You’re a Bum
When you’re wasting time social networking with the aid of a machine, have you ever noticed all this advertising shit in the right hand column - namely on your Facebook page? On mine, at least, it is always some hot, big-boobed chick telling me I should read through their classifieds, because a girl just like her is going to be all about me. Gimme a break. A female that attractive hasn’t looked at me like that since the first time I whacked off to one of the many Playboys I stole from my dad. Anything with a rack like that usually ends up stuffed, and on some redneck’s wall. Seriously, if I’d ever bagged something like that, it probably would be hanging on the living room wall. On a side note, thank Sam Walton that taxidermy doesn’t apply to college days - or my living room would have had to be reinforced with some kind of load bearing material. For every respectable example of collegiate fair there would be at least two that you’d only line the walls of your basement with – Goddamn Fairness Doctrine.
You know late night TV has gone to shit when you have to cover one eye to view it properly, and what you see out of it is Rocky Balboa. Was there really ever a need for Rocky’s II, III, IV, & V? Did Rocky want us to believe that Rambo defeated Communism by beating up Ivan Drago? What the hell? All Stallone’s shit seems to run together anyway, so I keep waiting for him to come out of the corner with a tarp on and an all-purpose blade at his side. Then you have Mickey Goldmill. As if Grumpy Old Men wasn’t his coup de grâce, he had to go and star in another popular movie before people started speculatin’ on his demise. Burgess Meredith was the equivalent of the modern day stock market, or a whore in a porno. Everyone knows it is going down on a daily basis, the only question is how far? And, for a second question that isn’t the “only question”, will they get back up? I guess that all is determined by whether or not you’re Salivatin’ Sandy or Burgess Meredith, doesn’t it?
Whatever the geezer Burgess Meredith is playing also wears a hearing aid that could be equivocated to an iPhone for retards. The wire is big enough to wire to give power to New York City. If he is around during a blackout, power could probably be restored as fast as someone could use flash cards, hand gestures, or strategic punches to get that old fuck to listen. His hearing aid seriously looks like it is has the cord off a pre-cordless phone. It’s almost like the trainer guy is tethered to his own gourd by that big ass cord. When he walks, I keep waiting for it to stretch out, causing his head to be jerked back, and his body to hit the floor. The piece in his ear looks like he could pick up both Secret Service feeds AND DirecTV. You are not gonna miss any NFL games as long as you get this fool near paned glass, and out of a rainstorm on Sunday.
