Saturday, January 31, 2009

Don't Cross Me, I've Got a Disembodied Monkey Head!

[Actual Ad Copy]

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."

Chinese Gymnast Falls

When people fall, why is it funny NO MATTER WHAT? Why is it even funnier when it is a Chinese person?

Roomba Pussy!

Now, this shit is Entertainment, with a capital E!

Cat Toes

SB has a thing for cat toes. It just sends me into hyperdrive when Mercer does cat toe stretch and extends each little toe out separately! I just have to do the this little piggy thing! Which she hates. And then the Disdainful One attacks me, and I have to go back to work with blood dripping down my wrists and sutures on my mangled hands, but it's the price of feline love, people! Well worth it, well worth it.

Anyhoo, I just ran across this excellent picture of cat toes! Bonus: There are even EXTRA toes on this moggy. I don't know which is better--the picture of Jan in her pink wig or the close up of the cat toes. You be the damn judge, people. I can't make up your minds!

My Special (Needs) Girlfriend, Jan Crouch of TBN

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

The Osmonds: Crazy Horses

If you don't understand the frenetic beauty, the sheer fucking artistry of this shit, SB can't help you. And don't be making fun of the outfits or the dancing. It was the 70's, man! I'll bet your ass had some funky shitty clothes from the damn Sears catalog, too!

Toilet Paper: The Untold Story of the Civil War

Mr. SB: [closing a book] That was a really fact-filled book about the Civil War. Man, the details were unbelievable.

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.

Black Toilet Paper! Whaaaaa?

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.

Uhmmmm, okay.

Overheard Conversation

Comment: It's okay to hunt. I eat what I kill.

Reply: So did Jeffrey Dahmer.

[Okay, okay, I made the reply.]

I Just Like the Damn Picture, OK?

Say Something Nice!

Uhhhhhhhhhh, I really like the hat?

Survey Says. . .

A really cool friend of mine, who like SB, has no life (his words, not mine) sent this to me to fill out yesterday. SB loves surveys!

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

Thanks, Tom!

Here Andy Comes to Save the Day!

It's Friday, and SB is a little less grouchy than usual. Just a little, people! I was singing this shit to the cat and dog this morning.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

I Just Like the Damn Picture, OK?

Methodists Have the Attention Spans of Gerbils

Comment I overheard after a Lutheran church service:

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.]

Ugly Ass Doll of the Month

"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"

--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!

Dead People I Admire: Mr. Humphries

The lovely, sweet John Inman.

Multiple Scary Jesuses

Okay, this one picture knocks out like the next several months of Scary Jesus postings because there are like five scary fuckers here. (I know, I know, I just called Jesus a fucker. I'm taking the short bus to hell. Apologies to His Kingship Incarnate.) I'm bad at the math. I think there are five anyway. I'm a damn English major, not a goddamn Statistics major, you fucks!

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!

This Pussy's Got Attitude!

I Want This Fucker's Job

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!

Early Morning Bagism with Mercer

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.


Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Say Something Nice!

Dog Rape Girl

How can you not watch something entitled, Dog Rape Girl? There is nothing so funny as fruitless dog humping! I hope their nasty asses washed the damn bedspread AFTER.

The Joaqster Is a Grouchy Bitch

You've probably already seen this, but I just love to watch Joaquin get huffy! We are so much alike, we are practically THE SAME GROUCHY PERSON! Okay, I was having a Stalker Ed moment there. I'm over it now.

SB Has a Case of the Sads

This gave me the sads. If you are younger than me (you will have to guess--we are not going there), you will not understand the true hotness this piece once possessed (more pictures of hot piece Jan at bottom of post). I really don't think Jan was bigger than Brad Pitt though. That ho Victoria's greedy journalistic ass was stretching to try and capture a larger viewing audience!

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.


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!

Ed's Whole Fucking Problem in a Nutshell

I'm reading this big dork's journal (long story--it was for public consumption--which makes Ed an even bigger dumb ass) for entertainment purposes. Okay, SB is mean. We've established that. Moving on. Background: Ed's sorry, hopeless ass is obsessed with this girl he works with, named Elizabeth. Every entry is about Elizabeth's slightest little word or gesture. Elizabeth doesn't know Ed's dumb ass exists. He mistakes common decency for interest, people, as so often happens.

I just sent an e-mail to my friend L. with some of the better passages from the journal.

Note: I've changed the names and parts of some of the passages in the e-mail I sent L., which is reproduced below, in order to protect the innocent and the hopeless (sounds like a soap opera), but the e-mail essentially read:

I am so gagging right now. Could this guy be a bigger dork potentially? An excellent Elizabeth day today? Whaaaaa? I'm going to fucking puke. He managed to be spontaneous today. That's Ed's whole fucking problem in a nutshell. The guy is a scary stalking motherfucker as far as I'm concerned. He's also a pretentious grammarian!

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.

Of course, I was eager to converse, but I was also determined not to force it. This was not difficult to achieve, as it was another busy hour, though I somehow managed to avoid a customer, while Elizabeth had at least five. I felt badly for her, and when I was relieved by Megan to go to the back, I looked sadly back at Elizabeth. I even started a step back toward her, about to offer to relieve her until her replacement came out, but I knew Sam was waiting upstairs for me to relieve him.

But I couldn't go straight upstairs. Genevieve's next interview had arrived that hour, and I'd seated her to wait. At the end of the hour and my time at the front, I needed to seek out Genevieve and let her know the young lady was here.

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?"

The results were immediate and wordless: John switched out, and I went looking for Genevieve, who I found still in her office with a prior candidate. This I informed Ms. Thompson, her four o'clock interview. Just as I reached the door, Elizabeth all but staggered in from the desk, like a returning warrior. I could've sworn that I heard victory cheers! I said to her, "I had to pull some strings to get you off the desk," and Denitra said, "Yeah, he was yelling and waving his arms around..."

Elizabeth looked at me and said, "I guess it's you I have to thank." Embarrassed at seeming to want to take cudos, my mind stumbled in reply. "Well it wasn't really what I was after, but I'll accept your thanks." All Elizabeth needed to say at this point was, "What were you after?" to make me blurt out: "Your undying love!" or something equally as revealing. Ah, but she didn't. The entire episode nearly overwhelmed me with a pride at the compassion spontaneously unleashed on Elizabeth's behalf. I think I've said all I can here, without cheapening the moment by basking in my own heroism.

Okay, This Shit Has Just Gone Entirely Too Far Now

Somebody's ass needs to get the Joaqster some help. This is no longer funny--its, well frankly, delusional. I have to say I am fond of Joaquin, we're both grouchy bitches, and I tried to be supportive of him in his career changes from actor to homeless person to rapper to homeless person, but SB just can't support this shit. I AM NOT ON BOARD WITH THIS, JOAQUIN.

Sacrificing For My Co-Workers

After writing that post admiring T.'s self-sacrificing nature towards his co-workers, I just went into the restroom stall and was too lazy to put a new roll of toilet paper on the rod. I did unwrap a new roll for the next person, people. I did sacrifice for my co-workers some!

My Lovely Co-Worker, T.

It is snowing to beat shit here AGAIN today, so you know what that means. The talk of weather abounds! ALL DAY it will abound MORE! Godfuckingdammit. Many of the schools and even some places of toil (work) are closed. Not mine, of course, and since I only live about two miles from my place of toil, it wouldn't look good to call out for snow, especially since one of my co-workers drove in from fucking Siberia in this tiny little microscopic piece-of-rice-on-wheels Toyota.

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.

Barack and the Constitution

Well said, well said. I couldn't agree more.

Thanks Dear Aunt for the link!

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Shit-for-Brains Imbecile of the Day

It's that BIG FAT SWEATY CRACKHEAD, Rush Limbaugh! Can you imagine having to kiss this big fat-ass piece of lard? Listening to him talk would be worse though.

Dead People I Admire: Rick James

He's Rick James, bitch! I learned everything I know about fashion from this man. When I'm shopping, I always ask myself: Would Rick James wear this shit? If I can't picture Rick's ass in it, it doesn't go in the shopping cart.

Not in a Charitable Mood Today

SB is a grouchy, uncharitable motherfucker today. It is snowing (again), and I hate the cold and goddamn snow. I just want to stay at home and snuggle with the Disdainful One.

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!

Be a Damn Parent! Check Your Kid's Homework

Dear Mrs. Jones,

I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it. Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole. It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot.From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.

Mrs. Smith

Thanks, Libby!

Gorgeous Pete Burns on Graham Norton

Here is SBs fave, Pete Burns, on Graham Norton. It's an oldie, but a goody. There's a bit of a sound issue on this one, but what the hell--you can still watch Pete's beautiful goddess face even without the sound.

Some Danceable George Michaels Shit

Ok, so I know it's actually George Michael, but I had a friend who thought it was George Michaels, so I still call him that shit. SB REALLY ADORES George Michaels, and yes, I was a Wham fan, too, though Andrew Ridgeley was sort of useless as far as I could tell. George's ass was jumping around in short shorts when I was still in high school. CHOOSE LIFE!

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

I Done Went and Fucked Up International Relations

I guess SB done went and fucked up international relations with my If It's Not Scottish, It's Crap post. It's ironic that I was afraid some of you dumb asses might embarrass my precious ass.

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 .

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.

It Pays to Be a Shit Poet After You're Dead Anyway

I'll bet the Queen's ass was glad she was out when William called round to be Poet Laureate. It saved her from hearing hours of his damn poetry, because you just know he was a big-ass bore, who overdid the dramatics. I'd have beheaded his ass if he started reading that shit to me. His poetry was the suck.

'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: 2008/05/16 14:19:54 GMT© BBC MMIX
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Scotland's Worst Poet: William McGonagall

I ran across a Web site for the man who is commonly and rightly acknowledged as Scotland's worst poet. In retrospect, I think he may qualify as the ENTIRE WORLD'S worst poet. You be the damn judge! I can't make up your minds!

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).

Jottings of New York

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.]

Cher on Graham Norton

Graham Norton is Sarcastic Bastard's favorite chat show host. He was over here in America for awhile, but he couldn't find a damn audience, and his show didn't work out. Surivivor and stupid American Idol worked out, but we couldn't find an audience for genius like Graham. Okay, so that makes sense.

You dumb network fucks ought to give Graham another shot! Maybe he was just too saucy for American audiences. Saucy means fun!

If It's Not Scottish, It's Crap!

Due to my questionable literary talent, I have made a new virtual friend (we are virtually friends, though I've never met him), named Alec B. You can check out his hysterical blog at: I think I know talent damn it, and Alec's got talent!

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.

Do You Have a Flag?

SB's Favorite Comedian: Eddie Izzard

Here's Eddie on religion. He's a cross-dresser, people. You know how I love cross-dressers!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

The Timeless Cary Grant

Ah, Cary. What more to say? The perfect male, the perfect physical specimen, the perfect gentleman. How poor we all look by comparison. Not that he'd have held it against us.

The Fabulous 80s: Skid Row

I was watching my favorite show, Rock of Love Bus, when a commercial for an 80s heavy metal compilation CD came on. They showed a clip of the 18 and Life viddy with the beautiful Sebastian Bach of Skid Row. It reminded me that 20 years or so ago, Baz and I were both young and gorge. Now we're both a little fat and bloated, but we still have good hair, and we still have our rockin' senses of humor.

This one goes out to Baz. Love you, man.

La Pequena Sarah Palin

Here's La Pequena's hot ass as Sarah Palin. La Pequena means the small for all you dumb fucks out there who don't understand Spanish. You need to learn a second language, because I don't have time to always be translating for your dumb asses.

La Pequena Sarah Palin is packing in that swimsuit! EL GRANDE Sarah Palin!!

A Public Service Announcment from Pee-Wee Herman

I think the clip below takes on all sorts of shades of creepy with Pee-Wee being so uncharacteristically serious BUT STILL IN THE MAKEUP. Don't you?

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.

I've Known Truckers with Cleaner Mouths

The title of this post was something my dad said to me once when I was a teenager. [And don't all you Christian truck drivers with your anti-abortion messages on the sides of your goddamn trucks get all offended and start making nasty comments either. I find your anti-abortion messages just as offensive! I don't want to be subjected to fetuses, when I'm just driving down the highway, minding my own business. I realize that I'm stereotyping truck drivers as foul-mouthed for this post, but we've all heard the talk on the CBs man, and it ain't pretty.]

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

SB Featured Viddy: Airbag Generation

Airbags indeed! Here is the great and talented Lolo Ferrari, starring in her hit music video, Airbag Generation. I've heard worse, people! I know you're thinking some nasty-ass thoughts about Lolo's talent. Be nice. Don't make Lolo use her humongous tittays as weapons!

Dead Porn Star of the Month: Lolo Ferrari

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.

Important Questions About CBS News Story

Check out this CBS News story. Here is the link. Once again, I can't embed this shit (network fucks!).

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!!

I'd Eat Kraft Dinner with Brad Pitt and Then Get Lypo

This was the song running through my head this morning as I did my soul-fulfilling house frau work. I had to post this shit live version instead of the official video because the corporate fucks at Barenaked Ladies record company disabled the embedding function on all the official videos. I mean, the Barenakeds are working a cruise in this dumb-ass live video. The record company's being a bit lofty to not allow embedding, don't you think?

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.

The Cute: Courtney Blair Cameron

While searching for some help with my binge-eating disorder last night, SB had the pleasure of running across some viddys by the adorable Courtney Blair Cameron, a recovering anorectic.

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.

More Libby, Less Arty Shit

This is my friend, Libby, hosting a local program called Culture Scene at the Dayton Visual Arts Center.

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!

The Mazers Are Assholes

The latest in the saga of the closing of the Mazer Corporation is below. Unbelievable that the Mizers treated their loyal employees like this. May they rot. Marshall Mazer is likely rolling in his grave right now. Way to go David and Cherie! You may have ruined a great company, but at least you have your milions to keep you warm. How you sleep at night is beyond me. I guess there's always Ambien.

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

SB Style Icon: Shelly from Celebrity Rehab

Predicting My Own Death: Pancreatic Cancer

I may not post anymore today because my pancreas is hurting again. There is just sort of a dull pain on and off in my pancreatic area. This happens from time to time, and I generally piss and moan about it to anyone who will listen.

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.

Elliott Smith Waltz #2

Dead People I Admire: Elliott Smith

This is my favorite picture of Elliott. I will post a viddy for those of you who have never heard of his ass before.


Kanye West was talking about having some grey in his beard on his blog, so he said the above sentence in ALL CAPS, of course, because Kanye gets a little over-excited about shit. He's always yelling.

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

SB's Omentum-Reducing Fitness Plan

Since you kind readers (shiftless motherfuckers) haven't exactly been forthcoming with the dieting tips, SB has been forced to come up with her own damn fitness plan. I have been jogging twice this week so far, and I have run a combined total of 1.5 miles! Boy, am I tired. The only problem I have, is that while my omentum may shrink, my TITTAYS are going to wind up hanging to my fucking waist because I refuse to wear a damn sports bra.

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.


SB Is on the Road to Being REALLY BIG in Japan!

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.

Overheard at the Office

It's good to be bisexual. It doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night.

[Okay, I said it.]

Pussy Anarchy

One cat going one way, one cat going the other way--it's pussy anarchy! I ought to get the Queen of this Damn Blog, Mercer, one of these wheels. Her fat ass needs it!

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.

The Smiths Panic on the Streets of London

The Smiths are all I have been listening to lately. I think it's their sunny optimism as a band. Here is one of SB's fave viddys for your entertainment. SB is always thinking about keeping your precious asses entertained. Burn down the disco! Hang the blessed DJ!

Clearly this was a BIG BUDGET production. They had to procure the Queen's crown, people! Damn.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Scary Doll of the Month

How would you get any sleep with this Baby Jane Hudson doll in the damn room? Personally, I thought the real Bette Davis was scary enough. She had the beady-wonk eye going on. She also didn't like wire hangers! What did she use, that Chinese plastic shit?

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:

Help I Have Two Butts!

[Wasn't this ho singing at the inaugural yesterday? Didn't I just see her somewhere?]

Can you SB readers help a bitch out and send me any good diet/exercise tips? On second thought, I really don't want to get off the couch or miss the 10,00 reality TV shows I watch, so just send me diet tips. You can e-mail them to SB at or just put them in the comments section of this post. And be nice. I'm a little sensitive right now.

I used to make fun of fat-ass motherfuckers, with their loaded, Cheetos-laden carts at places like the Sam's Club. I called such hapless grossoids: double-butters, because they had butts in the front AND in the back. But now my fat-ass is starting to swing around to the front, too. It's like your ass has only so much capacity, and finally, when it's all full-up, the fat swings around, and a second butt is born. Lo, a second butt is born! This shit does not make for an attractive profile in the bathroom mirror. It makes it very difficult to sing Womanizer and pretend that you're Britney, bitch.

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.]

So, help a bitch out and send your tips SOON, before my omentum attacks Earth, and Will Smith has to do some macho shit to save us all.

May I Share this Greatness with You?

It's a slow posting day, but I went home and had lunch with Mercer and Ginger, and now I no wanta workee! How could you want to come back to work when you have this hotness at home?

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.

Here's a Natural Photograph for You

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

SB's Beautiful Idol of Glamour: Pete Burns

Dutch Reporter Laughs at Victim of Operation Mistake

Like this reporter, I have a BAD tendency to laugh hysterically at totally inappropriate times, like during funerals or lame-ass company presentations.

I'm Still Laughing. . .

Somebody done fucked up in the newsroom!

Big Shout Out to Uncle Ted Kennedy!

A big shout out to everybody's uncle, Ted Kennedy! We love you! We admire your selfless sacrifice to our country and your courage. Get well soon.

I Can't Help Myself

In the spirit of the inauguration today, I wasn't going to post anything partisan, but this popped into my mind while viewing the ceremony. I can't help myself. [If you want nice, go visit Marie Osmond's damn site!]

He's just a warped, frustrated old man!

Happy Inauguration Day, America!

SB is taking the day off work in order to watch the inauguration. My cold stone creamery heart was momentarily warmed by the sight of Muhammed Ali arriving in the VIP box at the festivities.

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

Chimpanzee Riding a Scooter Thingee

I think we should have a scooter-riding contest between this chimpanzee and President Bush (He's going to have a lot of time on his hands here soon, people. He won't have to be fucking up the country 24/7 anymore.) I'll put my money on the chimp. The chimp will be in the next country, and W. will still be trying to figure out which direction to face on the scooter!

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.

What Happened to This Ho?

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!"

Goodbye You Fuck Fucking Fucker

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

Bust a Nut for America!

I just received an e-mail from President Obama imploring all of us to bust a nut (okay, he was a little more eloquent than that) and work hard to make America a better place to live. If I had known that Barack would expect me to work at all, let alone HARD, I would have voted for somebody else. I really just wanted a candidate who was going to fix everything themselves and leave me be. (Just kidding. Sort of.) That's what Americans really want, I think--to be left the hell alone.

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.

That's So Straight

You have to admit, he's got a point about the President. More Chris Crocker.

Mormons, Chris Crocker Will Get Married!

SB is thinking of inviting Chris Crocker to my next dinner party, along with a few Mormons, Evangelical Christians, and a few uptown social league type white women. Of course copious liquor will be served!

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

Warm Family Memories

Mr. Sarcastic Bastard: It's a shame they're letting the old strip mall decline like this.

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

Psychic Therapy with Pete Burns, Pt. 1

Obviously, I'm on a roll with the Pete Burns Admiration Society this weekend (see previous post). I ran across this clip tonight on YouTube, and I am only posting Part 1. You can go to YouTube if you want to finish watching the other parts, but it reminded me of another reason that I really admire Pete--his brutal honesty.

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.

Sarcastic Bastard Adores Pete Burns!

This is how many of you may remember Pete Burns, formerly of the eighties band Dead or Alive.

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.

What in Fuck's Sake Happened to This Guy?

Can you name this star of yesteryear? Clue: think eighties, peeps.

Jesus H., and I thought I was falling apart and packing on the pounds. I feel better about myself now! Another Clue: I think someone's let themselves go and is going outside without their Max Factor.

Answer in the Comments section. Just click, you lazy fucks!

Dead People I Admire: Andy Warhol

One of the funniest people I never met. Few people knew how screamingly funny and quick-witted Andy was. I highly recommend The Andy Warhol Diaries. They are great for bathroom reading, which my ENTIRE family is notorious for. My cousin, Sheila, even studies for med school on the toilet. She is the most ambitious person in the family, if you couldn't figure that out. We are VERY proud of her!

Grandma and Her Squandered Love for Liberace

I was reading the Andy Warhol diaries this morning, and in them, Andy told a story about going to a Liberace concert, and it got me to thinking about my Grandma Peg. This isn't quite the associative stretch it appears to be. I was looking for a frame for a picture, and after Grandma passed on, I remembered I had one of her old frames, so I went down to the basement and got it. Underneath the old family picture that was in it, I found a photo she had clipped of Liberace.

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?

To her dying day, Grandma could not, would not, accept Liberace's gayness. It was one of the few disagreements we ever had. Besides, since I share a similar, hopeless love of Rufus Wainwright (who is also a flamboyant dresser), who am I to throw a stone?

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.

When I go, all I ask for is a 24-hour open bar and a renewable liver. My dreams are simple.