Cocaine Grrrls

Note by Author: All of my works are purely of fiction and must be read that way.

Girls that do Cocaine annoy the shit out of me. I can easily spot a female that is a coke head. Three hints: You could be in the middle of anything; sex, sushi, church, and they get a call or text and they book it out the door with some lame ass excuse. Oh yeah, how many times has your grandma died now? When you go out with them they mysteriously disappear for inordinate amounts of time. Finally they are usually skinny as fuck.

I feel like women that are addicted to cocaine treat it as their god. If you had a bag in your pocket and they know, they will just stair at your pocket all night drooling. Oh a tip to you guys who ain’t getting’ none, try this: go buy …uuuhhh… 80-120 bucks worth of coke, stomp on it with some Enfamil or some other inert white powder (I say thin it because these hoes don’t deserve it anyways, plus you can make yourself look like a bigger baller with a fat chunk) then go out as per usual. Just randomly drop some line like “Yeah I got a few Gs on me, no big deal.” around the fake titted, stuck up looking/dumb types. Before long you will find yourself naked with 2-10 girls. Don’t believe me? Try it. I’ve done it….not that I needed to, lets just say it was a sociological experiment.

Not that there is anything wrong with cocaine or anything, shit Freud did that shit for years and loved it! And its not like I’m giving a pass to you coke head dudes. In fact you should just do crack instead, its way more trash-gutter-hipster-taboo-chic. Plus you can carry around cool glass pipes and say things like “Whoa, watch out bro, I got fragile glass in my pocket!”

Morals of this story, don’t DO it, USE it, and use it to your advantage to get things you want. And if you are going to do it, smoke crack, it’s way cooler!

Astrology: Even Dumber Than Religion

Astrology and the people that believe it are idiots. If it were in fact true in the pure theoretical means that proponents of it ascribe to, it would be a scientifically provable theory, period.

Guess what? Astrology writers are just random people who make shit up and publish it. Sorry to break your paradigm, but even though astrologists have some general guidelines they follow, IE stupid shit like “Virgos are hot headed but good lovers” and “Gemini’s are very organized and have free spirits,” it doesn’t change the fact that the daily horoscopes they write are made up fantasies.

At least religion is a tool that keeps otherwise useless people in society at bay and semi harmless when they are under the influence of said religion. Also traditional religion provides networks for families in order to socialize with. Astrology provides none of these things that religions provide. Astrology only provides brainless quacks with false senses of security or insecurity. In the case of insecurity they can “prepare” for the coming troubles they may encounter.

Have you ever read your horoscope? Look for the specific and targeted language use, astrology writers are very good at allowing their outcomes to work for either side of scenarios. Example, your horoscope says “Today may have some steep hills you have to climb.” You read it, and you say to yourself, “Fuck, now I’m going to have a bad day.” But oh shit, your day was good, so you reflect back and you think, “you know what? I did go over a big mountain today on the drive to work! OH MY GOD, this horoscope writer is AMAZING.”

You are a fucking idiot that belongs in Placerville or Auburn, CA. You should be sitting in your patchouli infested, incense infested, crystal having, dream catcher hanging, pile of sage on your dresser having, mystical sanctuary, AKA your room. I honestly can’t tell you how many girls I have met that think they are completely unique when their room bares all this same crap.

Suggestion to you astrology folks; Google: Agnosticism. it’s a brilliant idea in which humble people basically say “I don’t fucking know why I am here on earth, but I am open to anything.” Anyhow, let me wrap up this opinion article in an agnostic way; show me one, just one, scientific paper (scientific, meaning scientific, not from The Institute of Metaphysics and Sacred Geometry) on astrology and I’ll listen to you, otherwise, you suck (And if I die and find out astrology WAS right all along, I‘ll shake your hand and apologize).

Explicit Sexual Activity

All the trappings of a creative environment are here

Solitude a TV books music mirrors and some drink

In this instance Spanish gin and rye whiskey

Firsts both

And yet it’s not coming


Werner Erhard it

My two dogs sniff each other’s asses

And some Jap movie about hell is on the 27”

This is a tale of things that every hipster

Every mouth breather

Every single waste of space that slithers around the street

And socializes and digs the scene

And drips irony

Writes about

But I’m old(er)

And conservative mostly

Filled with contempt and disgust

And I work and hate and I rather be inside and alone

I spit on the easy out because it doesn’t work

Unfortunately only work works

And it’s not coming

Not tonight not yet

Ah well

Mouth Breathers: I Hate You

Yeah that title is right. I don’t care about your “septum problems”, or your “allergies” or whatever else dumb fuck reason you have for not breathing out of your nose. Mouths were made for eating and chewing food, and perhaps to secondarily breathe out of while you sleep in case your nose get blocked (so you don’t die – duh!).

If you walk around cognizant of your ridiculous mouth breathing know this: you look like an idiot. I oft wonder if mouth breathers even realize they are mouth breathers, or if they are just too stupid to care. Also I am not worried that any of my mouth breathing acquaintances will be offended by this article because they are probably too stupid to even waste their time reading an article on the internet. They are most likely too busy “listening to beats” or “blazing some chronic.”

mouth breather

Above: Mouth breather looking hella dumb.

Its very simple, if you ARE a mouth breather and you happened to read this article do what we evolved to do, simply breathe out of your nose. Your nose has a filtering system in it, IE hairs and other mechanisms that allow many particulate debris to be filtered out before they enter your lungs and possibly your blood stream. Mouth breathers will continue to become dumber and dumber because the more they mouth breathe the more toxins they will consume.

If your buddy is a mouth breather, quit being friends with them. If you can’t do that, make subtle gestures to them such as, “Did you know when you breathe out of your nose it acts as a filter?” or “Has a fly ever landed in your constantly open mouth?”

Either way there is no doubt, this madness must be ended now, so take a stand and lets eradicate mouth breathing/mouth breathers!

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

We were several hundred miles south of Sacramento when we stopped for gas at one of the many non-descript truck stop/fast food hubs along the five en route to Los Angeles. I was travelling with my brother, his girl, her 3 y/o daughter, their two dogs and two cats in a caravan that was trickling it’s way south at a painfully slow pace; my brother and I up front in his work truck, his girl behind in a SUV.

At this time I was operating at half capacity when we stopped for gas, my brain still dulled from long nights, lack of sleep etc. that usually occurs when I stop home for a visit. Still I lugged myself out of the car, stretched and looked out over the vast fields; in the distance a storm approached across the vast farmland which was mildly upsetting as I was in shorts and sandals.

Walking towards the convenience store I noticed the usual gang of folks one finds at a pit stop along the freeway: some tourists, a student, Mexican workers, and of course truckers. Inside, the store was manned by an unhappy obese clown of a woman in heavy makeup. She barked into her cell phone and looked out at us few customers with contempt, keeping a sharp eye on everything and in retrospect providing a mild sense of security. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who’d let much slide on her watch.

Perusing the snack aisle, my calm was interrupted by the dinging of the doorbell. I looked up as two vacant and dead girls, probably in their late teens or early twenties came in for smokes. They were dressed a little off for a place like this, tight-fitting clothes and knock-off designer accessories that did little to make them more attractive. This is curious, I thought, but quickly dismissed them and went back to the task at hand. Finally I selected the snack I was going to try (some spicy peanuts) and went to pay the clown woman who rang me up as she stared a hole right through me. That look made me feel a bit guilty; I probably should have just stayed out of her space.

As I left the store a beat-to-shit orange pickup truck with a fat, graying Indian at the wheel pulled up. Over the sound of the leaking exhaust he yelled in a gravelly voice “hurry the fuck up, bitches!” I looked right at him, but his yellow eyes were focused on the two dead girls. For whatever reason, I didn’t think much of it and walked back to the truck, immersing myself in the chaos of my entourage. At this point I had still not processed that something was wrong. The air was thick with it, but I was still oblivious to the terror that loomed ahead.

Distractedly, I munched my peanuts and walked back over to the gang to see what our next move was. The wind picked up as it fell on me to try to walk my brother’s 300lb German Shepherd while the rest of the crew got settled in for the next leg of our trip. As the beast dragged me around the thin strip of grass separating the gas station from the street, a mess of Mexican teenagers poured out like beetles from a Carl’s Jr. across the way. I felt hungry I reckoned and was considering a bite to eat – something more satisfying than these overly salted greasy peanuts, perhaps a fish sandwich at Carl’s Jr. – when it happened:

On the heels of the Mexican teenagers I saw the two girls from the convenience store, with a third girl in tow. I wondered how they had gotten all the way over there and who the third girl was as the orange truck roared into the lot and plowed into the new girl, screeching to a halt over the crumpled body. With animal speed, the Indian flew out of the truck and stood over the corpse screaming at it. The first two girls milled around like zombies. These were lot lizards, the loneliest of whores and the chief was undoubtedly their pimp. I quickly glanced around but no one seemed to see anything. Was I hallucinating? This couldn’t be right, and I wasn’t sure what I could or should do at a time like this.

My pulse quickened as I witnessed the continuing assault and I immediately decided I wanted to help the girl. But I’d seen too many altercations gone wrong, and wasn’t ready to take a blade to the guts in front of a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Still, whore or not she was no match for the crazed Indian and his truck, so I looked down at the beast I was tethered to and made a vague move towards the scene.

Just then, two truckers emerged from the Carl’s Jr. and came to the rescue. One towered over the pimp, the other stood at of equal size, and immediately the taller trucker began to yell at the chief. The Indian stood his ground a bit, but the twitching of his empty hands by his side betrayed the fear… likely the fear he instilled in his lizards, the sick hopelessness of being outgunned. A sick feeling just slightly dulled by whatever cocktail of stimulants might be floating through his body.

As for me, a feeling of relief washed over in a soothing wave. These situations either end neutrally or badly, and either way I didn’t want to get stuck in the middle if I could avoid it. The argument was out of earshot, but the truckers clearly had the upper hand. The two initial lizards got the felled girl to her feet and then, with practiced precision, one of the girls leapt in between the Indian and the truckers. No doubt, this was the main bitch and immediately all parties involved recognized this fact. Suddenly as if by magic, the men broke apart and barring some last comments, went their own way without further issue.

Still dazed, I looked down at my brother’s dog that was sniffing obliviously at a sprinkler head. Then I looked out across the gas station and the Carl’s Jr. parking lot and noticed that still no one seemed to have seen what had just transpired. Incredible. A woman talked into her cell phone by her Mercedes, baby safe in the back seat. The tourists looked confusedly at a map, matching pork pie hats on their heads and rented Ford Mustang at the pump. My brother et al placidly going about their business. Perhaps a minute had elapsed since the beginning of the whole thing.

I looked back at the truck as two of the girls were loaded into the bed of the truck and then the main bitch joined the chief in the cab. The truck took a moment to turn over and then in a mechanically unmaintained cacophony of sputters and whines made its way from the scene of the crime. The truckers where gone, presumably eating the rest of their meals in the Carl’s Jr. I was in total disbelief.

Then my brother hollered at me; it was time to go. I snapped out of my trance and loaded the enormous shepherd back into his kennel in the bed of my brother’s truck. It looked to me like everything was just going to move ahead as usual. No bother, I thought. Perhaps I just lend myself witness to the strange and bizarre happening of this world more than most folks.  I lost myself staring out of the window as our caravan made our way out of the gas station and back onto the freeway. I guessed I had really been alone in that experience when my brother broke the silence: “what the hell happened back there, anyways?”

Rape in the 21st Century: A Scientific Study

Dr. Johns M. Pierston Ph.D.

Dr. Abrams Larry Johnson Psy.D.

Let me preface this very scientific article to let all you readers know that all participants in this study were fully briefed in what they were getting involved in. In other words “no one was really hurt in the process of this study.” We have always had the sneaking suspicion that a subset of men/women may actually enjoy forced sex, AKA rape. Since this is a very sensitive topic to even talk about, over at our research center we decided that we would put out a classified ad in the local entertainment magazine looking for people who “enjoy exciting opportunities” and that are “thrill seekers” also they must be willing to try “new things.”

We received over 1000 responses, we further then honed down these respondents to 50 by asking about certain sexual questions such as: “Do you enjoy trying new things within the realm of sex?” We ended up with 25 women and 25 men, who we then had meet us at a rented office building. This is where we laid it on them. Would they like to be participants in a rape study? We knew some of our participants would be outright disgusted, in which we were correct. We ended up with 19 willing men and 13 willing women. Since our study only called for ten men and ten women we convened as a group and chose the best candidates. These participants would be the “rapees.”

Now we had a couple of staff writers which were willing to be “in house” rapists. We decided that all males should be raped by females, and all females by males. We decided that if any of the male rapees involved could not achieve erection after 5 minutes then the female would then move on to oral rape.

There variables in men that we were looking at were:

-Heart rate

-Erection onset rate

-Erection maintenance time

-Ejaculate time

-Ejaculate rate

The variables in women that we were looking at were:

-Heart rate

-Lubrication onset

-Lubrication maintenance time

-Time of orgasm

-Orgasm Rate

We informed our potential rapees that they may or may not be raped within a month’s (March 2010) time frame, and that it may happen anywhere, for example:

-         Pulled in a bush whilst walking dog

-         In their house (Rapist hiding in closet or under bed)

-         In their car

-         On a jog in the forest

-         After a night of dancing

The rapists were given a number to call immediately after rape in order to ascertain if this was our sponsored rape or an unsolicited act of aggression; if it wasn’t our sponsored rape we encouraged them to call the local authorities at once. All rapists wore special condoms/female condoms in which we rigged moisture sensors to collect certain data, other data was self reported by the rapee and rapist and averaged. Little did all ten people know was that all 10 rapees would indeed be getting raped within the month time period. The distributions of rapes were as follows:

Male Rapee Rapes:


Female Rapee Rapes:


The setting in which the rapes occurred were called the “set.” The set varied but most rapes occurred either in their home after work or being pulled into bushes or alleys while they walked or jogged. We were happy to report that there were no auxiliary rapes which occurred with our voluntary rapees during the month in which we conducted our rapes.

We collected our data and compared it against known natural physiological and recorded orgasm and sexual responses. Here is our data side by side the preexisting data:


As you can see our data was highly conflicting to what our predicted outcomes would be, so we decided to follow up with supplementary questions presented below are some of the questions and answers:

1) Were you terrified that you were being raped?

Woman1: “Yes, it scared the shit out of me, but then I smelled old spice and the three hole mask kind of turned me on so I went with the flow.”

Man8: “Well it was a shock, then when I couldn’t get…um…up, she gave me great head, although her face was covered her lips were hot so I let her have her way. The knife really scared me though.”

Woman4: “I literally shit myself, but luckily he seemed to have his bases covered and used wet wipes to rectify the situation, he was a gentleman, I wish more guys were like my rapist.”

2) Did you fear that you would die?

Woman10: “Yes, having a gun pointed at your temple isn’t fun, but honestly it turned me on a bit.”

Man6: “Women with weapons, really turn me on!”

Man2: “Well when I got pulled into a van and they had a rifle pointed at me it was uncomfortable, but the sex was exciting as hell!”

3) Since the time of your rape have you had any flashbacks or negative experiences?

Woman 2: “No, not really.”

Woman3: “I masturbate and think about the experience… actually. I like a forceful man”

Man5: “No.”

Man7: “Nope.”

Our conclusion is that although rape is a horrible crime something unforeseen is going on here. Maybe our results were skewed because they were told they were going to be raped in advance and submitted to it in writing. Perhaps our pool of participants was skewed from the beginning due to the ad reader statistics, perhaps some people just have a “rape fetish.” Since it is unethical to ever perform a “real rape” for study perhaps we will never know, either way this study was done so you could draw your own conclusions.