I don’t want to share my purchase of K-Y Personal Lubricant Jelly, thank you!

No, Amazon, I don’t want to share my purchase of Personal Lubricant Jelly anymore than I want to share my purchase of videos of transsexuals with extra long penises having sex with male and female dwarfs, which requires a great deal of lubricant to watch. Is there a way of shutting this sharing mechanism off? Shouldn’t I apply myself to researching this instead of blogging about it?

Pinball Wizard Arcade review

The Pinball Wizard Arcade
150 Bridge Street (Rt. 38) Unit P, Pelham, NH 03076

I think it’s safe to say that pinball wizards don’t go to The Pinball Wizard Arcade in Pelham, NH.

Sorry, forget my camera when I went there on Wednesday, so you will have to settle for the google maps pic above. As you can see, it is located in a mini strip mall. The entrance is in the corner. A Dunkin’ Donuts, a pizza store, and a Chinese restaurant, all live in this strip mall, so you will not go hungry or become caffeine deficient if you plan on staying all day.

If you are traveling to The Pinball Wizard Arcade from Route 3, you will need to slog through the horrendous traffic of Lowell, perhaps the most hideously awful eyesore in Massachusetts. When you’re going over the river, make sure you get in the right lane and stay in it, no matter how many inches per hour you move across this bridge. Do not be seduced by the much faster moving traffic in the left lane! If you are in the left lane, you will be forced down a road that you really, really do not want to be on.

Don’t believe the good reviews you’ve read about this place. These people don’t understand pinball. Real pinball machines have their replay values either printed on the machine or displayed by the machine when one presses a flipper. Many of the pinball machines at The Pinball Wizard Arcade don’t have replay values listed on the machine, and the replay value cannot be obtained by pressing a flipper. I pressed a flipper on one machine to get a replay value, and it said “0.” This machine had been doctored. I believe all the machines had been doctored. The machines that did have replay values had astronomically large replay values that are unachievable. One other important feature doctored away from the pinball machines that I tried was the “match,” the opportunity to win a free game, through a matching of numbers that are chosen randomly by the machine. Taking away the ability to get a free game, either through skill or by chance sucks all the fun out of pinball. It is like playing poker with play money. The only pinball machines worth playing at The Pinball Wizard Arcade were priced at either .50 cents or .75 cents. This is a lot of money to pay for a pseudo pinball experience!

The only thing good about The Pinball Wizard Arcade is the video games. They had some good games, in reasonably good condition, considering their age. The price of the non-shooting video games is a quarter.

The Pinball Wizard Arcade is greedy. Yes, they have the newest pinball games, but you’re not getting the Cadillac; you’re getting the Chevette pinball experience.

Don’t be a victim of The Pinball Wizard Arcade’s tinkering. Go to Funspot instead. While the Funspot pinball selection is not quite as good, you’ll have much more fun there, because they have real, non-doctored pinball machines. They’re also cheaper, at only a quarter a game. Funspot also has a larger video game selection. If you’re coming up Route 3 and decide to bypass The Pinball Wizard Arcade, you’ll be adding another 80 miles your trip, but at least you won’t have to crawl through god-awful Lowell. You couldn’t pay me to go back to The Pinball Wizard Arcade.

Going geriatric

At the YMCA they give away a newspaper called fifty plus advocate. Since I will be 50 in less than three years, I have started reading it. I will be geriatric soon. A gerry. I need to know about elderly issues.

A came across a disturbing ad in this newspaper:

This is just horrible infantilization of the elderly. The “Meet Ginny” reminded me of how animal adoption ads are worded. Here’s an example of a pig up for adoption. Notice how it says “Meet Alfie.”

Prince Harry, fucking up people in Afghanistan and fucking up the English language

“Take a life to save a life,” says Prince Harry. He’s a real man. He fucks up so-called insurgents in his helicopter in Afghanistan. It’s manly man stuff, this killing of people in the third world.

About his naked romp in Vegas, Prince Harry says, “A classic example of me probably being too much army and not enough Prince.” Humm, I think that should be “A classic example of my probably being too much army…”

About his brother and sister and law, Prince Harry says, “I only hope that she and him…” I think that should be “I only hope that she and he….”

I really don’t care whom he screws in Vegas. What he does in his private life is his business. But I really do wish this guy would show a little class and set a better example. The first thing Prince Harry could do is stop killing people in immoral wars. The second thing he could do is speak proper fucking English.

discount ASP.net’s psycho, Micheal Phillips

Micheal Phillips (left), at his new gig, discount ASP.net

God, my last blog post was so awful:

“I deal with more shit each day than you wipe out of your ass in a lifetime.”

How much shit can one wipe out of his ass in a lifetime? It can’t be that much. It didn’t make any sense for me to say this, as I was trying to make the reader understand that the shit I deal with dwarfs the amount of shit that he deals with. Not being sober when I wrote this is not an excuse. People should be arrested for writing sentences like this. When I looked at what I had written, I reminded myself of the worst poet on earth, Micheal Phillips (a.k.a. mjp.)

mjp is a self-published and self-described writer. He tries to sound like Bukowski. I don’t say he’s terrible just because I hate him personally. He is actually a terrible poet. You can find samples of his crappy e-books on Amazon.com I googled him recently and found that he is writing some sort of column for a website that he is involved in called discount ASP.net. I wouldn’t be surprised if he owns this business.

I would not buy anything from any organization that is associated with mjp. mjp is not only a bad poet, but he’s an unscrupulous businessman. Read what this belligerent asshole wrote to me in an email.

mjp is evil. I’m not just saying this because he is a rude, belligerent motherfucker whom I hate. Look at the evil look on his face. He’s got that same deranged look of a psychopath in his eyes that Charles Manson has. Am I wrong? God forbid you’re doing business with a guy like this and he has your address. A guy like this could show up at your house, slice you and your children up, and eat you raw.

I just want to say…

Fuck you, assholes. I deal with more shit each day than you wipe out of your ass in a lifetime. I drink. Beer. Alone. Someone with a long rod up her ass once said to me, if you drink alone, you may be an alcoholic. If you don’t drink alone, well, you shouldn’t be fucking drinking! I’m taking life and death like a man, laughing at your silly ass all the way.

What’s with the rice, man?

I make a lot of rice and beans these days. It’s cheap and proteiny.  All my life I’ve been cooking rice for 20 minutes, then I let it stand for five minutes. Comes out perfect every time. I had bought some Walmart rice. It was cheap, 1970’s cheap. It was probably grown and harvested by poor orphans in the poorest village in the poorest country on earth. The Walmart rice didn’t cook so well. It wasn’t soft and fluffy; it was downright crunchy. I blamed Walmart and the evils of republicanism for this shitty rice. Then, I found some good ol’ Carolina rice on sale at Stop & Shop. I had eaten, literally, a ton of this rice, and I had never had any problems with it. So I cooked it up, and it tasted crunchy like the Walmart rice. What the fuh?

Maybe there’s some logical explanation for this. There probably is, but maybe there isn’t. Maybe the universe is just fucking with my head, and this is some type of sadistic joke. I’m never entirely sure about these things these days.

Yes, I wear women’s underwear, but I am not nearly as perverted as U.S. Customs agents.

I go to the Watertown, MA YMCA at about 1:30 in the afternoon about five days a week. I am not afraid to tell you this. I’m not afraid of any of you. You can’t miss me. I wear a black baseball hat that has the coat of arms of Hungary on the front. The coat of arms is kind of scary looking. It has a double cross and a titled single cross. I am the only person in the United States who wears such a hat. Nobody in Hungary wears it. I would take a photo of it, but it’s almost 3 a.m and I’m in bed, and I’m like, fuck it. Here is what the coat of arms looks like:

The assholes at United States Customs asked me if I knew what the symbol means. They don’t know what it means. One would be hard-pressed to find a Hungarian who can tell you the meaning of this coat of arms. It’s just one of the myriad of stupid questions that the closet homosexuals at American Customs think up in order to make themselves feel important and less gay. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, but I think that one has to accept it instead of being some perverted asshole who needs to bear arms, ask you stupid, overly-personal questions, and rifle through your belongings in order to feel like a man. I bet that a large percentage of these Customs perverts lead secret gay lives. One has to have something seriously wrong with him to be a Customs pervert. I do not call them perverts because they suck cock, but because they are voyeuristic weirdoes. The last Customs pervert who interrogated me asked me what medication I take. He’s not a doctor. He’s a fucking perverted weirdo!

I use an elliptical machine at the Y. It is really boring and sucks. The specialist said I needed to use the machine 150 minutes a week in order to fix my lame knee. I dread going to the Y every day, enduring the traffic and using this boring as shit exercise machine.

I buy women’s underwear too these days. It’s bikini underwear for men, though they don’t call it that; they call it a Mini Slip / Hip Brief. My ass! I call it panties. The brand is Hugo. It’s expensive. I am grateful for my women’s underwear because it fixed my awful chafing problem, which plagued me for years. The secret to this underwear is that it keeps your dick inline. Underwear needs to be tight enough to keep your penis from moving. Regular underwear rides up your ass, and your penis finds its way through the slit. Bikini underwear doesn’t have these problems. Hugo is nice and soft too. I started with the more expensive Calvin Klien bikini underwear for men, but it was so tight that my nuts felt like they were in a vice, and that was the extra large.

I found a liquor store near the Y that sells 40 ounce Olde English 800 for only $2.45. I thought I was in heaven. This is fairly good quality cheap beer (technically malt liquor). This is a beer for serious alcoholics. One has to have something seriously wrong with him to drink any beer out of a 40 ounce bottle. I asked them to order me a case. I think they thought I was insane. I’ve decided to drink this beer every day. Fuck it, I could afford this beer. It won’t break me. It is good cheap medicine that I need to deal with a world of smashed dreams and excruciatingly monotonous journeys to the YMCA. I think it’s somehow fitting in this bizarre world of madness to swig 40 ounce bottles of malt liquor alone in bed wearing black designer panties for men.

I wish that some maniac would wait for me at the Y and put a fuckin’ bullet through my brain.

Governor Deval Patrick gets it right!

After Governor Deval Patrick let his ass get kicked by the scumbag, illiterate fuckwads at the Massachusetts Main Street Fairness Coalition, Patrick made some very progressive and intelligent tax proposals.

The Boston Globe left out an important detail about Patrick’s tax increase proposal: It is not a tax increase for everyone. Poorer earners will see their taxes reduced! It appears as if he is proposing a graduated tax. I took the graph below from Patrick’s FY14 House 1 Budget Recommendation:

The top 20% of earners will have the largest tax increase. Earners in the 40th-60th percentile will not see a significant increase. Earners below the 40th percentile will see a tax decrease.

The media needs to do a better job of reporting the facts! I applaud Patrick for wanting a fairer tax code. Cocksucker asshole rich people will fight this proposal like hell and try like hell to mislead people about it. However, the truth is out there!

Just say no to buying online newspaper subscriptions!

If you enjoy reading newspapers online, you’ve probably noticed that not only good newspapers such as The New York Times and the LA Times now want you to pay for online subscriptions in order to read them, but even your local crapper newspaper wants you to pay. You may have tried deleting the newspaper’s cookies in order to subvert the newspaper’s attempt to get you to pay, which works, but is a pain in the ass, as you must do this all the time. A better method is to download and use the Tor browser.

Using the Tor browser I have had no trouble reading newspapers online that require subscriptions, without actually buying a subscription. The Washington Post, which is a good newspaper, has not yet gone subscription, so I urge you to read this as well.

New blogs

I have added two new blogs in an effort to make my blog writing a little more specialized and lucrative. Bastard Universe will continue to limp along as it has for the past few years. I would really like to add a movie review blog and a travel blog, but such blogs take a lot of time, and it’s highly questionable if it is worth my time. This asshole world owes me. It needs to pay, even if it is fractions of pennies on the dollar. I don’t believe in doing things for the love of doing them. Fuck that shit. Here are my new blogs:

 

Get CELTA certified to teach English as a foreign language: English not required!

This is a blog that attempts to expose the University of Cambridge’s EFL teaching certification scam that I, unfortunately, was a victim of.

 

OKC Hotties: The beatiful women of OkayCupid

This is a very, very soft-porn website that profiles Okay Cupid women. Most of these women are middle-aged, have enormous breasts, and show way, way too much cleavage. I am trying to do this as tastefully as possible, though it is rather tasteless. I think it is highly questionable if this blog will get off the ground, as, due to copyright issues, I cannot post photos of these women in the blog. Certainly there are better things that I could be doing with my time, but I need money. Even if it is change, some money is better than no money. I have a right to live and breathe and eat and have a roof over my head, just like you do. If the blog does catch on, I hope to post articles on dating, which is what I would really like to do.

I made it through the darkness

I realized this week while making an appointment that next month is February. I had survived about five months of darkness, and I did not even realize it. During my descent into hell, I visited Hungary and saw some ghosts (I mean this figuratively) and a demon (I mean this literally). I did not speak to the demon. It took the form of a woman. It was my teacher at IH Budapest. I saw it in the Burger King near the school. It was a Sunday, as I remember, about seven o’clock in the evening, and I thought to myself, “Don’t these assholes ever go home?” The demon was with its spawn. I recognized the spawn. It was its male spawn. I had once seen this spawn naked with the demon’s female spawn, also naked, in a photo on the demon’s facebook page, which has no privacy settings whatsoever. There was nothing sexual going on in the photo, but looking at children who are at least five years old, together, naked, makes non-demons squirm. The demon understands facebook privacy and what is appropriate to take photographs of about as well as it understands what is appropriate in the classroom. I took three months of verbal abuse from the demon, which included mockery, being laughed, and its rattling frowny faces (this it did to everyone). It sabotaged my last practice lesson. My career was over. Thousands of dollars and years working towards being an EFL teacher, which included voice therapy to deal with my damaged vocal cords, pissed down the tube

Do you think that I confronted this slippery cunt? If you think I did, you don’t understand me at all. What I did was beeline it for the exit as fast as I could. The demon terrified me!

Was going back to Hungary a mistake? It was certainly mostly horrible, but I am not completely sure yet if it was a mistake. In Hungary I saw Sopron and Pécs. It was thrilling, and both these cities were so beautiful that they moved me to tears.

In Budapest on the Hungarian Memorial Day I saw people from all around Hungary converge on Széll Kálmán Square to pay their respects to the fallen heroes who were killed by Khrushchev’s tanks during the 1956 uprising. If you look carefully in the photo above, you will see someone holding up a sign that says “Szeged.” This is a city in Hungary. I saw swarms of people coming off chartered busses representing all the cities of Hungary. It was so beautiful to see this outpouring of national unity. In the United States on Memorial Day we wave around flags and watch assholes march around in military uniforms. This was not like that at all. This was a real memorial. At the point where I was moved to tears, I decided to go. I felt somehow out of place, that not being Hungarian made me unworthy of being there. I felt like some type of rubbernecker.

Online poker isn’t fixed…

…And if you believe that, you probably also believe in The Abominable Snowman and Godzilla.

The chances of four big pairs being dealt are about a zillion to 1. This hand, as one might expect, created a feeding frenzy. I was fortunate enough to get dealt K6o Pre-Flop, which I easily folded.

This hand happened on sportsbook.com  I often saw crazy shit on Fult Tilt, but never four big pairs being dealt.

Medea Benjamin of CODEPINK, 2012 Person of the Year

The editorial staff of Bastard Universe has selected Media Benjamin of CODEPINK as the 2012 Person of the Year. Below, Ms. Media Benjamin is being manhandled by a woman as well as a three hundred pound gorilla after attempting to protest U.S. drones. (Democracy Now! did not mention what the event was.) A week earlier, Ms. Benjamin was protesting Wayne LaPierre’s NRA speech, after the Newtown massacre.

For years Ms. Benjamin has bravely put her ass on the front line to protest the murderous, imperialist actions of the U.S. government.

The Massachusetts Main Street Fairness Coalition for Illiterate Slobs

Come November, if you live in Massachusetts, you can thank, in part, Mayor Kim Driscoll (above), of Salem, MA, and her sleazy cronies at Massachusetts Main Street Fairness Coalition for the sales tax you will have to pay on goods you buy on Amazon.com.

From the Massachusetts Main Street Fairness Coalition’s website:

“Common sense would dictate that if a Massachusetts resident buys a product online, they would pay the same sales tax as anyone that had gone to the store in person.”

Common sense dictates that illiterate assholes tend to have their heads up their asses. In their sentence above, “resident” is a singular noun. “[T]hey” is a plural pronoun. Nominals must agree in English. This is an agreement error. In addition, the modal verb “would” is inappropriate here. What they mean is “Common sense dictates.” Also, the pronoun “that” is incorrect. It should be “who.” Beyond the grammatical problems, the sentence is a convoluted piece of shit. These illiterate slobs were successful at pressuring Governor Deval Patrick, whom I voted for, to cave to their special interests.

If I drive to Florida from Massachusetts and buy a hat, should the merchant in Florida whom I bought the hat from be required to collect Massachusetts’ sales tax on this hat? Of course not. Why should it be any different if I bought the hat from this merchant in Florida online? This argument that it is unfair is an argument made by slimy, illiterate, capitalist swine merchants and their political whores.

The sales tax is a regressive tax. Massachusetts should eliminate this tax altogether and adopt a graduated income tax. This would be a fair tax, because it would mean that people who earn more than average, like Mayor Kim Driscoll, pay more in taxes. Mayor Kim Driscoll needs to pay her fair share in taxes, instead of displacing the tax burden onto consumers. It is not fair that people who have barely any disposable income pay a disproportionate amount of their income on taxes.

Copy of original article from Massachusetts Main Street Fairness Coalition’s website.

Original URL: http://www.massmainstreet.com/About-The-Issue

This material was not copyrighted.

They have no idea

Middle-aged women on OkayCupid write to me. Many of them are good looking, and I could seriously screw them. I don't think that they understand just how low on the food chain I am. I try to make this clear in my profile, though I don't overtly say this. These women probably have no clue that I spend my days thinking about how to kill myself. I'm not going to do this now. But I need an exit strategy. I will not beg. That's not going to happen. Killing oneself can be confounding. I often read about people, often women, successfully killing themselves through hanging. I don't know how people can do this. These people have gonads that I don't have. The horror of dangling by the neck and suffocating … this is just too horrible and depressing for me … I can't do this. Also, it so demeaning to be found, hanged. It would be a while before anyone finds my body. I would stink. My corpse would be hideous. There would probably be flies and maggots eating away at my rotting corpse. It would be disgusting. Asshole police would probably laugh at me. I don't want the slimy, cocksucker police laughing at me. I've faced humiliation my whole life; I don't want to be scraped out of my apartment like rotten, human garbage. Good Christ, there's got to be a better way.

My big bank robbery front row seat update

They caught two of the bank robbers who were responsible for the hold-up that I witnessed yesterday. Maybe the guy in front of me was not an accomplice. Maybe he was also a witness. These have to be the stupidest criminals on earth. I wish I could have told them that there is much more money robbing people at CELTA centers, and you will never go to prison.

“All of it, all of it.”

I was struck by how beautiful yet pale the teller was in the bank inside the supermarket today. She looked like how people used to look in paintings done long ago: Pale as shit. Something else was unusual today. There was a line. There was never a line. The guy in front of me kept looking back at me. What the fuck is this asshole looking at, I said to myself. I didn’t realize at the time that he was almost surely an accomplice in a bank holdup that was in progress.

Why was the guy in the front of the guy who was giving me a weird look holding up a note to the teller? Perhaps it was his account number. I kept trying to read the teller’s face. I did not read alarm or shock. She couldn’t be being robbed, because then she would be showing more affect. The guy behind me turned around again, and I thought, perhaps he was not looking at me suspiciously, perhaps he was looking at everyone suspiciously.

The teller handed the man holding the note to her some cash.

“All of it,” he said. “All of it.” He did not sound nervous or angry, just determined.

Then the teller handed the man a big wad of cash. I did not see her count the cash. Still, no affect from the teller. Finally, I said to myself, fuck trying to read the teller by her expression. It may be business as usual to the teller, but I am sure that I am standing right behind two guys holding up a bank, and this situation is a little dangerous. It was time for me to bug the fuck out.

I started walking. As I approached the exit I saw a bagger. She had a strange look on her face. She wasn’t yet sure what was going on, but she at least suspected that there might be a bank robbery in progress. I thought about waving to the teller, to signify to her that this was definitely a hold-up. What am I crazy, I said to myself. Are you trying to get yourself or her killed? Get your ass moving out that door and get the fuck out!

In the car I said to myself, shouldn’t I call the police? It was too difficult. I had a Florida cell phone. 911 would give me the Florida State Police, not Massachusetts. There are going to be armed men with a lot of money running out of this supermarket very soon. There may be armed men from inside of the supermarket chasing after them as well. Get your ass out of this parking lot. Now!

I drove towards my physical therapy appointment. Two minutes later I saw police cars with sirens blaring, driving towards the supermarket. They were way too late. The bank robbers had probably left the bank a long time ago. I laughed. I don’t approve of threatening bank tellers with violence, but I was sort of happy for the bank robbers. There are far worse crimes. IH Budapest had robbed me of thousands of dollars, as well as my livelihood, and took three months of my life away from me to give me verbal abuse, as well as shitty instruction that lacked documentation. They did not need a gun, for they had that great pillar of Western Civilization, Cambridge University to validate their crimes. The system had robbed me my whole life. Why had I felt so compelled to inform on these bank robbers? What the fuck was wrong with me?

I don’t have much to say anymore…

Sometimes I think about Hungary and I cry. I mourn for Hungary and feel sorry for myself. All I have now is crushed dreams and memories of this fairy-tale land. The photo below is of a church in Sopron. If you look closely you can see that the door to the church was open. I wanted to walk in, but I was running out of light and afraid that it I would not be able to find my way back. I did however look at the cemetery in back of the church. It was so beautiful that it moved me to tears.

 

A different church nearby.

Not only the churches, but the houses in this medieval neighborhood had these little embedded statues in them, and I loved the hell out them.

The Sopron Tower. This is the logo of Sopron beer.

 

Hotel Palitunus, where I stayed. Only the hotels at Foxwoods rival this hotel in cleanliness. It was only about $50 USD in September. Excellent breakfast, with lots of sausage and other meats. Friendly staff. It doesn’t get much better than Hotel Palitunus. This street used to be called “Jew Street.” It was part of the Jewish ghetto during the middle ages.

As you can see from the map, I was not far from Vienna. It doesn’t bother me that much that I never got a chance to see Vienna. Fuck Vienna. I saw Sopron!

This year’s Mean Fucky award goes to…

…user name Lalya, from OkayCupid

“I will respond back only to those who seem like a possible match. No players please. Losers, paupers, uneducated, boors, whiners , stingy, having problems with alcohol and drugs in the past and now - need not apply. And, please, no drama or heavy baggage .”

I assure you that I have never, ever written Lalya. I am too loserish and pauperish for this woman, and she is too demonish for me.