My Theory on Why the Beatles Broke Up
And Other Testaments to My Smoothness

Ah, the early 70's.  The Beatles were riding the crest of a beautiful wave.  A wave that crashed on the rocky shores of Japan.  Namely because of a certain seishin-ka (photographer) named Yoko Ono...

...that's what y'all dumb bitches think, HA-HA!

What really happened occurred in a dream that John Lennon had. So there he was, sleeping next to Yoko when he was approached by the Archangel Michael.  It went a little something like this:

Archangel Michael:  John Lennon! Awake and take heed, I bring a message from God Himself!
John Lennon:  Doesn't Gabriel handle messages and such?
Mike:  Dude, I handle the foretelling of badasses, so shut up and listen
John:  Whatevers, so what's poppin?
Mike:  Well dude your band is destined for failure for it was founded before the birth of he who will be known as the smoothest dude to ever be spawned from smoothness.
John:  Like, how smooth?
Mike:  Like, smoother than a well greased dolphin on ice, cooler than Johnny Cash eating a sundae in Alaska.
John:  Wow, that's pretty cool man...I mean Saint.
Mike:  Whatevers, chode, anyway you haven't met the dude so you're pretty much fucked to shit in the whole music biz with the beatles so you might as well beat it.
John:  Dude...are you serious?
Mike:  Dude...GOD WILLS IT!!!

That night, John rolled over to Yoko and told her what he had seen.  But being the anti-authority badass that he is, he didn't put his best foot forward on following God's Will so he pretty much sat on his ass,toked on chiba and straight chilled like he didn't even give a fuck...

Not proof enough? Try this one on for size...

Back in the day there was this place called Chernobyl, in this place there was this nuclear powerplant where a bunch of dudes turned dials, ate pierogies, drank vodka and whatever else it is you do in a nuclear powerplant.  I don't know because one of the requirements to be a nuclear technician is to not get sex very often so I'm pretty much out of the running. 

Anyway there's this scientist dude who was figuring an equation which would explain a source of raw energy more powerful and everlasting than nuclear power.  Unfortunately for the poor scientific sucka there was a tremendous explosion in the laboratory on some "Chain Reaction" status.  The explosion caused a a domino effect of system failures that made it impossible to keep cool the reactor and next thing you know you got dude's dangle-bits falling off and arms growing out of baby's necks like something out of "Silent Hill" all creepy and deformed and shit.  You've got panic in the streets, fallout, people bashing each others heads open, partying like it's 1999 while the dog fucks the cat and bitch slaps the canary...it was chaos, son!

What does it have to do with my smoothness?  It has EVERYTHING to do with it and plus it'd be good to know how I gipped you all out of a never-ending source of energy. 

Basically the scientists equation was based on the same power that makes me such a smooth and sexy bitch.  Even after years of figuring yielded the answer;  to know the answer to the equation is to have your head explode like somebody stuffed your mouth full of M-80's, nitro-glycerin and C-4 times one hundred.

Like I tell my females, don't try to understand me, just accept me...or spontaneously combust...

How I Spent My Last Tour

My tour in Japan was epic.  We're talking Level 20 Demi-God epic!  It seemed as if I could do no wrong, and that I was riding the crest of a beautiful wave.  I called these days/daze THE RAMPAGE!!! *mwahahaha*

There were two separate but equal rampages...

2003-2004:  The Great Rampage

From the ages of 19-20 years of age, despite knowing little of his surroundings and the local language, Smooth set forth to drink, wear, buy and screw anything he could get his hands on.  From a form of internal dissent and distaste with himself, Victor went down a path of nigh-wanton destruction.  Unfortunately, his conscience and reality struck him and he signed a treaty with himself.

2005-2006:  World Rampage II

From 21 until his transfer from Japan, there was even more wanton destruction.  Promulgated by unadulterated self pride, duty to his two apprentices in debauchery and a wish to rekindle the younger days, Smooth again goes to war with the nightlife of Japan.  The casualties are too great to be read, but lets just say he got more box than FedEx, drank enough to make Ty Cobb flinch and worst of all, created a tradition that survived to this day.  A tradition founded in the first rampage, forged in the fires of both and has become a rite of passage for all Admirals and Generals of the Night. 

Social analysts say that if another Rampage were to occur, no one in less than a major city would be able to withstand the mere awesomeness of such an occurance without pledging eternal allegiance to his Smooth-ness...

or suicide from the realization that they would never be as smooth as he...

Driver Etiquette

Being a newcomer to Pennsylvania driving I must say the roads here in The 'burgh are a most interesting, gas sucking and eventful drives you'll find this side of Japan where roads are terrifying murder. Unfortunately, some people enjoy them too damned much and that's why I'm giving free counsel on how to navigate the roller coaster commutes that are Pittsburgh...

Route 51:
(difficulty 6 of 10)

Route 51 is a stretch of road that goes up and takes you directly to Downtown from the southside and I guarantee you if you can't drive it like you stole it from the guv'ment and need to get to downtown because the free world may depend on whether or not you expose a fiendish plot by the NSA ala "Enemy of the State." This road is Pennsylvania's "Autobahn" with super-expensive import SUV's and all. Regardless of traffic, this bitch requires that you stomp the gas through the floorboards without mercy, run over pedestrians and errant deer or be passed up/ rear-ended.  About traffic, this thing goes from being a formula one track with lots of room to NASCAR packed three-wide...

...and I'm pretty sure Tony Stewart gave me the finger...

Route 19/Liberty Tunnel:
(difficulty 3 of 10)

After 51, it gets a bit worse.  You'll hit the Liberty Tunnels, can anyone say "warp speed number two?" This fucker is the narrowest and scariest tunnel you'll drive through.  It's a lot like the Lincon Tunnel ala "Daylight" and if you're claustrophobic and southbound to downtown Pittsburgh, then you're fucked like community property so suck it up. That's right, roll over, bite the pillow and take it like a man.  If for some reason there were an accident in the tunnel, you're not getting out alive.  The hill it runs through, according to Murphy's Law will likely give and bury you all just because the traffic gods hate you.  I've nearly been side-swiped twice going through that thing and I don't like it.  When and if you make it out of the tunnel, you'll be on Route 19. The name "Boulevard of the Allies" is a misnomer and I've never heard that much profanity since Eddie Murphy's last standup special.  It's a total clusterfuck, no matter what time of day.  Packed with enough hateful people to be a Klan/Nazi block party but it's worth it. 

...because when it comes to loose, pseudo-intellectual college chicks, no journey is too great...

Route 30:
(difficulty 9 of 10)

The bermuda triangle of driving, this road is impossible to navigate unless you've lived here for a year or more.  Mapquest won't help and neither will GPS.  In fact your GPS will go black and the words "Your God Doesn't Live Here" will flash across the screen.  Abandon all hope, call your relatives to let them know you won't be home for the holidays.  The best part about being stuck on 30 is that sooner or later, you'll end up in the ghetto.  I mean the REAL peel your cap backwards, chuck a molotov cocktail through yo' mama's, mama's house, rob you and even take the gold caps off your teeth ghetto.  Sure glad I got that damned MAC-10 off of one of my parishoners that I was banging on a regular basis or I wouldn'tve made it out.  I don't even remember the name of the place, or rather I'm repressing it. 

...that and my arm hurts from the recoil on that gun, you gotta hold that bitch sideways to get a good spray pattern...

Curry Hollow Road:
(difficulty 5 of 10)

The most enjoyable driving experience...at night, between midnight and four AM.  Basically traffic on this road isn't stop and go, it's park.  I'm fucking serious, I put the bitch in park and turn off the engine, eat a sandwich, mack on the chicks in the next lane, have intercourse with chicks in next lane.  Then, and only maybe then, traffic starts up.  By the way, there are seven stop lights between when I get on that road and when I get home so you can assume that's a lot of sandwiches and boots-a-knockin'.  Yes, while road head may sound nice, gas is expensive and with all the steep hills I'd say I lose an eighth of a tank going up and down that bitch.  One could say I'm kind of paying for the sex...

...which sucks cuz' I'm a pimp, shouldn't be payin' fo' no sex!

Near death experiences are a commonnplace occurance.  They say you could die just walking down the street in this crazy world we live in.  But if my front fender and windshield have anything to say about it, they'll agree.  In fact, wild turkeys have been known to fly full tilt into windshields 'round here.

...I'm serious, wild-fucking-turkeys, they'll fuck you up, your car and eat your friggin children because they hate your face!

Yes, sadly apart from stupid assed fucking prancing assed deer, a new group of animals wants to waltz up and fuck up motor vehicles at the expense of their own lives.  A wave of wild turkeys have been plowing into windshields full tilt.  One woman who was attacked, said "I saw it flying towards me and the first thing I thought was 'wow...what a BIG bird'."

...yeah, bitch...I thought the same thing the first time I saw Sesame Street...

Apart from that damnably stupid comment, one must wonder why God has wrought this upon us...

"They come to mark and claim the corrupt, so that they may be damned on the highways of life as they will be to Hell...they are...WILD TURKEYS!!!!!!"

I remember you had to DRINK wild turkey before you got in an auto accident, what ever happened to the good ol' days?

Yes, these are the wonderful things you'll experience rolling through Pittsburgh...may God keep you...

On Being the Crazy Cat Lady

In my spare time away from macking on chicks, pwning n00bz in Star Wars:  Battlefront II and bringing home the message of God I have found time to be a proud pet owner...

...the proud owner of a little black cat...bear with me...

I know a cat isn't as masculine as like owning a black Jaguar that bites off faces like that totally fucking loked out beast from "Apocalypto" who gnawed that Mayan dude's skull like beef jerky but hey it's a start and I'm a whole hell of a lot closer to creating an Army of the Night.  But I'm here to tell you, my little black cat ought to be called "Jango" because from the moment I saw her my inner Yoda said:

"Begun, this Cat War has..."

Since my inherent nature is to dominate anything and everything around me, and since "mounting behavior" just plain wasn't cutting it, I had a plan.  I figured since I know a particular man in Boston would love one of his own and I'm just smooth enough to knock that jazz out like Mike Tyson vs.  Duke Ellington. 

...all I need now is for Amazing Ben to put down a $2.5 million dollar deposit on the first wave, viking hats optional but pissed off-ness comes free. 

But one of the by products of living with a cat is that in certain areas you'll get soft, I know this because I've started knitting.  Crochet knitting to be exact, for my little nighttime assasin, I don't want her to catch cold while she's stealing beer and other valuables off the corpses of the wannabe gangsters that populate and despoil my neighborhood.  All that bling-bling I'm about to start cashing in on when the new wave of wiggas graduate school and start blowing that trust fund to live the high life in the ghetto.  Sure, I could send my Loyal Army...okay it's more like a Loosely Affiliated Fireteam of Prostitutes but they're not Thai and they can't use semi-automatic weapons so all they're really good for is making daddy money, so training the first recruit of a Seven Nation Cat Army is my only viable option.

...after all, what the fuck are they going to do? Arrest seven nation's worth of pumped up, gangsta assed cats with the fury of a thousand Ike Turners?

...I...don't...fucking think so!

But for the time being it's cool to have the cat sit on my lap, drink beer, knit scarves/sweaters and scream at the top of my lungs every time the University of Florida/Miami Heat/Pittsburgh Penguins-Steelers/F.C. Barcelona/JFA fuck up a play even the slightest bit.  Actually, in terms of my unearthly, Satan-esque bellow of rage "GODDAMMIT ROETHLESBERGER, HE'S FUCKING WIDE OPEN!" my cat's getting used to it so I'm pretty sure when the rest of my army gets together they'll be callous to the screams of their victims.  But I'm telling you, man.  When I get this thing off the ground I'll be like that cat lady on the Simpsons, chucking the bevy of cats that follow me around at people that piss me off.  Hell, not even; how about chucking them at people I think are cool.  Like say I meet Samuel L.  Jackson? I'll be all like "Dude, you's a Bad Mothafucka, have a cat." Then I just lob that fucker at him, he'll be totally appreciative while he runs around screaming while this cat with a gnarly Valkyrie helmet is wrapped around his head like some furry, hissing face-hugger from Aliens.  Come to think of it, I'll chuck one at Sigourney Weaver too.  Provided it doesn't lay eggs in her chest because even though she's creepy she's got a nice body and it'd suck to have a mutant kitten burst between your boobs...it's just not right.

You may be puzzled as to what got me started knitting.  Well, when you're a walking testosterone factory like me who's handshake alone will put hair on your chest...you gotta show a side of sensitivity...  Of course my girlfriend thinks its weird but then hey it's not like she complained when she found out I was pimping...

...or maybe it was the present I got her from my ill-gotten gains, either way, what does she know? Not like I put her cute ass on the corner, dammit...

Oh well, more info soon on how the cultivation of my Feline Forces is going.  I'll take e-mails regarding what to call said army.  So if you folks out in the internets can come up with anything better than "Tiger Army" like my dumbass congregation member came up with....

....I'll spare your life from the meowing, hissing onslaught of absolute doom...!

Links of the Week: Rejected Wii Games Ten Things I Hate About Commandments