Good Times

So in this picture I'm totally decking the Jimma-Jam. That's cool in itself, but the real star is Bricker. Look at him, in the corner, so menacing, so Joe-Cool. Bricker doesn't smoke, but that guy in the picture sure does.



Sometimes, at 7:00am it's good to elbow-drop your friends. Bricker has Jimmy here. He's actually beating him pretty brutally. Why am I elbow-dropping him? Not so I can save Jimmy, it's so I can simultaneously pound both their faces into hamburger.



See, there's two ways to look at this shot. I like to pretend I'm kicking Bricker in the chest and he's flying away Jon Wu style. What's really happening is I'm trying to kick him in the solar plexus and he's thwarting my attempt with his bet. Seriously, Bricker was coordinated and lightning fast enough to wrap his belt around my leg mid-kick. He's the biggest bad-ass. I don't care if Jimmy can kill a man with his thumb or not. Also...Look at Jimmy in this picture. The fact that he's sitting back, toad-style, watching in amazement instead of joining in the carnage is bigger testament to what's going on than my simple words can convey.




Possibly my favorite shot. Bricker is already out, laying on the ground, helpless, certainly crippled, probably permanently. I'm useless, Jimmy lands a solid right, all 130 lbs of him backing the blow. You know I was out before I even hit the ground. After this, the camera goes black and Jimmy feeds his dark essence with our souls. It makes a man weep.

The hat that's been knocked off Bricker's head and lies motionless amidst the bloodshed is really a statement about our society. Probably. Think about it. Also, think about this:


Yeah. I'm that friggen cool. See what you're missing, Jim? You could have been watching me make out first hand, instead you're "saving lives" and "fulfilling a duty to your country and ancestors." Whatever.

I'd like to show you something.

Two things actually.

First:

Click on this.

That's Right. It's the Order of the Phoenix trailer. Are you Jazzed? Are you Jammin'? Are You Jump/Jive/Wailin'? You better be, or I'll kill you.

Second:

I have a picture of Daniel Radcliffe's butt. He's in a play in London called Equus. It's about a shrink who tries to help out a kid who has a pathological obsession with horses, or as I like to say, the Anti-Bricker. So...without further egging the custard, Harry Potter and the Ass of Sorrows. So, when you comment, come up with a clever title for a Harry Potter book, and incorporate bare butts somehow. Jimmy, I'm counting on you.






There you go. Enjoy.

A Perfect Life

Here are two pictures of what I want out of life.

Two things are absolutely essential for a perfect life.






















1. Beaches

2. A hot wife

Beaches are essential because beaches have water, sand, fishes, rocks and air. In short, all the things
one needs to survive.

A hot wife is also essential. A regular wife is not sufficient. A hot wife is necessary for several reasons, to make your friends jealous, to be aesthetically pleasing, and to help you keep it up.

There are two flaws in these pictures, and they are interrelated. The first flaw is that the girls are not Hispanic. Hispanic women are better than white women because in general they are prettier, and they almost always cook better. Up with Hispanic women. Jenny, we're fighting today, I think, but I love you anyway, and I'm sending you a link to this post so you can read it.

The second flaw is that the couples are not interracial. Interracial couples are better than same-race couples because they produce genetically superior offspring. Natural law dictates that diversifying your genes gives you better offspring, creating a truly superior race. Eat that you Nazigoatsuckers.

Once you've got the basics down, a hot wife and a beach, there are a few things you need to obtain true perfection. The first, is an animal companion, preferably a male, and equally preferably, a dog, gazelle, horse, unicorn, tiger, dragon, platypus or, if you're lucky enough, a bear. Cause...let's face it...women are confusing, stubborn, and wrong most of the time. Also, they like to be alone. We don't like to be alone. So, if you're sick of your woman, or she's in one of those moods, make her go sit somewhere and enjoy being alone, and then, you can play with your dog/marmot/umber hulk/whatever. Animal companionship is important.

Next, proper attire. Shirts, for men, are strictly forbidden, and for women they are frowned upon. As we can see in picture 2, cargo pants are acceptable, but a utilikilt is the best possible option, because it combines the two manliest garments: cargo pants and kilts. Remember, you can carry an entire six-pack of beer in a utilikilt. If you choose to do so, go with bottles, they stay cold longer and they don't seem to fizz as much when you open them.

Lastly, children. Kids are cool under certain conditions. Fist you should be 30+/- 3 years of age. Second, your wife should be willing to make out with you as your kid runs around like a retarded goose. It takes a special woman to do this, cause a lot of times women are born brain damaged. Hot women rarely think they're hot. Conversely, women who do think they are hot are usually fat, diseased, deformed, or worse. Back to hot women. Hot women usually think they are ugly, and once they have a kid, they know that their husbands think they are fat and gross forever after. I don't have a way to fix this, I just thought you should be prepared...Patrick. You're going to end up with the hottest wife probably, besides me. You have the next best taste in women.

That about covers it. But wait. You know what? You want to know one more little bit of happiness? Something that can put your perfect life over the top? Okay, I'll tell you. If you have a woman that really loves you. I mean really loves you. She'll wear this:


Yeah...It's a chainmail bikini. Yes, in the idea situation your woman will be clad in chainmail, twin daggers strapped to her sweet caramel colored thigh. You'll be back to back, with her, broadsword in hand fighting off the mutant squid/bat hybrids crawling out of the ocean just before sundown on your little beach in post-apocalyptic Big Sur California. Sure, Big Sur is a pine forest now, but after the bell tolls well...you'll see.