Damien Mulley

Asshole – Denis Leary

(Spoken)
Folks, I’d like to sing a song about the American dream.
About me, about you, about the way our American hearts beat way down
in the bottom of our chests. About that special feeling we get in the
cockles of our hearts, maybe below the cockles, maybe in the subcockle
area. Maybe in the liver. Maybe in the kidneys. Maybe even in the
colon, we don’t know.

(Sung)
I’m just a regular Joe with a regular job.
I’m your average white suburbanite slob.
I like football and porno and books about war.
I got an average house with a nice hardwood floor.

My wife and my job, my kids and my car.
My feet on my table…and a cuban cigar.

But sometimes that just ain’t enough to keep a man like me interested
no way
No, I’ve gotta go out and have fun at someone else’s expense
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

I drive really slow in the ultra-fast lane,
While people behind me are going insane.

I’m an asshole
I’m an asshole

I use public toilets and I piss on the seat,
I walk around in the summertime saying “How about this heat?”

I’m an asshole
I’m an asshole

Sometimes I park in handicapped spaces,
While handicapped people make handicapped faces.

I’m an asshole
I’m an asshole

Maybe I shouldn’t be singing this song
Ranting and raving and carrying on
Maybe they’re right when they tell me I’m wrong…

NAAAAH!

I’m an asshole
I’m an asshole

(Spoken)
Know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado
Convertible, hot pink, with whaleskin hubcaps and all-leather cow
interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights… yeah! And I’m
gonna drive around in that baby at 115 miles per hour, getting 1 mile
per gallon, suckin’ down quarter pound cheeseburgers from McDonald’s
in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers and when
I’m done suckin’ down those greaseball burgers I’m gonna wipe my mouth
on the American Flag and then I’m gonna toss the styrofoam containers
right out the side, and there ain’t a goddamn thing anybody can
do about it. You know why? Because we got the bombs, that’s why Two
words: Nuclear fuckin’ weapons, OK? Russia, Germany, Romania, they
can have all the democracy they want…they can have a big democracy
cakewalk right through the middle of Tienamen Square and it won’t make
a lick of difference, because we got the bombs, OK? John Wayne’s not
dead, he’s frozen! And as soon as we find a cure for cancer, we’re
gonna thaw out the Duke and he’s gonna be pretty pissed off. You know
why? Have you ever taken a cold shower? Well, multiply that by 15
million times, that’s how pissed off the Duke’s gonna be.
I’m gonna get the Duke and John Casavetti and Lee Marvin

and Sam Peckinpaw

and a case of whisky

and drive to Texas…(HEY, HEY HEY!>

Why don’t you shut up and sing the song, pal?

(Sung)
I’m an asshole
I’m an asshole
A S-S H-O L-E
Everybody, A S-S H-O L-E
Arf, Arf Arf, Arf Arf, Arf Arf
Thoomph A-thoom-thoom A-thoom-thoom A-thoom-thoom
Oooooooo

(Spoken)
I’m an asshole and I’m proud of it

—
Did a Google for Asshole and found this:
Christopher Reeves is an asshole.Oh my. 🙂

Rainy Night in Soho By Shane MacGowan (1991)

I’ve been loving you a long time
Down all the years, down all the days
And I’ve cried for all your troubles
Smiled at your funny little ways
We watched our friends grow up together
And we saw them as they fell
Some of them fell into Heaven
Some of them fell into Hell

I took shelter from a shower
And I stepped into your arms
On a rainy night in Soho
The wind was whistling all its charms
I sang you all my sorrows
You told me all your joys
Whatever happened to that old song
To all those little girls and boys

Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
But there’s a light I hold before me
And you’re the measure of my dreams
The measure of my dreams

Sometimes I wake up in the morning
The gingerlady by my bed
Covered in a cloak of silence
I hear you in my head
I’m not singing for the future
I’m not dreaming of the past
I’m not talking of the fist time
I never think about the last

Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
Still there’s a light I hold before me
You’re the measure of my dreams
The measure of my dreams

From Scott’s Place:

1. Go into your blog archives.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to it).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

I get Saucer of milk for table 666

Smile, is what it says but my god this is dark. I instantly liked it.

Saddam Interrogation Logs, these are hilarious. Example:

Interrogation commenced: 0330 hours

Interrogation terminated: 0338 hours

Only the dreamer venoms all his days , Bearing more woe than all his sins deserve – Keats

Non Sequitur: a conclusion that does not follow from the premises.

Asperger’s Syndrome seems to me the Syndrome du jour right now.

SemaCode for reading URLs encoded in barcodes. Sounds neat.

Nasty helicopter crash

There’s this new show from HBO called Deadwood. It’s really fucking good but the amount of colourful language is unfuckingreal. Someone’s decided to count the number of fucks per episode which turns out to be 53. 53 in 50 minutes ! Besides the language it stars Ian Mcshane aka “Lovejoy” and it’s created by the co-creator of NYPD Blue.

Check out this Virtual Keyboard which can be ordered from here. Cheap, small and on the market now. It’ll look cool if nothing more.

A good article on how to deal with the usual assholes that you get on webforums.

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!

My Deus Ex Machina has arrived. 🙂

Creativity Test.

I got 74.14
I rate high in Boldness and Abstraction

Captain Koons: Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your Daddy’s. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell over five years together. Hopefully, you’ll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your Daddy were, for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it had been me who had not made it, Major Coolidge would be talkin’ right now to my son Jim. But the way it worked out is I’m talkin’ to you, Butch. I got somethin’ for you. [The Captain pulls a gold wrist watch from his pocket] This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-granddaddy.

It was bought during the First World War in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee. It was bought by private Doughboy Erine Coolidge the day he set sail for Paris. It was your great-granddaddy’s war watch, made by the first company to ever make wrist watches. You see, up until then, people just carried pocket watches. Your great-granddaddy wore that watch every day he was in the war. Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch off his wrist and put it an ol’ coffee can. And in that can it stayed ’til your grandfather Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again.

This time they called it World War Two. Your great-granddaddy gave it to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane’s luck wasn’t as good as his old man’s. Your granddad was a Marine and he was killed with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death and he knew it. None of the other boys had any illusions about ever leavin’ that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your 22-year old grandfather asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his gold watch.

Three days later, your grandfather was dead. But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad’s gold watch. This watch. This watch was on your Daddy’s wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. Now he knew if the gooks ever saw the watch it’d be confiscated. The way your Daddy looked at it, that watch was your birthright. And he’d be damned if any slopeheads were gonna put their greasy yella hands on his boy’s birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hid something. His ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.