An Explanation of Sorts

(Originally posted Monday, June 09, 2008)

(Note: This post is originally from my myspace page where for a short time I was going by the moniker "Fisto Aborto".)

So for those of you who actually read this shit, you might be wondering just who, or what, exactly a "Fisto Aborto".

This is going to be hard for me to explain without sounding like a horrible madman who needs to be locked away in the most damp and dirty cell ever created by the Greeks.

I would also like to point out that at no point in my 30 years of life have I ever punched a pregnant woman in the gut. Not once.

Though I have to admit I have thought about it.

Right about now, half of you are calling the FBI and having me put on some sort of watch list for deviant pre-mommy punchers. In fact I'm probably being watched right now.

At this point I'd like to introduce special agent Rick, the agent who has been assigned to track my movements. (Truthfully I have no idea what his real name is, but somehow I think he'd approve of Rick.) Everyone say, "Hi!" to Rick.

Now I know how fucked up this sounds. Hell I recently told a friend about this impulse, and he immediately told me that I should never under any circumstances mention this again. (So, of course, here I am writing about it on the internet.) But every now and again when I see that belly part of me, for a split second, imagines giving it a quick jab. Somehow in my mind it plays out like those fucking Pilsbary Doughboy ads. You know the ones I'm talking about. The little doughboy where you poke him in the stomach and he laughs. That's kinda what I imagine the preggies would do.

However, I quickly remember that there is, in fact, a fetus living in that woman's gut. And punching a fetus, while hilarious in a GWAR video, just isn't cool in real life.

So while I in no way advocate dropping a bomb on a no-vacancy womb, the darkest pit of my sense of humor gets a slight chuckle at the cartoon version of the idea.

And that's who Fisto Aborto is; the mobile one shot stop abortion clinic. He's like the most fucked up superhero ever. There for the poor and the weak who can't deal with the sudden responibility that has been thrust upon them. With one mighty punch Fisto Aborto saves the day.

Hey it's better than a baby in a garbage can.

So that what the name change is all about. It's a joke. Not real. You don't need to lock up your fertilized women when I'm around.

So tune in next week when I attack things that I truly am passionate about like kicking puppies and sodomizing heavily drugged tigers.

(Seriously I'm kidding. Tigers are fucking scary I don't care if they're drugged or not.)

Taking a Stand

(Originally posted on 1/19/08)

So as most of you are well aware, I don't like to take a hard stand against anything. I typically like to play devil's advocate and try to see things from several different points of view. However every now and then something happens to make me stand up, pull out my soap box, and say, "No more! This shit stops here!"

So you know those t-shirt for girls that have the Playboy bunny symbol on them? You know the ones I'm talking about. The one's that seems to imply, "Look at me, I'm wearing the logo of a popular men's magazine. That means I'm a little naughty. Hee hee." Which when you think about it is kind of creepy when you realize that most of the girls wearing the shirts are under 18 and bought them at the mall.

Fun fact: I just learned that appearently, in Georgia, it's legal to fuck a seventeen year old so long as you have their parents' permission. I want you to take a moment to really let that tidbit of information work it's way through your psyche. Go ahead I'll wait.
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God, this fucking place scares the shit out of me sometimes.

(Editor's note: Enough fucking around Andy! Get back to your fucking point!!!)

When did I get an editor?

Anyway, back to the point... Err... What was the point again?

(Editor's note: Something about a stand, or the stand, hell I don't know maybe a music stand. Truthfully I stopped reading this bullshit after the subject, but I think the word stand was there somewhere.)

Ahh yes... That's right. The bunny shirts.

Really I don't have a problem with the shirts as a rule. I do think they're kind of silly, however one look at my wardrobe makes it painfully clear that I shouldn't say shit about anyone else's taste. HOWEVER... Those shirts should NEVER, EVER be made in the size XXXL. And further more if you need to wear a size XXXL t-shirt, DO NOT WEAR THAT ONE.

Seriously ladies, guys will take any opportunity to think about sex. Let's give an example, so you know exactly what I'm talking about. We're going to play a little word association with Tom here.

Tom: Where the hell am I?

Tom I'm going to say a word and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes into your mind.

Tom: Who ARE you?

Spagetti.

Tom: Seriously, what the hell is going on here?!!!

Tom I need you to calm down and focus, otherwise you're going to get the hose again. And you don't want that do you Tom?

Tom: Oh, God no... (mildly sobbing) Not again...

It's okay Tom, are you ready to try again?

Tom: Okay...

Great! Let's see we'll need a new word... Oh! I've got one; octopus!

Tom: Uhh...?

Remember the hose Tom.

Tom: Sex?

And there you have it! Concrete, scientific, evidence that guys think about sex at damn near any given opportunity.

So my point is that if you are wearing a well established logo that EVERYONE (men, women, tropical fish, etc...) connects with sex. Natually we're going to think of sex. And even if you are over 300 lbs some part of us is still going to connect you and sex. This is not a pretty image. While you may think it's your right to wear what you want, I would like you to remember this. I can't reach my brain with a scouring pad.

PS: In case you couldn't tell I just got back from a midnight trip to Walmart, and am feeling kind of dirty.

PPS: My first blog and I spend the thing bitching about fat women in kitchy t-shirts... I really need to get out more.

PPPS: Sex.


Tom: Can I go now?

The hose Tom. Remember the hose.

(Editor note: I need a raise.)