL GET TAKEN BACK TO THE POUND, NEVER TO BE REUNITED WITH YOUR LOVING MAMA, WHO IS SHUT UP IN THE POKEY FOR DOG ABUSE!" or some shit like that. This does not exactly make for a peaceful morning, and you know how much I enjoy mornings to start with.

I am afraid Ginger will not be the winner in the Doggie Obedience category at the county dog show this year. Apologies to those prepared to root for her.

My Dahling Support Group

Today, SB's ass is feeling grateful. I have made many new friends through this blog and through reading other's blogs, and I wanted to point out a few (okay, more than a damn few) who are special to me and who have made my sad little world a much richer place. I love you all, and if I ever strike it rich, I'm having a big party and flying you all in!

My Support Posse: (In no particular order. SB is a random sort of bitch.)

My inimitable fellow crank, Alec B., God love him!

The genius/writer/poet/painter/all-around Renaissance Man, Shane:

My very smart, very special, very dear, Nick:

The very sweet, very honest, Anna Grace:

My girl struggling with the nictoine, the lovely Ann:

One of the nicest people I've never met, Marc:

My very good-hearted and funny friend, Lou: http://http//

The very wise, warm, and witty, Sheria:

My very dear, sweet, wonderful, Nan:

My sister-in-law, who has church basement issues, God love her:

My homie, the irreplaceable, sKILLz, whose blog is now by invitation only, and my ass ain't been invited, and I don't know how to get ahold of her to invite me, but I still love her anyhow. Currently, I am just imagining all the great shit she is posting over at her site that I am missing out on:

The beautiful, ethereal, brilliant Naomi, who was once a life model in an art class--now that takes balls! http://http//

If I forgot anyone, I am an asshole and I'm sorry. That shit wasn't intentional. Anyway, I love you all. Thanks for being around.

Two Days Left to Vote, Motherfuckers!

There are only two days left to vote in the Sarcastic Bastard Best Damn Serial Killer poll, and we have a tie going currently. Get to voting, peeps. People died so your ass could vote in meaningless polls like this one!

SB's ass is Team Manson. Go Chuck!

Monday, April 27, 2009

Congratulations Matt Stafford! We Love You!!

Congratulations to our dear Matthew Stafford, former quarterback of the University of Georgia Bulldogs, for being the number one draft pick in the NFL and for a payoff of $42 million dollars to join (unfortunately) the Detroit Lions. We love you, Matty, and wish you all the best! WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

The Moms and I can't wait to see your cute little face in all the product endorsements.

University of Georgia Football #1! GO DAWGS!

Sporty Jesus (for Beth)

Does the placement of our Dear Lord's hands in this photo bother anyone else, or is it just me?

I mean I know that God/Jesus are supposed to be ever-present with all of us, but I really do hope the Christ has better things to do than join us for a round of golf.

I have an Aunt who thinks Jesus helps her find shit she has misplaced. She really does. Her ass praises Jesus all the time (THANK YOU, JESUS!) when she find her glasses or a book she misplaced. I tell her--okay that makes sense, Teta--people are dying of cancer right now, BUT SOMEHOW Jesus has the time to locate your damn belongings. Okay, that makes sense.

And obviously, Jesus also has time for a round of golf. Is something fucked up here, or is it just me? I think the Jeez needs a little help prioritizing. Can we get the Lord our God a personal assistant or some shit? His ass needs help with effective use of time.

Creative Signage: Will Code HTML

Things are tough all over, motherfuckers, ANDDON'TYOUFORGEDIT. There are homeless even in Silicon Valley now. Thanks a lot, President Bush, you dumb motherfucker!

I Has a Hotdog

SB Recommended Film: The Soloist

The Moms and I saw The Soloist yesterday. It was the best, most entertaining couple of hours I have spent in a movie theater in awhile. Highly recommended.

Both Jaime Foxx and Robert Downey were unsurprisingly terrific. There are a couple of actors that I will run right out opening weekend and pay an outrageous ticket price to see their films. Robert Downey is one of them. Sometimes, I forget what a fine actor he actually is, because he makes it look so easy and natural. His face is able to register exactly what his character is feeling very subtly. I guess we have similar senses of humor, too, because he never fails to make me laugh.

Anyway, the reviews I read on The Soloist before I went to see it were lukewarm. The reviewers mainly said that the actors were great, as expected, but the script was a little too sentimental and predictable. I like sentimental in this unsentimental time in which we live. The movie centers around the power of friendship and how, sometimes, the most important thing you can do as a friend is simply to show up and be present.

Two thumbs up, motherfuckers!

Friday, April 24, 2009

Dlisted Post About Susan Boyle

This post by Michael (God of All Bloggers) over at Dlisted about Susan Boyle made me laugh.

Link to Dlisted post:

Naked Pindick Gets Tasered at Coachella

Naked Wizard Tased By Reality from Tracy Anderson on Vimeo.

I wouldn't be displaying my shit if I was this pindick.

$8.95 For a Package of Two Drinking Birds! Sign My Ass Up, Motherfuckers!

Link to poopular Blue Light Drinking Bird Special! [I'm letting that typo stand. It was too great to fix!]:

My brother had a drinky birdy. We used to fight over it. I forgot about them, until I saw this FABULOUS DEAL. Now, your ass can afford two drinking birds--one for each kiddie--and nobody will have to fight over that shit.

My ass is a drinky birdy, too. Just sit me in front of a glass of red wine, and watch me drink that shit up. Maybe I will change my blogging name to Sarcastic Drinky Birdy.

SB Idol: Marlon Brando

SB adores Marlon Brando. I even loved him after he got to be a fatty. I don't give a shit. Even as a fatty, Marlon was still cool. I particularly liked to watch him fuck with interviewers. His ass even made Larry King (Frog Face Larry), nervous. Now, that's power! When you have that sort of power, you have to use it carefully, or I guess you can just use it to fuck with people.

Marlon was one of my other favorite actor's (Jack Nicholson's) neighbors. Marlon once threatened to turn his home into a fan site/mausoleum when he died, just to get Jack all worked up. That's just how Marlon was. Like I say, he was always fucking with people.

Marlon also once asked his housekeeper to lock his gates to the estate from the outside so that he couldn't go out and pick up fast food. But then he got hungry, so he called McDonald's and told an employee there that he would give the guy $50.00 to drive up to the estate and throw some burgers and fries over the fence. That made me laugh. Marlon's ass knew he had resources. And it's a smart man who knows how to use resources, motherfuckers! Don't forget that.

One of my most treasured possessions, besides my life-sized bust of Elvis in primary colors, is a copy of Marlon's excellent autobiography that he autographed. It says, "To the October babies. Love, Marlon."

Creative Signage: Homeless Jedi

It's a Creative Signage two-fer today for you Star Wars fans out there.

Help a Jedi bitch out and feed this hungry warrior. It takes energy to do battle with the Evil Empire, motherfuckers! And don't you forget it.

Creative Signage: Classy Homeless Guy

Here's a homeless guy with some class. Hey, there's nothing wrong with being direct, people! Direct gets things done. Dude's a damn titty entrepreneur. I'd probably let him cop a feel, but only if he shared his ciggies with me. I'm no slut.

This Isn't Nice

And you know how much it worries me to be perceived as not nice! Yeah, right.

Anyhoo, SB's ass is hungover and tired today, and I'm a gonna say it--Beyonce's dumb fat ass drives me nuts. That ho is everywhere! You can't escape her. And the fact that this is so, makes me realize that Grandma Heeter was right--hell is right here on Earth.

[Caption: Beyonce's fat ass needs to lay off the fucking Fritos!]

I think I would vote Beyonce's fat ass off the planet BEFORE Paris Hilton's skank ass, and that's saying something. Better, we could vote them BOTH OFF THE DAMN PLANET!

Frankly, I didn't enjoy seeing Beyonce rubbing her nasty fat booty all over Hugh Jackman at the damn Oscars this year. Hugh's my damn man, and I am just sure that Beyonce grosses him out with her big old butt. He probably wished one of the guy dancers would rub all over him instead. I can't be certain.

And don't you damn Beyonce fans be trying to leave nasty comments here. I've got the Comment Moderation turned on because of that imbecilic turd, Loving Christian Dave Gee, God love him.

This is a gay-friendly, Beyonce-hating blog, and fuck off if you don't like it. I don't need your damn readership, if you are a Beyonce fan! I'm not that damn desperate! I don't think. If my readership goes down too much, I may post something pro-Beyonce. I'm a whore for stats, people!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Sara and Gerald Murphy

Not sure why, but I have been thinking about the Murphys today on and off. Maybe it's just the warm, sunny weather here in Ohio. The Murphys were always nice and tan because they spent a lot of time near the ocean, and Gerald was known to rake the beach at Antibes to make it a nicer and more aesthetically pleasing place for his friends to gather. Sara often wore her long string of pearls to the beach along with her bathing suit.

The Murphys were independently wealthy (Gerald's father was the founder of Mark Cross, the luxury goods store), and they lived their lives as high art. The Murphy's friends were mainly artists, as well. Their group of friends included: Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Cole Porter, Jean Cocteau, and Pablo Picasso. It was said that Fitzgerald had quite a crush on Sara Murphy. It is also believed that the Murphy's were the models for the characters of Dick and Nicole Diver in Fitzgerald's novel, Tender is the Night.

Gerald Murphy was a noted semi-abstract painter in his day. He also assisted on sets for Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes.

For having such bright, beautiful, promising young lives, the Murphys later years were filled with anguish. Gerald was forced to take over as President at Mark Cross (a job he detested), due to medical bills, and he never painted again. Both of the Murphy's sons died tragically young--one of TB and the other of meningitis.

Sara and Gerald were lovely and elegant and kind. They were even known to finance their artist friends who were down on their luck.

There are several good biographies of the Murphy's available if you want to read more about them. The books make for a nice summer read.

Hugh Jackman

Hugh Jackman has got to be one of the nicest guys in Hollywood.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Nicole Kidman's Younger Sister

Antonia is in fact three years YOUNGER than Nicole. I just found this interesting. I think she looks a good bit older than Nicole. Praise Botox!

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Even Johnny Depp Has Bad Hair Days

For Grey Gardens Fans

A Blast from the Past for You Oldies Like Me

Yes. Yes, it is. You are correctamundo--those of you who guessed the photo above is of a Popeel's Pocket Fisherman by Ronco--because you just never know when you're going get a wild hair up your ass and want to fish. This shit folds up and stores in your pocket, so you can fish anytime and anywhere you take a notion!

I don't know whether Ronco is still in business or not. I kind of sincerely doubt Ronco made it through the Bush years (I barely made it myself), but anyhoo. . . there for awhile, Ronco made fucking everything except a damn automobile. If you needed a popcorn popper or a lint roller, try Ronco. I think even my double-album Donny Osmond's Greatest Hits was pressed by Ronco. But that sort of brings back a tough childhood memory for SB.

I begged and whined at the Moms and daddums for the double-record Donny Osmond album WITH THE POSTER (from Ronco) for at least six-fucking-months, and then, when I finally received it on my birthday, I decided to take it into school for show-and-tell. I WANTED EVERYBODY TO KNOW WHAT A HUGE DONNY OSMOND FAN I WAS! I wanted all the kiddies to know what excellent taste in audio fare I had at such a tender age. And then, (TEAR!) walking out to the driveway to get in the car to go to school, SB was holding the album the wrong way (NOT BEING CAREFUL WITH MY PRECIOUS GIFT FROM HEAVEN), when one of the precious fucking records fell out of the sleeve and crashed onto the driveway. It was the record that had Puppy Love on it, too!

A GREAT BIG CHUNK chipped out of the cocksucking vinyl. I cried and cried and cried all over my Sear's Winnie-the-Pooh-and-Piglet-Too designer ensemble. It was heartbreaking.

SB had the SADS for over a week. The Moms and daddums told me that I had to learn an important lesson and learn to take care of my things.

BULLSHIT. I WANNA NEW GODDAMN DOUBLE-RECORD SET, I said. I really did. I actually said that. The rents knew, even at my tender young age, that stopping me from cursing was a lost cause. Their new mission was to teach location cursing--in other words, where cursing was most appropriate (home) and where it was not (out).

My Idol

SB wants to be just like Pats when she grows up. Wait, wait, right, yeah right, I already am. I can check that one off.

Don't Fall Over Peeps

But SB wore a dress into the office today. A dress and panty hose (butt bags) and heels. The Disdainful One, I kid you not, stared intently, mesmerized by my BYOO-TAY, the moment I came downstairs this morning. Maybe her ass just likes purple. If Mercer thinks I look attractive, by God, I'll wear this damn outfit EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN DAY. Why do we dress up, after all, if not to impress our cat? I make no apologies for being crazy.

Also, I have a question for you, my beloved readers (and I SINCERELY MEAN THAT--call me Sincere Bastard for just a moment), to ponder. When you don't dress up ALMOST EVER and you finally do, why do human beings think it's such a fucking stitch to ask: Have you got a job interview?

HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! (To quote my idol, Loving Christian Dave Gee, who adds color to this world, God fucking love him.)

Jesus REALLY DOES Love the Gays

I told you Dave Gee! You dumb motherfucker (but God bless you, because you add color to this world).

Post Dedicated to Loving Christian Dave Gee

Introducing the Jesus ashtray from Ronco. Okay, just kidding about the Ronco part.

Jesus HATES the sin, but he LOVES the sinner!

Monday, April 20, 2009

Sporty Jesus (Dedicated to Beth)

SB's sister-in-law is a pretty strong Catholic of the best possible sort (unlike BURN IN HELL Dave Gee). For some fucking reason, Beth loves the Scary Jesus feature, so SB has created a new Jesus feature in her horror (oops--I meant "honor"--although horror may be more truthful). We'll call the new feature Sporty Jesus.

This week we have Jesus the footballer. He is setting a poor example for the kiddies because his lofty Ass refuses to wear a helmet. Also, the kid with the ball feels forced to just hand over the football to the Jeez, because who in Sam hell is going to be brave enough to score a point on the Son of God? But then again, who wears a damn dress and sandals to play football? Jesus looks like a sissy. He's asking for a beat down.

Another Thing to Be Pissed About

As if SB needed something else to be mad about! I had a buy-one-get-one-free Quarter Pounder coupon, and like my FAVORITE PRESIDENT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, BUBBA, my fat ass loves the McDonald's! So, I am sitting there eating my damn samich, when I notice that McDonald's has "upgraded" to real ACTUAL onions, instead of the old faithful dehydrated ones. What's up with that shit? I liked the dried onions! Surely, they were more cost effective.

Can I talk to that bitch Ronald about this shit? I HAVE A DAMN COMPLAINT, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS AT CORPORATE!

Guess I Spoke Too Soon

I guess I spoke too soon about Alec having better pinheads than me, because I attracted that very same loving-spirited Christian, Dave Gee, the King of the Pinheads. You're not really somebody as a blogger until you get your first warped Christian stalker.

I particularly enjoyed the BURN IN HELL comment, where Loving Christian Dave types BURN IN HELL and then HA! over and over. Clearly, he's a very literate, as well as loving guy, and he's got a lot of time on his hands there in the mental hospital. It just confirms everything I said in the Gay Rights post about Christians who don't understand the first thing about Christ.

Dave, you are a fucking-imbecilic-pinheaded-dipshit-moron, but I still love you, because you add color to this world.

However, no offense, but if you are going to heaven, then frankly I'd much prefer hell. Besides, I'm still hoping there will be an open bar in hell, lots of techno music, and a gay dance-off. It would be ironic if you wound up there also for being such a hater. I don't think anyone's going to want to dance with you.

Very sincerely,

Sarcastic Bastard

p.s. Thanks to the King of the Pinheads, I will now be following Lou's suggestion and using Comment Moderation. One asshole always ruins things for everybody else. Thanks, Dave!

Sunday, April 19, 2009

I'm Sort of Jealous

I'm sort of jealous because Alec B. is attracting better pinheads than I am over on his blog. Check out the comments on his entry today.


The Disdainful One: No Respect for Zen

Last night I was awakened to the sight of the Disdainful One, trashing my Zen meditation garden. It's one of those little Buddha and stone-filled sand gardens, where you can make a sorry-assed attempt at raking the sand and getting lost in the doing, when things are stressful. It's SUPPOSED TO BE a calming activity. Maybe the Disdainful one was raking the sand with her damn claws and trying to find serenity. Who knows with cats?

Anyhoo, there was sand on the fucking coffee table and sand all over the damn carpet this morning. I tried to be contemplative as my ass swept up the mess, but it was kind of difficult. I'm not sure I make a very good Buddhist. I'm a little tightly-wound for Zen.

I still don't know what the attraction of the Zen meditation garden is for the Disdainful One. I just cleaned her damn litter box yesterday, so. . . She also has this strange reaction to candles (loves them) and Buddhist chanting. I went through a period where I was chanting, and Disdainful's ass tried to chant too. She kept meowing and rubbing on me the whole time I was trying to get lost in the chant. It was a little distracting. I didn't know whether she was trying to join me or distract me from attaining Enlightenment. Who the fuck knows with cats?

Maybe Mercer and I were Buddhist monks together in a former life. Obviously, if we were, this is a not a beneficent reincarnation for either of us. We must have been lazy Buddhists. One of us got turned into a cat and the other is a depressed motherfucker.

Evil Witchy Cat Fight

Yes, we have a cat theme here today, people. SB thinks the noises that cats make when they are fighting are eerie as shit. It sounds all witchy and evil. I actually got a shiver up my spine watching this clip. The one cat is a real talker, man. It's WAY obvious who is dominant in this face off.

Cat with a Live Lollipop

The best thing about this viddy is the music. It makes me laugh, but you have to listen to the whole thing. Can you say CATCHY, motherfuckers? I think they ought to sign the singing pussies to a recording contract.

Tim Freedman: Buy Now Pay Later

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Wanda Sykes Commercial for Fatal Flaw

Fatal, this one's for you. I posted this before, but I didn't know whether you had seen it or not, living in England.

A Very Important Response to the Harvey Milk Quote

I am linking to my friend, Fatal Flaw's, very intelligent and thoughtful response to the Harvey Milk quote I posted yesterday. Please go over to Fatal's site and read it. It is well worth your time.

Link to Fatal Flaw's response:

Friday, April 17, 2009

Another Entrepreneur

Lay Off the Eye Makeup, Pammie

Damn. This ho needs to lay off the damn eye makeup! At a certain point in life, methinks that too much makeup just accentuates the fact that a ho is "of a certain age."

Bitch needs to throw down the trowel.

Okay, now I'll say something nice. Pammie is good-hearted and does a lot on behalf of animal welfare. So, SB can't hate on her too much.

Quote of the Day

All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.

--Harvey Milk

A Rant: Paterson and Gay Rights

I don't like Governor Paterson for a variety of reasons, and I think he's doing this to help his flagging political career, but the struggle for Gay Rights IS the same as the Civil Rights struggle. Of course it is.

I'm not gay (I don't think), but I have a lot of gay friends, and you either believe ALL (WO)MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL, or you don't. I emphatically DO. It's what made this country great and will make it so again, once the ingorance is waded through.

Why can't everybody just let everybody else live in this country? It's certainly none of my damn business if another couple of adults wants to get married. And it's not yours either! I'm talking to you pinheads out there! It's nobody's damn business but the couple marrying. Have some sense.

Jesus didn't treat people like crap and demean them and make them feel bad about themselves, and if you're persecuting people in His name, you don't understand the first thing about Him. You had better get your Bible out and read it AGAIN.

It's embarrassing and insulting to me as a human being that in 2009, the issue of gay marriage is even STILL an issue. We might as well burn infidels and live in the damn Dark Ages for all the ignorance and stupidity abounding.

I'm with Harvey Milk--who is a great patriot and my hero and also was a very decent human being--we should ALL be OUTRAGED about this treatment of gay people. This persecution is bullshit and it's totally unconstitutional. Here's a photo of Harvey, because I love him, and they may have killed him, but they didn't still his voice or his spirit. Right will win in the end. It almost always does.

If you can't tell, this is an issue I feel VERY STRONGLY about, and I am fucking well past the point of being polite about it. Polite doesn't get things done. I don't want my younger family members to think I sat on my ass and did nothing while this insanity went on. I don't want them to be ashamed of me, as they would almost certainly be if I didn't speak up about this. And rightly so.

Frankly, if you are not gay-friendly, I don't want your ass reading my damn blog. Your hatred is not welcome here.

And remember, right will win in the end.

This article is from the NY Post this morning.


Comparing his crusade to legalize gay marriage to the country's epic civil-rights struggles, Gov. Paterson yesterday hitched his falling star to a controversial, and likely doomed, bill to allow same-sex unions in New York.

"We have all felt the pain and the insult of hatred. That is why we are all standing here today . . . We stand to tell the world we want marriage equality in New York state," he said.

If the measure passes, New York would become the fifth state -- after Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa and Vermont -- to allow gay marriage.

But that's a very big if.

Religious leaders will fight hard to defeat the bill. Archbishop Timothy Dolan spoke against gay marriage Wednesday -- the very day he was installed as head of the powerful New York Archdiocese.

The bill also faces an uphill state Senate battle. Several members of Paterson's party have come out swinging against it, including Ruben Diaz of The Bronx.

"It's a challenge the governor is sending to every religious person in New York, and the time for us has come for us to accept the challenge," said Diaz, an evangelical pastor.

Several other Senate Democrats -- whose party has only a two-vote majority -- have said they oppose a same-sex marriage bill.

Even some supporters have questioned the wisdom of bringing it to a vote, fearing failure would ruin chances for future legislation.

But Paterson yesterday insisted, "Civil rights don't wait for the right time."

Paterson -- whose poll approval ratings are at a historic low -- dismissed speculation that he was backing the bill to draw attention from his widely panned $132 billion budget plan. He said he has been an outspoken advocate on the issue since 1994, and noted he championed the same-sex marriage legislation in 2007 that failed in the state Senate.

"If I didn't introduce the bill, you could get up and say, 'Is the reason you're not introducing the bill because of your lack of popularity after the budget?' " he said.

Paterson, dismissed criticism from Dolan, saying, "I was christened Catholic . . . But this is a civil government."

Standing by Paterson was Mayor Bloomberg, who said, "I don't think the government should be in the business of telling us who we can or who we cannot marry."

Also on hand was City Council Speaker Christine Quinn, as well as the bill's sponsors, Sen. Tom Duane and Assemblyman Daniel O'Donnell, all of whom are gay Democrats.

The bill will give gay couples 1,324 rights that they are currently denied, Paterson said. They include the right not to testify against a spouse and to automatically get a late partner's pension. Other rights are more trivial, like one that gives the spouses of horse-track stakeholders free passes for races.

Meanwhile, Lee Miringoff, a pollster at Marist College, said that the governor is "trying to develop a constituency" by lending support to the bill, "but ultimately, the economy is where things will matter for him in terms of public support."

sKILLz: Children Lost

My friend, sKILLz, posted an eye-opening entry on her blog called Children Lost. sKILLz is a very kind-hearted person who has overcome a lot in her life, and I thought this particular post was important for people to read. I feel very fortunate to have grown up in a small town and to have had a safe, comfortable childhood. A lot of people are not so lucky. Link to sKILLz blog entry below.

Another Cold Case: Lyle Stevik

If you like mysteries, this case is for you. I have been fascinated by it for a long time. There is a lot of information on this case out on the Web, if you want to explore further.

There are about three different forum sections on Lyle over at Websleuths alone. One of the commenters is the detective that did the original investigative work on the Stevik crime scene. I believe his name on the forum is Cold Case Man.

Link to Lyle Stevik case:

Poor Lyle. He must have family that misses him somewhere.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Blow Up the Pokies

I don't know what this song means, but I love it.

The Keddie Murders

Awhile back, I mentioned that I'm a true crime fan. Below is a link to another of those unsolved cases that haunts me. Check out this very interesting link that provides photos, back news articles, and a discussion forum for the Keddie Cabin Murder Case.

Keddie Murder Web site:

There is a lot of squabbling and infighting in the discussion forum, but there is still some good information to be had there. Besides, SB loves infighting! It makes life interesting.

God bless the poor Sharp and Wingate families. This is literally a hell on Earth for some people.

WARNING: This case is not for the squeamish or easily disturbed.

Okay, Now I Get It

I think Jerry O'Connell is creepy as shit. I don't know how Rebecca R. can sleep with his fug ass. Now I understand where Jerry gets his good looks from. His parents. Okay, I know it's mean, but it's true. You be the judge, motherfuckers! I can't make up your minds.

At the very least, Jerry should take the rents to Lenscrafters and get their asses some updated eyewear! They look like members of fucking Devo. [I know Devo are from Ohio. Shut up.]

I Knew He Was Dumb, But Jesus

Our favorite little stoned naked bongo-er has outdone the dumb. Quote of the day from Matthew McConaughey below. How big of a dolt would you have to be to admit this to a reporter? Lay off the toke, Matty. It's turning your brain into swiss cheese. Cute, but el dumbo.

"From checking out Playboy I always thought — jeezum, we still don’t have a better word for it than vagina, do we? —I thought it was behind the pubic hair, and it faced horizontal. You know, east/west, not south. So the first time I got to third base, man, I was hunting for a long time."

Also, who the hell says jeezum? Well shucks, SB hereby proposes that we start a campaign to add the word jeezum back into common language usage, along with davenport and libation. I personally use libation ALL THE TIME!

New SB Feature: Creative Signage

This month's winner! And he's sort of working that Johnny Depp Pirates of the Carribean thing, too. My ass can't resist that shit.

This man represents the best of the American spirit, people. Can you say entrepreneur?

Crackhead Barbie

Can you help a bitch out? This ho needs some Frizz-Ease and panties. Pony up, motherfuckers!

Hurry Only 14 Days Left to Vote in the SB Best Serial Killer Poll!

Okay, I just thought that subject line was funny. I'm tired today, and my ass is punchy. I stayed up late last night watching (don't laugh, you fuckers) Marley & Me. SB cried and wept and cried and wept copious tears of complete and utter sadness. Did I mention I cried? I clutched the diarrhetic Wunderkind and sobbed. It frightened her in a big way. She tried to run away from me, but I held on. Anyhoo. . .

I try to rent girlie or more arty movies when Mr. SB is on the business travel, because they bore the shit out of him. I like cute puppies and Owen Wilson, so there you have it. I was sort of embarrassed when the young man at the Blockbuster checked me out. It's such a goddamn schmaltzy movie. I had to ask him when The Wrestler would be coming out because I didn't want him to think I was totally tasteless when it came to rental fare. Don't ask me why I give a shit, but I do. I don't care what the people close to me think most of the time, but it is DAMN IMPORTANT that the 20 year old at Blockbuster approve of me.

I don't know where I'm going with this post, so don't look for a damn point. It was just a chance to post this really cute picture of PUPPIES!! (The photo is dedicated to my friend, sKILLz, because we really dig animals.)

IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: Notice the CUTE PUPPIES were photographed sitting in a Papasan chair. Does anybody still sell this 70s shit? I'm just curious. My brother's fat-ass best friend busted a big hole in his Papasan chair and ruined that classic retro antique. Fucker.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The Old Flaming Thumb Trick

Amaze your crackhead friends!

This is the kind of shit that one particular side (the drunken side) of my family would find hysterical. This trick would be big entertainment to their loaded asses at a family barbeque.

If you are so inclined to order this shit, here's another link:

SB is not responsible for explosions or fires.

Classic Alec B. at De-evolvinG

Kiddies, there's classic Alec Beattie over at De-evolvinG today. For you lazy motherfuckers, here's the damn link:

Bookmark that shit, so I don't forever be having to post the damn link. I'm busy! I've got a semi-diarrhetic dog, a skinny cat, the clinical depression, a house to take care of, and a full-time DAMN job. I don't have the time to be copying and pasting hyperlinks for your lazy asses all the time!

But I digress. Today's post is a diatribe against oldies and the Evil Empire. Go figure.

[There's also a new scientific photo of the Loch Ness Monster in the Clydebank fucking Puddle.]

Be nice, if you visit Alec's blog, in the interest of Scottish/American relations. Don't embarrass me, motherfuckers! A lot of the world already thinks Americans are PIGS. You don't need to go proving that shit.

If you're wondering how the photo ties in with this post, the couple are supposed to be freakish fat-assed knee-socks-with-baggy-shorts wearin' fucktard American tourists. In other words, Floridians. The rest of the world can't wait to see the damn back of them. Actually, we feel the same way in Georgia.

Let's See More Votes for Aileen

SB has a damn bone to pick. What's wrong with you sexist motherfuckers that Aileen Wournos is so far behind in the Sarcastic Bastard Best Serial Killer poll? Women can be just as vicious as men, people. Trust me--we think about killing you men on a daily basis (ask Wanda Sykes).

Good thing for your asses that we ponder and cool down some before we kill!

Aileen skipped the ponder part. That ho just went for it.


Real Doll of the Month for Swedish Lovers

This month's Real Doll is for you lovers of blond, blue-eyed Swedish types. Her ass reminds me of Brit Ekland or some shit. And don't be writing me if Brit Eckland isn't Swedish! You get my point here. I don't need damn fact-checkers reading my blog. I don't need your damn data, motherfuckers.

One of my old bosses needed data to support everything. His motherfucking ass was like Spock. In the midst of sex with his wife, Cherie, he probably needed to see data to be sure she came, which she didn't, because she was an utter bitch and walked around with a damn stick the size of a goal post up her ass.

Pussy-Throwing Ho Off the Hook

From my favorite newspaper, the NY Post, this morning. Comments in brackets are mine obviously.


"Project Runway" finalist Kenley Collins avoided having to don drab prison duds yesterday after pleading guilty to disorderly conduct for hurling a cat at her fiancé.

The plea deal means Collins, 26, has to stay out of trouble for a year, but otherwise won't have a criminal record. She's also required to refrain from throwing any more cats at -- or even seeing -- ex-fiancé Zak Penley.

"I went through hell and back over this," Collins told The Post. [SO DID THE CAT.]

Collins was initially charged with second-degree assault, a felony, but charges were quickly reduced.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Here's Some Nausea To Go with Your Breakfast

The shoes were an interesing choice. I'm afraid to focus on any other portion of the picture because I might go blind.

Thank me later for posting this, bitches!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Evil Dolls -- the Horror, the Horror!

If you are one of my regular readers, you know all about SB's weird doll phobia. I think dolls (& mannequins) are creepy as hell. I just know the mannequins are talking about me when I'm in a store--they talk with damn telepathy, people--just because your dumb ass can't hear them doesn't mean it's not occurring!

I don't even like to sleep with any kind of doll in the room with me. Take the Cher doll, for instance. The Moms had to put her out under the Christmas tree, or my ass refused to sleep in my bedroom, the Christmas that Santa brought her. See photo below and maybe your dumb impoverished ass will understand why.

You can imagine my horror at encountering the viddy below over at Dlisted. I may have to get all of my stepdaughter's damn dolls out of the house before I can get some shut-eye tonight! This is one of the grossest things I have EVER seen IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!

Leech Women Tribute *PUPPET MASTER* - video powered by Metacafe

This clip really gives SB the yucks! My stomach actually feels queasy. Evil dolls!!!!!!!!!!!

Did I mention I also have a thing about doll hair? My appetite goes away if I so much as see a doll on a commercial while I am eating. It just totally gags me. [There is a story here, but we're not sharing that one today.]

IDEA: Maybe I should start carrying a doll around all the time so I can finally lose that stubborn 20 pounds!

I could write a book: The New Doll Diet. It could be a bestseller, people! I don't need your damn negativity. I have enough of my own.