Happy Holidays From MeatCanyon

Welcome and yes it isn’t even Close to the holiday’s, but when have we here at FYB ever played by the rules? We sure as shit aren’t going the cliche route and posting say a halloween video on halloween for example. So that said Today’s Post is HAPPY HOLIDAYS By (and Starring) MeatCanyon.

MeatCanyon’s real name is Hunter August Hancock better know by his online user name MeatCanyon. Hancock is an American Youtuber, animator, voice actor, comedian, writer, and director who makes parody animations of popular characters (say Sponge Bob for instance). Some viewers of MeatCanyon’s animations  have been described them in just one single word “Horrifying”. A common on going gag in Hancock’s video’s is that something normal or mundane gets you killed or possible worse.

What I absolutely fucking love about this video is it makes me nostalgic as fuck let me tell you. Long before Youtube, Facebook Live, Tis Tok, Smartphones, Instagram Etc. all there was were video cameras. Growing up in a shit little town with nothing to do Les, Otto, and I we used to make absurdly stupid and nonsensical videos for our personal amusement (and to kill as much time and boredom) as we could. Thinking about it now I sincerely wish we had held on to some of those videos especially from our high school years for prosperity if nothing else.

Let the show begin!

So I’ll see you when I see you,

  Justin Sane  

The French Fry Fiasco

While We were Living in the Great Southern Swamp We owned a French and an English Bulldog Both of Which Were Rehomes. Wally the Male English Bulldog’s Original Family realized while They Loved Him They simply Didn’t have Enough Time to Care for Him. The French Bulldog was a Recently Retired Show Dog and Champion, and Her Mom (who breed French Bulldogs in Addition to The Dog Show Shit) was getting Out of the French Bulldog Breeding Game to go Back to Breeding Boxers.

These Two  Bulldogs just so Happened to be Two of the Coolest Dogs We have had the Pleasure of Sharing Our Lives With. I fucking Hate People who say “Owned” when it comes to an Animal because its fucking Demeaning. It’s a fucking Living Creature it is Not the Equivalent of a TV or some shit. The Situation behind Pet classification is fucking Stupid as Pets are in the Eyes of the Law Property exactly like a Sofa or Video Game System. That is Absolutely and Totally fucking Ridiculous on Every Level.

One Night in Particular I was Home Alone Drinking One Too Many Beers, and Bullshitting with Some Buddies on the Phone. When My Wife got Home from Work (around 10:30 pm or so) She had Missed Dinner, and I had been so Wrapped Up in Fucking Around I hadn’t Eaten Either. So My Wife went Out to Score Some Fast Food Bullshit for Us God Bless her because I would have been Pissed if I was Her. I mean She got off work Late after something like a 14 Hour Shift only to Find Her Husband Drunk, Giddy, and with Nothing whatsoever for Dinner. Not exactly the thing Anyone would be thrilled to come Home to After a Brutally Long Day on the Job. While My Wife was Out retrieving Our Dinner I finished My Last beer, and Decided to Roll Up a Joint for After Diner. I rolled up the Joint and Placed it Next to My Pack of Cigarettes (Yes I was a Smoker, Key Word being Was since I quite Several Years Ago) on Our Coffee Table and Played with the Dogs Until My Wife Returned.

              

Now I had a Bad Habit as a Pet Owner of Sharing Any French Fries I had with the Bulldogs Who Thought it was a Fabulous Thing for Me to Do. Also When I had Been Drinking (which I honestly did way too much of at that Point in My Life) I tended to Throw the French Fries on the Floor in Front of the Dogs. I opted for this Method because it was Much Easier to Throw the Fries on the Floor Rather than Handing The Dogs Every Single fucking Fry. I would tend to Get Overly Enthusiastic during what I referred to a Fry Feeding Frenzies and Would Toss Several Frys at one Time. That Night was No Acceptation by any means as I Happily Threw Virtual Handfuls of Frys to the Dogs. As the Fry Count diminished I resorted to Tossing a Single Fry each time to the Dogs instead of Blanketing the Entire Living Room Floor with a Bounty of Frys.

Once We had Finished Dinner My Wife went to take a Shower to Relax and Unwind after a Tough Day at Work. I threw the Fast Food Trash away and strolled back into the Living Room with a Full Stomach and an Alcohol Drenched Liver. I plopped Down on the Couch in My Usual Spot, Stretched, Sighed, and decided to Watch The Canadian Television Show Trailer Park Boys on Netflix (Heres a Tip: Watching The Trailer Park Boys Intoxicated is a fucking Fun Time if I ever had One). A Few Moments into the Show I remembered that I had Prepared a Joint for an After Dinner at which Point I was Very Happy with Myself. That was Until I went to get the Joint and Realized it Wasn’t Were I Left It. Now having racked up an Insane Amount of Hours Intoxication I had learned along the Way to Expect shit like this to Happen. I then began My search for the Wayward Weed by first Looking to See if I put in My Cigarette Pack to Keep it Safe during Dinner. Unfortunately for Me it wasn’t, But I knew that in these cases Whatever I may be trying to Locate it won’t be in the First Spot I look.

                  

I then Proceeded to See if it had Rolled around and was Lost in the Chaotic Chaos of the Coffee Table. I sifted through Beer Caps, Ashtrays, Magazines, Game Controllers, and Other Debris that had Collected upon the Table during the Events of the Day. Still the Joint Eluded  Me at Every Turn. I then I scanned the Floor Around where I was Sitting to See if it had just Rolled Off the Table onto the Floor. After assessing the Joint had not Rolled off the Table onto the Floor where I could have Spotted it with Ease I moved on to the Next Portion of My Search for the Missing Sativa. I got down on all Fours (Ironically like a Dog) on the Floor and ran My Hand Under the Edge of the Large L Shaped Couch. Again I came up Empty Handed as it was apparent that the Joint had not Rolled onto the Floor and then Under the Couch.

I then took a Moment to Collect My Scattered Thoughts and Again Scanned the Immediate Area trying to Figure Out where the Damned Joint had gotten off to. As I sat there I noticed That Wally was sitting on the floor directly to My left and Dozy Directly to My Right. The Gears of My Muddled Mind began to Turn as I started to Put the Pieces of the Puzzle Together at Last. All of a Sudden I had a Moment of Clarity and Instantly it became Crystal fucking Clear to Me what Had Transpired. In the Hectic Hubbub of Dinner I had Mistakenly Picked Up the Joint Thinking at the Time it was Just Another French Fry in the Mix. It had become Painfully Obvious that the Case of Mistaken Identity had Resulted in Me Tossing the Joint instead of a The Standard French Fry. I searched Everywhere once again to make Sure beyond a Reason of a Doubt that’s What I had Did, and thats Exactly what I had  Done.

I wasn’t Upset about Losing the Joint, but I also wasn’t sure what Effect it might have on whichever Dog ate it. Once My Wife was out of the Shower and Dressed She returned to the Living Room, and Upon seeing the look on My Face (One of Guilt mixed with Drunken Disorientation) asked What Happened. I immediately launched into a Diatribe about the Mistaken Fry Deal which Ended up with Me Babbling in Circles like a Drunk Dog Chasing its Tail. My Wife didn’t freak out which I took as a Very fucking good Sign so I stopped Holding My Breath and Waited to Her what She had to Say on the Subject at Hand. My Wife Wasn’t Worried or Too Concerned, But Erring on the Side of Caution and Believing in Safety First instructed Me that We needed to Keep an Eye on the Dogs just in Case. Since My Wife and I were both Vet Tech for Over 10 Years Apiece We were Confident We could Handle this Mishap without Further Complication.

Now while this seems as Simple a Task as They Come there Certain Traits in Bulldogs that made it Impossible to Discern Who ate The Joint. First Off They are by Nature  Lazy as Fuck to the Point People Joke that They tend to Look Stoned Normally. So Acting Slow and Dopey is just the way Your Average Bulldog’s Behaves in General. Secondly Bulldogs are Natural Born Gluttons so Using the Munchie Factor as an Indicator was also Null and Void. Bulldogs Think with Their Bellies, and Would Actually Eat Themselves to Death if given the Chance. The Bottomline here is there was No Accurate Way of Telling Who ate the Joint because Bulldogs Naturally Exhibit the Symptoms Associated with being Stoned. In the End the Dogs were Fine as if Nothing had Happened, and I made sure as Shit to Insure Nothing like that Happened Ever Again.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober    (Pt1234am)

FYB Update: A Glimpse Behind The Cloak Part 2: Next Stop The Great Southern Swamp

So Once the Car Crash Chaos finally Calmed Down We were able to Hit the Road out of the Woods headed straight towards the Great Southern Swamp. Though We ended up leaving 3 fucking Horus behind Schedule (I hate being Late its a Pet fucking Peave of Mine) it was Mostly My fault I must Admit. I would go to do Something only to get Distracted along the Way thus Wasting a great deal of Time chasing My own damn Tail as it were.

In All Actuality I can’t complain I mean obviously I could be an Asshole of the Highest Order and Nit Pick something to Bitch about, But why the Hell do that?! Once We left it was smooth fucking Sailing all the Way No Shitty Weather, Traffic Jams, Road Construction, Road Delays, Accidents, Rush Hour Issues, and No Stupid Motherfuckers sitting at a Dead Stop in the Middle the Road (on a Blind Curve ) while Stealing Shit to Deal with it was Damn near Perfect.

Since We weren’t going to get to Where We needed to be until much Later then expected We decided not to get Pissed about it, and instead take Advantage of it by taking Our Sweet Ass Time. Fuck the Runaround, Rushing About, and the Rat Race fuck Them all. It was nice I have to admit not to be so Constricted by the Concept of Time it was quite fucking Peaceful.

        

We got a Good Nights Sleep and a Chance to Sleep in which is always Nice. After milling around Drinking Coffee to No End My Wife and I met up with Her Best Friend Dozie (and a Good Friend and Ex-Coworker of Mine). The first Order of Business was Lunch as Dozie was just getting off Work by the Time We were ready to Venture Out into the Surrounding Swamp. Since We live Deep in the Woods of The Southern Country We don’t have Certain things You can find Pretty much anywhere fucking Else, and in this Case it was a Deli. No Deli’s in the Boondocks I am afraid to Say.

After Lunch We rather Aimlessly Rode around Town checking out How Our Old Stomping Ground had Changed or Evolved since We got the Hell out of the Breath Southern Swamp. We also made Several purchases of Other Hard to Locate Living in No Man’s Land Items along the Way as Well figuring Why waste a Perfectly Good Opportunity?!  As the Day Faded Away into the Oncoming Dark Night My Wife, Dozie, and I prepared Ourselves for a Evening out at The Eagles Our Long Time Favorite Local Dive Bar.

What Dozie was unaware of was that Over Time My Wife and I found a Following of Friendly People who Adore the shit Out of Us especially since We moved several Years Ago. My Wife dropped Me off at the Eagles and went to run to the Bank or some last minute mundane Task, and I went in ahead of Her and Dozie.

.       

The First Person I ran into is a Gentleman Named Hatchet who instantly as He always does (and has for fucking Years) Yelled at the top of his fucking Lungs “HEY IT’S JESUS!”, and Then precedes to Shake My Hand and inadvertently fucking Break it with Drunken Excitement. Now Why Does He Refer to Me as Jesus? Why is My Nickname in General at the Eagles Jesus? Well I’ll leave it Up to You to figure that one Out.

During the Course of the Night I got to visit with My Favorite Eagles Bar Tender of all Fucking Time Audry who ironically was Tending Bar that Night. The New Bar Tender was alright She didn’t neglect anyone or Drag Her Ass in any way, but there was still that awkward Unfamiliarity hanging in the Air like a Lingering Fart. I got to See the Cast of Usual Suspects and Especially My Best Friend Mr. Percy most of All. It was a rather Lively Night at the Eagles which can be quite Low Key when it wants to be. There was Endless Rounds of Jello Shots, Chaotic Karaoke, and Some Alcohol Fueled and Related Auction for All Kinds of Random shit. There was like Your Basic Gift Basket, but Mostly it was Bottles of Booze or Heavily Booze Laced Desserts/Cakes, and the Fireball was Flowing Freely.

       

The Following Morning I woke up Nice and Early just so I could have the Pleasure of Puking. You know You’ve Partied Your Ass Off to Capacity when You Vomit During OR at The End of the Night. If You wake up and the First fucking thing You do is Vomit You know Last Night You abused the Hell Out of Your Liver, and More than likely You Damn Near did Your Liver in Once and For All. It’s one of Those Times where You wake Up, and say to Yourself Well I may Not be Quitting Drinking for Good, But I am for Quite a While.It’s the type of Hangover that Even when it’s Over it Still Haunts Your Memory.

A Little Later on that Pleasantly Sunny Morning My Wife and I had Brunch with Her Aunt and Uncle along with My Wife’s Younger Cousin and His Wife. Considering the Previous Nights Over Indulgence on My part this Brunch was Particularly Brutal just to Get Through. My Head was Fuzzy, My  Eyes were Blurry, and I My Mind was Muddled as a Motherfucker Let Me Tell You. Weirdly at the Same Time it was really Pleasant on some Sick Level I suppose because all said and Done I ultimately enjoyed Myself.

       

The Restaurant We ate at was a Bit Too Fancy For Me as I’m so fucking LOW Maintenance its an Ongoing Joke.I went with the Family Flow and Ordered a 3 Course Lunch with Various Options in the Appetizer/Main Course/ Dessert Something or Other. The Appetizer I opted for Honestly was the Only fucking Option that sounded like anything I would actually Eat which was Black Bean and Bacon Soup. Did I mention How Hungover I was because that Soup was HEAVY AS FUCK! I mean while it Tasted Splendid as soon as it Landed in Your Stomach it Apparently turns into Instant Cement or at Least thats what fucking Felt Like. The Main Course was Fish so it was Delightful and Light on the Stomach which was still Reeling from the Dense Soup Scenario. The Dessert Deal turned out to be a Selection of Desserts in fucking Shot Glasses which I’m rather Ambivalent about, but thats just Me.

After the Meal was Over Everyone went Their different Ways, and My Wife and I circled around Back to Base Camp. My Wife spent Her time productively Completing Her Continuing Education Courses/Credits for this Year while I on the Other Hand took a Well Needed Nap to Fully Regain My Faculties. It was by by Definition a Power Nap as I awoke Feeling like My Normal fucking Self Again, I was Resurrected in the Land of the Living.

       

We reconvened that evening around 6 pm when I noticed that a Couple We Knew and were Good Friends with had Texted Us to see if We’d like to stop by Their House for Dinner, and to See the Puppy of Ours They Adopted a Year Back. I would like to take a second to acknowledge that Derrick and Terri are Great Owners, But Bernie (The Dog) turned out to be a Great Dog. Well Behaved, No Bad Habits, Listens to His Owners Etc.

I immediately conferred with my Wife and Texted Derrick and Terri back with an Enthusiastic Hell’s Yes. Unfortunately it turned Out Derrick had been doing Roofing Work that Day, and as Roofing goes He fucked up His Back pretty Bad. So Poor fucking Derrick had to Bail on Dinner to tend to His Beat Up Back, But We still stopped by and Saw Terri ad Bernie, Hung out for a while, Shot the Shit, had a Few Beers, and Laughed a lot. After Our visit We headed over to the Eagles once again to meet up with Mr. Percy and Thank God it was a much Slower Night at The Eagles. I was Happy because the other Night had been Fun as fuck sometimes Relaxing over a Few Drinks beats Partying until Dawn.

       

We Left the Following Morning after having Breakfast with My Wife’s Older Cousin who was in Town. We Managed to Stay on Schedule this time around and made Great Time.  I honestly was a Little Impressed I must say. Again We were lucky as Hell not to have had to Deal with any Traffic/Road Issues like Holiday Traffic or Weekend Traffic for Example. Needless to say it was Splendid Not getting Stuck in some Aggravating bullshit along the Way. I enjoy the Ride because it’s Familiar, BUT Not to the Point of  Monotony. This is a Very fucking Difficult Balance to Achieve None the Less Maintain the Test of Time. I find Boredom Deplorable and Truly Hellish in Many Ways so this Delicate Balance is Especially Important in My Mind.

Since We returned Home to the Woods much Earlier than Ever be for decided if We could Pick Up Our Big Dogs Tonight instead of having Wait till After Work the Following Day. It Save Us both Time and Money which I am Always in Favor of.  It would just so Happen that even though it was well After Hours the Guy We Board with was willing to Stay Late and gave Us His Cell Number. We called and of course He said come on by which means see You in 45 minutes because again We live in the Middle of No Where Special. We managed to pick up the Big Dogs without to much Hyper Dog Drama except for When Big Dad Dog came flying cross the Front Desk into the Waiting Room.

     

Once We got Home Everyone Hit the Couch and fucking CRASHED being utterly Worn Out and Thoroughly Exhausted from Our Venture. Road Trips are fucking Fun, But at the same Time there’s Nothing Like Returning Home.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Some Drug War Dinosaurs WON’T DIE.

Some Lingering Dinosaurs Left Over from the Failed War on Drugs refuse to Face the Fact They’re facing Extinction. The War on Drugs has been a Colossal waste of Time, Money, Man Power, Resources, and Ended in Horrific Failure. The Cliche goes “Those Who Don’t Learn from History are Doomed to Repeat it” and That Cliche definitely applies to America. You think after the Spectacular Shit Show that was Prohibition The American Government would have learned the Simple Lesson of PEOPLE WILL CONTINUE TO DO THINGS THEY WANT TO DO EVEN IF THEY ARE ILLEGAL.

Prohibition surrendered to Defeat in 1933, but the Government had a Serious Public Relations Disaster because Prohibition Failed. Not only did Prohibition Fail in its Mission to Stop Americans from Drinking it also gave Rise to Organized Crime. Along with the Rise of Organized Crime came Countless Murders and Assassinations as Bootleggers fought for Territory and Customers A Like.

So The Governmental Law Agencies had to find a New Public Enemy Number One to Save Face from Prohibitions Failure, and Distract the Public from the Monumental Failure that Prohibition turned out to be. Motivated by Desperation, Humiliation, and Racism The Federal Law Agencies Demonized Marijuana due to the Fact Latinos (Primarily Mexicans) were the Key demographic of Marijuana Smokers along with Jazz Musicians (aka African Americans) at the Time. And Thus REEFER MADNESS WAS BORN.

       

Not only was REEFER MADNESS a Campaign of Pure Propaganda and Lies focusing Heavily on the Threat that Pot Smoking Minorities posed to the White Man’s way of Life. Marijuana They said would Not Only Lead to Instant Addiction, Insanity, Crime, and Death to those Who Used it, and that Directly put America’s (White) Youth, as well as (White) Women in Harms Way. Thus the Evils of Alcohol were turned into the Evils of Marijuana.

Then eventually Marijuana was Illegal on the Federal Level and the Raging Fire of Reefer Madness subsided to a Pile of Smoldering Embers after Marijuana was made Illegal. That was until Ronald Regan the D-List Actor turned D-List Politician took office as the President of the United States in 1980. Regan was the one Who Declared the War on Drugs and the First Drug His New Drug War Targeted was Marijuana. The Flames of Reefer Madness jumped back to Life to become a Full on Bonfire of Misinformation, Propaganda, and Blatant Lies perpetuated by The combination of Government and Law Enforcement Agencies.

Now in 2019 with 2/3 of the 50 States that comprise America have Legal Medical or Recreational Marijuana (though it is still bastardized and Illegal on the Federal Level) gave way to Exposing all the Propaganda and Lies that The Government had been Force Feeding the American Public starting in 1933 and then Resurrected with Regan’s War on Drugs. It also had allowed for the Positive Effects of Marijuana have come to Light through New Unrestricted Scientific Studies. With all this You’d think the Booze Vs. Buds argument would have been rendered Moot, but Alas No. There still some Old School Drug War Dinosaurs wondering the Land desperately trying to Fan the Flames of the Anti-Marijuana Movement.

For All Those Dinosaurs and the Misinformed, or Naysayers here’s just a Short List of Facts on the Subject.

       

BOOZE:

According to the 2013 YRBS, the most COMMONLY ABUSED DRUG among Teenagers is ALCHOL. Alcohol is in Fact a Drug as the American Medical Association defines a Drug as “Any and All Mind or Mood Altering Substance”. In the Past 30 Days Alone 35% of High Schoolers admired They Drank Alcohol, 21% took part in BINGE Drinking, 10% Drove Drunk, and 22% said They had gotten in a Car with a Driver who had also been Drinking.

A LARGE Proportion of Interpersonal VIOLENCE is related to Alcohol. 80% of Murders, Aggravated Assaults, Domestic Violence, and Rapes are related to Alcohol Consumption.

Alcohol Offenses constitute the LARGEST Single Arrest Category which includes Public Drunkenness, Public Urination, Indecent Exposure, Disorderly Conduct, Vagrancy Charges, and Drunk Driving.

        

A LARGE proportion of Automobile FATALITIES are Related to Alcohol Use. in 2013, 10,076 (31%) of Fatal Car Accidents were Alcohol Related. The National Highway TrafficSafety Administration cites Alcohol as the MOST Pervasive SINGLE FACTOR found in Fatal Highway Accidents.

Alcohol is DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH. Alcohol leads to Alcoholism, Diabetes, Heart Problems, Kidney Issues, and Wet Brain just to Name a Few. Alcohol Kills approximately 88,000 People Per Year, which is MORE than ANY OTHER DRUG besides Nicotine which Kills 480,000 People a Year. 4,300 of the 88,000 Fatalities are due to Underage Drinking.

People who Drink are more likely to Engage in Sexual Activity, have Unprotected Sex, Have Sex with a complete Stranger (The preverbal One Night Stand/Hook Up), or be the Victim OR Perpetrator of a Sexual Assault (aka Rape.)

MARIJUANA:

Today there are OVER 2 MILLION Americans incarcerated in the Prison System making America’s Prison Population the LARGEST IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. Over 350,000 of the 2 Million Inmates are Serving Time for Drug Offenses. It has been proven that sending Drug Offenders to Rehab is FAR More Beneficial than Imprisonment since the Crime is a Symptom of the Sickness of Addiction. Prisons are basically just Collages for Convicts where Low Level Offenders can Learn how to be Major Criminals with Tutorials in Drug Dealing, Car Jacking, Identity Theft, Gang Banging, Murder, Rape, and that’s just for Starters.

10 States still have SEVERE collateral Sanctions for Marijuana Offenders. Florida has the MOST SEVERE Sanctions in regards to Illegal Marijuana Offenders (Florida Legalized Medical Marijuana in 2017). Possible Sanctions include a Barred on Educational Aid, Barred from being a Foster Parent, Denial of Housing Assistance, Suspension of Driver’s License, Barred from Voting, Barred from Serving on a Jury, Lost Job Opportunities in the Medical Field, and Barred from Possessing a Fire Arm.

        

Over the past 4 Decades, the Federal and State Governments have spent a WHOPPING 1 TRILLION DOLLARS on the War on Drugs. Imagine what that money could have been used for like Repairing Infrastructure, Education, Healthcare, Poverty, Cancer Research Etc.

In 2015, 61% of American Voters believed Marijuana should be Legalized on the Federal Level. in 2019 the Number of American Voters believe Marijuana should be Legalized.

72% of American Voters Believe Marijuan should be Decriminalized, and there should be a FINE NOT TIME for Marijuana Possession.

       

I encourage all Our Reader’s to Properly Educate Themselves using Only Facts and Decide for Themselves where They Stand on the Alcohol Vs. Marijuana Argument/Debate. QUESTION EVERYTHING, KEEP AN OPEN MIND, AND THINK FOR YOURSELF.

Thanks for Reading,

 By Les Sober

Another Day Down At The Old CNB Bar & Pawn

Bud Wiser was running an Hour Behind in His Daily Schedule since He had been up half the Night. Bud had the unpleasant Pleasure of being Sleep Deprived this Morning because His Dog had eaten a piece of Rotten Garbage out of the Kitchen Trash Can. The Rotten whatever the hell it was had given Bud’s Dear Dog a  Violent Case of Projectile Diarrhea that had wrecked Havoc for most of the Night.

Fuck Me This is NO GOOD Bud thought Over and Over  while Walking as fast as His Limp would allow Him to. Bud had a Very Distinctive Limp after an Alleged Accident at Work when a Kegerator Exploded (after being Sabotaged mind You) in an Assassination Attempt against Him that Never was Resolved nor Explained.

You see Bud was the Owner and Proprietor of the Local Favorite Water Hole   The Cock’n Balls Pawnshop and Bar. Bud had inherited the Establishment from His Father Miller who had Opened The Cock’n Balls with a Unique Vision of Combining a Bar and Pawnshop All in One. His Father had Opened The Cock’n Balls in the Fall of 1966 on the Outskirts of the Small City of Nowhere Special. Bud’s Father opened the Doors of His Life Long Vision after Retiring from a Lengthy Career at The Handy Leg Up Artificial Limb Factory.

   

Bud’s Father had chosen the Name because the Rooster (aka a Cock) was on the Wiser Family Crest. This was sue to The Wiser Family having been the Most Predominate and Wealthy Lithuanian Chicken Farmers in all the Land.  Since Pawnshops have been around for Thousands of Years when the Average Person couldn’t Read or Write the 3 Hanging Balls that had come to Symbolized Pawn Shops had been adapted to combat the Wide Spread Illiteracy of the General Public. So when You add them together Your left with the Simple and Explanatory Name The Cock’n Balls (and since the Bar Sign Company charged by the individual letter Bud’s Father opted to save the Cash and just Add Lib the ‘N instead).

The Day Bud’s Father Died His Body was Liquified, and Mixed into the Barfly’s Bloody Mary Mix. Then at the Memorial Service the Following Afternoon the Attendees were all given a Complimentary Bloody Mary to Celebrate the Life of (instead of Mourning the Death) of Miller Tyme.

Bud had preserved the exactly same Operational Proceeders that had been set out by His Father which included a Strict Adherence to Time to keep the Cock’n Balls running on Schedule. This meant Bud had to arrive at the Business No Later than 6 am  in order to get the CNT (As it was referred to by its Loyal Regulars) Ready to Open at 7 am Sharp for the Upcoming Day’s Drama. Today though Bud was an Hour behind due to the damn Dog, and He knew the Booze Loving Barbarians would already be Standing about on the Corner waiting for Him to arrive. And He wasn’t wrong not by a Long Shot.

        

The Gang of Usual Suspects were Standing about Lingering on the Corner outside of the CNB Chain Smoking like Fiends, and pacing Impatiently while  compulsively checking Their watches as if Their Lives fucking depended on it. The Group was Split between the CNB Regulars, and The Night Shift Crew who just got off the Assembly Line of one of the Near By Factories, and were just looking to Relax after Work even if They did get Off work at 7 am.

Some of the Regulars that had already arrived included Shitty Nickels the Local Blues Musician who had just Finished a Long Night of Playing at Numerous Local Night Clubs and Cocktail Lounges. There was “Bloody” Sod Bollocks a Self Proclaimed Intellectual who’s Family had immigrated from England back in 1495 just 3 years after the Pilgrims found Plymouth and its Famous Rock. The funny thing about the Bollock Family was even though They had immigrated over 500 years ago None of Them had Lost Their Thick English Accents.

     

There was The Local Bum Bawbag Cockwomble who spent His Days Panhandling and His Nights at The CNB Drinking away the Days Profits. There was also Mickey Drongo who Spent His Nights running an Illegal Chop Shop around the Corner from The CNB. Also there was Pissy Wristy the Neighborhood  Hooker, and  Jimmy Tosser the Local Small Time Drug Dealer. As Bud Approached the Corner Harry Twat who Spent His Days down at the Dog Track Gambling on Anything He possibly Could (the Only issue was Harry had truly shitty Luck) walked up. The Last to Show up was Dicky Dullard a Low Level Criminal, and Adamant Heroin Junkie who Lived to Chase the Dragon with Pride.

As Bud Walked Up He could hear Mickey Drongo and Bawbag Cockwomble arguing over Some asinine thing or an Other. Jesus They’re starting Early Today Bud thought while sighing under His Breath. All of a Sudden Bud’s presence was Announced aloud by Mickey Drongo the ChopShop Mechanic, and Immediately Bud was subjected to a Verbal Tidal Wave of Complaints, Criticisms, and just plain Bitching from the Small Group assembled on the Corner in front of CNB.

“Hold Yer goddamn Horses Already! God forbid You all have to Wait one minute more than Necessary without Whining like Ally Cats for a Tin of Tuna.” Bud Barked Angrily.

       

“Pardon Dear Proprietor while We do love You establishment it is rather unprofessional to keep your Clientele waiting for up to an Hour after the Posted Opening Time.” chimed in Sod Bollocks who had already collected the Days Papers in Hopeful Preparation for a Payday. Sod had been in a rather large Rut recently, and was running up Tabs all over Town as it were while He struggled to Win a Single Wager down at the Track.

“Well Hold Yer Horses a bit Longer, You may be ready but the Cock’n Balls isn’t. I have done any of the Prep needed for dealing with the like of Your Lot.” snapped Bud growing weary of the Barrage of on Complaints from the Barking Boozehounds standing at His Door Step.

Bud pushed His way through the Customers perched like Alcoholic Buzzards waiting for the Doors to Open so They could Feast on the Fluids of Fermentation. Bud fiddled with the finicky lock until it finally gave way and let Bud stagger inside abruptly closing the Door behind Him under the Crescendo of Cursing from His Customers as They would have to continue to wait.

       

Bud flicked on the Lights, checked to make sure the Toilet was still functional, inspected the Pool Cues to insure they weren’t broken or Warped, He doubled checked to make sure the Display Cases were Securely Locked, Wiped down the Bar, made Sure He had the Stock He needed, Unlocked the Door to the Basement which acted as a Make Shift Poor Man’s Drunk Tank for Overly Intoxicated and Uppity Patrons, and Cleaned off the Table Tops.  Then after He was fully satisfied Bud Opened the Doors at Last to the Great Relief of His Awaiting Patrons.

The Customers came pouring in like the Booze They poured down Their Throats. At this time of Morning all the Customers Gravitated to the Bar as Pawn Shop Customers general started showing up in the Early Afternoon. The CNT was split in Half by a Row of Rickety Tables, and a Motley Crew of Mis Matched Bar Stools that looked like each had been Salvaged from the Garbage on the Curb.

Once You entered the CNB the L shaped Old Oak Bar was directly to the Left along the Wall, and Directly to the Right was the Designated Pawn Shop Area. The Pawn Shop consisted of Display Cases housing Power Tools, Various Electronics, and Most Expensive Inventory (such Designer Watches or High End Pieces of Jewelry) lined the Wall with a almost equally as Long Display Counter filled with a Slew of Different Merchandise (Knives, Antique Coins, Lower end Jewelry, and Other Curiosities.

Each of the awaiting Patrons slid up to the Bar ready to start killing Their Livers as Quickly as Humanly Possible. Now because Bud Opened the CNB at 7am He served a what His Father had Dubbed “The Barfly Breakfast Special” which consisted of a Hot Dog, Pickled Egg, and a Draft Beer for $1.99. The Breakfast option provided Fuel for the Factory Workers after a Long Shift Toiling away performing Manual Labor, and it provided Fuel for the Regulars fora  Long and  Lingering Day of Drinking.

Mickey Drong The Owner of a Neighborhood Chop Shop picked the Spot at the Bar that was directly across from the Shitty and Barely functioning TV that was Hung on the Back of the Bar reminiscent of the way Motels did back in the Day when Mounted TV’s were what everyone was into. Sitting Next to Mickey was Bawbag Cockwomble the Pan Handling Alcoholic Bum who was still Babbling a Mile a Minute in Mickey’s Ear.

“Just BUY a Goddamn Egg it’s Only .25 Cents for Fuck’s Sake, and I damn well know even YOU have a crummy Quarter.” Mickey said exacerbated and trying His best to remain Civil.

“Yeah Yeah I do have a Quarter, but its designated for My Morning Shot of Grain Alcohol that Perks Me up and gets My Day off to a Good Start. I mean I need it, it’s fucking medicinal. I wonder around the Block for 12-14 hours a Day and My feet get all fucked up, Swollen and Sore shit like that.” whined Bawbag like a Cranky Child who wanted a Toy but Who’s Parents wouldn’t buy it for Them.

“That’s not My Problem it sounds like Yours to Me.” Snapped Mickey Sharply as His growing agitation started to get the Best of Him.

“All I’m saying Mickey is if Your going to Buy the Breakfast Deal Meal then You could just GIVE Me the Pickled Egg that comes with it. I could use the fucking Protien to help Me keep on Keeping On.” replied Bawbag indignantly as He too was getting rather Agitated at Mickey for not Forking Over the Pickled Egg Portion of His Breakfast.

“I have a great idea that will Settle this Little issue You Two are in the Mist Of.”, said Harry Twat the Neighborhood Deaerate Gambler with a Sly Smile stretched across His Face.

       

“And Whats That?!” ask Mickey unenthusiastically as the Whole Ordeal was wearing on Him at this Point He just wanted to be Rid of Bawbag and enjoy His Breakfast.

“A Wager, a Simple Bet will Fix it. The Bet shall be Whoever Eats the most Vomit Enducing Pickled Product Wins. Either Bawbag wins and Gets Mickey’s Pickled Egg or Mickey Wins and Bawbag has to leave Him Alone for the Entire Week.” proclaimed Harry Happily as if He had just Cured Cancer.

” I’M IN!!”blurted Out Bawbag fingering Win or Loose He was Going to Get Something to Eat out of it so fuck it Why Not?!

“Fine, I’m in Too. Whatever get this Pain in My Ass to Shut Up and go the fuck away so I can Enjoy My Morning with some fucking Peace and fucking Quit.” said Mickey having become absolutely exhausted by Now.

The Commotion had gotten the Attention of the Entire Bar Who’s Interest was Growing by the Minute. Bud went to fetch His Pressure Pickler (which is basically a Pressure Cooker modified for Speeding up the Pickling Process) that He had bought on impulse late one Night while He was watching Infomercials to combat His Insomnia. Once Bud returned to the Bar within  Seconds after the Bet was made the Suggestions came Flying Fast and Furious. Among the first set of Suggestions were:

Pickled Pigs Feet which Everyone Agreed were to Cliche to Count.

Pickled Pig Knuckles which Everyone thought was Better than Pig’s Feet but Still Not Impressive Enough.

Pickled Sausages Which actual turned into a Suggestion as an Addition to the Barfly Breakfast which Bud Agreed to do starting the Following Day.

Then the Suggestions began to get Uniquer and Stranger than the One before it. Shitty Nickels suggested Pickling a Cockroach, but Bud vetoed it because there were No Roaches in His Establishment and Didn’t See the point in Introducing Them Now.

Then Pissy Wristy suggested Pickling up some Tripe (Animal Stomach Lining) Next Dickey Dullard The Passionately Romantic Junkie suggested Pickling a Container of Head Cheese.

This was followed by Jimmy Tosser the Local Dope Dealer’s suggestion that instead of Head Cheese upping the Ante by using Chitterlings (Animal Intentions, Organs, Eye Balls Etc.all thrown together in a 5 Gallon Bucket) instead.

Then it was Harry Twat’s turn Who’s suggestion was to Pickle a Whole Haggis. After almost an Hour of Debate it was Bawbag who finally came up with the winning Suggestion.

          

“I Got it, I know what to Pickle! My Toe!” exclaimed Bawbag way more excited than He should have been.

“What are You saying exactly Bawbag?” ask Bud who was now becoming concerned that this Bar Bet had gotten completely Out of Hand.

“You see I have an Ingrown Toe Nail on My Big Toe that got Horribly Infected, But I didn’t have the Cash for the Clinic so I just banged it up as best I could and went about My Business.” explained Bawbag to the more than Attentive Bar Patrons.

“You could have gone to the fucking Free Clinic Bawbag You dumbfuck.” snarled Mickey who had become thoroughly Disgusted by the ongoing issue.

“No Way it got shut down last month due to Budget Cuts by the State and all that Red Tape Bullfuckery.” Bawbag retorted confidently.

“So what about Your Infected Toe again?!” asked Jimmy Tosser eager to return the topic of the Conversation to the Bet at Hand.

“Oh Yeah So it was all Infected and Shit so as time went on it Contracted Gangrene something fucking Ferocious too I tell Ya. It turned all Black from lack of Blood Flow and its already beginning to Rot Off so Why not kill 2 Birds with one Stone?! Win the Bet and get My Diseased Toe Amputated for Free I literally can’t fucking Loose.” bragged Bawbag growing quite Cocky.

“Fine Agreed The Bet is You have to Eat The Entire Severed Toe.” growled Mickey angrily.

“How the Hell are We going to Amputate it?!” wondered Pissy aloud.

“This is How We can use My Cigar Cutter to Lop it Off, and then all We have to do is Cauterize it. After that We apply some Triple Antibiotic Ointment, Wrap it up, and Thats It We’re Done.” said Shitty Nickels, “We did this kind of shit all the Time in Nam it’s easy if You know what the fuck You’re doing.”

The Bar Patrons along with Mickey and Bawbag made Their way over to the Nearest Table. Bawbag say down gingerly on one of the Wayward Stool and Then Took Off His Older than Old Beaten Up Boot. The Smell was so Pungently Rank it caused Pissy Wristy to instantly Vomit before Fainting. Bud picked Pissy Up off the Floor, set Her on the Bar, and revived Her by placing a Bottle of Cheap Gin under Her Nose like a Alcoholic Smelling Salts.

Bawbag paused to watch Bud take care of Pissy before He pealed off His rank Sock which made a Wet Sucking sound as Bawbag slowly removed it. The Smell which was already Over Powering the Bar immediately intensified to the Point Everyone’s Eyes started to Water, and Dickey Dullard shit Himself on the Spot.

Once Bawbag’s foot was Bare Shitty handed Him His Cigar Cutter which He crammed onto His Sickly Swollen Toe taking several minutes to Force it down to the Base of said Toe. Once the Cigar Cutter was in Place at Last Shitty Nickels instructed Bud to fetch the Ointment and Bandages from the Bar’s First Aid Kit. Shitty Nickels then had Harry retrieve a Large Butcher Knife that Bud used to Slice Lemons and Limes from behind the Bar. He then told Harry to start a Fire in the Tiny Metal Trash Can from the Bathroom. Then Shitty Nickels had Harry place the Blade of the Knife across the Top of the Trash Can so the Fire could Heat up the Knife until it was a Deep Glowing Orange.

       

Then Shitty Nickels had Bawbag place His foot flat on the Floor, Told Him He was going to count to 3, and on2 Shitty Stomped down with all His weight onto the Cigar Cutter. There was a brittle crunch and Bawbag’s Gangrenous Toe popped off and slid across the Bar floor coming to a stop under the Dilapidated Pool Table nestled in the Back of the Bar adjacent to the Restroom. Shitty pounced like a Cat of Coke snatching the Glowing Red Hot Knife and shoved it up against the Base of Bawbag’s recently Severed Toe . The Smell of Sizzling and partially Rotten Flesh drowned the Repulsive Smell of Bawbag’s Feet which most in Attendance appreciated especially Dickie and Pissy.

After 30 seconds or so Shitty removed the Knife tossing it carelessly onto the Bar causing Bud to lose His Shit. The Group returned to the Bar where Jimmy Tosser handed over Bawbag’s Diseased Digit over to Bud who plopped it unceremoniously into the Pressure Pickler and Turned it on. It seemed like an Eternity to the Eagerly Waiting Rag Tag Group of Drunks, but in Reality it was only 17 minutes before Bawbag’s Toe was completely Pickled.

       

Bud Opened the Pressure Pickler and Removed the Toe with a pair of Metal Salad Tongs, Placed it on a Cocktail Napkin, and handed it to Bawbag who seemed utterly unfazed by the whole Ordeal. Bawbag picked up His Toe examining it for a moment before tossing it into His Mouth. Bawbag chewed away until finally He Strained to Swallow. After some finagling Bawbag managed to get the Toe down, and then He opened His Mouth like Mental Patient to Visual Confirm He had in fact Swallowed the Toe. Bud stared blankly into Bawbag’s gaping Gullet before announcing Bawbag had completed the His Task thus making Him the Winner. Bawbag then turned to Mickey Drongo, Chuckled to Himself and the He said:

“I’ll be taking that Egg Now Mickey.”

       

Thanks for Reading,

 By Les Sober

The Second Time Isn’t “The Charm”

This is the Tale of My Second Arrest which is exactly the opposite of My First.

My life at that point was utter shit. I was in the grips of of hardcore Drug Addiction. The apartment I was occupying was really quite nice when I moved in, but at this point do to neglect had become a run down hellhole. I spent all my time with my with my asshole neighbor Big Douche desperately scheming and scamming, lying and Cheating, Stealing and Robbing anything for a fucking dollar.

Once we had some cash we’d get drunk as fuck and then go score some crack. Once we smoked up all the crack we went and bought Heroin. This was a endless daily cycle .

In reality I fucking hated Big Douche and would think about killing him in his sleep constantly. He truly was a fucked up fucking asshole of a human being, too fucking damaged to ever be fixed. Big Douche was the definition of a Lost Cause. I’ll digress for now since The Tale of Big Douche will be forthcoming.

So one afternoon we had managed to scrounge up enough cash for a couple of bags of Heroin, and headed out to our usual copping spot.

I’m going to pause here to take a minute to explain exactly where we scored our shit.

I/We lived in a bustling little suburbia that was a short 15 minute drive into the State’s Capital City. Now once a go the Capital City was a rich and prosperous area full of business. Then the businesses left and so did anyone who could fucking afford to. Over the years the City decayed as it hemorrhaged money through failed attempts to improve the City.

A perfect example is the Capital City spent MILLIONS to build a Sports Stadium in the City (rather than on the outskirts) and it was an instant epic failure. See because they built the Stadium IN the city there was INSUFFICIENT PARKING.

This meant Attendees had to park on the street(s) and walk to the Stadium. The only issue with that was NO ONE wanted to walk down said streets especially with their loved ones or kids. The City even tried combating the problem by stationing a Cop on every outlying corner, AND THAT DIDN’T WORK EITHER, but I digress.

We drove through the filthy trash littered streets lined with old decrepit old houses rotting away through the years.

On any given day We’d see the wandering Hookers, Homeless Begging Bums, Gang Bangers, Pimps, Junkies, Poverty, Stray Cats and Dogs, Crackheads, Drug Dealers, and other of life’s rejected throw aways lurking and loitering on the corners or walking between/among them.

On this particular day the streets were completely vacant there wasn’t a single soul in sight. We drove around several different blocks, but it was all the same the streets were all utterly empty.

I had a bad feeling. A Gut Feeling and not a good one.

The only reason that the usual degenerates wouldn’t be out pounding the streets (committing various dastardly deeds) was a simple one. Just two simple words: Police Activity.

The Police were the preverbal Lights that when flipped on sends the Rats and Roaches scrambling for cover of any kind.

I told Big Douche that we should bail and come back later because obviously something was going on that was making the Natives Restless if you will. Now Big Douche living up to his name continued to relentlessly circle block after block searching for anyone who might be a Dope Dealer. He was franticly obsessed the way Junkies do when their fiending for a fix.

At last right as Big Douche finally was giving up we drove up on a Bodega and a Large (and rather fat) Guy strode out the door. Big Douche being a Junkie immediately decides this is a person is a drug dealer and signals him as it were.

The Guy signals back. I’m pissed as pissed can get because I couldn’t believe we hadn’t bounced yet, and that Big Douche was being a complete cunt. In some bizarre passive aggressive bullshit I deliberately didn’t look at, talk to or even acknowledged The Guy.

The Guy reaches through the drivers side window and does the exchange. Instead of driving off like a good little junkie Big Douche stops to look at the couple bags of Dope, and notices (again being a good little junkie) that the Heroin looks funny. It looks fake. Fake as a motherfucker.

Big Douche leans over and calls the Guy out stating that the Guy’s dope looks beat as shit. The Guy denies it and keeps trying to brush us off. Big Douche then decides he wants his money back (Yeah thats right he wanted the Drug Dealer to refund his money for selling him fake Heroin) and opens the Driver’s door and stood  between the car and the car door arguing with the Guy.

Eventually like a junkie Big Douche stops arguing and starts begging like a big ass bitch. The Guy doesn’t want to hear a single fucking word about it. Big Douche at last accepts defeat and we start to pull away from the curb.

That’s when I saw it, thats when I knew we were fucked. What I saw was the Guy raising his arm to wave in the Cops who were hiding around the way in. The next thing we knew the Cops had 3 cars pinning us in as other Cops ran up to the car yelling like a bunch a savage assholes.

We get out of the car, handcuffed, and then driven around the corner so the Cops entrapment spot wouldn’t get blown up. They transferred us into additional Cop cars and took us to the Police Station.

Once we got there Big Douche was booked, Processed, and sent to County Jail on a slew of yet undressed charges.

I was a bit luckier since I did;t have any outstanding legal issues I was booked and then released on my own recognizance. I was also given a court date the following day.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep that night. I unplugged the phone because Big Douche keep calling asking for me to help contact people to come bail him out. I could have cared less as I was worried about being locked up the very next day.

Unlike my first arrest there was no time in-between my arrest and my trial. It happened so fast I’m really not sure if I even had a court appointed Lawyer (I don’t remember talking or meeting with one at all). I went to my court date, and I remember sitting alone in the court room as the Judge worked his way down the days docket. He finally gets to me and I remember I stood up and remained standing in the same spot.

I remember this Judge some old nasty bastard who lectured me for what seemed like fucking hours about how Drug Addicts are coming into the City to score their drugs which in turn is destroying the City itself.

BULL-FUCKING-SHIT.

First there THOUSANDS of drug addicts in the Judge’s fantastical City. And the only reason Drug Addicts were coming to his City was due to the fact THATS WHERE THE FUCKING DRUG DEALERS ARE. Also as I mentioned earlier the “Fine City” the Judge spoke of was and still is a Growing, Thriving, and Worsening SHITHOLE.

Once the cranky old cocksucker of a Judge wraps up his bullshit tirade he sentenced me to 90 Days Suspended Sentence. The first time I was arrested I got 3 years Probation with a ton of added conditions (all of which I violated like a motherfucker).

This time I simply had to stay out of trouble (aka Get Arrested Again) for 90 days then I’d be off the legal hook, and the arrest would be expunged from my Police Record.

Luckily I managed not to get arrested again (in those 90 days and ever again) though I continued to spend my days living the life of a junkie which by definition requires breaking laws left and right.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Out of the Bubble & Into the Future: Contemplating 31 Years of Life

In several days, this Sunday to be exact I will be turning 31. While a lot of my friends in and around 30 complain to me about how they are getting old and how we are getting old, I see this as a new beginning for myself.

I have come to realize that too often in life I am not the person defining myself. I have far too often let others opinions define me, far too often have lived up to every role and stereotype they have defined for me. I am very tired of this.

I am very tired of the label placed on me as being depressed or being bipolar or as being epileptic. I am tired of being the quiet one, the drunk one, the slut, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the unstable.

I have been all of these, yet I have been none of these. They run in and around and through me again. Still I am not as simple as any label. We label people far too often as to characterize them. For the purposes of public opinion this is a great thing but for society as a whole it truly sucks.

THE BUBBLE

I have been living in this rather unfortunate bubble that I fully put myself in, that I believe I wanted to be in for a very long time. I have let people tell me that I am consistently depressed. Maybe I am. I am not as book smart as I should be and I am not as street smart as many of the things in my life I have done should have made me.

The vast imperfections of the world have made me rather sad. If I thought about everything wrong all the time, well of course I would be sad. I am too educated of a person to not be effected otherwise. When you have had your hand in as many cookies jars as myself, it is only wonder that I have all of fingers remaining.

So there has always been something holding me back. Most of the time myself, but a great deal of the time it is something legally or financially. Now I am on the cusp of freedom and frankly I am very nervous. Not freaking out but very soon I will have the ability to pick where I want to live, to go where I want to go, and to be who I want to be.

I am not sure what town to go to or what city I should somehow surface in or if the people will be nice or if be there at all even. I firmly feel I can do this. I pretty much just showed up in Niagara Falls, NY (of all places) and made friends the first real chance I gave myself. They wanted me to move there and I wanted me to move there but I got myself into a mess by not thinking for myself, not being myself.

I wish it was just as easy as me going back to Niagara Falls and reclaiming what I feel that I somewhat lack in my current surroundings. It’s probably all still here inside of me but this getting 5 hours of sleep a night is not enough for me.

I wish I could just take an Ambien but most sleeping pills cause me to blackout and bring out my inner fat girl. Some of us don’t remember and wake up with a mustache like the Pringles guy, I wake up covered in Pringles.

Anyway I cannot wait to get my license back in PA. I have been talking about soooooo many creative ideas with one of my friends that I am going insane not being able to do anything about them. Well I can do something about them but I’ve done enough dreaming. I am ready to cascade the dreams into action.

Well I believe the zzzzzzs are calling me now. I actually think the wind is calling me as well. Where I fall I know not.

By SpaceDog 

Definition of Bottle Club

Bottle Club: A private drinking club; specifically, an association of people, often unknown to one another, for the sole purpose of providing themselves with liquor and a place to drink it after the legal closing hours of public bars or in a city or county where the public sale of alcoholic beverages is prohibited.

Side Note:

Bottle-Man: A drunkard or habitual drinker