TO MY THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SELF

Jesus, dude.  What's with the track suits?  Do you own a single thing that doesn't have Beaver Canoe or Northern Reflections written on it?  They're called "jeans", and they've worked since the mid fifties so maybe you should stop raging against the status quo already.  Just because all of the girls are taller than you right now doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to stay unattractive to them.  While we're on the subject, those steps you have in the side of your head?  Yeah, they're yesterday as of next month.  Do you honestly believe MC Hammer will be playing arenas in ten years?  What is your damage?

Yes, you must think you're cool being the first in your class to own C+C Music Factory's album, but get this: you'll be able to hold 10,000 songs on something the size of your thumbnail in less than twenty years while you're wasting your fifteen minutes of fame on a fucking cassette tape.  You should be out in the yard with the cool kids helping them pick on the weak and ugly instead of designing your own movie posters in your science book, asshole.

Darryl Winkler is having a house party two blocks away while his parents are in Acapulco and here you are watching Die Hard 2 in your parent's darkened basement for the billionth time.  Steal that bottle of Sauza from the liquor cabinet since you're parents never touch booze anymore and show up at that party a hero.  No?  You'd rather piss away a golden opportunity at popularity to see McClane fight Colonel Stewart on the plane's wing again?  Your loss, ass-munch.

Nice guys finish last, and here you are doe-eyed and submissive to any half-attractive girl that talks to you.  You're one of few kids who bring a lunch box to school, shouldn't you be in the remedial class using safety scissors when you sport that sort of look? 

Ask Tanya out already.  She honestly likes you and you think she's hot, but no, you think public school dating requires effort of some kind you have no knowledge of.  BULLSHIT.  You don't "date" in public school, idiot.  You hold hands in the hall to demonstrate you've marked your territory.  In a couple years, you'll want to stick your Thing in this girl, but that won't happen because to her you were just that bashful little schmuck that never asked her out.  Swish that around in your mouth and let me know how it tastes, and take that abomination of a retainer out before you do you poltergeist.

Oh, and one more thing: stop being a Redskins fan after they win the Superbowl this year.

AND NOW, A WORD FROM THE GUY CREEPING ON THE DANCEFLOOR

"Dude, there is so much drunk, horny trim out here tonight!  We are walking away with pussy tonight or my name ain't Ricky Jakobi!"

I actually suck at dancing.  I've never actually made the honest attempt to be good at it, since I'm even to embarrassed to practice in front of the mirror.  Instead, we wait for the girls to pack up the dance floor like they always do, then randomly shove away around, grind a few asses without permission, maybe even cop a quick feel in the dark or two if it's congested enough!

"Oh, bro, that fine-looking chick in COMPLETELY eye-fucking me right now.  I just make a movement."

I am too pathetic to "make a movement".  Chances are the girl isn't actually checking me out, because I'm shallow and only try to grind the most attractive member of each girls' group.  I don't want to look like a fraidy-cat in front of my friends, so I'll think up some vague, macho-Confucius excuse that lets me off the hook:

"Aw shit, man.  Can't move in on that, there's no run-off for you.  No friends with her.  Let's move on, bros before hos!  Let's take a lap!"

Whew.  That was a close one.  I managed to save face and all I had to do was kill my soul for a bit.  Getting a drink from the way-too overcrowded bar area should kill time.  Maybe I'll bump into a girl so wasted she'll give me those "You'll do" eyes and I'll move in on it.  As long as she doesn't pass out before insertion, there's nothing wrong with it.  Whoop, another girl facing away from me, think I'll grind my throbbing semi against her leg.  Oh, shit.  She 's not into me, she's making that move when she goes to the other side of her group of friends.  Well, I'm a drunk fuckstick who thinks musical perversion is a sure-fire pick-up method, so I'll just keep chasing her around.  I'm sure she'll cave soon. 

"Hey, I'm having an after-hours party back at my place after the doors swing wide, ladies!  You should join us!  What, you have to 'work tomorrow'?  Your loss, sluts!"

That after hours party always has, and always will be my and my fellow douchebag friends here watching movies in the dark after we get home, not even finishing our first opened beer.  Tomorrow, we will tell stories from last night that we were all there for and boast about who out drank who, because hey.... that is all we have in our sad lives, which we sometimes wish would just simply end.
   

TOP 10: Songs That Can Go To Hell

I've been a disc jockey for one full decade now.  If there is one thing that baffles me about this remarkably easy and basically fun job, it's how people can still love the same shitty songs and sing along with them for the 5000th fucking time.  Some songs I could never get sick of.  You can never get tired of hearing a song like "Got To Give It Up" because they are simply too awesome and pretty much impossible to hate.

And then there's the songs that make you wish it was possible to un-produce a track.  And the biggest turds in that large bowl are:

10) MacArthur Park by Richard Harris
A great actor hyper-dramatically sings his way through what feels like seven hours of WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!!  This song is responsible for half the suicides in America before the 1980's.  Donna Fucking Summer remade it into a disco hit.  What's next, a rain of blood?

9) Strokin' by Clarence Carter
Not a hit at first, Mr. Carter blessed the wedding world with a perfectly dull song for 55-year-old people to screw to.  The only people who dance/fuck to this song are people who were too old to watch Magnum P.I.  Christ, it puts bad visions in my head.

8) Amazed by Lonestar
To make a hit country song, just make it slow and talk about how beautiful a woman is.  The next thing you know, ten million rubes with two first names and boots made out of a deadly snake will think of you a musical genius.  I am yet to DJ a wedding where somebody with a moustache or bola tie hasn't demanded this song "For my wife.  It was our wedding song."  Real original, Jesco.

7) The Time of my Life- Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes
If somebody requests this instantly dated migraine, first I look at them like they gave away the ending to a movie.  Then I play it, because if you've been to a wedding full of drunk W.A.S.Ps you know what's next-- some idiot couple is going to try that "lift move" from Dirty Dancing, only they don't realize that Patrick Swayze is a chiseled and all-powerful sexy Greek God, and Jennifer Grey is 5'1".  Instead, you get something better: humiliation and contusions when they collapse into the head table.  And I laugh.  Caution: insulting this song in front of a creature sporting a vagina can result in a no-sex finish to your night.

6) Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground
I will give you a million dollars if you can give me one logical reason why this uber-dull song was a number one hit for over a month.  No takers?  Here's one: it has the word "sex" in the title.  That's the only reason.  If you don't believe me, just ask Kings Of Leon.

5) What's Up by Four Non-Blondes
You know it.  And no, it isn't good in any way.

4) I'll Be by Edwin McCain
Lard-assed acoustic douche Edwin McCain turned any slow dance or karaoke night for that matter into a red nightmare that seems to melt panties away like ice on a summer sidewalk for some reason.  I think Edwin should probably drill a hole in his head to let the fucking sap out, personally.  Contrived, over-played sentimental horseshit.  If this song was any more gay, George Michael would be blowing it in a bathroom stall.

3)The Love Shack by The B52's
Women are strictly to blame for this unbelievably irritating bubble-gum faggotry, which they shriek along to like a banshee with its hand caught in a car door.  Was "Rock Lobster" not a shitty enough way to make white people look like idiots?  Who the fuck signed this "band" in the first place?

2) Young Girl by Gary Pucket and the Union Gap
You would have to be older than water to appreciate this song when it was released, but I think I'll let the chorus of the creepiest song ever made speak for itself:
Young girl, get out of my mind!
My love for you is way out of line!
You'd better RUN girl!
You're MUCH TOO YOUNG, GIRL!!!!
...Brrrrrrrrr.  I rest my case

1) Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison
I think the biggest issue with this song is that every single female in the solar system with brown eyes think that this bore is written specifically about her.  They become instantly smug about it, demanding a "dance radius" so they can make themselves look like an even bigger asshole.  Van Mo' made some great tunes.  This was not one of them.  This song is probably as overplayed as You Shook Me All Night Long, the only difference is this song licks sweaty skunk taint.

IS OUR KIDS LEARNING?-- How to leave the children behind

For the what seems umpteen jillionth time in the past year, my utterly unnoticeable home town of London took centre stage as shit-for-brains teenagers who re-define the term "lightweights" decided that is was their lawful right to torch a CTV truck and try to kill any firefighter, cop or EMS worker that dared intervene.  Granted, the cops retreated like bitches toward the crowd of 1,000 strong in full riot gear, making sure to keep their $300,000 water cannon-armed urban assault vehicle was kept sparkling in the parking garage of police headquarters while throngs of vile little turds chased tax-paying families from their homes, tore fences down, hurdled hundreds of empties at public servants and flipped vehicles over, including blowing up the earlier mentioned news truck with a barbecue propane tank.

So naturally, like the cowardly retards that ripped apart their own neighbourhoods in Vancouver almost a year ago, they posed for cameras, bragged about it on Facebook, boasted their supreme retardation on Twitter, and then allowed me to shame them world-wide right now:

Sometimes, I am just in awe that retard like this could even get accepted into going for a Cayman Islands Barcode Communications degree.

You see, Katey Meyer, when you post something
on the internet, the world owns it.  And you, Katey Meyer
have been owned, period.

But then again,  who's fault is it? the quick excuse for the kids that "got caught up in the moment" is to not blame THIS generation, but the generation that raised it. Well, yes and no.

Exploring the "Yes" possibility, parents collectively today are complete pussies. They don't raise their children, they DATE them. They buy they're love, never judge them with fair criticism, and never put a big mean red "X" on a test, because that might think they actually did something wrong.  The horror!  You know what my teacher did to stupid students in Grade Four?  If you failed a test, he would march you to the front of the class and make you read you lame brained answers out loud to the class, so everyone could bask in your dumbness.  That wasn't cruelty, that was tough love.  And it WORKED.  Had he done that nowadays 20 plus years later,  They would wrap him in razor wire, dip him into a salt water tank and let sharks gnaw his legs into bloody stumps.  THEN he would be fired.

The above whiskey dick poster boy for vasectomy
was filmed tearing down a backyard fence and
screaming "Fuck tha police!!" into a video camera.
I guess they didn't learn anything about the small incident
out west 10 months back when some innocent kids
in Vancouver tripped and fell onto some mean cop's
nightsticks.  Except you can't lie to the camera, Einstein.

 Then you have the much stronger "No" argument: this wasn't five year olds left unattended in Tommy Lee's backyard.  This was grown-ass college students destroying shit because a) It isn't theirs and b) It isn't theirs, so why the fuck not?

This is a simple case of shitheels that can't handle their booze and feed off the equally toxic attitudes of their fellow Shit-For-Brains.  Hey, they're throwing bottles at the cops!  I might as well too!  Hey, they're shaking that van with a family of five inside it!  I might as well too!  You can't stop a person from being an idiot if they're an idiot.  It's science.  It's not like they're PAYING for their education or rent, their mommies and daddies are!  And those mommies and daddies will have to be answered too when you they sent home in your second semester with a criminal record, an expelled education and a lost security deposit.

So in the end, nobody wins.  You want somebody to blame?  Look in the mirror.  You want to stop problems like this?  If a thought crosses your mind like "My son is a complete tool.  And seventeen years old.  Time for him to go out into the world!" then maybe you should think again. And maybe stop blaming yourself.  Somebody in their late teens should know better in the first place, so THEY are the problem.

Fix them.

ZUBAZ FOR SALE: Buy my gnarly meathead pants

For Sale: One Pair of Zubaz adult male XL (the extra large is for my GUNS, bro)

You could already look fly at the gym in these like-new Zubaz, and you too could look like a retarded meathead fuckstick just like me!


Imagine how cool you'll look, walking around with your witch's brew-like energy drink, checking yourself out in the mirror when nobody's looking, or at home wacking off to your ceiling-mounted Kevin Sorbo poster.  Believe me, I've done plenty of the three and it makes me the incredible-looking specimen with traps to die for that I am today.  Anything to mask the fact that my soul is dying.

Some people would want to know why a guy would wear Zubaz, or do steroids.  The answer is simple: to look astonishing to the ladies, faggot!  There's nothing that turns on a woman more having a body that looks like a mattress a bunch of stank homeless perverts had group sex on.  Do you know how many ladies have asked to touch these arms?  Plenty.  Granted, I never had sex with them since my generally poisonous and sexist attitude towards females serves as a deterrent, but scope these fuckin' BICEPS, bro.  You quiver in jealousy and fear, don't you?

So you need to buy these fucking Zubaz.  You too could have the legs of a baggy gay zebra in no time.  Throw in a loose-fitting sweater and Bandana and yer LAUGHING, bro.  You're the magnet and pussy is electrified iron.  You can't lose.  Losers lose.  Look at these arms, dude.  Would a loser own seven Affliction t-shirts and sculpted arms swirled in tribal tattoos?  Thought so.

Seriously man, just BUY 'em!