Archive for the ‘Tag Larkin’ Category


Epilogue 2014 – Tag Larkin

December 30, 2013

Tag Larkin did not die.  Tag Larkin did not move away.  Tag Larkin remains Tag Larkin right where Tag Larkin has always Tag Larkin’ed.

Circumstances do not change Tag Larkin. Events do not change Tag Larkin.  The world does not change Tag Larkin.  Tag Larkin changes all of them.  Tag Larkin bends them to Tag Larkin’s will.

You may not be around any more to witness Tag Larkin being Tag Larkin, but rest assured Tag Larkin is still being Tag Larkin no matter where you are or what you’re doing. And Tag Larkin’s doing it just as hard as ever, and will continue to do so until Tag Larkin tires of this world and decides to leave it.

And ladies, you can still get fucked by Tag Larkin.

Y’all ain’t going to kill Tag Larkin.  Tag Larkin will outlive you all.



Close out the Twelve, Welcome the Thirteen

December 30, 2012

2012 has been a good year for the Renal Failure crew in a broad sense.  Nothing spectacular, but compared to previous years the Twelve was a marked improvement over such years as 2010 and 2011.  And 2012 was a certainly better year than 2004 and 2005, but if those years hadn’t been so horrid it’s unlikely this blog would have been started at the tail end of ’05.

Mikka finally earned a full-time position at the General Tso’s Sauce Factory after temping there for most of this year. The steady income and benefits, however, will not make it more likely that we’ll see a wedding between him and his long-time beau Samurai Cathy.  This isn’t from any fear of commitment, but rather Mikka’s inability to become a talented swordsman who could avenge Samurai Cathy’s death – a death most likely at the hands of Ninja Vicki, who is the most qualified person around to fell Samurai Cathy in combat.  So in essence, Mikka has to become a better swordsman than his current girlfriend, seeing how Vicki would be better than Cathy if Vicki indeed did best Cathy in a duel.  And you thought your relationships had a lot of baggage and obstacles to overcome.  Fear of intimacy has nothing over not being able to properly wield a blade so that you can bring justice to the person who killed your love.

Ninja Vicki had a successful year in the world of ninja-neering, but as usual didn’t fare well in the world of dating.  To be fair, ninjas have a lot of difficult dating.  It’s not like there are website where ninjas can find other ninjas to date.  Ninjas don’t date other ninjas because other ninjas are competition who must be eliminated.  The problem is that non-ninjas just aren’t bad-ass enough for ninjas to date.  “Oh, you sell insurance? I lurk in the shadows and assassinate the shogun.”  It’s a disconnect that Ninja Vicki cannot overcome in her life as a ninja, but she’s at peace with that fact 6 out of 7 days of the week.

Tina the Lesbian liked the gains made by the gay community in 2012 and hopes that when gay marriage is legalized in her state that she has someone ready to go so she can be one of the first to be gay married.  And she wants to emphasize the “gay” in “gay marriage” because as of now “gay marriage” doesn’t have the baggage that straight marriage currently carries.  All the pressures from family and society are absent from gay marriage.  Eventually that will change, but for now Tina would like to enjoy the pristine conditions of gay marriage – like an explorer finding a natural wonder never before touched by humanity’s destructive hand.

Avonia, Bernie, and Doug… they did all right for themselves in 2012.  And Tag Larkin always as an awesome year, because he is Tag Larkin.

Hope your 2013 is a marked improvement over 2012, even if 2012 was pretty good because, hey, it’s always good when better gets better.



Maybe now we’ll get those Black Panther Lesbian FEMA Death Camps

November 8, 2012

So Barack Obama got reelected as President of the United States over the guy who looks like a taller version of my Uncle Kevin (something that led to a lot of confusion when watching the news drunk) and everything is right in the universe.  Or the universe is going to burn and implode.  That all depends on your collection of Facebook friends (one of mine has already made a doom and gloom prediction for the end of 2012, which I have dutifully recorded and will be checking back on at the appropriate time to see if her prognostication abilities have improved since she boastfully predicted to me back in 2003 that they’d find WMD’s in Iraq and that George W. Bush would go down at the greatest president of all time.  This is why I do my damnest to avoid making predictions).

Here at the Failure, our crew is doing all right.  There’s a sense of ease in the air.

Tag Larkin once again has won over Mitt Romney’s son Tagg Romney, reminding the universe that there can be only one Tag.  Oh, you didn’t know that Tagg Romney?  Obviously you don’t read Renal Failure, otherwise you could have saved your inheritance money from getting blown on yet another failed campaign by your dad.  Tag Larkin never loses!

Tina the Lesbian is pleased that Todd “legitimate rape” Akin and Richard “God intended for you to be raped” Mourdock lost their Senate races.  But professional crazyperson Michele Bachmann still kept her Congressional seat, setting the standard that American will vote for batshit nutballs as long as they don’t say a lot of stupid shit about rape.

Samurai Cathy has been spending the post-election day writing letters to the pundits who not just erroneously predicted Mitt Romney would win but predicted he would win by an egregiously large margins to atone for being shitty at their jobs by slicing off their pinky fingers on national television.  Luckily for her, Mikka persuaded her not to mail a knife with each letter in order to keep the Homeland Security people from busting down the door to her studio apartment.  George Will may be for small government, but we’re pretty sure he’d be dialing the FBI faster than you could say National Review if someone mailed him cutlery and a request that he use it on himself.

Note: Professional Money-Crablouse Jim Cramer predicted a ridiculously large Obama victory, 440-98, but we’re pretty sure he was hopped up on Mad Money coke when he made that prediction. We’ve already asked him years ago to commit ritual suicide for his sins against humanity.

Ninja Vicki hopes that all her donations to Obama during the campaign (aka. stuff she stole from other people, because she’s a ninja) will pay off in the form of her being chosen to participate in The Great Winnowing – when those who came out to support Mitt Romney are systematically picked off by order of the President to set the stage for Black Power Socialist Redistribution Fest 2014.  Sure, Ninja Vicki heard about these ideas from local frightened couple Sean and Lucia Wheatley, who heard it from the Formerly-Screaming-Now-Hysterically-Weeping Head on the Radio, and it probably won’t happen, but Ninja Vicki still holds out hope that she will get a chance to hunt down Meat Loaf.  Not because he supported Romney, but for having recorded “Paradise By The Dashboard Lights” which ruins every karaoke night she’s ever been to.

Avonia the Wiccan Pimp is still pissed off that evangelical leader Billy Graham had any reference to Mormonism as a cult removed from his organization’s website in order to square his support for Mitt Romney against Barack Obama. Now that Romney lost, Avonia’s waiting for Mormonism to be assigned cult status again.  Avonia’s also waiting for the day when a Republican Wiccan runs for president against a black guy so all the evangelicals who’ve been calling her a Satan worshipper for all these years have to kiss Wiccan ass.  She knows this day will never come, but sometimes you have to give yourself to flights of extreme fantasy – which is how Peggy Noonan lives every minute of her life.  Her election prediction was so mired in delirious, sticky fantasy all it was missing was a dragon fucking a unicorn while Hobbits watched while furiously masturbating.

Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat is not allowed to vote, because he is a cat.  So Bernie is trying to lobby all those billionaires who wasted their money on SuperPACs that blew obscene millions of ducats on failed Republican campaigns to steer their remaining financial support toward his campaign to get America to give cats the right to vote.  As nature’s sociopaths, cats would be very likely to vote Republican, or at least that what cats want Republicans to think.  Then election day comes and cats go 74-23 toward the Democratic candidate, revealing that it was all a clever asshole feline ruse, concocted by Bernie to make a shitload of money and allow cats to run for political office. Sure, cats will nuzzle up to you for ear scratches and cuddles, but when you die in the house, they’re going to fucking eat you.

Anonymous Doug laments that CT Republican candidate Linda McMahon (wife of World Wrestling Entertainment’s Vince McMahon) has now lost two straight elections for Senate, blowing $93 million dollars of her own money over the 2010 and 2012 campaigns. He does not lament because she lost, but because that money could have easily been better used on making WWE wrestling better. Maybe hire some better wrestler than the ones currently in the Divas division.  Maybe hire some writers who could craft an actual compelling storyline for a wrestling feud instead of the dreck currently passing for wrestling programming. Perhaps maybe kinda sorta use that money to get wrestlers some decent health care benefits in a profession that leaves its hardest workers crippled instead of blowing almost 100 million in the cause of vanity.

But always remember, no matter what, crazy never dies and peak asshole is a myth.


Voters like his position on God arranging your sexual assault

October 29, 2012

If you haven’t been a regular Renal Failure reader, you may have dumbfounded by the recent debate comments by Republican Senate candidate Richard Mourdock regarding rape, pregnancy, and God’s will.

“The only exception I have to have an abortion is in the case of the life of the mother,” said Mourdock, the Tea Party-backed state treasurer. “I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize life is that gift from God. I think that even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen.”

But if you have been a regular Renal reader, you’d know that not only is this is a common occurrence, it’s now an actual political platform, as seen with current candidate Todd Akin’s “legitimate rape” comment (and some idiot reporter’s defense of said statement), Ron Paul’s “honest rape” comment during the primaries, and Sharron Angle’s failed campaign in 2010 where the notion of God planning for you to be raped first appeared (as well as making lemonade out of lemons when you get raped). So really, Mourdock isn’t bringing anything new table, until he came out with this gem after the debate

“I spoke from my heart. For speaking from my heart, for speaking from the deepest level of my faith, I cannot apologize,” he said. “I would be less than faithful to my faith if I said anything other than life is precious, I believe it is a gift from God. I believe that God would never want anyone harmed, sexually abused, raped. I believe it’s wrong when people want to take what I said and twist it. And if in any way people came away with the wrong meaning, then for that I do apologize.”

And there it is, the beautiful merging of two pillars of bullshit: God has a plan to have you raped and the “heart” defense (it’s not what you say, it’s what’s in your heart).  We’ve been waiting for that marriage of bullshit to occur for a while and now it’s finally here.  And in combination with the classic “I’m sorry that you were offended” non-apology, it’s like bullshit Christmas.

“I wonder if this Mourdock guy studied it out before he decided to tell people God has a plan that may involve you being raped,” says Ninja Vicki, referring to the other bullshit phrase “study it out” we’ve come across, which denotes you haven’t done any studying whatsoever.  “He said he struggled with it but that’s not quite as douchey as studying it out.”

“I like seeing all the Republicans who had been supporting Mourdock have to balance out their wishes that he still wins his Senate race while at the same time looking like they’re not standing with a guy who tells people God planned on you being raped,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It’s a delicate waltz of bullshitting that I’d enjoy a lot more if it didn’t involve people who held high political office, but it’s the only venue that would invoke such high levels of bullshittery.”

“Like Todd Akin before him, Mourdock is saying the secret shit out loud,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “For some reason, they’re feeling either comfortable or confident that these things that  a sub-section of pro-life people only tell other pro-life people about should have a much wider audience.  There’s a reason what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, or what happens in the coven stays in the coven.”

“I’d like to know how we are to know what things are God’s intention and what things did God not intend to happen,” says Samurai Cathy.  “Hurricanes?  Your allergies to gluten?  The day when I lost my toe in a sword sparring session?  You shouldn’t be ambiguous if you’re omnipotent.”

“They need to change that prayer they teach kids to say before the go to bed,” says Mikka.  “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord that he doesn’t see fit that I should be gang-raped in an van. And if I get pregnant, please don’t let me live in a state where rapists have legal rights regarding their rape babies.”

“So life is a gift from God, but sometimes it is delivered via rape,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “What I think this Mourdock guy is trying to convey is that God bought you a present off but it’s being delivered to you in a rape-shaped box.  But that’s not God’s fault. How he could he know that choosing Express 2-Day Delivery means you get raped? Oh wait, he’s God!”

“So God doesn’t necessarily WANT you to get raped, but your pregnancy from your rape is a precious gift from God, which wouldn’t have occurred unless you had been raped…”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Which church does this guy go to?  Pentecostal? Baptist? Joel Osteen Prosperity Jesus?  Which of these Protestant faiths is completely doing away with the rules of cause and effect because I want in on that craziness.”

There has to be some internal polling report that claims that saying God intended for you to be raped is an favorable position to be taken with voters, because it wouldn’t show up this often in elections unless there bit of data saying that it’s a good idea to say it out loud for everyone to hear, which says more for the electorate than it does the candidate.


Tag Larkin laughs at Tagg Romney

October 20, 2012

If you were around for the 2008 election, you’ll know that our very own Tag Larkin has a blood grudge against Tagg Romney, the eldest of Mitt Romney’s Patrick Bateman-looking five sons.  Well, Tagg Romney has Tag Larkin’s attention again, this time over something Tagg Romney said in a recent post-debate radio interview.

In an interview with a local North Carolina radio station Wednesday, the candidate’s eldest son was asked what it was like “to hear the president of the United States call your dad a liar.”

“Jump out of your seat and you want to rush down to the stage and take a swing at him,” Tagg responded, laughing. “But you know you can’t do that because, well, first because there’s a lot of Secret Service between you and him, but also because that’s the nature of the process.”

“Oh boo hoo!” Tag Larkin says mockingly.  “Tagg Romney is afraid of the Secret Service.  Tagg Romney fears for his safety.  TAG LARKIN HAS NO FEAR!  Tag Larkin throws punches at heads of state all the time!  Presidents, prime ministers, the steward of Gondor… if you have executive power, Tag Larkin’s thrown a punch at you.  Tagg Romney is a puny dribble of ejaculate compared to Tag Larkin.”

Indeed, Tag Larkin will throw fists with anyone, despite federal and international laws.  It’s a little-known fact that Tag Larkin once punched the Queen of England square in the babymaker once, but if you ask Buckingham Palace they’ll deny it ever happened because what country wants to admit that their monarch got socked in the crotch? Kind of takes the glimmer off that crown, don’t it?

“Tag Larkin doesn’t talk about punching people,” says Tag Larkin after throwing a thermos at a passing bike messenger.  Tag Larkin doesn’t ride bikes – he pedals too hard and snaps chains like they were thread – so he think bikers are mocking him with their ability to ride bikes without breaking them.  “Tag Larkin just punches people, often without warning or reason. Tag Larkin is a man of action, born of fire of fury, not of privilege and pampered wealth.”

Fire and fury are the closest clues to a birthplace we’ve ever gotten from Tag Larkin.  Tag Larkin has an aura of mystery about him.  Also, he has an aura of savage virility, and one time a girl said his semen tasted like cookie dough.

“Tag Larkin has whooped asses in all legislative houses on federal, state, and local levels!”  declares Tag Larkin, and he’s right. Tag Larkin has kicked a Congressman in the taint, he has dropped an elbow on a state senator, and also suplexed an alderman through a table. As of this blog post, Tagg Romney has not assaulted any one from any branch of legislature here or abroad, and this means that Tag Larkin wins.

Tag Larkin always wins. FOREVER!

On a side note: Tagg Romney’s dad almost won Anonymous Doug’s vote during the Presidential debate, but only because Anonymous Doug misheard Mitt’s “binder full of women” quote as “binder of women.”  Anonymous Doug has bound many a woman in the bedroom during his sexually active years upon this earth, and finally here comes a candidate speaking directly to his kinky predilections.  Alas, when the error was pointed out to Anonymous Doug, he was rather crestfallen.

Election season is just a bad time for everyone.


You’re don’t know how lucky you are to have my husband looking out for himself

September 23, 2012

Here at the Failure, we’ve come to reconsider what the American Dream – the oldest vague and pointless buzzword in our country’s short history – really means today in the broadest sense of the term.  For example, in a narrow sense of time and people  regarding  the American Dream, it once meant not starving to death in Ireland.  That’s not necessarily the case today – though who knows where Ireland’s current economic problems will lead to.

Today, the American Dream is having “Fuck You” Money , which is where you have so much money you can pretty much say “fuck you” to everyone because of the size of your total wealth.  Because when you have “fuck you” money, you get to say shit like Ann Romney says to people while trying to make people like her husband enough to make him president.

During an interview early this evening with Radio Iowa, Mrs. Romney directly addressed her fellow Republicans who’ve criticized her husband.

“Stop it. This is hard. You want to try it? Get in the ring,” she said. “This is hard and, you know, it’s an important thing that we’re doing right now and it’s an important election and it is time for all Americans to realize how significant this election is and how lucky we are to have someone with Mitt’s qualifications and experience and know-how to be able to have the opportunity to run this country.”

“Yeah, you don’t know how hard it is to be rich and want to be the most powerful man in the world,” says Tina the Lesbian. “It’s much harder than figuring out poor people problems, like whether to pay for having heat in your home or for those prescription pills that keep your heart pumping blood.”

“I see Ann Romney is using the Mommie Dearest campaign strategy,” says Ninja Vicki. “Particularly the scene where Joan Crawford yells at her daughter ‘Why can’t you give me the respect that I’m entitled to? Why can’t you treat me like I would be treated by any stranger on the street?’ and her daughter (now played by the American electorate) replies ‘Because I am NOT one of your fans!’ I expect Ann Romney to strangle someone or hack down an orange tree with an axe in the next month or so.”

Or not, because Ann Romney canceled interviews with reporters after her “No wire hangers” moment with the press.

“So when Mitt Romney said his campaign only uses his wife sparingly because they don’t want people to get tired of her, it was really a nicer way of saying that the less they use her the less likely she is to pitch a self-entitled queen shit-fit,” says Mikka.  “Hey lady, until your husband is accused every day on an hourly basis of being a secret Kenyan communist Muslim black-power terrorist who will round up all the white people into FEMA-sponsored death camps, you’re nowhere close to knowing what hard is.”

“She’s talking like a crooked pimp talks to his ho’s,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “Hey, you know how lucky you are to have me looking out for you?  To have me selling your ass on the street, taking all of your money, and keeping you hooked on heroin?  I am doing all this for you, you selfish bitch, and I will slap the inconsiderateness out of your mouth if you look at me sideaways again!  Now vote for Mitt Romney!”

The concept of Ann Romney as a pimp makes a lot more sense than it really should.  For one, pimping ain’t easy.  In fact, it’s very hard.  Also, Ann Romney’s already shown the back of her hand to women voters in a campaign stop earlier in September

“Women, you need to wake up,” she urged them. “Women have to ask themselves who’s going to have and be there for you. I can promise you, I know, that Mitt will be there for you. He will stand up for you, he will hear your voices.”

Then there was her message to Latino voters at the end of August

Hispanics are an important voting bloc, especially in this battleground state. Romney said she’s speaking out to make “sure that those coalitions,” referring to women and Hispanic voters, “that would naturally be voting for another party wake up and say, You’d better really look at the issues this time.”

“You’d better really look at your future and figure out who’s going to be the guy that’s going to make it better for you and your children, and there is only one answer,” Mrs. Romney said, giving a harsher pitch than we usually hear from the woman who wants to be the next first lady.

“When you tell someone to wake up when they’re not sleeping, you’re being a dick,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “No one has ever been converted to  a point of view by being told to ‘wake up.’  You might as well just call them a fucktarded dumbass and save yourself the trouble of being polite and bothering to bring them over to your way of thinking.”

“That sounds like the worst pick-up line ever,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Hey, baby, do you want to go out?  No?  Hey, missy, you’d better really look at your future and figure out who’s going to be the guy that’s going to make it better for you and your children, and there is only one answer – me!  Now get in my car – we’re going to Applebee’s!”

The strange thing about when Ann Romney tries to convince people to vote for her husband is that she doesn’t say exactly why you should do so or what specifically he would do as president, only that you should just take her word for it that he’s going to do a good job.  And that sort of “Just do what I say and shut up” attitude comes from having “Fuck You” money.  It’s what makes having “Fuck You” money so appealing, and thus it’s what makes “Fuck you” money the new American Dream.

What should the American Dream be other than having “fuck you” money?  How about being Tag Larkin?  Sure, you can never be Tag Larkin, but that’s what dreams are for.


Get off of my lawn, chair!

August 31, 2012

I’ve always believed political party conventions are horrid occasions of inflated importance and rank wankery, but after seeing Clint Eastwood on stage talking to an empty chair for almost ten minutes at the Republican National Convention I’ve come to the conclusion that these ridiculous events wanked themselves so hard that they have become self-aware and are now just fucking with us.

“My grandpa used to talk to an empty chair too,” says Ninja Vicki.  “No one applauded him, and the nurses had to keep him away from sharp objects.”

“Was Clint Eastwood doing a Bob Newhart bit?”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “Not everyone can pull off that charmingly-awkward Newhart one-way conversational cadence.  And if you’ve been playing bad-ass tough guy characters for the past 60 odd years, you really can’t pull it off.”

“John McCain should have done this in 2008,” says Mikka.  “It would have made his choice of Sarah Palin for Vice President a lot easier to understand if he accepted his party’s nomination by talking to furniture.”

Side note: McCain/Chaise Lounge would have been a strong Presidential ticket.

“I’m going to assume this routine was all Mr. Eastwood’s idea,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Are you going tell Clint Eastwood what he can do on stage?  Are you going to dare edit him?  ‘Excuse me Mr. Eastwood, we don’t think you should use your time to talk to an imaginary Barack Obama in a chair.’  Go on, tell him that and see what he does to you.  He’ll probably cockslap you.”

“I don’t think Clint Eastwood’s strengths as a performer lay in his improv ability,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “I think he needs the structure that a solid script provides or else you get… old guy rambling at an empty chair.”

“If you’re going to have someone give a speech where they”re talking to an inanimate object, get Tom Hanks because he did that shit well in that movie where he was alone on that island,” says Bernie the Half Cyborg Cat.  “At least he’s young.  An old man being angry at furniture?  That’s what the Republican Party thought would be a good thing to have as a defining image of their convention?  Fucking hell…”

“Somewhere a Democratic consultant is thinking of a way to top that at their convention,” says Samurai Cathy.  “I’m not sure how.  Maybe they roll Kirk Douglas out to read chapters of Fifty Shades of Grey to the audience.”

Tag Larkin did not care for Clint Eastwood’s speech because when chairs talk back to Tag Larkin he hurls them through windows.  Even when they’re not being talkative, chairs still get thrown by Tag Larkin because Tag Larkin is forcing the evolution of chairs by getting them used to being airborne.


Retroactively my teenage years weren’t filled with humiliation and isolation

July 18, 2012

It’s been a busy week for us here at the Failure, ever since Mitt Romney taught us the secrets of time travel when one of his aides went on TV to say that Mitt had “retroactively retired” from Bain Capital in 1999 even though he still working there through 2002.  Retroactive is new bullshit flavor of the month, so get it while it’s still popular.

“I retroactively invented Instagram,” I say.  “And also I retroactively recorded the song The Humpty Dance.”

“Retroactive to 2005, I dated Sarah Michelle Gellar,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It was such a hot relationship, no one remembers it even happening.

“Retroactively I got accepted to Princeton,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “And while we’re at it… I also got in with a 4.0 GPA, majored in Political Science, and eventually became a state senator.”

“I retroactively wore a rubber when I banged that twitchy freak room chick in that crack house,” says Anonymous Doug.  “So retroactively I did not need those penicillin shots and thus should get a refund from my general practitioner for services that were retroactively not rendered for the insane burning on my crotch that never happened.”

“Retroactively I wasn’t the last girl in my class to get her period,” says Ninja Vicki.   “Dorothy Radon fucking lied, and if she hadn’t been murdered by her ex-husband, I’d torture the shit out of her to make her confess.  Wait, I retroactively made Dorothy Radon confess to actually being the last in my class to get her period.  Fuck yeah bullshit time travel!”

“If I watch a bootleg copy of The Dark Knight Rises before it comes out in theaters, does that mean I retroactively saw it?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Because that’s what I did with the other two Batman movies.”

“My boss got on my case for being late to work, so I showed up early the next day and told him that meant I was retroactively on-time,” says Mikka.  “He wasn’t sure how that worked, so he couldn’t argue.”

“I retroactively went to my senior prom,” says Samurai Cathy.  “The country club that they held the prom at 16 years ago held a sword auction last month that I attended.  That counts.”

“Tag Larkin does nothing retroactively!”  says Tag Larkin.  “The world reacts retroactively to everything Tag Larkin does!”

We wrote this post on a Wednesday, but with WordPress publishing we could have retroactively posted to last Monday, but then you’d never know that we had written this post.  So then when you tell us we only wrote one post last week, we’d go “Nah uh, because we wrote two, one was just written retroactively from this week!”  And then who would look foolish?  Not us, because we’re the one bending space and time.


Banging is better, but liquor is quicker

March 18, 2012

Scientists found out something of interest to us that doesn’t involve Kylie Minogue clones.  Apparently male fruit flies, when they don’t get sex from female fruit flies, turn to alcohol for comfort.

The study explains that the sexually deprived flies had half the amount of a substance called neuropeptide F (NPF) in their brains than the sexually satisfied males had. In turn, those low levels of NPF may have driven the rejected males to seek the pleasure of alcohol. Mammals, including humans, have a similar (but not identical) substance in their brains called neuropeptide Y, and the study’s authors suggest their fruit-fly findings might shed light on mechanisms behind human substance abuse and addiction.

“I do notice I drink more when I’m not getting laid,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “But I thought that was because I filling up all that non-making out time with more drinking.  Apparently I was just self-medicating as usual.”

“Doug’s right,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “You’re out with your friends at a bar, they get to talking to other people and start hooking up, you’re left by yourself so of course you’re going to burn that time drinking to feel better about not getting any.”

“Come to think of it, a lot of time when I think to myself ‘Hey, I’m not getting laid,’ my brain will usually reply with ‘Well, that frees us up for some beers,'”  I say.  “I thought that was because I have a drinking problem, but apparently it’s just my brain’s way of saying ‘Yeah, you’re not getting any pussy, but here’s a consolation prize.'”

“When you can’t spank the monkey, a few stiff drinks will bring  down your raging boner while making you feel somewhat good in the process,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat who, like all cats, has a barbed penis.  “Whatever gets the right chemicals in your head flowing that keep you from slitting your wrists.”

“I’m glad other members of the animal kingdom are discovering the joys of alcohol,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Makes me think I’m not drinking alone most of the time.  Somewhere there’s a fruit fly getting a buzz on while I’m having my third glass of wine.”

“I feel bad for the other members of the animal kingdom who don’t have access to alcohol,”  says Mikka.  “No sex or booze for you, little duck-billed platypus.  You have to face the emptiness alone.”

“Tag Larkin has sex when he’s not drinking!”  says Tag Larkin.  “Is Tag Larkin’s fridge empty of tallboys?  No problem.  Tag Larkin will go have sex then.”

So if you’re not getting laid, have a drink or five.  It’s natural.  Unlike pants.



Letters from my vagina

March 15, 2012

“What’cha doing?”  I say to Tina the Lesbian.

“I’m writing a letter to my congressman,”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“What about?”  I say.

“I’m giving him a detailed description of what’s going on in my vagina,”  says Tina the Lesbian.

*blink* *blink*

“Tina, our congressman is a crock pot full of blood,”  I say. “He’s not going to find descriptions of your lady parts erotic.  And I’m also assuming he’s male… so what’s the deal?”

“Well, every other day some fuckhead in a political office comes up with an idea to involve themselves in the workings of vaginas and uteri and ovaries and such,”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “And even worse, that fuckhead’s got thirty other friends in the same chamber of government ready to back him on legislating government interest in my lady parts, whether it’s about contraception or shoving an ultrasound wand up my cooch.”

“Yeah, it does seem like there’s been a flood of politicians lately wanting to pass tougher regulations on vaginas than on banking or oil drilling,”  I say. “I mean, fuck, it’s easier to own a gun than a vagina these days.”

“So my thought is that if politicians are so interested in my vagina, I should tell them all about it,”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “On a daily basis.  In the form of written correspondence.  And in graphic detail.”

“Sounds like something Tag Larkin’s done before,”  I say.  And indeed he has.  Tag Larkin used to send the governor letters about his cock.  What his cock was doing. Where his cock had been.  What his cock had slapped that day.  And that’s why Tag Larkin is no longer allowed to use the mail.

“Well, I’d like to think I’m a better writer than Tag Larkin,”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “At least I can use first-person pronouns when referring to myself.  And I’m not doing this alone either.  Avonia the Wiccan Pimp is helping.”

“She’s got wonderful calligraphy,”  I say.  “Reading a letter about what’s going on with her snatch must be reading a Shakespearean sonnet.”

“She’s not writing,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “She’s calling our Senator’s office every day to talk to him about her infertility issues.  Well, she tries to talk to the Senator, but usually she just ends up talking to whatever political aide answers the phone.  Just chattering away about why she and husband can’t have children… about her ovary problems… and her malformed cervix…”

“Do you think these graphic letters and phone calls will do anything?”  I say.

“Probably not, but it does feel good to tell someone else about my recent problems with vaginal dryness,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “I don’t know if the foreplay’s not working or I’m stressed out or what, but I do know that KY is our world’s most precious resource.”

I’m hoping it at least gets people talking frankly and candidly about vaginas.  And perhaps a talk show on TV called Pussy Talk.  I would watch that.  Every night.

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