Personal Blog

[Martin Hash]

It’s either that or his testicles, and I wasn’t sure if Nuke had that close of a friend?

[TheReal_ND]

I don’t know where these people come from. I don’t know if they test their products, the quality of their products – but they are delicious. I loved the sausage for something like 30 years, but I can’t take and feed a family of five on a little 12 ounce roll of sausage.

I don’t mind paying more money for the 16 ounce roll of sausage, but they stopped making them. They have a 12 ounce roll, and here are three men that weigh over 200 pounds a piece, a woman, that’s a little plump Scotch girl and a daughter, who is 13 and somehow I'm supposed to take a 12 ounce roll of sausage and a couple dozen eggs and feed them that – it ain’t going to work. It wouldn't ever work. And I can't buy anymore, ever again. And as far as the 16 ounce, in maple and sage goes, I don’t need that, I’m not from the north, I’m a Texas man. This is Texas. This was always Texas.

Jimmy Dean’s sausage is for Southern people to eat with their breakfast, with their fried eggs and their T-bone steaks. I can’t see going to a little 12 ounce package, to feed four, five, six, sometimes seven people and I’m not going to buy two of those 12 ounce packages just because everything is downsizing these days. The same God damn price. They want to sell you less for the same damn price.

I’d sure like to meet this sausage man and I’d sure like to get the 16 ounce package of regular sausage, but everything is changing. I’ll just have my own damn sausage made like I used to, 30 something years ago, it’s not as tasty as theirs is, but it will work.

Little ‘ole 12 ounce God damn roll of sausage supposed to feed your brother and me and you, 600 pounds of men, at least, get my point? And the two girls and they put it in that fuckin pussy roll of sausage, son of a bitch, somebody need their ass kicked, some little company man thought this shit up. Save money, yes save money, save money. Fuck I want to eat, God damn it.

[Speaker to Animals]

Same dude who realized they can keep expanding the diameter of a toilet paper roll. TP is at crack price levels, and I swear to God there is less and less per roll each year.

[Fife]

Get your sausage where you get your calf nuts, chitlins, and skins if you want a fair deal.

Stay out of that fuckin Kroger.

[clubgop]

Recovered from the archives. A true blog post.

From the Hash Medical Center auditorium a press conference has been called. Dr. Hash approaches the podium wearing a full length white lab coat, actually it is more like a duster, and begins to speak.
"A few days ago a surgery was performed to remove the embedded stick from the rectum of an anonymous patient named “M.” This was a delicate and complicated procedure and because I am also an accountant and it being tax season, I observed the procedure while one of my residents Dr. Clubby performed the procedure. At this time I’d like him to talk to you all right now. "
A man approaches the podium shakes Dr. Hash’s hand. He is wearing a paper goatee that would never be allowed in an operating room and a lab coat that is more like a white leather motorcycle vest with the initials BAMF on it. I assume that means Boston Area Medical Fraternity but Dr. Clubby is not from the Boston area.
“Good afternoon everyone, can I get a hell yeah?”
From the back of the audience they scream back “Hell Yeah!”
“For about two years this son of a bitch had this thing so far up his ass it was not just affecting his emotions it was controlling them so eventually I had to take a radical course of action.”
Dr. Clubby then furrows his brow and leaves one arched as he continues, “I observed someone took a stick shined it up real good, turn that sum bitch sideways and stuck up his candy ass!”
Dr. Clubby then begins to speak in a quieter tone, “so I begin this delicate procedure”
Audience yells, “What?”
“I said I begin this delicate procedure.”
Audience yells, “What?”
“I said I went to take the stick out of his ass. But first I had to knock the son of a bitch out first. So I looked in his beady little eyes and told him to count back from 100.”
Audience yells, “What?”
“So he starts, 100.”
Audience yells, “What?”
“99!”
Audience yells, “What?”
“98”
Audience yells, “What?”
97”
“Audience yells, “What?”
“96”
Audience yells, “What?”
“Then I punched the son of a bitch cause it was taking too long!”
Audience cheers.
“I then dislodged the stick and removed it from the patient. It was a great success with one side effect. Patient wants to fuck chickens now! In order to avoid that consequence, I have come up with a preemptive procedure. I just look them in their beady eyes I challenge their reactive response and then quickly asses if the procedure is necessary if it is I kick them in the gut and placing their necks on my shoulder I drop to my behind and the force applied will dislodge the stick, removal will take place with the next bowel movement. It won’t hurt it will just ‘stun them.’ AND that’s the bottom line because Dr. Club said so!”
Dr. Hash interjects, “Are there any questions?”
Reporter begins to ask a question, Dr. Clubby interrupts “I explained what happened already it’s time to celebrate.”
Dr. Clubby put his hands up and from the back of the audience someone throws cans of lite beer. Dr. Clubby opens up the cans and pours them into his open mouth. The cans now empty are thrown away and the good doctor call for more. He opens the cans and offers them to others standing around the podium. One person in particular, was not celebrating and had a weird look about him. He was one of the patient’s family and looked as what only can be described as a forlorn feline, Dr. Clubby seeing this person calls for more beer. As the doctor catches the can and opens them he offers one to the sad kitty. He takes the can and holds it pensively, Dr. Clubby slams his can of beer against the one he just handed to the depressed cat, doctor places his hand underneath the can prodded the cat to drink. He starts and a smile comes over his face, Dr. Clubby smiles big and he begins to turn away from the kitty man, when suddenly, the smile on Dr. Clubby’s face goes away and becomes a stern look. He turns around and with that same face he stares daggers at the kitty. At first cat man doesn’t notice the change in the doctors demeanor, but eventually it becomes hard not to notice the now seriously stoic doctor starring at him, the kitty looks around and his face changes from happy to grumpy. But before the cat could realize what has happened the Doctor shoves both his middle fingers in the face of the cat man, then kicks him in the gut, and performs the preemptive maneuver. The Doctor recovers to his feet and calls for more beer. Opens the cans and pours them on the stunned body of the grumpy kitty.

[Ex-California]

I don’t know where these people come from. I don’t know if they test their products, the quality of their products – but they are delicious. I loved the sausage for something like 30 years, but I can’t take and feed a family of five on a little 12 ounce roll of sausage.

I don’t mind paying more money for the 16 ounce roll of sausage, but they stopped making them. They have a 12 ounce roll, and here are three men that weigh over 200 pounds a piece, a woman, that’s a little plump Scotch girl and a daughter, who is 13 and somehow I'm supposed to take a 12 ounce roll of sausage and a couple dozen eggs and feed them that – it ain’t going to work. It wouldn't ever work. And I can't buy anymore, ever again. And as far as the 16 ounce, in maple and sage goes, I don’t need that, I’m not from the north, I’m a Texas man. This is Texas. This was always Texas.

Jimmy Dean’s sausage is for Southern people to eat with their breakfast, with their fried eggs and their T-bone steaks. I can’t see going to a little 12 ounce package, to feed four, five, six, sometimes seven people and I’m not going to buy two of those 12 ounce packages just because everything is downsizing these days. The same God damn price. They want to sell you less for the same damn price.

I’d sure like to meet this sausage man and I’d sure like to get the 16 ounce package of regular sausage, but everything is changing. I’ll just have my own damn sausage made like I used to, 30 something years ago, it’s not as tasty as theirs is, but it will work.

Little ‘ole 12 ounce God damn roll of sausage supposed to feed your brother and me and you, 600 pounds of men, at least, get my point? And the two girls and they put it in that fuckin pussy roll of sausage, son of a bitch, somebody need their ass kicked, some little company man thought this shit up. Save money, yes save money, save money. Fuck I want to eat, God damn it.

Is this from The Dog of the South?

[TheReal_ND]

It's a review someone left somewhere that I retconned.

[TheReal_ND]

I'm tired of running from who I am. People think they know me because of my post history but they don't. The truth is, my life couldn't be more fulfilled if I tried. What some people see as some kind of shortcoming is only a strength in disguise.

Very well. I'll tell you about me. People thought I was crazy when I painted my wheel chair fire apple red in high school shop class. Little did they know how crazy they themselves actually were. While they were out at their massive rave parties turning their brain into Swiss cheese, I was mastering the art of the sword. Days would blue together as my hands became bloody and raw from the excruciating hate hikes I would engage in, wandering through the forest. I learned to cut trout open with a sharpened Stone and use their guts as squirrel traps. Sewing squirrel hides together using fishbones in my mountain reposte I would learn memorize the entire Dune series by wrote. When people asked me how I was doing I could amaze them with mentant like precision quotes.

Though the heights of renown were reaching Hollywood stardom levels I decided to drop out of highschool and wander the country. I travelled all over. North south. East and West. I grew bored of my travels in America and decided to become a buss boy in Taiwan. It was there I learned the arts of pleasing a woman. Long nights were spent in her musky cave learning the karma sutra. But worldly pleasures I would soon eschew as I soon became an aesthetic. I wandered the barren tundra until I found an abandoned temple and then flogged mysoef with sage branches until my ragged hide was torn and bloodied. I wanted nothing more than to become the wind itself as I climbed the ebbs and flows of knowledge like a sacred hawk. The villagers would leave offerings of bread and water to which I happily cured their children of disease and blindness.

It was not long after having climbed the world's tallest mountain ranges and explored the deepest caverns that I learned I could talk to animals. I did so at first reluctantly as I knew, for every horse I wispered to, some mob boss was getting rich. I learned to sing the song of the lion on the plains of the Serengeti. More than a few times I saved the Swahili tribes from starvation with my knowledge of hydroponics. Still, the CIA would not leave me alone. They wanted me in their cabal. They had plans to colonize Mars with a breakaway elite and needed my pyschic powers to communicate with their underground bases faster than light travel. .

I cannot say wether I chose rightly or wrongly. Did I choose to post so much out of love or hate? Is such a thing possible here on the ascended realm of being? There is only one light and one darkness. All else is in-between. My post count notwithstanding

[Fife]

Is this from The Dog of the South?

John Selmer Dix himself would approve.

[pineapplemike]