"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that."

          I think some of us are still in disbelief about the election. Now it's over and done with, and we all have to deal with that. I hope President Trump does a good job and helps this country. I feel it would be irresponsible to hope otherwise. Also because I've read enough of the Bible to know what happens when a nation gets too uppity. Don't worry, my friend, I'm not going to treat this blog like every other jerk-off, vomiting up a think piece all over social media. I do try to be fancy and show some internettiquet. 

          So I had the Galaxy Note 7. You know, the one that started fucking exploding. I'll just put it out there for the haters that I'm an Android guy. I give iphone users (including my wife) a lot of shit. I have nothing against Apple, I had the iphone 3 and 4. I do it because sometimes it feels good to be an asshole, like a long stretch when you first wake up. Android has so many ways to customize the settings and the interface, by comparison, iOS just feels boring. Plus Apple puts too many restrictions on their users.

          I was a proud owner of the Galaxy Note 4 and 5, so when the Note 7 was announced, I was tickled in the part of my brain that gets horny for tech and Starwars. Over and over I was reading the specs online. Any leaked pics or video I would pour over like conspiracy theorists analyzing the Zapruder film. Or like that guy from Ancient Aliens with the Thundercat hair.

Thundercats! Hooooooooooo!

          All in all, the Note 7 was adding up to be an impressive piece of hahd-weah, and I couldn't wait to get my greasy hands on it. I ordered it through the internet, because the T-Mobile store was out and I felt like complaining to my family for two weeks until it arrived. I spent a week tweaking the settings and the look once I got it. This, to me, is the best part. I don't know why. I don't point out all of your quirks, so lets move on. I was just starting to get invested in the phone, emotionally, when I read the first report of a Note 7 exploding. I think it was in Korea. I dismissed it. It must be that poor twat's phone, no way this could turn into an epidemic.

          A hundred blown up phones later, we had an unprecedented recall of an entire phone model. "No worries!" assured Samsung, "We'll give you a new Note 7, for freeeeee!" Ok. Cool. Inconvenient, but it was either exchange it, or walk around with a device that at any moment, could turn into a serious case of hot-ball. 

Picture unrelated

          I like being a T-Mobile customer, their customer service is great over the phone, and I would advertise if they paid me. It's the store. Only in Walmart do you usually see such disdain for it's customers. I couldn't do this exchange over the phone, so I had to go to the one(!) retail store in my area that wasn't in a location best described as the earth's own bleeding hemorrhoid. I stepped through the door and figured I'd be out of there in a half an hour, tops. Oh, the joyful notions I entertain. The girl at the counter greeted me with the warmth of a frozen potato, and she had a concerning sore on her mouth. I explained my situation and began the exchange. Oh, and this was on my birthday. 

          T-Mobile policy at that time was to put the money I paid for the phone back on my card, then I would pay it back to them toward the new phone. Of course, no deposit that size is instant. I had just paid the rent, so of course I didn't have $800 fucking dollars. The girl said, "No way around it, unless you pay the money, we can't give you a phone." So their solution was basically just fuck you, pay me, like goddamn Goodfellas. I looked her right in her herpe and stated "You're ruining my birthday". I had to drive home in silence, no podcasts, no Spotify. Was I supposed to just listen to the radio, like some asshole? I'm above such peasantry. The end result is that I switched to the Galaxy S7 Edge and its awesome. Anti-climactic, I know.

"You used to call me on my cell phone

 Late night when you need my love" -- Drake

         

"I see what is right and approve, but I do what is wrong."

          I really enjoy living in Western North Carolina. Or the WNC as the tourism ads will say. I recently visited Florida (feat. Pitbull) and it made me love where I live even more. There's four pleasant seasons. The weather is nice and I love looking at the mountains. I've purchased apples right from the farm that grew them. But the WNC, and Asheville in particular, has a blight upon it's shiny surface. Fucking hipsters. This area is lousy with them. That annoying, too cool for school sub-class of humanity that has somehow gotten popular despite their supposed "non-conformist" view of the world. Everything they do is meant to draw some kind of attention, tho they pretend not to notice. Let's explore a few different species of the modern American hipster.
     
          The most common version one is likely to encounter is a gentleman with the following appearance (Most hipsters will be men because most women are above this bullshit): His hair will be shaved close on the sides and the back, and the top will always be gelled to the side. He'll have glasses and most likely not need them. Most prominently, is the stupid fucking beard. Who told these assholes that "homeless wizard" was a good look? They need to shave that ridiculous rug of chin pubes. This version is the most common of the PBR drinking, beard oil buying shitheads that make potentially cool and quirky businesses unapproachable because I don't want to wade through a sea of unwashed necks just to buy a bag of artisan cashews. Just thinking about these fake chucklefucks is irritating. But that's their whole point of existence right?

                                           

          The next type of hipster is a little less common, but no less pretentious and irritating. This is usually the kind of douchebag that will proudly sport a man-bun. The most prominent feature here is, not surprisingly, facial hair, meant to draw attention they'll pretend not to care about. In this case it's a handlebar mustache, but not the rugged biker kind. Think John Wilkes Booth, or Captain Hook. Yes it looks that stupid. This walking eugenics advertisement will wear Victorian clothes, but not in a cool steampunk way. More like the worn out props that a theater donates to a thrift store, which is then thrown away. He can be found in a Starbucks with a fucking typewriter. He won't buy anything because his precious taste buds can't be soiled by your peasant river water coffee. Instead a mug of horchata or some other nonsense will be on the table, and if you ask where he got it, the reply will be, "It's from a place on the other end of town. You haven't heard of it." Sometimes a rare specimen will combine the Captain Hook mustache with the homeless wizard beard to create an exclamation point of fuckery on his stupid hipster face.

          I mentioned before that most women are above this fad, but there is a type that is mostly female. Almost all of them will fit into this classification: White girl with dreadlocks. Most of us know some poor soul that thinks this look is not disgusting. Us no-rhythm-having cargo-shorts-wearing whiteys have no business wearing dreadlocks at all. We don't have the right kind of hair for it. Black people have great hair for this. They can actually clean and maintain a set of tight dreads and look cool. When I see one of these drum circle rejects haunting a local craft fair, I always wonder when they last bathed. Do they think it looks good? No white girl's appearance is enhanced by a nest of greasy dirt snakes on their head.














          I know I'm being an ignorant shit. So before you remind me that I'm closer to forty than twenty, and that time and fads change, I know that everyone deserves a chance to be who they are, and my ranting and raving, in the end, means nothing. So if you, Dear Reader, are offended by this blog, then you're probably one of the people I'm talking about. So get rid of those dreads and trim your fucking beard. That padded bra of manliness on your face makes you look like something I would wash dishes with. Maybe I'm jealous because when I try to grow a beard it just looks like a sad forest with only one tree per acre. But fuck it, you want to look like Robin Williams from Jumanji, or a schizophrenic Gandalf? Fine, enjoy your goddamn horchata.

"In December drinking horchata
 I'd look psychotic in a balaclava
 Winter's cold is too much to handle
 Pincher crabs that pinch at your sandals" --Vampire Weekend




*Memes pulled from quickmeme.com and memegenerator.net
         

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

          I've decided to reignite the barrel fire that was my old blog. We'll have some new ideas, new jokes, we'll mix in some ketchup and a can of beans and we'll make some hobo chili. You'll notice, since you followed the link, that I haven't posted here since 2012. I wasn't waiting for the world to end like the Mayans predicted (wrongly). Life happens. But I'll wait here if you want to go back and read the old ones. Really, it's ok. I'll just go heat up some taquitos and wait for you to finish. You're back? Good. As you can see, it's not all funny. There's some drama that creeps in there like kudzu vines, but I like to keep a lighthearted atmosphere. Closer to a stand up routine and farther from the atmosphere of a Trump colonoscopy. (They found his head! Ha Ha! And maybe a reason for his weird, tiny hands.) See I made a politics joke. That won't happen too often, mostly because I don't follow politics, I know I should, but I don't.
          I'll probably offend some people occasionally. The offensive jokes are usually the most hilarious, so they'll be sprinkled in like bacon bits on a word salad. Most of the time, I'll probably just be making fun of myself. I'll keep the comments active for now, but just keep it civil. You disagree with me and think I'm an asshole? Cool, let's talk about it. I'm not going to be mean just to be a shit head, so I hope you'll exhibit the same behavior. If I relay a story of yours (I'll give you credit for it), and it offends you, or is too personal, "Dude, I didn't appreciate you talking about my wandering testicle". (Sorry Danny), I can remove the content, unless it's really fucking funny.
          That's another thing; I'm going to curse a lot. I have small children and I can't curse at home. So you get to be my verbal dump bucket for anything profane I can come up with. Hopefully you'll have as much fun with this as I will. My blogs will usually be titled with a movie quote and end with a song lyric. Most things I write about will probably be heavily biased toward certain subjects, but it's my fucking blog, so deal with it. I'll do my best not to sound like every other doucheketeer with a whiny "Dear Diary" style blog.
          I won't gt too personal, but I'll deliver portions of my life in easy to digest, bite sized chunks. First spice rubbed, then pan seared. My father was a chef, so food is wrapped around most of my thoughts, like a snuggly blanket around a lil smokie. After I wrote that last sentence I zoned out and thought about lil smokie's four about four minutes. There's some brutal honesty for you. I'm hesitant to make a solid blog schedule. Life gets busy with a family and a full time job (not this). I'll try to post one once a week, maybe twice if I have time and you've had all your vegetables.

"It's close to midnight,
 And something evil's lurking in the dark.
 Under the moonlight,
 You see a sight that almost stops your heart" --Michael Jackson