Magic Ninja's Run This Bitch

Oh me?

Oh I'm the guy who used to run this lowly-read blog and has been absent for months.

Where have I been? Too much cocaine? Abducted by aliens who thought I knew the secret recipe for Wonder Bread®? Playing Zeus in a regional theater comedy troupe's production of "Gods, Dammit!"—where a group of Gods decide to form a bowling team, only to learn nobody makes shoes that fit their enormous feet, so instead they go on a murdering spree?

No.

I've been off making terrible decisions—like turning this half-baked blog into a book. I hear it was the trendy thing to do three years ago. So I thought, what the hell. Let's be behind the curve. Let's waste some more time and money on a bad idea.

Oh, I see you have questions.

Let's start on the left side of the room and work to the right.

What's the name of this book?
Magic Ninjas Run This Bitch!

Why? That makes no sense!
Really? Really? Is this your fucking book? Who wrote the mother fucker? That's right. Me. The one who has been drinking battery acid and eating corn dogs for a year now compiling this thing? Huh? Let me assure you, "Magic Ninja's Run This Bitch!" They do. And if they don't, I'll buy you a unicorn.

Will you show us these "Magic Ninjas"?
Go fuck yourself. Buy the book.

Will it just be a retread of all the blog posts you have thrown up here for the past 5 years?
No. Some of the better pieces will appear. But those have been remixed. They now include proper grammar, better sentence structure and words that were not ham-fisted into place in the 20 minutes it took me to write each post. There will be numerous chapters that have never appeared on this blog. Freshy, fresh shit. There will also be a ton of new photos—they'll still look like shit, but there will be new ones.

What will Magic Ninjas Run This Bitch look like?
It will be a mix of bathroom graffiti and words. Just like the blog but it will look a shit ton better. Some chapters will be all words. Some will be all photos. Most will be a mix of both. Overall, it'll be a majestic piece of art that will adorn all coffee tables and the backs of all toilets.

When will it be done?
I don't know. Get off my back you slimy, oil-soaked whore. Right now, the copy is 80% done. I'm setting a hard date of April 30th for the completion of copy. The art and layout will be next. Which should take a month of evenings. Then there's editing and proofing. Look for it this summer in your bread box.

This seems really expensive.
Yeah. But I'm not going to pay for it. No, the rubes at Kickstarter will. They just hand out money right? 

Any more questions? 
I see like 12 hands up. 
Too bad I'm not answering anything else.

Tell a friend, Magic Ninjas Run This Bitch.

What the sheep dip?

Okay, I walk away from this blog and to start a new business blowing "young guys" and for some reason it starts getting crazy hits?

What. The. Hell?

I thought for sure the waning popularity of this site (like it ever had any) would just continue.

Anyway.

If you are looking for "young guys" or want to blow "young guys" or want to have some "young guys" over just to help you mend your BBQ grill, I'd say give this number a call. These guys are pretty good.

Girls Fart!

Hey.
Still here.
Trying to get my act together.
Nearing 10,000 page views. I feel like CNN.
Thanks to Matt Hornyak for this one.

Fart on ladies!

Still alive. Still dick kicking.

(Thanks to Matt Hornyak for the photo)

Sup.

Been awhile. As usual.

Consider this my summer booty call.

Just dropping you a line, letting you know we're still alive. The site has fallen in to disrepair but we're still chugging. Still getting an average of 50 views a week of old ass content. Anyway, big stuff is still a foot.

Until then, make sure you are the Big Dick Boss of your house. Make sure you take it out, wave it around and smack somebody with it.

-Key-rect!

Dammit so much, Liam Gallagher could have died.

As this site winds down a bit, I'll still be posting here a bit.

In the past, I've made no attempt to hide my passionate hatred for Liam Gallagher.

Hell, I once fought the entire nation of Italy about it. (Dig through the back pages.)

Again, to those late to the party, I hate Oasis. I think they are the biggest waste of cellular matter on the planet. They're just a bunch of prissy ninny's who got big off of one hit, a slight bit of attitude and acting like huge a-holes. How their fans don't see this, has always perplexed me. But some how there are legions of people with holes the size of a gutters going through their central lobe.

Alright. Enough.

I'm not going into further hatred here about Oasis.

What I would like to talk about is how M&M's plotted to kill Liam Gallagher and sadly failed.

If you haven't heard, Liam Gallagher almost died eating blue M&M.

Fuck!

ALMOST DIED!

Apparently he's allergic to nuts. (Which doesn't explain why he's spent the better part of his career blowing male music journalists).

Anyway, M&M's, Planters, Payday, Almond Joy, Snickers, Emerald Nuts, open invitation, if you want to send me on any promotional tours that happen to line up with whatever garbage music Liam is currently playing, I'll gladly do it for free. Gimme a shout.

Pantyhose Rock.

Sometimes you have to do something that doesn't make a lot of sense.

Like getting involved in a eBay bidding war and then realizing, "Oh fuck, I have to drive 9 hours to pick up this 400 pound fucking thing."

This is what how one ends up in a trailer park in the middle of nofuckingwhere North Carolina on a random Saturday in April.

This is also how Just Shit Talking on Blogger is ending.

It's time to enroll Just Shit Talking, in the witness protection plan and move it to Boise, or in this case tumblr—which is the Boise of the internet world.

Here's why...
– I miss posting stuff a lot of the time because Blogger is such a pain in the ass on an iPhone. This means I take shit loads of photos that sit in my phone and I forget about them.

– tumblr will make it easier to post photos. This will probably result in more photos and slightly less rambling. SLIGHTLY less.

– I don't feel like doing a Blogger redesign. Sorry. Not lazy. Just lazy.

– I need a change. I feel like I've become a little stagnant.

Here's what else...
– Name change. Hey. I love Just Shit Talking but I think it has run its course.

– Just Shit Talking the book. I'm currently looking into how to make this happen. Not sure it will be a this year thing, but I'm going to try to make it happen. I want to go back through all the glut of images and copy that I have and see if I can't make something cohesive. Or if not cohesive, something at least random enough that white folks will want to put it on their coffee table and dust around it.

For right now, here's the new home of the former Just Shit Talking.

There's nothing there right not except for a test page and photo but gimme a few days and I'll launch this pig in proper fashion.

Turn Me On.

Spring has sprung, which means it's time for hard-ons and twitching laibas.

Love is in the air. So is pollen. So is the overwhelming smell all of the dog shit I've left in my neighbors yards all the winter.

While I love spring, the biggest drawback is now having to pick up my Cojack's shit. My philosophy in the winter is this—it's winter, nobody goes into their front yard. Who's going to notice an 22 pound dog's shit?

Am I bad neighbor? I say no.

Do I make meth in my basement? No.
Do I rent out my extra bedroom to a pedophile? No.
Do I walk around in my front yard and wave my wiener at traffic? Only on Tuesdays.

I'm a pretty good neighbor. Come on, I let the neighborhood kids smoke pot behind my neighbor's garage. I only pee in my yard when it's realllllly dark. And I occasionally, just occasionally, judge people based on their recycling—I'm looking at you Mr. Natural Light and Organic Milk, come on man balance the quality of your liquids out.

So a little dog shit that will pollute the ground water and cause a few blades of grass to grow with  super eco-strungth really isn't that bad of a thing.

I'm really more of a got-dang greenthumb. You're welcome neighbors. Now get back to your spring-fuck-flings.

I got fucked like a whore in this bathroom.

Oy Vey!

It's been a month. A long, long. long month.

Last week I traveled over 3,000 miles—and a good part of that was by car.

But with travel comes weirdness, adventures and more Shit Talking Photos.

So part of my trip included four days in the Upper Northwest. Or as I like to call it, The Sad States, because of the rain and dust bowl like conditions that would make John Steinbeck slit his wrists with orange crate shrapnel.

So to chase the blues away, I ended up visiting the EMP museum, four microbreweries, a couple of record shops and took in a Phoenix concert. (I also ended the night in a carnival themed pinball bar, but that's another story.)

At my third microbrewery,  I picked up a drifter. We bonded over some high gravity IPAs and our hatred for the University of Louisville. He was 25 and a engineering grad student at UCLA. I gave him a ride to the fourth microbrewery on my list and doled out advice like an old man.

Weird times.

I'm quite glad he decided to fuck me like a whore in a bathroom. This is probably every straight man's biggest fear.

Be Happy? My Ass!

The sign says the opposite of what I'm thinking.

What is there to be happy about?

Here are some things that make me pissed right now.

1. Space AIDS—Yeah. That's right, AIDS isn't just coming from junkies and anal sex between gay men and well, I mean, those are the only places it comes from right? I mean heterosexuals spreading normal AIDS? Bullshit!

But back to the Space AIDS.

Aliens are now coming down to earth and injecting us all with this super genetic altering disease. Common symptoms are pants shitting, facial donuts, sleeping and cast iron skillet finger—it's horrible, your finger gets all rusty and cornbread sticks to it.

2. Summer Music Festivals—Oh. Fuck. Here come the hippies. Got dang jam bands are coming into town to steal your beach balls, smoke your ground weeds and rape your grandma. Looks like it's time to put the chastity belt back on Nana.

3. Shirt stink—I've had a shirt for 16 years. I feel as though this shirt should not immediately omit a rank odor every time I sweat at the gym. Fuck this shirt. And fuck you Nike for making a shirt that can last 20 years without smelling like a 13 year old boy's jizz sock collection.

4. The Hostess Collapse—How the fuck are our kids gonna get fat now? No Twinkies. No Ho-ho's. No Ding-Dongs.

Do they really think that somebody is going to eat Little Debbie's? That shit ain't legit. Fuck. This country has one thing left to hang our hat on—FAT PEOPLE.

We excel at big fat, fatties, lardos and adults with jowls. Without Hostess, we are removing a key piece of the puzzle to our dominance.

Get your shit together Hostess and the people trying to buy this shitting, defunct abortion.

5. Mexicans. You know who you are.

6. That fuck that wears scrubs to the gym—Oh look at me, I'm a male nurse. I have a shitty ass thin beard and I workout. Fuck you. I workout too and I don't buy my clothes at Wal-green's. I also don't bring my coughed on, spit on, anal leakage stained scrubs to the gym.

7. Good beer—Where do you get off brewers? Fucking making things that make me wanna drink them? I remember when the best beer available to us was Killian's. And that shit is rank. Tastes like an old sock soaked in a gravel piss pit. IPAs? More like FUCKPAs.

8. Old people—Today I flew 11 hours. From Louisville, Kentucky to Pasco, Washington. On each  plane I experienced multiple things that pissed me off about old people. First, you're slow. Two, you have weird odors. One guy smelled like he had been snacking in the liter box—cat turd breath to the max. Three, I think you all have some kind of weird secret society where you plot ways to piss off people younger than you. Like taking forever to order at Panda Express, wearing khakis that haven't been washed since the 1986 Mets vs. Red Sox World Series and just "pancaking"—this is what I now call it when old people fall and break their hips.

9. Ash Trays—Where have they all gone? I don't smoke.

10. Ronald Reagan—Just go die already. What are you 104?

Be happy. Suck my balls happiness. You're what's wrong with this world.

Got Dang! It's been a while!

Big thanks to Afterburn for this one. Looks like we're getting Freudian today.

Shit.

I haven't been a very good blogger lately. More than a month between posts? What's wrong with me?

I mean, surely, I've had inane ramblings that need to be expressed. Let's run down what's going on.

– It's that annual time of year where the asstards at our benefit company gets ready to tell us our health insurance is going to go up another 23%. I hate these fucks. Every year their fat neck salesman saunters in with his fucking shit eating grin and his shit filled penny loafers to lie, cheat and swindle our company out of more money. In two years time, our health insurance has gone up nearly 50%. I'm sure after they year it'll be 70% in three years time.

How shitty are they?

Recently, I went through a re-fi on my home and because of this fuck's shitty selection of an FSA account, my credit score was lowered 20-40 points because I was sent to collections TWICE with no notification.

I hate this fuck. I hope he chokes on the fat in his own neck.

– Big shot out to http://www.rampantbrands.com/. Ran into Chris Emmons the Director of Sales on Friday night. Chris dropped about four beers on me that I've never had before. Thank you sir, nice evening.

– The Jeep continues to decline, go figure. At 17 years old, the locks have decided to only work about 10% of the time. They don't lock or they lock me inside the Jeep. I've spent about three days in the last two weeks trapped inside it. I'm going to start carrying a hammer. Spring is coming and I think the windows will be down permanently.

– Oranges. Not sure why, but some of the best oranges of the year seem to be out right now.

– My left knee. Should this thing hold up, looks like I'll be running a 5K. If it blows out, I'll be paying 5K to get it fixed. We'll see.

– My addiction to cajun food continues.

– This is boring and I'm done with this post.