I wonder how many democrats these crazy bastards convert by standing on street corners shouting pro-life rhetoric at traffic. I don’t know about you, but I don’t make any important decisions unless I hear all the facts at 55 MPH whilst listening to Aerosmith or read them on The Facebook; that’s how you know they’re true.
Seriously though folks, what are proving here? That you can write letters on cardboard? Congrats, now please stop interrupting Steven Tyler. I’m not saying it isn’t an important issue, but because I have no ovaries I’ll kindly defer to the experts. Which really speaks volumes since we’ve been sworn enemies most of my life (ovaries, not experts). Street corners are for drug dealers and hobos, they are not for protesting gay marriage or the war or the Plan-B pill (although for some of you it’s more like plan A. Am I right ladies? You know who you are). Anyway, I’m tired of the Pro-Choice/Pro-Life fanatics using the general public to measure their dicks. I am starting a new group called the “Mind Your Own Fucking Snatch” lobby, any takers? And the great double-standard of life that I have taken full advantage of about a billion times in my own life is not lost on me here either, if it were men who got pregnant we’d be able to get an abortion at a fuckin drive-thru so cool your jets Sen. McConnell.
In other news, the Braves are sitting rightfully atop the NL East once again and the darling Nats just can’t seem to look half as good as everyone said they were supposed to all winter. I’ll take Atlanta against the field to win the division and even give you 2-1, anyone feeling froggy?
That is all.
As the weather begins to hover above 70° and the sweet sound of hardballs smacking into worn leather can be heard in every small town across this great land each afternoon, it is time once again for me to remind you all about the rules and etiquette of warm weather living. So pop your burrito in the microwave, tune out the HR presentation, tell your boss you’ll be taking a long lunch and pull up a chair while Uncle Hickory bestows upon you the lessons of life, love and being a human.
Rule #1- I know it’s nice outside and by all means go soak up some sunshine, but please remember that just because they make something in your size doesn’t mean you should wear it. When in doubt please, for the love of God, err on the side of caution and go for the one piece. Nothing says “My gym membership expired in October” more loudly than having to pull apart handfuls of flesh to prove you’ve got a belly button ring.
#2- leave something to the imagination. I’m all for cutoff Daisy Dukes, but if you’ve got half a labia hanging out it’s time for you to go home, call your dad and reconcile your issues.
C- get a Goddamn propane grill. Taste the meat, not the heat.
4- an Angel dies every time you take a picture whilst throwing a peace sign with one hand and holding a Bud Light in the other. If you’re making a duck face while doing this please remove your oversized sunglasses, jump off the boat and stay underwater until it all goes black.
5- if you don’t care about the National League pennant race do us all a favor and move back to Russia ASAP, you fuckin commy.
6- get a tan
7- Fellas, if you’re on a first date and the gal orders something manly like a whiskey or a double IPA, close your tab and figure out which one of you lives closer to the bar. She’s DTF, as the kids say.
F- shave your Goddamn beard. There might be some discomfort and razor burn, but that’s the price you pay for being a douche bag. The only exceptions being if you work for Fish & Wildlife, are a Navy SEAL, fell down a mountain face first a la Hank Jr. or you are in fact actually a lumberjack.
9- The tank top is the warm weather equivalent of the flannel shirt. Might as well just crack another PBR and tell us about your time in the National Guard, BRO.
10- And this is the real humdinger, do not, under any circumstances, tell someone to “Hit you up” at your Twitter handle. Seriously, just stop it.
11- Quit with the high-waisted mom shorts already. You look like you’re gonna pop a C-section scar.
12- never fuck over anyone smarter or who has nothing to lose. Those crazy bastards will wait years to ruin your life.
13- if you can see your belt loops, you should be wearing a belt.
14- start shooting your bow now. Little in life hurts worse than shoulder blasting a 320 bull in September.
15- God hates the Yankees; you should too.
If you remember these little rules to live by your Spring/Summer will be infinitely better and the rest of the humans will thank you. And if nothing else, no matter what, always remember to dance with who brung ya. That is all.
The preceding has been brought to you by your friendly neighborhood pop-off, sponsored in part by a superiority complex, crypticism, the National Coalition of Gingers Against Douche Baggery, beer and paid for by viewers like you.
A incredibly high percentage of people live their lives in such a sad a depressing purlieu, yet they do not take the initiative to alter their environ because they are accustomed to the conforming, conservative security of such a meek existence. All of the things that provide a peace of mind, but in actuality could not be more poisonous to the innate, God given spirit of adventure that springs eternal within a man. The most natural and basic molecules that comprise one’s soul is his boundless and insatiable thirst for adventure and the wild outdoors. The most basic happiness we can derive from life itself is borne of our encounters with the new and the unknown experiences. Our greatest joy coming from falling asleep under a new sky each night and awaking to a different sunrise each morning.
It would be a deep affrontation to our basest instinct to settle down and stay in one place. To not endlessly and unapologetically stretch your nomadic legs, following a new horizon each day. You won’t live forever and it would be a Goddamn shame to sit idly by, growing fatter and more materialistic with each passing day; choking on your own bitterness and that of your spouse which has become more of a roommate. To not take one of the few fleeting opportunities to grab ahold of something new and exciting, casting aside fear and comfort to suck new life into your lungs that now barely draw air.
Most people fall into the bitched belief that you don’t deserve all that which you desire. Perhaps it is because I am young and unencumbered by a mortgage and a family that I can say with some degree of boldness that if you truly want something and you are willing to go out and try for it, that you damn well deserve to have it.
When I was a boy my father used to tell me often how important your reputation is and that if you lose it, you can’t ever get it back. Well that may be true, but I never missed it. I should be sleeping, doing homework, planning my future… Instead I went fishing. It has been several years since I first caught a fish on a fly that I had tied with my own hands -a fat Brown trout on a muddy river in Eastern Oregon- but to this day I still get a half chub every time it happens.
This morning I spent a couple hours casting sloppy, untrained single hauls on the foggy riverbanks of western Idaho, standing in the shadow of the Cascades as the sun first peeked sleepy crimson over the horizon. For a moment I stopped to face it with arms outstretched like a rising sunflower, tender rays warming my freckled cheeks and my soul and the wet sand beneath my feet. Nothing ever felt so good.
So many life lessons can be learned whilst standing on the banks of a Western trout stream; not the least amongst these are:
1) It’s always better with a partner, but if you must go it alone, you’d better have good hands.
2) A man will try and try and try, but sooner or later if the water doesn’t relinquish its booty, he’ll get it somewhere else
C) Be picky about the Trout you handle, otherwise you’ll end up with fishy fingers
And 4) Fishing is hard, it’s harder if you’re stupid