Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I know how existence works.

It isn't not done yet, but the explanation of all that exists is coming soon.  There is a bunch of other crap going on, but the report is in the works.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Blueberry Beer: Like boozed up breakfast muffins

Blogger.coms new picture upload thing is gay.

I went to the Anheuser-Busch factory and got a bunch of different beers to try out. This first one is a blueberry concoction called “Wild Blue”. It is billed as a Blueberry lager.
I don't know what the hell this thing is supposed to be, a wild blue perhaps?

It goes on and on stroking its own blueberry stem about how it gets its flavor and color from some natural source, but none of that matters before you open the bottle. What matters is the 8% alcohol by volume content. 8% beer = 100% badassery.
Color: Upon pouring the beer out into my good enough beer glass it is readily apparent that this is no normal beer with flavorings crap. They at least put some something in it to color it. It looks like it could be made of blueberries. Not the best head producer around; just like stupid teenage girls I swear I’d be better off just doing it myself.
Yeah yeah, so I don't have a real beer glass, screw off.

Smell: Just as I pull a whiff I smell a strong blueberry/scrambled egg combination that baffles my senses. There must be some sulfur content in this high enough to smell or this wouldn’t be. A deeper breath using the nose and mouth to inhale produces a pleasant blueberry muffin smell. Not hoppy or barley-y.
Taste: It is not very strongly flavored. It has about the taste ka-pow of an MGD 64. Although the flavour (oh yeah, Euro-trash style) is pleasant. I can taste blueberry in it. It is almost like a weak wine cooler but with a good bit more alcoholic gusto. Speaking of which, the alcohol is barely discernable, which is awesome since I hate the nose hair burning sensation that is the wavy stench lines of alcohol. It most defiantly does not taste like a beer, or lager. It is more like a blueberry cider. Overall it is pretty good. If I could find a 6-pack for under ten bucks (which you can at the beer plant) I would probably buy it every now and then.

Even though it's not a real beer glass it doens't have the best head anyway.

I don't know why there is so much space betwee the picture and the text.  Fuck blogger.com
Beer Score: 2 of 6
Blueberry alcohol beverage score: 5 of 5

Monday, September 7, 2009

my Clam

Yeah yeah, my spelling sucks my grammer is bad, and i don't really give a shit.

See there, poor capitalization skills. 

The fact is I don't care.  I am usually eating something or drinking booze when I write these and I only right them once.  I don't jerk around with editing and all that, usually. I do one read through and call it good enough.

Jobless people shouldn't be allowed to have fun on Labor Day

Labor day is for people who labor, not for people who don't labor.  In this instance I am very liberal with the definitaion of "labor". Essentially, if you have a job the day before and the day after labor day; you labor. 

Now every day is a holiday for slackers and bums so how do we make sure they don't celebrate Labor Day. Here's how.

Punch them in the face.

Every person who has a job can punch any person who does not have a job in the face. You can hit any jobless person as hard as you want, one time.  You can hit as many jobless people as you can find, but only one punch per jobless no good peice of shit slacker who doesn't deserve the egg smelling socks he wears.  This way people with jobs can relax, let go of some stress, and we can all make sure people without jobs aren't freeloading off our holiday; amongst other things.  The worthless pieces of shit they are.

A different bitch with the health care system.

Our health care system is dicked.

First of all upon entrance to the medical facility of your choice you should write down either what you think is wrong with you, or what you think the medical staff will discover is or is not wrong with you. If you are told they same thing as what you wrote down then you don’t pay for shit.

For example, If I write down, “My knee hurts and I don’t know why.”, and the doctor tells you he doesn’t know why your knee hurts; then you don’t pay for a damn thing. If you say, “I have acid reflux” and he says “you have acid reflux” you don’t pay him a damn thing. If you say I need Medicine A and after he pokes all over you he says you need Medicine A, you don’t pay for the poking, you just pay for the scrip. To hell with all this you came in so you owe me $35 and your insurance owes me $300 crap, pay for product. Maybe this will give doctors some damn motivation on figuring out what’s wrong with people instead of giving them vicodine and sending them on their merry way.

And holy-crap-sack-batman what the hell is going on with fucking x-ray techs. These pieces of shit are the dredge at the bottom of the medical world barrel. You have to pay for all kinds of shit you don’t want. Pay for each exposure taken, pay for each exposure, pay for the stupid son of a bitch who couldn’t cut it in real college to “read” the x-ray.

How about this, since I already know which part of my body is assed up I take the damn picture. This way I only need one taken and don’t have to pay for two more that aren’t for a damn thing. This would also cut out the picture taker all together. Just put that little button over on this side of you nuclear defense wall, I think I can figure it out. Also, since I’m not a god damn retard, I’ll “read” the x-ray. It doesn’t take a fucking biologist to see that there is something in my arm that’s not supposed to fucking be there. I already know what’s wrong I just need proof to tell doctor why I need my hydrocodone.

And what’s with “reading” and x-ray. It’s a damn photograph. You don’t read a picture, you look at it. So I am paying the hospital equivalent of a Burger King order taker $70 a pop to look at a picture of my hand. Fuck that.

Oh, and get rid of insurance all together. If you can’t afford to pay for your hospital stay, then don’t get sick you weak miserable piece of shit.