Hey kiddies! Uncle Chach-nof-ski has returned! For the record, I’d like to say that my L.L. Cool J-esque comeback has nothing to do with that terminally ill child who promised to stop writing me three letters a day if I started regular contribution again. I know that after the Michael Jackson/Farrah Fawcett/Cory Lidle thing no one can stand more bad news. Unfortunately, his Chachness has one more vine of sour grapes. Trent Reznor, the front man of your favorite band when you were in the seventh grade, has deleted his Twitter account!

According to Rolling Stone, “Prior to the deletion, Reznor talked about ditching Twitter because, simply, ‘Idiots rule.’ As Reznor reiterated in his NIN.com post, it was the trolling that made Twitter insufferable for him and caused the sudden end of @trent_reznor.”

Probably too old for Twitter anyway…

I realize that we haven’t heard the sweet tweetings of our gallant Trent since the tail end of July, but panic you should not! As a long time fan and stalker of Trent, I, the Great Chachámaron am here to catch you (yes even you in the XXL black Downward Spiral tee with the eleven stupid bracelets) up on his daily murmurings.

Some people say Wheaties is the breakfast of champions. I jerk off to David Bowie’s Laborynth every morning! Nothing ever Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!
9:06 AM from TweetDeck

Remember when I had to like Johnny Cash’s cover of my song “hurt” just because he was dying? Yikes. Our version was way better.
12:21 PM from TweetDeck

God I love PETA. NIN stopped touring because I couldn’t bear to look at all the fans wearing fur anymore.
1:58 PM from TweetDeck

I lied. The real reason we stopped is that Perry Farrell filled my hotel room with blind men from Match.com last time we played Jersey.
3:34 PM from TweetDeck

The woman at the table next to me is eating the most delicious looking lamb! God I hate PETA!
6:41 PM from TweetDeck

Ah! Nothing like a warm cup of Earl Grey and a huge shot of heroin after a long day.
7:38 PM from TweetDeck

Even though Cody Chestnut does look good in leather, I’d prefer he didn’t wear leather as much as he does. I mean what about PETA?
9:01 PM from TweetDeck

Nevermind. I’m watching him on YouTube and he looks damn good in leather. But Cody’s the only exception. Don’t any of you get any leather ideas!
9:03 PM from TweetDeck

Wow. I’m almost too tired to listen to Ziggy Stardust and touch myself before I fall asleep. Goodnight Moon!
10:10 PM from TweetDeck

It’s no wonder that everyone is developing more and more negative biases towards twenty-something hipsters. First there is all the exhibit-A photo evidence at “Look At This Fucking Hipster”.  Second, we’ve got all these so called “indie” bands that keep popping up on Jimmy Fallon. Today I watched some band I’ve never heard of called “Bats for Lashes” and they were really sour. Triple H was the other guest on the show and I’m sure as he was watching from the sidelines he was thinking, “So this is what those hipster fags are listening too. Beating them up is now justified.” And as if that wasn’t enough, now hipsters are punching defenseless shit.

The Chicago Tribune reports that a 21 year old snob named Pablo Fernandez left the Lollapalooza music festival and proceeded to begin petting a horse. Seems innocent enough, but then the officer that was sitting on top of the horse told him to knock it off. The kid refused and, instead of just walking away, punched the horse!!! The horsed reared onto its back legs in the middle of a huge crowd and the 21 year old equestrian terrorist was sent to jail for the night.

Here’s a re-enactment I found:

runner up

I have tons of problems with this shit. Has this kid never read “Black Beauty”? Of all the animals to punch, why pick a horse? Why not a cat? I’d punch a cat for sure.  Actually, I take that back. The cat would likely be on the ground, so I would probably just kick it. I’d kick a cat no problem. You’ve got a cat? No questions asked, I will kick that thing. Same goes for cocky pigeons. But I would never kick a horse. I’m sure Pablo Fernandez wouldn’t kicked a horse either. That’s just asking for trouble. Trouble in the form of a hoove to the throat, if you know what I’m saying. The horse is just too big to get a good kick in. Really if you are going to attack a horse, punching is the way to go. Let’s see are there any animals out there that I would punch, rather than kick… well first, they would have to be out of my leg reach. You can kind of just slip in a quick squirrel kick without breaking stride, but any animal above the waistline is going to need some fist-attention. I mean obviously a human face would be a perfect target for my fist, if it were on the right person. But this contest is strictly limited to the lesser animals. Maybe an ugly whale. I don’t think my fists have the force to penetrate the blubber, so I’d be safe from getting stuck in its intestinal goo. Though a whale punch seem somewhat anti-climatic. It’s like punching a big couch or a snowdrift. Maybe a walrus. Just POW! Punch a walrus right in the side of the head and walk away. I’ve always had something against walruses. Don’t they seem a little bit high and mighty? I think walruses kind of just lounge around thinking that they’re the “kings of the sea.” Fuck that. Emperor penguins are the kings of the sea and I would never punch an emperor penguin (because they’re back in the kicking category). I’d like to punch a walrus right off its high horse.

Still, there must be a better option…even though the more I think about it the more tantalizing punching a walrus becomes. How about this: I punch a cheetah while it’s on the move. Like that stipulation? A cheetah is running by at 65mph and KA-POW! a punch right in the side. Even the most lackluster punch would knock it off its feet at those speeds. Again, I would just walk away after impact. I guarantee that video would go viral.

But, nah, I like cheetahs enough. Not worth it. Plus, when am I going to find the time to do that.  Come on Roy, think! There must be some punchable animal out there. Mhmm. You know what would really set people off? If I punched one of those guys from the new “Were The Wild Things Are” adaptation. People are already going nuts for this movie. I’m sure if I were to punch one of those totoro knock-offs people would be up in arms.  Perhaps even more so if I punched the child star. But I don’t want to do any of that,  I’m just saying I’m sure it would get quite a reaction. I need an animal that I could punch and people would be like, “Oh, OK, he punched a  _____. I’m fine with that.” I’ve got it! A yellowjacket. I know it’s thinking outside the box, but stay with me here. Yesterday my brother and sister came running to me saying that there was a HUGE yellowjacket in the basement and I needed to kill it. Their definition of huge was 1-inch, which for a yellowjacket is pretty huge. So I went into the basement and killed the thing with a newspaper. But wouldn’t it have been cooler to just punched it dead? Nobody would ever bat an eyelash if I went around punching bugs into submission. Hiking through the woods I’d look like a paranoid schizophrenic, but really I’d just be getting rid of all the pesky mosquitoes.

What was I talking about? Oh right, the kid (re: person my age) who punched a horse:

No doubt he was running up to the beast to drunkenly get an I-Phone picture of himself petting it. It would prove to his Twitter following that he liked animals and justify his PETA t-shirt. If you are wasted enough to punch something, don’t punch the giant mammal punch the pig riding it. What made this guy make the jump from massage to brute force? Let’s be honest, do cops need anymore reason to distrust youngsters? If the cops up in my college town of New Paltz got word of this I’m sure they would invest in a whole fleet of ponies, with the hope that some idiot would punch one and they would get a chance to pelt a crowd of students with rubber bullets and electrified nets.

I should also point out that I have no reason to identify this kid as an authentic hipster. I just figured that since he was at Lollapalooza he must have been. I’ll also assume the name “Pablo Fernandez” was meant to be ironic and his actual name is Conrad Pinskey and he looks like this:

That snapshot isn’t even from “Look at this Fucking Hipster,” but when I came upon it a couple days ago I knew that I’d be able to use it for something before the week was done (and before anyone says, “Hey, that picture could just as easily be you”, let me rebut: 1) I don’t go to Music Festivals; 2) I would never wear that dumb outfit because it would draw too much attention to my failing biceps and irregularly tanned thighs; 3) I don’t dance with my eyes closed because I like to observe all the looks of astonishment and glee that my gyrations conjure.)

(One more point about that picture: What is the girl scoffing at? Yes she’s attractive enough, but she’s still got white nail polish, a little mermaid boob-mask and ruffled granny-panties….so I mean come on. At least the retard behind her is having a good time. Maybe she’s coming to the realization that she has chosen the wrong social-stereotype to adopt.)

OK. I don’t know how much more time I can devote to these morons.

The moral of the story:
-Don’t try to punch something you’re not.

Many of you may not know this, but I’m a pretty well-read guy. I’m not implying I’ve read any particular library of classic books – I’ve made it a point to never read a single Charles Dickens book no matter how many I was assigned throughout high school, I have a particular disdain for Ernest Hemmingway and, frankly James Joyce can suck my hog (I assume based solely on his name that he’s of the homosexual persuasion). However, I do read the news every day. The real news. The New York Times – not Metro NY, The Post, anything posted on CNN or any of that other silly hogwash. (Morris Day and) The Motherfucking Time(s). That shit is the MAD notes!

Anyway, I was reading an article yesterday about Michael Jackson’s memorial (Michael Jackson: The Memorial, rather) and I came to a phrase that was totally worthy of a tweet, however Twitter tells me “Arrow_on_red” and to “watch a video,” which I never do.  So, unable to share this hilarity in my normal manner for quips of such insignificance, I decided to let it stir for an entire day and be evacuated from my body in a long form post. My original tweet will be followed by my elaboration:

yesterday the ny times referred to the michael jackson memorial as an ‘orgy of mourning’ http://bit.ly/ZSqkY sounds like an awful goth band

(Note how I refuse to use proper punctuation for my tweets.)

Indeed, Alessandra Stanley decided to equate the ramblings of a bunch of aging stars and the sobbing of a child to a sex act involving three or more people. For this, I cannot fault her. I’m almost positive it’s the first time I’ve ever laughed while reading the Times – unfortunately for me, I was drinking hot coffee and ended up with second degree burns inside my nose, but that’s neither here nor there. What I can fault her for, is the exact words she used. An orgy of mourning carries a ton of possible connotations. For one, had her left pinky slipped and hit the shift key, she would have ended up with an “orgy of Mourning,” conjuring images of retired Miami Heat basketball star Alonzo Mourning having all kinds of kinky sex with other people with the last name Mourning.

Pimp.

As my tweet above will inform you, though, this was not my initial reaction. At first, I thought it sounded like a bad high school “goth” band. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what the term goth actually means. In middle school I know we used to call anyone who listened to KoRn goth. I don’t think I used it in high school, but if I did, I’m relatively certain it was in reference to the fat asses who watched Anime (and by association Hentai). In college, I realized both the definitions were wrong as I became more entrenched in what I know as “metal” and listened to idiot girls refer to other idiot girls who happened to be wearing a black t-shirt as goth.

Now, I tend to associate it with darker rock acts and (at the risk of upsetting either a frigheningly fat or skinny mongrel of an outcast) some more feminine black metal acts and people who still insist on wearing trench coats and ponytails. (Ghaal, I’m looking directly at you.) With that, let me set the scene for how Orgy of Mourning came to be:

Greg Schmidt (or Devastatorious as he liked to be called, not realizing how retarded and off-base it was) was a skinny lad, aged 15. At one time, he was very much into N*SYNC, but never told anyone. As a direct result, he was driven head first by the denial of his own homosexuality to black metal. First it was just once in a while, when he was bored of his Metallica CDs, but with the advent of high speed Internet and P2P networks, he found he needed to own and know everything about every band ever, which brought him to his current position in life – trolling message boards, blogs and news sites to point out whenever someone forgot to mention the latest Abigail Williams release.

One particularly rainy afternoon, Devastatorious was ham-handedly playing something resembling a ham-handed Mayhem song on his Line6 Pod Pro, which he got on eBay for “like half of list price.” As he came to what some would call a chorus, his buddy Mike Shea (Khhal for our purposes) came running down with a great idea, “Let’s start our own band!” Of course, this sounded like a great idea to Devastatorious. “Ok, well first things first – we need a totally bitchin’ name,” he explained.

“Well, yeah of course. What should we call ourselves?”
“The most dark and hardcore thing ever.”
“Nothing was darker than when my mother mourned the loss of Sprinkles (the shivering family Teacup Something or other).”
“Fuck yeah, the idea of mourning is deep as hell.”
“What else should we include?”
“How about something sexual? Not because we’ll end up having sex six months from now, or anything.”

As he said this, Greg shot a look to the right to avoid eye contact with his new bandmate. Mike continued looking at him awkwardly for a moment before breaking the silence:

“This might not be cool, but check it out.”
“Ok”
“Remember that totally gay band from back in the day Orgy.”
“Yea, they suck.” No they don’t, he thought to himself.
“Well, how about we take ‘Orgy’ back and make it cool again?”

As if they had both sprung rods simultaneously, Greg and Mike looked up from their in-progress black painted nails and exclaimed triumphantly:

“ORGY OF MOURNING!”

-END-

And that’s how I imagined that going.

Most readers are probably expecting me to bash Perez Hilton over the upsetting video he posted in regard to the savage beating he apparently suffered the other night. Well, expect no more! Here it is.

For those who aren’t aware of what happened, here’s the brave little man explaining the situation in his own words. For those who rightfully don’t give a rat’s ass about what this pansy does or says, please bear with me on this one. I guess at some point over the weekend some music thing happened and at an after-party, poorly named rapper Will.I.Am of the Black Eye Peas approached Mz. Hilton and politely requested “in the future, can you please be a pal and not post anything at all about my band?” to which Mario Armando Lavandeira replied (and this is somewhat accurate): “Not if my life depended on it. Fuck you in your gay ass, you faggot scum.” Shortly thereafter an event occured that was a surprise to no one except Mr. Lavandeira – he got repeatedly punched in the face by someone associated with Will.I.Am.

I have no problem with Perez Hilton – if you can make a living off adding poorly drawn dicks to pictures, I’m all for it. In fact, I used to read his blod fairly often, when I was a younger, dumber asshole than I am today. But for him to be shocked that someone finally decided to take a swing at him is absolutely fucking insane. And to twitter people to call the police for him is more outrageous than him parading around like some sort of gay activist. This jackass could very well be the poster boy for why gay marriage is not legal throughout the United States.

So anyway, in tribute to the site that will one day be featured on “I Love June through October 2007″ on VH1, I decided to make some pictures myself, and instead of just attaching some lame attempt at sounding in-the-know like Perez so often does, I’ll elaborate on my art for my faithful readers. Here goes nothing…

When did looking like the Dutch Boy Paint mascot become fashionable?

A nice easy one down the middle for ya. It’s simple and very direct. In my opinion (and the opinion of roughly 100% of the rest of the American population), anyone who wears a shower cap and a faux-fur coat anywhere outside of his own panic room should have the word “ASS” tattooed on their awful forehead. An earlier draft of this picture has the showercap providing him shelter from a cum-storm. Ultimately, I felt that if I wanted the word “ASS” to have the biggest possible impact I should just give it the spotlight.

I know he’s under the impression that he’s a skinny gay guy now, but Mario, or Mary as I like to call him around the pool house, used to be a big fat bitch. My girlfriend and I recently took a trip to the desolate wasteland of the American Mid-West and made a stop at the Columbus Zoo, which was actually pretty cool. The best part? The freakishly giant nipples on the nursing gorillas. The worst part? Waking up from our mescaline-induced coma to realize we weren’t anywhere near Columbus and in reality we had been ogling Perez Hilton shirtless on Fire Island.

I made this one in case you couldn’t put together the last joke on your own.

Both taken at Wal-Mart while the creepy photographer pulled a wrinkled coin purse out of the secret pocket in the front of his trousers and offered Perez a giant sucker if he would take pictures like a nice boy.

One of my favorite things to do in my own posts is to take pictures of things that are similiar and just mush ‘em together. I think it’s a more effective way of getting my point across than trying to actually explain it to the jobless retards intelligent, contributing-to-society socialites who read this blog. This one may be a first though. I’ve compared Barack Obama to Andy Dufresne, a shitbag D.A. to Louie Anderson, etc., but I’ve never encountered a douche so awful it would be an insult to compare him to himself.

This really needed to happen though. I have a friend who always flashes the same half-hearted smile when someone takes a picture of her and I give her endless amounts of shit for it. Luck for Perez, I’m feeling a bit under the weather today (homophobia::SNIFF:: ) and I’m afraid if I give him any sort of access to my asshole, I won’t be able to sit for a week or so…

Also, I think the “(ANALLY)” added to “Tame Me” is fucking hysterical. If you don’t agree, close your browser and remove your sex organs with a bicycle chain.

This one’s a bit more on track. After I showed mind boggling amount of restraint I displayed in the “ASS” photo, I decided to let it all hang out on this one. And by “all” I mean a half a dozen dicks either entering or sprouting from a particularly close-up bust of Lavandeira. For some reason, this picture reminds me of the only time my mother caught me masturbating. Weird.

One thing I have a huge problem with in Perez Hilton’s pictures is his lack of wit when it comes to the text. “EW” “ACK” and “YUMMY” are not good enough indicator of how he feels about a particular celebrity or how other people might imagine that celebrity views him or herself. I took the opportunity to spell out to Perez what his (hopefully dead and therefore no longer able to reproduce) parents probably think of him. Nothing.

Finally, I think this is truly my pinnacle as a fuckstick celebrity blogger. I mean, comparing Perez Hilton in the previous pictures to the Dutch Boy Paint mascot, a gorilla, and himself were all pretty genius, but to come up with John “who?” Daly was a stroke of genius. Then, to take those two similar pictures and pit them against one another just took everything to the next level.

For those of you who don’t know, John Daly is a pathetic shell of a professional golfer who actually has an alcoholic drink named after him (it’s also known as a Dirty Arnold Palmer, but that’s for another obviously hilarious post). In my opinion, in his never ending quest to get fucked up, John Daly has displayed more backbone and a more winning attitude than Mario Armando Lavandeira ever has or ever will.

Perez Hilton, I sincerely hope you die. Soon.

Here’s a gallery of all the previous pictures plus 13 that Roy added:

perez_hilton_01

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 20

Hello dear readers,

I’m so sorry I have been gone so long. I just checked the stats and I have not updated since April 22nd, exactly one month ago. Why have I not updated in such a very long time? Well, there are several reasons, one of which is true: 1) I have been busy helping DJ design our new site layout, which should be released within the coming weeks 2) I have not had an internet connection or a working computer for several weeks and 3) It was the end of the semester and blogging will not take priority over school until DJ can start paying me.
But just because I haven’t been blogging doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about blogging. I have! Quite a bit actually. Look no further than my hilarious twitter account for proof of the wacky ideas I’ve been thinking. I’m such a loopy lad!

Well, on May 11th at precisely 7:50PM I let @SmartassRadio know that I would be writing a blog about Electabuzz and when I make a promise I keep it. So, after much ado, here is a blog entry that could possibly interest a very bored twelve year old a decade ago:

Hello, my name is Electabuzz and I’m an alcoholic.

Read more »

Our friends across the pond, Mother England, have recently sunk into national tormoil after one of Britain’s top intelligence secret agents, James Bond, registered for an account on the popular web page Twitter. Bond, who is also known as Agent 007, claims he joined the site just to, “network and stay up to date on what Ryan Seacrest was doing.” However, Bond’s own updates have begun to undercut the secrecy of some highly classified British operations around the globe and Parliament is not happy.

One of Bond’s several compromising “tweets.”

Story continues after the jump…

Read more »

I understand some of the people who visit this site don’t necessarily listen to  the live show, download the podcast, follow us on twitter or know us personally. So, I’m taking the time to get those people caught up on my latest antagonist act. While using stumbleupon the other day, I came across this obnoxious piece of P.O.O.P – People Offended by Offensive People. Naturally, I tweated to my many many followers. Someone happened across said tweat and we were off to the races:

Here’s a clip from the most recent show (4/16/09) explaining my problems with Toronto, issuing some serious threats, making some observations about the city and  telling jokes specific only to the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club being fed to me by Uncle Pete.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.