The Mind of Spaz

As of late I’ve been thinking of how to improve the world and make things better for my fellow man. Please see A use for the Morbidly Obese for an example of this.  I don’t know why I now suddenly care after 31 years of being a complete jerkhole (yes, I came out of my mothers vaj a jerk, just ask the doctor I pee’d on).

Maybe it’s my old age, maybe I’m mellowing, I don’t know. I just care.

It’s not the super morbidly obese that has no use (until the war).  No, it’s also the ultra impossibly skinny, AKA super models.

These girls starve themselves so much that at one time they may have been attractive, but come on guys. Who wants to fuck a toothpick?  REAL women have hips, boobs, butts and thighs, which is a quality all of these super models lack.

As a matter of fact, super models look and are built like 12 year old boys.  So who the fuck decided what was attractive in a woman, Micheal Jackson? Seriously.

So now you have a group of women who have no actual skills, are spoiled rotten with servants and bottled water and such, and have a physique that won’t allow them to pick up a Kleenex to blow their nose with.  So what possible use do these women actually have?

I’ll tell you what.  Weather kites.

That’s right. Instead of filling a balloon with helium and launching it into the heavens, just strap the instruments to their hollowed out stomachs and a string to the ankle, and launch them into the wind.

Because if you can train a monkey to open doors and put away the dishes, then you can train a super model to lean to the direction scientists want and relay pertinant information.

With an only semi dumb weather kite, it’ll be no time until scientists have enough information to accurately predict tornadoes and the such.

And the best part?  A small bag of brown rice will feed these kites for YEARS.

Your welcome.

politically incorrect, social commentary boobs, dumb, kites, michael jackson, super models

I’m not much of a ladies man.  Of late, my love live has been drier than ladies vagina’s at an Elton John concert.

But this wasn’t always the case.  There was a time when I hadn’t yet discovered what insane, nasty and gold digging creatures nine out of every ten women are.

Ok, let me rephrase that.

There was a time when I hadn’t yet discovered what insane, nasty and gold digging creatures nine out of every ten women I have  dated were.

The year was, umm… shit. I ran out of fingers and toes.  Let’s call it the latish 80′s.  I was maybe eight or nine years old, and the chicks dug me.  I made all the boys jealous, because it was the school dance, and I was dancing with Stacey Spencer.

All the little boys wanted to dance with Stacey.  Stacey had boobs!  Which was unusual for a twelve year old back in the 80′s.  Unlike today, little girls still looked like little girls, not skanky little prosti-tots.  But I was doing the little kid shuffle with Stacey, to the eight minute plus ballad of Gun’s and Roses November Rain. A whole eight minutes with which I could devise how to get my hand on some sweet twelve year old bum.

Did I mention I was nine and she was twelve? What a COUGAR!

Representing grade school Coug's everywhere

I must have been something special back then. All the little skanky ho’s wanted to be with the 14 year olds.  Nothing said cool like patchy molester mustaches, zits, and only two years until a drivers license.

I understand, Stacey. I like younger boys, too.

But that day, I got to be with Stacey.  Until her 14 year old boyfriend found out I had in fact touched her boob, and he beat me up with my own fist.

To this day, if somebody tells me to stop hitting myself, I go ballistic.

Anyways, that’s how I touched boob at nine years old, then got beat up.

To wrap up this little story that went absolutey nowhere, boy are the pedophiles who find their way to this post via keywords going to be dissapointed.   To fucking back Micheal Jackson, you disgusting perv!

good things, talking out of my ass coug, cougar, grade school, gun's and roses, michael jackson, perverts