BACK OFF BITCHES!

Sorry to disappoint all the sexy ladies of the world - but this highly desirable hunk of spiced Italian man-meat is now officially off the market. (like it was really on the market anyways...) I managed to ask the question once the Halloween hour struck, not throw-up on myself in a nervous fit, and received a positive response for my efforts. Party to follow. Eventually.

I DON'T WANT THE STUFF THAT YOU DON'T WANT, SO STOP HANDING IT OUT TO ME.

PENNIES, QUARTERS, HALF DOLLARS, PENCILS, ERASERS, BRAZILIAN NUTS - ie RANDOM CRAZY SHIT: This is the lowest of the low in terms of Halloween treat giving. This is scum level territory. When you're an adult and you decide that any of these things, or even more berserk items, are a good idea - then you obviously missed out on your childhood somehow. And for this loss, I'm sorry.

Kids don't want you pocket change. They want goddamn candy. Candy by the fistfuls. Candy to get them through the dull November month ahead. CANDY! As for handing out school supplies...for real? You want to remind the kids of school while out on their once a year pagan sugar rampage? Stupid. Even Halloween themed or some other gimmicky shaped erasers are a no-no. School's not fun. Stop ruining the fun.
And nuts of any sort are bullshit. Unless they are soaked in chocolate and hidden inside of something called a "Snickers". I honestly got 3 or 4 Brazilian nuts one year. I was beside myself. I didn't realize it until I got home, which is a shame. I'd have loved to return the favor to their gas tank.

Wrapping up this sort of random crap from around your house and throwing it in opaque "treat bags" is a favorite way for these types of terrible people to hide their wrong doings. Cast a wary eye on such gifts, they inevitable contain sadness. Step on them in front of the giver. You're better off.

IF YOU ARE SCUM AND HAND THIS GARBAGE OUT: Prepare to find the stuff in your bushes, jammed into your lawn, stuffed in you mailbox, or thrown into your gutters. One year just prior to Halloween, out group of lil' bastards discovered the ol' hairspray and lighter flamethrower trick. It was a good Summer. What's more, we linked this reaction to cans of Silly String as well. This way we could take the stuff out on Halloween without turning any heads by dragging cans of hairspray around. And even one better, there was no need for a lighter because there were Jack-o-lanterns a plenty in the 'hood.

Anywho after some fucking Chud handed us a pile of Dixon Ticonderoga #2s, there only one thing to do. Once the dude had closed the door, presumably to masterbate on the glee of causing distress to kids dressed as skeletons and a Rubik's cube, we set upon his pumpkin with wicked intent. Man, that thing went up quick. Three cans or so of Silly String will casue quite the visible fireball in the October evening. I definitely recall peeing myself a little, such was the power of the laughter. Two or three more pumpkins were reduced to a grinning cinder that night.

GOBSTOPPERS: Yeah. I was into those pretty hardcore.

MR. BONES VS. WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS (MR. BONES WINS EVERY SINGLE TIME)

MR. BONES: OK, so somebody ruined the unveiling of today's awesome candy by blabbin' his cyber face in the comment section. Oh well, you can't control crazy, only harness it, point it in a direction, and hope for the best! But the point remains completely true. Mr. Bones was a pretty fucking dope candy to get. It was mega-rare, because most people suck and just get whatever for Halloween candy. Few folks think it through.

I still get excited when I see the stuff in CVS or whatever. My mind subconsciously scans the shelves for Mr. B during the October month. I can't control it. But it's been goddamn years since my last Mr. Bones encounter. Oh, where have you gone, you beautiful bastard? There's some bullshit impostor out there called Scary Skeletons, but they are bullshit. The candy isn't as hard and goes all powdery pretty quick. Fuck Scary Skeletons.

So, what is Mr. Bones? It's basically a crummy plastic coffin filled with various colored pez-like bones that you assemble to make...yup, Mr. Bones. But it was tough to assemble the fucker. You either were missing a precious bone, had three heads, or got a few busted bones bits which ended up being quite necessary. So you had to trade with your friends, but your friends are all dicks and generally withheld the precious finishing pieces and you just ate the shit bit by bit anyways because it's near impossible to just stare at candy when you're 10. As to gettin' a complete Mr. Bones all in one color? That's the stuff of legend. I heard some rich kid in the next neighborhood had one once, but it was probably bullshit.

Mr. Bones rules. Here's to you Fleer candy!


WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS: Now, the shit candy of the day. I don't even know what to call them. It took 10 minutes of various internet searches to even pull them up. For such hateful little things that are so hard to find, it sure seems like they always ended up in my haul. Always. Let's call them waxy-peanuty-shits that get all melty in the bottom of your pillowcase and make all the other good candies suffer their stink. Or WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS.

You knew from the second you set your eyes on that black or orange waxy lump of ass, that this stuff was no damn good. Hell, even the parents would toss 'em away because they were uber-suspect to tampering. Peanut buttery in nature, but gooey and mostly stuck tot he wrapper, these things sucked. They might have been the bomb in 1920, today, not so much. So, a hearty FUCK YOU to home owners who continue to perpetuate the existence of these worthless garbage candies by purchasing and distributing such crap.

IF YOU ARE STUPID ENOUGH TO GIVE THIS SHIT OUT TO KIDS: Fuck you. Instead of spending that whopping 2 bucks for 50 lbs of this crap, you should instead lay the 2 dollars on the ground and piss on it. Then, shutter your house, turn out your lights, and be that douche bag house on the street. You know, the one that isn't answering the door and will be missing lawn ornaments in the morning because you hate Halloween and are not paying the yearly Halloween tax which keeps your house on the "good list" in the minds of the neighborhood kids - thus protecting you investment from eggy transgressions during the night of October 30th.

HALLOWEEN SUPER SPECTACULAR #1! (SEE HOW I RESISTED THE URGE TO USE SPOOKTACULAR? IT'S CALLED STANDARDS PEOPLE.)

In the spirit of the single greatest, most ridiculous holiday on the US calendar, I'm gonna take a look at the best and shittiest Halloween candy a kid (ie, me a billion years ago) could get. One a day, along with helpful suggestions for folks intent on ruining childhood memories.

OK, let's begin with probably greatest abomination to the candy world....

NECCO WAFERS. If I wanted to eat flavored-ish chalk in an olde tyme wax paper format, I'd fire up my time machine, pack up a handful of sugar packets, go to a quarry in 1820, destroy my time machine (I've already brutally wasted it's potential) then die a horrible candy fueled intestinal mineral death. These things blow. Here's a fun fact from the NECCO website:

"The U.S. Government requisitioned a major portion of the production of NECCO Wafers during World War II. The candy doesn’t melt and is practically indestructible during transit, making it perfect for shipping overseas to the troops."

Sounds delicious. I especially loathe the "chocolate" flavored ones. My throat swells at the thought of them. And luckily, you can buy a whole roll of delicious dark dusty pain in pure faux chocolate form. Booyah! Thanks Oliver Chase and Silas Edwin! Try harder next time.

IF YOU'RE STUPID ENOUGH TO GIVE THEM OUT THIS YEAR: Expect retaliation. These things are pretty hard. So expect a hail of them to chip the paint on your car, injure your cat, put out an eye, clog your sewers, and serve as the medium for swastikas to be drawn on your driveway/house.

On the better side of things: Reese's Fucking Peanut Butter Cups. These things were the single most sought after item in my quest for sugar charged Halloween nirvana. I remember one year our group encountered some goon who left a big ass bowl of them on his porch, all alone with the note "Please take only one." We just sorta looked at each other, then shit went down like Lord of the Flies. 5-6 of the precious candies were crushed in the ensuing wrestling match. We walked off with at least 10 to a person. I don't remember the rest of the evening, I was wasted on chocolate and peanut butter.

Thank you Harry Burnett Reese. You rule. I'm not sure where all this peanut allergy bullshit came from, but I'm sure you could conquer it with enough of your delicious candies.

SERIOUSLY?

CORN FTW!

WHAT WILL THE HAMBURGER PIMP DO NOW?

"For those motherfuckers who don't believe I just did that.
Watch this good shit."

What else is there to say? Rudy Ray Moore was just about the feyest, non-gay black man, but also the most badass Blaxploitation hero/Nasty Comedian of his time. He will live on forever, thanks to his amazing film legacy. Let's just hope that Fred Williamson doesn't eat it anytime soon. I'm not sure if my heart could withstand that loss as well.

Internets links to a sweet clip and a trailer from his more watchable films, along with probably the best supporting actor to appear alongside him.

"Breathin' down yo' neck muthafucka!"

"The Human Tornadaaa!"

"Say, Hamburger Pimp."

NOW STUUAAAART!

I'm posting from beyond cyberspace! Yeah! Anyways, today marks the 20 somethingth birthdate of my obtuse and special friend from the Gem State - Stuart! Lord of logic, master of all words, champion of spelling, hater of everything, and king of putting things into compartmentalized drawers/ziplock bags. (like a good serial killer)

Happy Birthmas Stu!

It's also a little known fact that Stu and I are in a huge (well, at least in San Marino) Metal band known as COKKEN. We finished off our 1st EP "Tunneling to the Moon" about 3 years ago, but have been trying like hell to get someone to press it. Mainly to placate all our fans while we work on the next LP. Before that our first album was only available on about 7 cassette tapes. But those were all lost in a gig fire, along with our drummer. So we're mainly a live band right now. And we can't decide on the cover art. Shit's important! Maybe this year...

JOE THE SIX PACK PLUMBER PALIN/SHARPIE YELLOW LEGAL PAD '08

Last night's limp wristed foppish wordy debate was his-fucking-storic. For the first time ever a candidate has been replaced completely by the rise of a surprise uber-candidate! SIX PACK MAVERIC JOE THE PLUMBER PALIN MOOSE SHOOTER COPTER PILOT! And SHARPIE made it's 3rd impresive appearance, along with the pronounced shuffling sounds of Sharpie's good friend, Yellow Legal Pad.

I'm stoked.

Seriously, this shit is over. Barring Obama saying on live television that he hates all crackers, this one is in the bag. FOX News was even reporting in a rather odd manner afterwards. It was surprisingly not filled with crazy-person reality distortion lunacy. Even they couldn't spin McCain in a positive light as they begin to defect by the dozens and distance themselves from any association with W and John John.

I'm not even sure why either of these guys really wants this whole president job anymore anyways.

Everything seems so very fucked.

SWEET JUNK MAIL

I've had a rotten hotmail account since the beginning of the internets and it is purely an internet dumping ground for online accounts and such that require an email addy. I get some amazing junk in there now and again. Here's one that make me giggle a bit. I was lured into clicking on this one because of the subject line. I mean, Montanoceratops? Heck yeah I wanna see/learn about that. Oh, well. Alyssa will have to do. It is necessary to see.

THE THRISS OF VICTORY

I can barely spell most days, but dang. My favorite non-greek, yet totally greek friend sent the video linked above which leads to a YouTube clip from WHEEL OF FORTUNE. (shout it in your head please). It's pretty choice, if you have the time to check it out. I easily lost about half an hour afterwards watching other crappy clips and here's what I've dredged up. For. Your. Pleasure. (Pleasure is optional)

TACO YOU DUMB BITCHES! TACO!

K IS FOR STUPIK!

SPECIAL, SPECIAL VIEWERS. WITH CAMERA. AND TIME.
(like me without a camera)

Finally, let's turn the camera on us, the know-it-all viewer with 20/20 hindsight. Who are we to judge? Well, after this clip. I'm fit to judge ALL! Especially these fucktards.