Punches and Pole-Dancers

      Gentle Reader, let's talk about drinking today. First off, people that say they don't have to drink or do drugs to have a good time think they are better than you. If anyone ever says this to you, feel free to kick them in the chin mid-sentence. Next, I am so tired of people telling me they don't understand. They don't like the taste of it. Really? You think we LIKE the taste of it? We drink because we struggle to find real joy in life dealing with people like you. You and your stable job history, cheap car insurance, and kids that can't take a punch. Fuck that, I plan on committing as many sins as I can, because I want to make sure that Jesus didn't die for nothing.

      As most of you know, I've raised a lot of kids in my life. Infants, toddlers, and teenagers. Hell, I should quit my real job and start a day-care service. The most important thing that I learned along the way is that you should only beat a kid when they are little. That way they won't remember it when they grow up. Kidney-punch those little fucks before they have the ability to make memories. Get a couple years of abuse in for free, and then hug them and say "Daddy loves you." I mean, yes, they might start crying in the middle of a restaurant for no reason later in life, but that's not your problem anymore, is it?

       I want to end with a little advice for the fellas. You should not, I repeat, should NOT EVER enter a strip club unless you're drunk. Seriously, don't do it. There is shit going on in there that no sober mind should ever witness. When you're fucked up, you don't notice them coming out and cleaning the pole with Lysol and a paper towel in between dancers. You start to see the bags under their eyes, the shame IN their eyes, and their C-section scars. It's not a recipe for a good time. You start to look around and you kind of just feel sorry for them, but then you realize that they just got done cleaning their lady-parts with baby-wipes two minutes before they sat in your lap and called you baby. The $200 they made from the blowjob in the alley is now sticking out of their garter and touching your leg. The semen from the guy in the alley is now glistening on her chin from the flashing lights. You never realized that so many 30 year-old women were in med-school. You even start to wonder where the fuck these girls are getting all of these neon bikinis. Is there a Wal-Mart somewhere that only sells slutty outfits and low self-esteem?

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