Sep 19

You Know Who Doesn’t Get Enough Recognition? – Comedy Open Mic Round 31

And all of the people that are involved with it.

I know, I know. We don’t get to toot our own horns nearly enough so I am going to take this opportunity to reiterate.

The fact of the matter is that COM is a necessary (sometimes) evil on the Steem blockchain. It’s kind of like that complete asshole in high school that nobody wanted around but his dad grew weed and was usually too high to notice an ounce missing.

I’m looking at you, Doug.

So anyhow, like COM, Doug was just around and you talked to him when you were bored or wanted to get high and forget that Kelly pointed out your boner in front of the whole class. You just know she sits in front of the AC to get her nipples hard on purpose, but you’re the idiot that can’t control himself.

By grade eleven you have high talked to Doug enough to know that his dad is gay and is trying to hide it from himself with drugs and his mom had sex with a male stripper when they were in town last November.

Now you start to understand why Doug is so annoying and you think you should quit judging him because he has had such a fucked up childhood. You actually decide that you should just quit judging people altogether. Nobody likes to be judged.

Whoa there, Hoss. Tap the brakes a bit.

I forgot the whole reason I was here in the first place.

There are some people that loved to be judged, and we’re here to do that judging. From videos to songs to written posts to art. We are here to assign a point value to your hard, (or not so hard), work.

But enough about you

I’m writing this post to thank us for judging all your entries. It’s sometimes a pain in the ass, but we are happy to do it. You folks probably don’t realize this, but there is a lot of work that goes on behind the scenes to keep this show on the road. There are the judges, the curators, and the admin volunteers. Nobody gets a paycheque, but they still do this to help out a fantastic dis-organization.

Between plagiarism checking, making sure the rules are followed and reading all of the posts in their lists, the judges have their work cut out for them. The curators are reading posts outside of COM entries and trying to find other funny people to join this wonderful contest, and the admins are doing their damndest, between trying to live their lives, illnesses, and raising families, to keep the whole thing flowing.

Sometimes there are hiccups and things get behind, but when you are doing so much work manually, it is to be expected.

Especially when we are shorthanded.

Yeah, that’s right. Every week we need people to help out with judging, curating, etc… but there never seems to be enough interest. I understand that it’s easier to just enter and try to win a bit of Steemy goodness, but it really would help us out a lot if you could help us out a little. It’s going to be hard to keep this going with everyone getting burned out and beating the neighbourhood rummies up to release their frustrations.

What do I have to be frustrated about, you ask?

Well, the chapping on my ass won’t go away and my boss is making me work weekends until I retire. That’s one thing, plus we got all these fucking drunks hanging around the park. They stole my lawnmower last week and then tried selling it back to me.

Great, now I’m pissed off again about the local alkies. I just came here to thank the judges, and write an anecdote or parable, or whatever the hell that story about Doug was.

Oh, and to gently persuade you to vote COM as a witness.

Oh yeah, and to tell you to check out Chibera’s discord server.

If you do those things for me, there’s a pretty good chance that I can get @belemo to tickle your taint. No guarantees, but probably a 78% chance. You supply the airfare and a per diem of 75 SBD.

Photo sources are pixabay.com and screencaps of COM, Chibera, and a Google search of “reiterate”.

I nominate @you and @thehorseyourodeinon

Sep 14

Has GentleBot Got A Screw Loose? – Comedy Open Mic Round 30

Anyone who has been on Steemit for a while has probably had a visit from, or at least heard of, @gentlebot.

It’s a bot that goes around upvoting comments. I always thought that it only upvoted comments that contained a certain gentleness. That was what I was always told anyhow.

Then I saw this on a comment I had put on Amir’s excellent post.

Yeah, yeah, I know I didn’t really learn to keep my mouth shut. It’s just jokey jokes.

My point is that @gentlebot usually just upvotes comments that are all nice and shit. Does their filter just pick out the nice words like “funny” and “laugh” but disregard the sex and ass kicking? Maybe we’ll never know, but thanks for the $.19 and a reason to write a quick post for Comedy Open Mic before the deadline.

I nominate @gentlebot’s creator to compile a list of the funniest comments, if that’s even possible, and also @shadowspub because she never responds to my goading for a funny post.

 

Sep 05

Guns, Guns, Guns

Sorry about being all serious and shit, but here’s another hot topic that’s been bugging the hell out of me for years. It comes with its own vague, seemingly inaccurate info-poster type of thing, and a veritable trove of real information, theory, and emotions that are meant to sway you to my way of thinking.

It jammed a lot, if you were using cheap rounds.

It jams a lot if you use cheap rounds.

Before we get going, I want to say that I am a gun owner. I hunt, shoot skeet, and target shoot. I love guns, and I truly enjoy going out to a gravel pit with Jake and Daryl to blow off a few boxes of shells. I also love heading for the woods with the Larries to maybe get a few grouse for the freezer. I haven’t done either in a few years, but I really do enjoy it.

Okay, now for the probably wrong meme. I guess I can’t say it’s wrong, but it sure isn’t from this year.

My friend JC wrote and drew up a great post on the subject, after Sandy Hook, and it got me thinking a lot about it. I wonder exactly where I do stand on the issue. I like hunting, and I own guns. I say that as long as you’re a responsible gun owner, hunter or marksman, it should be perfectly fine to own a hunting rifle or a shotgun, because you safely store them, locked up tight like the law says you have to. You are also an ethical person, and would never use those guns to harm a human being, so why shouldn’t you enjoy them?

Paul's was in a nice, wooden, velvet-lined box

Paul’s was in a nice, wooden, velvet-lined box

Growing up, my stepdad, had a pistol. It was a Peacemaker replica .22. We would use it to shoot rabbits in the live trap by the garden as it wasn’t as noticeable as a rifle. This was back before gun safes were necessary, so putting it in a locked box in your closet was acceptable.

I was fairly perceptive, so I knew where the keys were for it, and the other guns. I never unlocked them without permission, because we were taught from an early age that guns were tools, not toys.

When Paul died, he left me his .270 semi-auto. It’s a great rifle, and I might use it one of these days. I might not though, because it’s in Ontario and I haven’t renewed my possession and acquisition license in years. I don’t deer hunt anymore, but I guess I’d take the rifle in case I see an elk. They are very yummy.

My dad gave me my Wingmaster 12 gauge for Christmas when I was 15. It is the most perfect gun that I’ve ever fired. The stock was cut down, and fits my stubby arms to a T. I got my Cooey .22 from Paul when I was 16, and Larry sanded down the stock for me. It was made in Cobourg, at the Cooey factory where my Great-Grandfather worked, so it has a great deal of meaning.

So perfect for me, and never misfires. Knock on wood.

So perfect for me, and never misfires. Knock on wood.

I also have an RCMP Centennial model 30-30 that my mom bought for me when she worked at Winchester. I couldn’t have been very old. It’s shiny with brass all over and it’s never been fired. It’s beautiful. They all are.

To me, anyhow.

Maybe a little flashy for hunting, but still a nice rifle. Model 94 is the best selling rifle of all time, I believe.

Maybe a little flashy for hunting, but still a nice rifle. Model 94 is one the best selling rifles of all time.

The problem is that not everyone is responsible, and just because you passed a course that’s designed for you to not fail (or was when I took it 30 years ago), doesn’t mean that you are safe to own or handle guns. Accidents happen, maybe you go for a drive and blow a hole through the floor of your company truck(true story), or maybe your kid finds the keys to your gun safe, and decides that now’s the time to exact revenge for the world treating him like a piece of goat shit since he got caught pulling his pud in the school washroom.

There are far too many possible scenarios that can go wrong here. Even if you are a super-safe, top-notch firearm owner, there is always a chance that someone will get a hold of your guns and use them negligently, or for a crime.

The long and short of it is that my guns mean a lot more to me than just a killing tool. Every time I clean them, hold them, shoot them, or just talk about them, I think about Mom, Paul, or Dad. They are all good memories because nothing bad ever happened to me.

It’s also true that I don’t need my guns. If I want to hunt I can use my bow. I think that muzzleloaders or single shot rifles and shotguns would be okay too for the folks that feed their families with wild meat because you get the range or the spread that you need, but you’d spend so much time reloading, that it wouldn’t really be very effective for a shooting spree. Semi-autos and other high magazined rifles and shotguns are great, but I really don’t see a need for the average person owning them, along with handguns.

Well, I think trappers and guides should be able to carry a handgun in the bush, at least where there is the danger of getting attacked by bears. Then again, maybe they shouldn’t get to have such an advantage. After all, they are the ones that are out there battling nature. Maybe nature should have a fighting chance.

I do see that they can turn a mentally ill person into quite an efficient killing machine though, so I don’t think that they should be available for the public to buy.

The fact is that it doesn’t matter what way I lean, or whether the government revokes the right to bear arms. If someone wants to kill a shitload of people at once, they will find a way to do it. If they can’t get guns, maybe they’ll use homemade explosives. They’ll do something because they’re sick. This isn’t a whimsical thought that just happens into their head for a second. They have time to think while they are going through the planning and execution stages. You don’t just wind up at a school or a theatre with a bunch of guns and say, “Fuck it. I’m here. I have the artillery. Might as well kill some motherfuckers.”

Or maybe you do. I really don’t know, and I hope I never find out.

Speaking of explosives. Why aren’t people up in arms that they can’t just go buy claymores or grenades? In general, folks don’t seem to mind that, but they sure take offence/defence to someone wanting to take away their automatic rifle with the 50 shot clip.

Run, take the money, here’s a bullet for your boyfriend, guns, guns, guns,

Aug 27

Just Swear And Blaspheme Already, For The Love Of Fucking Christ

Crap, darn, frick, frig, jeepers creepers, goldangit, jeez

So, I know and like a lot of religious people. Doesn’t make me a bad person. One of the things I see a lot is that most of them swear like that.

As if it makes them a better person in the eyes of their lord.

Alright, now let’s say that the bible is correct, God does exist, and he is all powerful and all knowing, just like you all think he is. Do you think you’re fooling him by saying “gosh darn it”?

No God damn way. He knows exactly what you mean.

How about jeepers creepers or jeez?

Nope, Jesus knows that you mean him, and worse yet, so does his dad. His dad gets pissed off real easy too. Don’t think that having a child has chilled that angry, old man out. He may have toned it down a bit for the New Testament, but believe you me, he’s still got a mean streak, and it gets worse when he’s drinking.

Sinners!!!

Yes, God and Jesus both know you are taking their names in vain, and they are even angrier with you for trying to fool them.

Think of it like high school; a bully is talking to you and you are telling them how much you like them and how cool they are, but really you think they are an asshole.

You know what happens next? Oh yeah, you do.

You go to a party, drink half a bottle of rye, and start talking about how you’d kick the living piss out of that big bitch. You might even add in that you already did hang a licking on them a few years back, and they are still scared of you.

Oh yeah, you’re the big man/woman on campus now, with everyone crowding around asking for your autograph and shit, and that’s when it hits you. A massive fist, followed by several more, and as you start getting closer to the ground, the feet begin their frenzied Riverdance all over your head, torso and occasionally your tender bits.

This is exactly what is going to happen to you when God and his posse get a hold of you, except it will be the Devil laying the beating on your ass.

There is a silver lining

Luckily for me, I don’t believe in God, so I’m safe and free to live my life without fear of persecution from a higher power. I can blaspheme all day long if I want to, and I sometimes do.

Jesus H Christ, I hope I’m right about the God not existing thing or it’s gonna be a hot old afterlife for this hombre. Just in case I am incorrect in my assumption, I’d like to get all of the Christians to pray for me and my soul. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to end up in Hell, but I’d like to get a cushier job and maybe some perks, like A/C or maybe a sweet log cabin by a lake for my holidays.

As for the swearing part, you should just swear. Why would you want to “diet cuss”? The words mean the exact same thing.

Well, except for “frig”. I have yet to hear someone say “I took her home and frigged the crap out of her.”. It just sounds wrong.

I’m not saying that nobody says it, I just haven’t heard it, and I’ve met a lot of people that take women home.

Why is “shit” any different than “crap”?

It’s not, and never will be. They can both mean feces, trouble, or bad. Why is shit wrong to say around some people then? I don’t know either, but it is. Just ask my old Sunday School teacher.

Also, should we be checking our language when we are around the gentle people?

I’m guilty of it but with me, it’s a respect thing. If I know that someone doesn’t swear, I try not to swear around them.

I just don’t like making people feel uncomfortable. I would, however, like to raise everyone else’s comfort level up to mine, just so I can be myself around them. I have a foul mouth, and no matter how I try to word things, they always mean the same thing in the end. What’s the point of mincing words, when you can say it all with a really good cuss? Another thing I like to do is to emphasize the curse words when I use them. I think it makes me funnier and scarier.

I think we all can agree that I could stand to be both.

In conclusion, my brothers and sisters: Go forth on your journey of enlightenment, and attend any church on Sunday. While you are there, make sure to say in a moderately loud voice,“I’m not taking any more of your God damn bullshit, Jesus, so you can go to Hell.”, and feel a great weight lift off of your shoulders.

I’m just kidding. If you are in church, you should just whisper that shit. It’s quite rude to speak out of turn there. When you are done at church, head over to an AA meeting and enjoy some cookies and grape drink. Oh, and say hi to Abe for me. I miss that drunken, old prick.

P.S. @profanereviews is not responsible for any smitings (or is it smotings?), beatings or rapes by religious zealots, or any other harm that may befall you in the event that somebody can’t take a fucking joke.

Aug 19

Fuck You, Squirrel

Plink, plink, clunk

Something was landing on the metal roof above our bedroom.

Fuck. Not this shit again.

Our first year here, we heard these same sounds. Usually they would start around 4 AM or so. Thunk, clink, plunk.

I went outside to see what was making the racket and was surprised to see a red squirrel at the top of the spruce tree, throwing the new spruce cones forty feet down to the roof and ground.

It was the damndest thing. He pulled every cone off of the branch and chucked them down. He would then move to the next branch and do the same thing. I started to count the branches he had left.

Fuck me. That’s a lot of cones. That was also three years ago. That day was hell, with the waking up, dogs going bananas, and the squirrel egging them on.

I did what I had to do, to keep my sanity.

I bought a slingshot and some ball bearings. My friend Aaron came over as I was unpacking it and he took a few shots. I think he got the varmint on the tenth try. It was dead instantly.

Then came more squirrels. Running around on the house, tormenting us and the dogs, and generally being a nuisance. I also think they were setting up shop in the eaves, but I can’t verify that now. I started shooting at them with the slingshot but I didn’t possess the accuracy that Aaron did. I also started to worry about these ball bearings falling from the sky into people’s cars or eyeballs. We do live about thirty metres from the grocery store and medical clinic.

I wasn’t too worried about hitting people going into the clinic. I mean, there is a doctor right there, and an ambulance if it was more serious than they could handle. The grocery store though. That wouldn’t be cool to come out with your T-bones and mushrooms, all excited for the delicious fucking meal you’re about to have.

All of a sudden… THWACK. Your fucking eyeball is out.

No sir, not on my shift.

I did what anyone else would do. I went to the hardware store and bought a plastic air rifle for $90. It was the only one they had and it was pretty cheaply made. It did the job though. I was murdering squirrels like they were hookers in Grand Theft Auto.

At that time I was throwing them in the long grass over the fence. Out of sight, out of mind. Those people never came around to check out their property anyhow.

Then one day I heard an engine start up out back. I went and saw what seemed like an alcoholic skeleton pushing a lawnmower through the two-foot high grass. It wasn’t working very well. When he saw me, he shut it down and started walking over.

He was talking about how the district had told the company they had to clean up the dry grass because it was a fire hazard and he had been called to come and do the job. He figured that he hadn’t brought the right equipment, but he was just going to keep lifting and pushing through the jungle.

That was until he saw the squirrel graveyard. He asked me what it was, so I jumped the fence and pretended I didn’t know how all of those bodies in different stages of decomposition, got there. Needless to say, that was all the reason he needed to pack up, grab a jug of gin, and ride off into the sunset.

Wow, I really got away from myself there.

Anyhow, Blue and I went outside yesterday to plant the new apple tree. He kept watch in the spruce and I was mixing the cowshit with the compost and eggshells.

Chunk. A cone nailed me in the head. I looked up and saw the little cocksucker whipping them down at a coked up rate. It was like the Plinko game from Price Is Right, bouncing from limb to limb and hitting Blue or I. They never hit Gerri though. I think she pays the little fuckers off.

I was going to let all of this go until later when I was trying to fix the chipper. That prick came down, sat on the birdhouse and started chattering right in my face.

He was three feet away and I was tempted to whip the screwdriver at him but I was afraid it would take out the neighbour’s shed window or something. I told him that if he didn’t stop, I was going to go buy a pellet gun and kill him the next day.

Crappy Tire was having a sale!

This badboy was regularly $159, but was on for $99 and it included the scope. We actually went that night so I could do murder in the morning but first I needed to sight it in.

I probably looked ridiculous shooting a board on the front lawn in my robe but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I got it sighted in pretty tight. Now it’s killing time.

I put on some shorts and went into the backyard to wait for him, but he never came back out. Gerri said that he probably saw how good of a gun I had and moved to another yard but I figure she tipped the bastard off.

She’s always rooting for the underdog.