Biloxxxi's Woodshed

Some say there exists a double standard in which a female may be considered a ho for the things she does, whereas a male is given a free ride for doing the same things. That’s probably true to some extent, but maybe that just means you have loose moral fiber. There is one sure-fire way to cement your reputation as a ho; Shacking up with your boyfriend’s friends.

When men are born, there are certain pacts they make with their creator, also known as Man-law. These pacts are signed in blood and stored in the Archives of Manland. Both Jesus and Satan have copies of these pacts, and if you fail to uphold your end, they make you run stairs in your respective afterlives. Some of these are well known, such as the principle of  ”bros before hoes,” while others must remain unmentioned for fear that the females may exploit them to deal from a greater position of power. The pact we are concerned with today is that of the “Compromising Photo/Sex Tape.”

Think about it, what’s the point of a sex tape? Will you watch it again to see where you could make improvements like a football player? Doubtful. Why not just go do it again? They are made for one purpose; to show others. What do you do with a picture of yourself that’s taken with your digital camera that you don’t like? You delete it.

Now granted, some people are exhibitionists and do enjoy the attention garnered from a sex tape or compromising photos. In that case, film away. But if you don’t want somebody to see you showing off the goat or grinding the stump monkey, then it’s best not to let anyone record it. Try as they might to avoid it, guys are required by Man-law to show these things off. I’m sorry, Honeybear, but Man-law is bigger than you.

Another basic tenant of Man-law states that these photos should never be discussed in any public venue ever, unless they are common public knowledge. I.e. The Paris Hilton sex tape. Even more important than that, photos/vids should never, under any circumstances, be discussed in front of the female featured in them. You’d think this would go without saying, but unfortunately that is not the case. There is a term that is applied to people that break this rule, and that term is “Fucktard.” This term is typically bequeathed to an individual through some sort of forceful impact to the face. Usually in the form of a black eye, split lip, or bloody nose. Sometimes all three, depending on the transgression.

So where does a ho play into this? Well, let’s say that our good friend, Fucktard, brings to light his knowledge of compromising photos in front of a girl featured in said photos. He mentions that her boyfriend showed them to her and that she is, in fact, “a ho.” (To clarify, compromising photos don’t make you a ho.) Fucktard has broken several major Manlaws here, and this girl’s boyfriend is well within his Man-rights to concuss Fucktard with extreme prejudice.

After this ho-speak and concussing and naked photo revelations, one might expect the girl to be quite upset, especially if she doesn’t understand Man-law. What one would not expect is for this girl to take Fucktard’s side. Sure he just got punched, but he also called her a whore. I’m pretty sure most of those girls I’ve ever dated would add insult to injury at this juncture. That’s what she did though.

Come Monday morning, the girl and Fucktard are all hugged up and dating. Our (former) boyfriend, who followed Man-law to the letter, will be signing pieces of the train wreckage of his relationship out by the Quad this weekend, whilst Fucktard gets to rest his little head on her bosom knowing that Satan will make him run stairs in Hell (with a black eye). As for the girl? Well, she may not have been a ho on Friday, but she’s certainly a ho now. Best hurry up, Honey, the meter’s running…

Author’s Note: Regardless of what the Bible says, I’m pretty sure that whichever side of this anecdote you fall on determines whether you go to Heaven or Hell. Don’t be a Fucktard. Sack up and do right by your friends. A real man tolerates no hoes. Do you think the Dos Equis man ever let a woman walk all over him?  Doubtful. On the plus side, (Ex) Boyfriend and Fucktard are now Eskimo Brothers. Perhaps he can get some free fries out of the deal or something…

Let’s be perfectly clear here, I have an amazingly British set of teeth. I swear, my Mom must have nursed me with Coca-Cola. They chip, they crack. No amount of brushing or flossing makes a damn bit of difference. Every time I go to the dentist, I will have cavities. I just have to accept it. Fortunately, my company’s health insurance offers pretty good dental insurance. I pay handsomely for it, but it’s really the only time I ever use my health insurance, since I’m not sickly. On the plus side, each root canal comes with a two week supply of Vicodin…

Teeth (like fingernails) are the red-headed step children (that’s an odd singular/plural thing there) of evolution. Although we’re not nearly as carnivorous as we once were, our teeth still play a huge role in our lives. You can gum some salad and be alright, but even the most devout vegan can’t gum a soy burger. Teeth on the whole are painfully lacking. If you go to Africa or another part of the world where people still live in the wild, healthy and free, they’ve most likely got some busted teeth. No matter how well you take care of your body, you’re teeth will not last as long as you live. Why is that?

My teeth are slightly better...

I’m pretty sure that teeth are made from the bones of fornicators and we all know they have weak constitutions, and weak teeth are the result. That’s probably not true, but have you ever wondered why we get two sets of teeth for our first 10 years of life, but none for the next 75? How much better would things be if we got an additional set about age 45 or so, to get us through the homestretch?

Sharks have all those additional rows of teeth. Why can’t we have some extras for when we snap one gnawing on gravel? We’ve evolved all these wonderous things; opposable thumbs, huge brains, boobs. Why are we stuck with these Cro-magnon teeth? Also, why do we have twenty something individual teeth? Why not just two solid rows? Individual teeth just create gaps for food and other assorted nastiness to gather and create cavities. How many teeth related problems would be solved by having two solid rows. Probably a good 90% of them.

Oh, and while we’re at it, what’s the point of fingernails and toenails now? They’re no longer claws, the don’t do anything but get ripped off and smashed. Then we nibble on them and they look shitty and ingrown. Let’s evolve those right the hell out of here.

Truckers hate car-drivers. Car-drivers hate truckers. Everyone hates bicyclists.
-A wise, wise man.

Some cities are very bicycle friendly. Atlanta is not. Portions of it are pretty decent, with wide streets and dedicated bicycle lanes, but for the most part bicyclists are forced to share narrow lanes with heavy traffic at their own risk. The popular “Share the Road” campaign has evolved from merely tolerating the presence of an occasional bicycle during your commute to accepting that they will make you 10 minutes late to work on a bi-weekly basis.

As I was driving to work the other day, I saw a bicyclist get clipped by a car. He took a nice little tumble, but fortunately he was wearing a helmet, and other than a few bumps and bruises, he appeared to be ok. Once I figured out that he wasn’t hurt, I took a little bit of satisfaction in his misfortune. Here’s why. We were on a narrow stretch of road and the light ahead was red. Three or four cars were stopped ahead of me and I as I pulled up to the light, this gentleman on the bike passed me on the right. Cars normally park on the street on this stretch of road, but there wasn’t one beside me, so there was plenty of room. However, there was one parked next to the second car in line. As the bicyclist attempted to navigate between the parked car and the SUV that was second in line, the light turned green and the SUV accelerated. I couldn’t tell exactly which portion of the SUV clipped the bicycle, but I saw the bicycle flip into the intersection. Fortunately away from traffic rather than into it. The SUV driver immediately stopped to check on the bicyclist along with a couple of other cars.

Obviously, the bicyclist exercised poor judgement here. He thought he could squeeze through a tight spot and lost. I have bicyclists do this to me all the time. And they’re really fortunate they don’t get hit. Cars have these things called “blind spots” and as a general rule, it’s wise to not ride in them. You learn that awful quick on a motorcycle, but bicyclists seem oblivious to it. I guess they figure that they aren’t going all that fast and they can just whip out of the way of any potential danger. I can tell you from years of removing chunks of my hip bones riding a skateboard, that pavement hurts at any speed. It will eat your lunch.

Why don't they ever attach the head in these things?

I suppose the argument is that bicycling is good for you and good for the environment. Point A is correct, provided you avoid getting hit by a car. Point B is only correct if you can ride without impeding the flow of traffic. Let’s say it’s Friday afternoon and you live a mile from the bank and you need to withdraw some money for the weekend. You could walk, but that takes too long. That’s too short a distance to really necessitate driving. The bicycle is the perfect solution. It’s fairly quick, you get some exercise, and because it’s not yet rush hour, you aren’t slowing down traffic.

However, let’s say you want to commute home from work on your bicycle. It saves you some gas money, you get some exercise, and you release a little less smog into my beautiful Atlanta air. You know what else it does? It ruins the good time of everyone behind you in traffic. Nothing sucks worse than having to whoa up your car to avoid hitting a bicyclist cruising along at a measly 10 mph.

I also think the environmental benefits are negated when you impede the flow of traffic. Cars are much more efficient when already in motion, traveling at constant speed. When a vehicle has to slow down to wait for an opportunity to pass a bicyclist, then accelerate around it, the emissions increase exponentially. The engine has to work much harder to round up the gumption to pass that bicycle, and so do all the other cars that are behind it.

Think of traffic like waves on the ocean and a bicyclist like a wall that the waves slam into. What happens to all that energy that’s flowing along nicely in the waves when it hits the wall? It stops. In a car this energy has to be started up again once the vehicle passes the bicycle. The engine revs higher, increasing the emissions, as it accelerates back up to cruising speed. Every car behind it does the same thing. Then once everybody gets rolling along nicely again, a God-forsaken MARTA bus pulls out in front of you, starting the whole process again. But that’s another rant for another day.

I don’t have the complete data to do a scientific assessment here, but the idea is sound. I’ve found that whenever there’s an environmental movement, there are always those first adopters that just say, “Damn the torpedoes, we have to do this AT ALL COSTS!” Seldom do they take into account the realistic implications of what they’re doing. These things are a process, and the masses tend to be put off by extremists. Ride your bike during the off hours, lobby your county or city officials to create bike lanes when repaving roads, and be courteous to motorists. In return, maybe they’ll avoid hitting you. Actually, the next time you want to change the world, just consult me. I’ll tell you how to do it.

A right of passage into manhood for most of America’s youth is buying alcohol at bars underage. I’ve been buying drinks at bars since I was 18 years old; a freshman in college. I’ve also never owned a fake ID. There’s an art to this sort of thing, and today I’m gonna teach you about it.

1. Scope out your surroundings. Know the sort of establishment you’re in and their policy for checking IDs. Different bartenders do things differently and it’s worth a few minutes of your time to watch their reactions to other potentially underage drinkers. I used to be a bartender in a college town and I made a lot of money contributing to the delinquency of minors. It’s far easier to get away with that sort of thing in a crowded bar, and the bartender is less likely to check for an ID.

2. Know exactly what you want. When the barkeep comes up to take your order, tell them immediately. Whether it’s a beer or a liquor drink, know what you’re drinking before you even step up to the bar. While being a bit indecisive is ok when you’re of age, it’s the kiss of death when you’re a minor. It makes you look like you’re amazed you’re getting to order a drink with the big boys.

3. No one your age drinks Dirty Martinis. If you ask for one, you WILL get carded. Why? Because ordering a martini is exactly what my Dad or James Bond would do, and you’re not either of them. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to stomach them. Go with the old standbys, vodka and Sprite or Jack and Coke.

4. Don’t order exotic drinks. You may really like “Alabama Slammers” or “Grateful Deads” but don’t ever order one as your first drink unless you’re sure the bartender knows how to make it. The idea here is that you want to spend as little time as possible with the bartender so they don’t catch on to your inexperience and think, “maybe I oughta card this person…”

5. Cash talks. Bartenders work off of tips and the sight of a 20-spot on the bar will often go a long way towards making them forget to check your ID.

6. Always tip well. You’re not the only one that gets in trouble if the cops catch you buying drinks underage. Remember this and take into account the risk your bartender is taking by serving you.

It’s also important not to rat out your bartender if busted. Just say that another patron bought it for you. There’s no reason to go “State’s Evidence” over a simple case of underage possession of alcohol. Keep these points in mind and you should have a successful underage drinking experience. Viva la Cerveza!

I read this article a couple of days ago on Yahoo. It’s a rather unscientific survey of billionaires to see what common traits they share. Many of them dropped out of college, many attended Harvard or Yale, and many of them (the financial ones, at least) worked at Goldman Sachs. There was even something about billionaires parents’ having “math-related careers.”

I have no problems with this on the surface, what I disagree with is the tone of the article. It seems to insinuate that becoming a billionaire is all based on luck or some magical birth coincidence. Those things help, I’m sure, but go ask Bill Gates or Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg about the long hours they put in developing their ideas. The beauty of The United States is that we’ve always been upwardly mobile, but I think we’ve lost a bit of that. It’s not that the system is broken or anything like that. It’s just that some of us seem to have lost faith in the American Dream, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

Everyday, I wake up and breathe in the sweet air of the American Dream. I hate my job and nearly every morning, I hate my life, but still I get up. Why? Because I know that today may be the day that “the killer app” hits me; the idea that takes me where I want to go. It was Facebook for Mark Zuckerberg, Microsoft for Bill Gates, and Apple and the PC for Steve Jobs. Actually, Steve Jobs has more killer apps than Alabama has trailers.

Everyday I have ideas, some good, some bad, but they are there. Some I keep for later, others are pretty much worthless and get tossed out. This website is an idea and I put a lot of work into it, partially because I enjoy it and partially because its popularity continues to grow. I never thought that my stupid ramblings and accounts of my adventures would be as popular as they are, and I’ve only begun to scratch the surface.

I’m not a shining example of the American Dream, but I will be. If nothing else, I at least have unwavering faith that it exists and I want everyone else to do the same. This country has come so far in a short time with racial issues and gender equality issues and even sexual orientation issues that it pains me to see people losing faith in America. I’m not one to get all caught up in that politically correct nonsense and trying to correct wrongs posthumously, there’s one rule that I live by; Don’t Ruin Someone Else’s Good Time. Honestly, what country on Earth does anything half as well as us? Hell, our poverty line is higher than the median income of the United Kingdom.

I guess my point is that I think it’s about time we started acting like Americans again and quit kowtowing to the whims of lesser entities. We’ve become like the Atlanta Braves of the 90′s. We’ve won 14 straight division titles, we think we’re the best and somebody owes us something. Other than a bit of respect, nobody owes you anything unless you keep winning. No one will walk up and put that trophy in your hand at the beginning of the season. In fact, the more you win, the harder someone else works to get it from you. Eye of the Tiger, baby, Eye of the Tiger.

We, as a nation, need to rekindle our love affair with freedom. We’ve become a nation enamored with the idea of security, and I’m not referring to National Defense. I’m referring to the idea that someone owes us a job or owes us a retirement or owes us healthcare. We didn’t used to be that way. We used to know that if we wanted something, we had to go out there and earn it. Some of us still do. I’d much rather soar or fail miserably of my own accord, than be mired in a life of mediocrity.  Options are always preferable to only one choice. At least if you fail miserably, you can scrape off the dirt and try again. When mediocrity is the order of the day, lethargy is destined to follow.