flooklyn

[flooklyn]

Recently I went to Stromboli, Italy, which is a tiny little island next to Sicily with an active volcano. It’s an incredible place, one of those islands that when you arrive someone eventually says “ I could live here” but really after 2 days of no WIFI you realize you’re nothing without Facebook. A friend’s wedding was the reason for going so we really went all out.

I found out real quick girls don't like big dudes in Italy. They like these skinny dudes with little pot bellies in shirts 3 sizes too small. It's strange.

Besides that, I found myself just feeling really good out there. I don't know if it was the volcanic energy, pasta, or people, but I went out every night, got 2 hours of sleep and woke up like a fucking song bird every morning. Double espresso. Boom. Back to the Aeperol Spritz. Oh I was having a blast. So happy. Putting shit on Instagram every 5 seconds like a 12 year old girl. Even my friends noticed:

"Uh. Dude did your mom hack your account?"  

 No why?

 "Cause your last 12 posts are of plants."

 What can I say I just felt good! Couldn't explain it. I even debated a snap chat account but decided against it. Mainly because I don’t know what snap chat is.

But then that was it. I landed back home…In JF fucking K. I don't know if you've guys have ever been to Stromboli, Italy. It doesn’t exactly have the same aesthetic as Queens, NY.

It was over. I was back in the jungle. Look… I love NY… I'm from here but fuck. FUCK this place is a shit hole sometimes. I think it was just too stark of a contrast from beautiful Stromboli. I shoulda did a night in Miami before I came home. Miami has that nice blend of beautiful weather and horrible shit people.

These days it’s very hard to feel good on your own… without the best pasta on earth and a fucking veranda to eat it on. That's right. I had a VERANDA. Nobody has that.

It's hard enough to feel GOOD for Christ’s sake.

I mean I try to stay positive but there's always someone or something out there to discourage you isn’t there? That’s why I really try my best to stay off certain social media.  Cause just when you think you’re making progress in life some fucking dickwad is right there to remind you of how big of a piece of absolute shit you are. That's where it really gets ya.

 For example, I've been working out, trying to not be gross and I was looking in the mirror and I thought I saw an ab??? You know one of those abs that you KNOW isn't gonna be there tomorrow. But it's there today so fuck it be happy with it. And it's always the top abs. You'll never see a bottom ab randomly sneak in there.

I was actually proud of myself. “You're doing it!” I said to myself . Then I checked The Rock's Instagram… and went right for the pound cake. Uch I'm such a fat fuck. I don't care. It's never gonna happen. No matter how hard I try.

Little tip. If you're not financially, physically, and emotionally secure do not check The Rocks Instagram. It's just a thousand reasons of why you're a lazy piece of worthless garbage.

Even in stand up comedy when I have a good set and people say something like "hey you were really good man"... which to possibly your disbelief DOES happen from time to time, I'll leave the club in good spirits. Feeling less than horrible. Then maybe I’ll stumble across Kevin Hart’s Instagram.

Kevin Hart: "hey y'all. 5am. I'm in my 12th country in 3 days. Sold Out 6000 shows. 5AM. You know I Gotta get that cardio in. Never stop. Never sleep. Never eat. Never surrender"

I mean.. FUCK I just did 10 “OK” minutes and I was gonna treat myself to a turkey burger and maybe a little soft serve. But no Richard Pryor times 9 over here is on his 20th hour special.

The worst is the exes. Uch. Why do we do it?  And WE ALL DO IT. Why do we check our exes on social media?  It's a sure fire way to never feel good. Also now it's 1:15pm on Sunday and you still haven't left bed. Haven’t even turned the lights on.

Oh. And Of course they're doing AMAZING.  Book deals. Vacations. Vice Presidents. I swear to god all my exes are basically doin better than Nicole Kidman and Julia Roberts combine. And before you look you KNOW YOU SHOULDNT. But you do it anyway. 

 And once you get started its hard to stop. It’s a bell that cannot be unrung:

 “Ok weekend with girls. Whatever.”

 “Vegas. Yea yea.”

 “Wait. Is that an elephant?”

 “Did this bitch go to Thailand?”

 “Monaco? What? Who goes there?!”

 “Feeding kids in Africa?! Oh cmon!”

 “LUNCH WITH THE OBAMAS?!”

 Fuck that ok that's enough. Had to stop. 

 Although, It was right about then why I realized why I was posting all those pictures on Instagram in Italy.

I was hoping they would stalk me !

That's right bitches look at me now!!!!!!! I'm eating a cannoli on top of a fucking volcano!!!!!

We’re all evil bastards and don’t deserve each other. Except The Rock & Kevin Hart… They deserve everything

[flooklyn]

ORANGE DISSIDENCE

What’s it like talking to a Trump voter? Fucking horrible never do it. Like being forced to watch your spouse in a porno, it hurts to hear them say anything at all. But what’s the most mind boggling thing to me... is the hatred within them.

I have no idea why this is the way it is (uneducated racist cunts), but when you speak to these people it’s so clear they’re happier at the fact that we lost instead of the fact that they won. Another mind fuck is the unbelievable ability to oversee and tune out all the bad shit this guy does

Ive spoken to a few of these people. And when I look at them I cant understand how they dont see it:

Me: How could you possibly like this dude?

Trump Voter: He says what he means.

Me: Gonna build a wall?

Trump Voter: Duh he doesnt mean shit like that. That’s just to get votes.

Why do these people think they have some bullshit decoder? Like they know what he REALLY means? How could you think that? Given the fact that I know more French than he knows English, and Ive never even studied French. Ive never even been to France. I think one time I walked in an Au Bon Pain. Actually it was an Arby’s... I DID get the French Dip though.

When you look them in the eye and tell them this horrible shit they graze over it. Like you didnt say it.

Me: dude people are going to lose all their healthcare. People are going to die let alone be sick.

Trump Voter: Relax. Let’s give him a chance.

“Let’s give him a chance” ???????? Its the Presidency not an episode of Black Mirror (great show - dont watch them in order). Where the fuck have you been since last year? This dude has done something shitty every single day. Hasnt missed a single one yet. He’s like the Cal Ripken Jr of douchebags.

The disdain for Hillary is the most laughable yet. They couldn’t explain why they hated her in real words. None of them could put a rational thought up as to why she wasn’t the right choice. But they sure could blindly hate her for no reason.

Me: Hillary could not be more qualified.

Trump Voter: She is the most unqualified candidate weve ever had

Me: why? how?

Trump Voter: Crooked Hillary! Lock her up!

Me: Why?

Trump Voter: Benghazi!

Me: What happened there?

Trump Voter: Her Emails!

Me: Nothing in them

Trump Voter: Still

Me: You need help

Trump Voter: Fuck you, libtard.

(TRUMP VOTER THEN FORWARDS AN EMAIL TO ME WITH A LIST OF PEOPLE HILLARY HAS HAD MURDER - original sender has been erased)

Me: you know Bannon is a white nationalist right?

Trump Voter: where’d you see that?

Remain “elite”. We are. better. than. them.

They hate themselves. They hate other people because they were raised that way. They were taught that a different color is a threat.. They take “intelligence” as a threat so they call it “lies”. They take “compassion” as a threat so they call it “weakness”. They see helping the poor or sick as a threat to their pocket so they call them “lazy”.

When really all they are is a bunch of racist unintelligent lazy fucks with no compassion. Which is the most important threat of all.

Rage against this shit cloud of orange dissidence

[flooklyn]

THE COOKIE BURDEN

 I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. Its fun isn’t it? Getting drunker then you normally would to hang out with people you normally wouldn’t. Mom cooks, dad sleeps, and grandma shits her pants during coffee.Yet at the end of the day we all love our families and leave with a little warm feeling in our heart..... and if you’re like me..... a million fucking cookies you don’t need.

It’s literally the only time of year I end up with 7 bags of different cookies. And it’s far more overwhelming then listening to a racist relative cry about the civil war in front of the fireplace on Christmas . And if you ARE like me, if you ARE the one that gets stuck with 7 bags of crumbled, well traveled cookies,  then just know that’s because the people that “love you” gave them to you because they do not want to deal with what you are about to deal with. Which is having a Scrooge McDuck amount of sugar bread staring at you in the face every fucking day of your life until its done.

Cause that’s exactly how everyone wants to start their new year right? With enough sugar to cater the desert side of a 3 day cruise to the Bahamas.

With enough sweets to do Kraft services for Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

New Year Gross Me

By the time Valentines Day hits I’ll be craving salt and loneliness

Its alot of cookies is what I am saying. And they’re just there aren’t they? Just staring at me. Saying “c’mon Tubbs, what are you gonna do grill a few chicken cutlets like some guido? Screw that and hit these Snickerdoodles like a real man”

And I did. And it just got worse.

No matter what I did I just couldn’t walk through my kitchen without seeing what looked like body bags on the table. Here I am just going for the Brita at 6AM and now I’ve found myself in a cavernous hole of depression that is filled with sprinkled fucking Christmas trees. It became so overwhelming for me that I had to tell someone . So I told my friend. To which she replied: “Why don’t you give them to the homeless?”

OK RELAX. Lets not get crazy here. It’s not about that.

For the record I give money and food to homeless people on a frequent basis. Plus, I don’t exactly look like the type of guy you take a free cookie from. I look like the guy you get firewood from. I’m not gonna walk around the streets of Brooklyn with this beard handing out free cookies like some psycho. I’d be a arrested before I got to the Pecan Shortbreads.

So.......................... I ate them.

One after the other. I made those cookies my bitch. I was like the Bear in The Revenant and the Biscotti was Leo.

If you experienced this burden like I did, just know that you have my support and sympathy. Be strong, and together we will conquer 2016. Just 7 pounds heavier.

Flood

[flooklyn]

An Open Letter To Ghosts

Dear Ghosts,

I’m writing this open letter (which I know you will be able to read) to ask you a few questions, and to make a few suggestions for you to use in our future interactions. I know this may be a bit much, but I figure since I’m always there for you, you may do the same for me.

I wanna start off by saying I know you’re real. Some people say you’re fake, but they were just never that special to someone like I am to you. What people don’t understand is that individuals like myself have a certain understanding of another dimension. We see things they don’t see.  Of course this isn’t our choice. We never asked to have this superpower bestowed upon us deep in the womb.  Like I said before, we just happen to be a special breed with a special bond to the afterlife, and own a bunch of cats that we can also speak to. So the least we can do is use our power and knowledge to help others connect with their loved ones, and try to further connect with you.

Which brings me to my first question. Why can’t everyone just have this power? I’m so confused as to why only a few people possess this ability. It seems a little silly that the loved one would have to drive halfway across the state to come talk to me, or even worse I go to them, just so they can speak to their uncle Steve. Are you choosing who gets the power? Do you know why someone gets it? Also I’m pretty sure this isn’t making you guys so happy. You don’t wanna travel, the client, I mean loved one doesn’t wanna travel, and neither do I. While this simply is the greatest superpower a person can have, ironically it doesn’t pay so well. Really, anything you can do would be a huge relief on my gas tank. I mean it doesn’t have to be every person, maybe one in every county.

Secondly, can you stop with the “making it cold thing”? It doesn’t seem to be so effective. When I’m in a 400 year old castle on the coast in southern Scotland with 60 foot wide hallways and no glass in the windows in the middle of January, its hard to make the sell that drop in temperature is from you guys. I know you’re there, but maybe try making it warm with NO wind next time? It will certainly keep em guessing and at least show you wanna make every one comfortable. Which begs the question, why are you guys such dicks sometimes?

We’re here for you. We go to these places that YOU lived/live. Remember that whole travel thing? For some reason you can walk through walls but you can’t make it out to New Jersey? Either way since we are the ones making our way to you, would it kill you to stop knocking things off tables like you’re a house cat? If you have the ability to move shit around, then why are you just being a prick? Don’t just slam a door like you’re a mad girlfriend! Why are you just turning lights on and off like a 4 year old? All this denial from everyone else, all the second guessing would come to an end if you just showed yourself on camera. Which reminds me. STOP TURNING MY CAMERA OFF ASSHOLE!

If you’re doing these things cause you don’t want us in your house, then that’s even more reason to make something bad ACTUALLY happen. Running around making it cold and slamming doors only make us more curious. Hopefully this letter reached you in good health. Or. Well you know what I mean. Either way thanks so much for picking me to speak to. It makes me feel a lot more important then weekends at the register. I’m here for ya guys! I know you have a voice, and I know you want to be heard. Why else would I be seeing and hearing things ya know?

Sincerely Yours,

Gale Moonfire Duffy

[flooklyn]

LOVE, TEXT & RAP IS OLD

When I was a kid, and you liked a girl, and you wanted to be with her, you really needed to make sure you liked her. In order to get this girl, you had to go through a whole slew of trials that would make The Bachelorette look like Sister Wives. We didn’t have apps with a menu bigger than a NJ Diner of every woman within 80 feet of us. Some say this is better. I say we lost something.

At first you needed her to notice you. Would it be through friends? Would you be funny? Mean? Straight forward? Pull your balls out (which depending on who you are, could be funny, mean, or straight forward)? Either way all this was a lot more difficult then “swiping right”.. Which to me is a good thing.

Now she notices you. What’s next? Talking. Which for any young man back in the day, was harder than beating Mike Tyson in Punch-Out. EVEN IF YOU USED THE CODE. But this time you’re after a different code. Her phone number.

Man, that was it. So many articles, books, songs, TV shows and movies referenced getting a girl’s number on a piece of paper or a napkin. This was your first badge! Your first stripe! All those flop sweats. All those looks in the hallway. The nights wondering if she likes you while listening to Boys 2 Men, pretending you’re singing directly to her, and also pretending you could hit those crazy high notes (Just me?). All those worries. Washed away.  You cherish that paper. It burns a hole in your pocket all day at school. But then that anxiety comes back like one of those secret poops you didn’t know you had in you. Cause you “got dem digits”, but hold on to your Z Cavaricci’s big shot. You have her phone number, now you have to actually call her.

Oh you know what that’s like? You’ve called a girl for the first time, Mr. 13-25 years old? You know what nerve it takes? Wrong! Cause you never called a house phone, which is the second line of defense in your mission to get to first base or at least maybe leg one out to 2nd. When you’re home in your house in 1992, sitting, staring at this piece of paper for all that time, trying to jack yourself up enough to call, then immediately cool yourself down so you don’t sound like you’re on a mile 6 with a level 7 incline, you haven’t been communicating with her on instagram, snap chat, and texts for the last two months! This is the real deal buddy. One take Bill. One Shot.  At BEST you maybe had the yearbook from last year that had her picture in it, which doesn’t even look like her anymore. Yet no matter how prepared you were. How determined for it to go well. There were variables you just couldn’t control.

For starters her Dad could answer. Anyone could answer. It’s a “house” phone. It’s in the house. Usually right in the kitchen. And here you are in YOUR kitchen, hoping to be unheard by your family, with the phone chord stretched so tight to the living room Philippe Petit could walk on it. Again, this takes alot more balls then simply sending a text.

If you don’t think it’s a scary or embarrassing to have a father answer the house phone let me give you an example. I will change the girls’ names to protect their identity:

--------------------------------------------------------

Year: 199&

I CALL THE NUMBER

*PHONE RINGING*

DAD ANSWERS

DAD: Yea?!

ME: Uh. Hi. Is….. Shaniqua there?

DAD: Uh? Yea hold on. Shaniqua!!!!!!!

SHANIQUA (IN BACKROUND):  Yea?

DAD: Phone for you! It’s your friend Jessica.

END

--------------------------------------------------------

Ok? Are we good? It was hard. And to go through all that just for a phone call, to which you had nothing to contribute to anyway, seems crazy right?  I’m not saying it’s not still hard. Just that it’s a lot easier to move from one to the other now. Kids trade profiles like baseball cards. But I don’t give a shit about that. Just that we had to go through so much more pain. So did our artists.

Music used to be a medium. An actual expression. And it was awesome. A huge part about music, and loving it, was that I simply couldn’t do it. A very small % of people can sing or play an instrument. Not only does it sound incredible but the whole time you’re in awe of the ability. Bands. Guitarists, drummers, horns. We went to see it cause it sounded good. But also we couldn’t do it! If we could do it we probably wouldn’t spend money to see it. It was also mysterious, and all you had was the sound. I remember my mother talking about The Beatles and her experience. She would go on about how she would sit in her room with her sisters, listen to the album and stare at the cover. Dreaming Paul was singing to her. And you HAD TO LISTEN. The only way you were going to get to know your idols was by listening to their music, cause that’s all you had. 

Being really good was also fundamental to your success. You couldn’t just get a few handsome young lads together. If they weren’t good, you wouldn’t get heard. People used to wonder what Jimmy Page was like. What was Jimmy Hendrix thinkin? How did Lennon come up with that? It added to it. Now, with a few swipes on your phone you can find out what color shit Beyonce took this morning. (yes its a perfect color relax)

What’s the absolute strangest to me, is that in pretty much every way, as a human race, we got better. That’s what makes us human. We keep fixing our shit. We have better technology, we live longer, we know more about disease, stronger buildings, the bacon bowl,  we LEARN! So why is the best music from the 60′s -70′s? Even most of the greatest and iconic rap songs ever, were made off beats using OLDER MUSIC. Why?!?!? The Vietnam War, amongst other atrocities, forced the youth into a revolt, and a few of these mother fuckers just happen to play the guitar. WE’VE HAD PLENTY OF WARS!!!!!! Where’s our Buffalo Springfield? We don’t and will never have one, because there’s no real feeling of loss anymore.

Cell phones give you unlimited accessibility. But it also takes way our desire for that accessibility, which is why we thought cell phones were such a good idea to begin with. “UCH! I WANT TO TALK TO THIS GIRL! I WANNA CALL HER!! I WANNA SEE HER!” Now you can! You can see her whenever you want. You can facetime her, text her, call her personal cell phone, or just look at her instagram. I don’t know if our artists feel that pain anymore.

Before we gained this accessibility, our artists felt the pain. Deep mother fucking pain. And it showed in their music.

Do you know how much pain Percy Seldge had to be in to sing “When a Man Loves a Woman?” That dude must have been sitting in his bed, just having seen the girl of his dreams. But he couldn’t see her again. She was gone for now until the next time he sees her. All he could do is sit there and think about her. Yearning to see her again.

How bad of a day do you think Ben E King was having when he made “Stand By Me”? He missed the shit out of that woman. If Boyz II Men had snap chat it would have been the women On Bended Knee. Pending Billy Withers would be a facebook guy, I’m sure he’d notice the sunshine when shes gone in the form of a sun emoji text. The Beatles just wanted to hold your hand. Now Lil John just wants to skeet in your butt cheeks. Men used to be at war. Sulking. Fighting. Angry. Sad. Just missing that girl back home with nothing but a black & white picture pinned to a fucking bunk bed. Ya see you take that, and put it to a dude with a set of pipes, and you get sexual healing. Now give Marvin Gaye a cell phone, and ya get Yeezus. 

There are phenomenal artists out there. I’m not saying music sucks. I’m just saying. Eh. Fuck it. It mostly sucks. And so does Tinder and all the other bullshit. I don’t know who’s to blame. But I got a few ideas. Anyway. Find me on Match.

[flooklyn]

YOU NAME IT

Idiot: Let me tell you something right now. I will NOT be calling him #Caitlyn

Me: Really? Who are you talking about?

Idiot: Bruce Jenner!

Me: Well who is Bruce Jenner?

Idiot: He calls himself Caitlyn now.

Me: Ahhh. Caitlyn Jenner. Now I know who you meant.

[flooklyn]

GUNS & WHATEVER RHYMES WITH ROSES

“God created man. Sam Colt made them equal”

What a crock of shit that is. Nothing about guns makes us equal. Most interactions people have with guns are anything BUT equal . Even if you and the person you’re shooting both have guns, its still not equal. One gun can be more powerful then the other. Even if you both have the same gun, one person could be a great shot while the other couldn’t hit the broad side of your mother’s ass if they were inside of it. In fact, guns in general is something someone uses when they are trying to get an advantage. In hopes the confrontation WONT BE equal. So what does that quote mean? I guess it depends who you are. To me? Its exactly what it is. A fucking commercial to sell guns by the Colt Company. To gun crazy assholes, its just another excuse to have a gun. And THAT’S what bothers me. The bullshit excuses I get from gun owners. So for the next few minutes or so I will do my best to make fun of the top three excuses I get from bat shit gun lovers.

But before I do. I have to say I support hunting. I don’t hunt. But I support it. I have to. I eat meat.  If you eat meat you have to support hunting. I can’t sit here and say nobody should hunt with guns while I’m assaulting a porterhouse like it stole my mother’s purse. Is it fair to the deer when a dude sits in a tree, dressed in colors the animal cannot see, and double-taps it like Osama Bin Laden from 100 yards? No... Its not. But neither is putting thousands of chickens on a conveyor belt like they’re small block Chevy engines so they can get their heads chopped off, de-feathered , deep fried and covered in cheese before it gets to our plate....which we have been “waiting forever” for.

I’m not even saying there should be no guns. I also wont give you any stats. If you’re interested in those, go here http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2013/01/pro-gun-myths-fact-check  . It basically says the same exact thing as this post, just with actual facts, and more jokes. This is simply a quick exercise on how ridiculous I can make their excuses look. Which are about as useless as Rick Perry’s reading glasses.

There are three reasons in particular that chap my chops worse then spending all week in the same swimsuit.

#1 THE GOVT IS GOING TO TAKE THEM AWAY & THE 2ND AMENDMENT WAS WRITTEN TO GIVE US THE RIGHT TO DEFEND OURSELVES AGAINST THE GOVT IF NEED BE.

What a humungous steaming pile of southern country bullshit.  First of all, they’re not taking your guns away. Second of all, if you actually believe they are, they should. Third of all, if they wanted to, they could. Cause I got news for ya buddy, stockpiling on weapons and ammo will never keep you safe. No amount of weaponry you can hoard in your double wide would ever be enough to fend off the United States Military.  Why don’t you go ask David Karesh how “Texas’ Biggest BBQ” was?  If Obama DOES take our arms away, I hope he starts with Madonna first cause those things are gross.. joking.. Anyways lets say Obama makes the move to take your guns. Please tell me you understand he wouldn’t just go door to door politely requesting your firearms right? Like college sex, it will be more of a forced entry. In addition, if they did come to take the guns, I’m guessing they’re gonna come after the people that actually HAVE guns. You. Actually they’ll probably come for the people with the MOST guns first. You. Captain Asshole. So what sense does it make to even have them in your house at that point?

#2 I HAVE TO PROTECT MY FAMILY FROM INTRUDERS

No you don’t. But mostly. You CANT! Never once. NEVER ONCE, have I heard the story , “As the intruders entered through the window. The owner of the house quietly rolled out of bed, bear crawled over to the safe. Left right left on the combination, pulled out his weapon, loaded it, equipped his night vision goggles and began his counter attack.” Nobody’s picking off burglars in their kitchen with a 22 is what I’m trying to say. If you think you’re capable of that you’re an idiot. What IS believable is a kid accidentally shoots himself or his friend with his father’s revolver. And that’s a story you hear alot! How the fuck are you suppose to jump up and get your gun and shoot a robber? You cant. You know why? CAUSE YOU’RE SLEEPING! I know it WOULD be ideal to have a guy rob your house at 1PM on a Saturday so you can see him coming up the driveway, but that’s not the way it works, slappy. Burglars tend to rob you when you’re NOT HOME… and if they do rob you when you’re home… they tend to do it when you’re NOT READY…. Its kind of the point.  Do you understand? You’re not ready. You’re shooting a gun, not catching a cheese ball in your mouth. All I’m saying is, next time you go to the firing range, which I’m sure you do all the time, get your gun, load it, put the noise canceling head phones on, then turn the lights off, and go to sleep for 4-5 hours. When I smash a glass on the floor you wake up and try and hit the Target.

And speaking of value shopping!!!!!

#3 THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE - END OF THE WORLD- DOOMSDAY PREPPER

Let me tell you something. I know its easier to get a gun in this country then it is to blame “that shit smell” on a baby, but I think you should have to answer the question “do you believe in Zombies?” before they even let you in the store. If you believe in zombies, no gun. Actually if you believe in zombies, then you aren’t allowed to have anything.  I think this is more than reasonable. I mean c’mon. You’re telling me you believe someone dies… then rises again as a living walking being? I mean Jesus! Actually that is Jesus. Either way, the only thing “prepping” for Zombies & Jesus has done is make Costco and The Vatican alot nicer. How dumb do you have to be to buy a gun specifically made for shooting zombies http://www.zombie-defense.com/? Then turn your house into a fortress, as if spending thousands of dollars on ammo and freeze dried soup wasn’t enough of a waste, now your gonna install a bank vault door on your shitty single floor ranch in Nobody Cares, South Dakota. Which is like framing your high school diploma, or putting a lock on your twitter.  Ive been wrong before, so lets just say Jesus is real. I mean zombies exist… or the world crumbles for some idiotic reason, so now your gonna hole up in your house with your family? Who wants that? I cant even make it through Thanksgiving let alone spend the rest of eternity eating canned food with my uncle Steve.

Stop giving excuses. Just say you love guns. Say you think they make you tough. Say you love to see shit blow up. And you like killing things (legally). Cause that’s more believable, and frankly far less insulting to the rest of us. I have basketball sneakers in my closet. Do I say I keep them just in case Lebron pulls a hammy? No! I just love sneakers.  I like the way they make my feet look. I like the way they feel. They make ME feel cool. I’m not going to the NBA. The Govt isn’t gonna take your guns. You don’t need one in your house. And the end of the world wont hurt a bit. I promise. Trust me, the Zombies wont want YOUR brains anyway. 

Peace

[flooklyn]

WEDDING EQUALITY

In my 36 years, no man has ever told me to “get married”.   And I always wondered why. Why is it something that is suppose to be so wonderful has never been sold to me? Pizza, mortgages, shaving products, phones, snacks, electronics, all this shit gets recommended to me on a daily basis. Not only is getting married not sold to me, its sold away from me. When I ask men if I should get married they don’t just say “Eh ya know its not for everyone“ … Nope. Its more to the tune of “RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!” To which I answer, “Dad, mom is right there. That’s terrible”.

One final example: Not too long ago I was in a bar with buddies I hadn’t seen in a while and had mentioned I wasn’t married. No one gave a shit. Two minutes later I said I’ve never seen Breaking Bad and I almost got my ass kicked.

If marriage is this “good” thing, then something’s fucking wrong, and if you ask me, it’s the wedding.

From the start to the finish I can’t see why a guy would want to get married. Not BE married, I’m sure you’re a lovely catch. I mean GET married. For a day that’s suppose to be about a couple, it sure doesn’t seem like it.

From the planning, to the tux, the pictures, the church, the heat, the dancing, the schmoozing, the pictures, the heat. All I wanna do is be together with the girl I’ve already been with for the last whatever years, longer. Not put on some show, although it actually is a show - http://tonylovestina.com/

Now, you take generations of this ABUSE and you have exactly what you have. A sheer reluctance, by men, to get married.

Therefore, I propose, a Man’s Wedding. Shall we?

THE PLANNING: There is minimal. Maybe none. I’ll tell my parents, you tell yours, lets see who loves us. If you were really upset I would say we could do an email blast from one of my friends. If your aunt June doesn’t have an email cause she’s 95 yrs old, then “the planning” has worked. 

THE DRESS: 5 thousand dollars? Wrong. 84 dollar rental gown 47 other women have been married in. Me? I’ll probably keep it light. Dolce & Gabbana, Charcoal Wool-Silk Blend Satin Lapel Tux With Flat Front Pants. 2 grand. Remember my son might wear this tuxedo one day in his wedding so it has to be timeless. He can also wear it to ANY OTHER BLACK TIE EVENT. The only good your wedding dress will do is help you pull off that “Like a virgin” look on Halloween.

THE PLACE: Church? Never. Why on earth would I get married in a church by a priest? I can’t think of anyone that is less qualified to marry me then a guy that has never been married, or even had sex (with a woman). Oh you’re married to God, father Pete? Oh isn’t that nice. Must be nice to have no in-laws. Oh and I don’t know if you can tell by the dinner plate on my bride-to-be’s ring finger, but it’s not one of your fancy wafers. Girls on THIS planet don’t exactly bite on the “vow of poverty” if you know what I mean.

So where do we get married? Well I’ll tell ya where. The Church of Dudes, the football stadium.  Right on the 50 fucking yard line. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Kev I’m more of a baseball fan”… Hey buddy. No problem!! It’s your day! Choose any stadium or ball field you’d like! A nice compromise for a beach wedding could be a Volleyball court. Just spit ballin

I brought this to my ex’s attention and she said “well what about the praying? Like the Our Fathers & the Hail Marys? I said, “Look honey, Our Fathers will be on the 50 yard line. And if you want a Hail Mary„„„, go long”

This is probably the best time to let you know who will be officiating this magical day on hallowed ground. My uncle Steve will be marrying us. Period. The dude’s been married 12 times. If anyone knows marriage. Its Uncle Steve. Plus he used to ref high school games so he already has the outfit.

(LADIES, IF YOU’RE MAN IS READING THIS HE IS GETTING EXCITED FOR HIS WEDDING DAY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE. )

SEATING: The bride’s side is away and the groom is home. Obviously.

THE ENTRANCE: She’ll be waiting up there for ya for a few hours sweating her balls off. But don’t worry guys, we’re worth the wait. She knew this when she got down on one/two knees to ask us to get married.  And when you get called out second. To a standing ovation, WITH MUSIC, to a packed house, going insane for YOU running out of that tunnel, you will never feel better in your entire life I can guarantee you that!

VOWS: Uncle Steve will have a silver dollar. Since she’s away she can call it in the air to see who goes first. “Yada yada yada” will be our vows.

Uncle Steve: Ok. do you ? him? her? bada boom. you’re good.

THE KISS: Tons of tongue. On the Jumbotron. Boob grab probably. Crowd goes wild.

BRIDAL PARTY: Bridesmaid dresses?  No. Cheerleader outfits. YES! #1 totes will make you look sexy, #2 it goes with he theme. #3 its my big day so it really don’t fucking matter. As a joke, to be fair, and by default I would make my groomsmen wear male cheerleader outfits as well. Seems win win all the way around.

FLOWER GIRL: She will be asking “who wants peanuts!”

RING BEARER: “HOT DOGS! ICE COLD BEER!”

All  booze shall be served in Gatorade jugs, which will be dunked on us after we’re carried out on the teams’ (our family) shoulders and announced as the greatest fucking couple that ever lived.

THE BOUQUET TOSS: Hmmm. Ladies instead of a “toss” .. Think more “post route”

THE IMMACULATE RECEPTION: Coming off a huge game, I mean a great day. The only celebrations needed will be in of course,  the locker room. Its just the natural progression, and don’t worry, our mom’s will go in there at the half to get the bottles on ice, lay out the world champion couple T-shirts, and plastic the place up like its Christmas at Dexter’s house. (Dexter reference is a TAD old. But I’ve had in in the holster for like 4years. Had to fire)

FOOD: Salmon? String beans? What is this fucking dinner theater? Steaks, steaks, burgers, and steaks. And fries. And cheese somewhere. And a chocolate waterfall. And a “Everest of Big Macs”. If anyone is a vegetarian they can have fries. If not there’s a good chance I never liked em anyway. Either way all non meat eaters shall ride the bench unless they want to operate the T-Bone steak throwing trebuchet that I will make when I hear you’re coming. Actually no fries.

MUSIC: Ladies. You’re one token responsibility. Don’t fuck it up. But given the circumstances,  I’d go with something in a Jock Rock genre

Soaked with champagne and doused in glory, we’ll do our post wedding interviews.

See the the highlights:

-Bouquet post route one handed catch, then getting laid out by a hungrier bridesmaid/cheerleader.

-You’re wife’s grandmother face planting as she crossed the 35 yard line cause she never wore cleats like a fucking idiot. And now you’re worried there’s no athleticism on her side of the family.

-You’re uncle Steve slow-mow pocketing a cheeseburger.

Reporter: Kevin talk to me for a second here. It looked like things got a lil hairy out there but you managed to pull it off

Kevin: Well Tim, I gotta tell ya for a second I thought I may crack under pressure there but ya know„, *looks at wife* „„ the fans came out here for a reason today and really none of this would be possible without them.

Reporter: OUTSTANDING! Well, you just got married. What are you gonna do?

Kevin: Honeymoon in Disneyland!

Now that to me, sounds like a bit more fun then doing the electric slide with 250 fuckos I ’ll never see again or getting trapped in the corner by your aunt balling her eyes out cause she can’t afford her hemorrhoid surgery.

I’m sorry. Thank you. And goodnight.