Let’s start this shindig right by blowin’ some shit up.
Holy shit that makes me happy. I’ve watched this over and over and man does it never get old. Never ever.
Over 10,000 people have now viewed my blog, many of which I’d assume they wish they hadn’t. I’d like to delude myself into thinking that my name alone would be enough for thousands of people to scour the Internet in search of my prose, but that would be a huge load of horseshit. I’ve brought in, like, maybe 2. No, over half of the poor souls who have been tainted by this blog(a colonic for your sense of decency, as described by afriend)have been mercilessly misled here by one Mr. Stevil Kinevil.
Well guess who’s watching you and possibly jerking it?
Not only has he gone out of his way to support my horseshit blog, he will also indulge my whining whenever I phone him, crying with a diaper filled with existential crisis. I’m also lucky enough to call him a good friend. And an asshole when we’ve been drinking. He once whacked my helmet so hard my head rang. After I refused to hit him back he derbied me into some bushes to even it up. I also attempted writing “I eat poop” on his forehead since he broke the golden rule and passed out with his shoes on. The time we’ve spent together in the physical world has been limited, but to quote Linda Hamilton at the end of Terminator, “in the few hours we had together we loved a lifetime’s worth.” For those uninformed, check out all hail the black market often, and at least buy a sticker, for shit’s sake. To borrow a page from Stevil, I’m toying with the idea of adding some merch. I’m sure there’s a heathen bike slob or three that would appreciate a “KNOW BON SCOTT, KNOW AC/DC-NO BON SCOTT, NO AC/DC sticker and as those in the know remember, I used to co-own a t-shirt shop which became a medium to express myself via textile, so some sweet threads may be available as well. Some examples:
Pretty self explanatory
Triple down in moose knuckles town
Bon, could you cover up those moose knuckles for once? Thank you.
Oh-and check out the new shirt at Stroker Ace for all you Minneapolitans:
So there’s that. I was also toying with the idea of utilizing AdSense to maybe make a little spare change on this here blog. Of course my knee-jerk punk rock reaction to this was, “fuck that shit-that’s the man, man!” cuz we all know being punk rock means being shit-ass broke and indignant. Luckily, google made the decision for me:
Hello John Schreiner,
Thank you for your interest in Google AdSense. Unfortunately, after
reviewing your application, we’re unable to accept you into Google
AdSense at this time.
We did not approve your application for the reasons listed below.
– Inappropriate language
Inappropriate language: We’ve found that your website contains content
that isn’t in compliance with our program policies. We don’t allow
websites with excessive profanity or potentially offensive content to
participate in Google AdSense.
Potentially offensive? That’s almost insulting! This blog is totally offensive! Oh well. See? Fuck that shit-it’s the man, man!
And who could forget my dead grandpa’s cock? Speaking of which, here are some amazing search keywords-misspellings and all-that resulted in showing this site:
*in the back-end of blogger you can see where traffic comes from, referral sites, views, search keywords, etc.
“choking grandpaw with my cock”
“cock grandpa cock”
“cum fraom grandpa”
“grand pa cocks”
“i dick my grandpa”
The ironic thing is compared to the rest of the sites those search words pull up, mine is pretty tame. Lately, the entry “my grandpa’s cock” has taken off like a rocket. Pun intended. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing with this blog thing. I basically stir the awful thoughts in my head, poke the gag reflex in my poor taste, and then barf it out onto my keyboard. I will continue to do this with greater frequency and as inspiration strikes. Speaking of which, to me this is the definition of bringing it. I could give 2 shits how popular these guys are now or that pitchfork media sucks their cock with every album. This is just an honest performance that made this heathen well up the first time and gives me goosebumps with repeated viewings.
I’m just fucking with you. Here’s the real deal:
Dude, even Letterman is stoked afterwards.
I would also like to give quick shout out to my good friendNicole Clemetson who has been sweet enough to photographthis dirtbag, giving me the head shots that have allowed me to win such roles as “wolfman on pcp”, coming soon to something somewhere. She has also graced the cover of the Portland Mecury of few times now and as I like to say about Portland, it’s like moving into Whole Foods. I would also like to thank mygood friends that have braved possible tarnish after sharing my posts as well. Lastly, I would like to thank you, the person reading this right now. You are a horrible person for being here and I love you for it. To quote the late, great Bill Hicks, “it’s just a ride.”