Examination

VFoC's Guide To Effective Pistolwhipping (Succeeding in Daily Life)

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No uncle Joe, I won't pass the mashed potatoes.

“Oh fuck what just happened? I have this strange pain throbbing in my forehead area, but my eyes are open and everything is black and it smells like exhaust, where the fuck am I?” … You’re in the trunk of a car you stupid bitch-ass-bitch, and if you’re there, you probably deserve it.

Don’t worry dear reader, this will never happen to you because of the simple fact that you are reading this article and you will be so well informed that the aforementioned sentence will only happen to those that you decide it will happen to. Pistolwhipping, it’s the new “timeout” for kids, the new “Whaa? I don’t deserve a raise?” and how we go about taking care of business, and other loved ones when they step the F out of place.

Extreme you say? Well yeah, perhaps. But this is the new way we handle things in this recession. What do you think happened in the great depression? Probably things way worse than a simple little smack to the face with some metal, and that’s why it was a depression, but people, sure it’s been 4+ years but it’s still only a god-damn pistolwhipping recession, so for those of you who think spankings are extreme and leaving a loved one for some hanky-panky outside your relationship is in order, well maybe you should look away, but for those of you who want to earn some real respect, read on …

Scenario #1: Loud Mouth Annoying Mutha Fuckin’ Co-Worker

If you’re lucky enough to still have a job in this Post-Apocolyptic-Bush-Jr-Economy then you probably have to spend more than half your life in an office … an office that sucks the ever-loving life straight out your nostrils in the form of steam or dry-ice (for visual effect). And you spend it with a person who talks too loud and laughs like a whiskey sucking cigarette smoker, who cooks fish in the microwave just before you heat up your leftovers and engages you in small talk and inappropriate jokes every time you pass by their cubicle. What can you do? Report them to HR? Complain about them to management? With what results? None !! Period !! Ever !! No, none of that “official” shit works. You reach for your 9mm Glock and you pull it out of your tucked in Docker’s or skirt, and right as they tell the punchline to “what’s the difference between a hooker and root canal”, you pistolwhip the shit out of that loud mouth pile of shit. Problem … solved. Time for lunch … and you clock out for an hour … with a smile on your face.

Scenario #2: That Person Who Seems To Be Filing Their Taxes and Legally Changing Their First Name at the ATM In Front of You

All I need to do is run to the ATM and deposit this check and pull out $20 as fast as possible so I can get to little Johnny’s daycare and pick him up before I start getting charged $1/minute for being late. You know the deal … you park your car, you jump out and run up to the only machine that’s working and there she is, that F’ing lady … the one who hasn’t been in front of anything technologically electronic since the last time she was on a drawbridge. There she is, writing a check with a ballpoint pen, licking the envelope, reopening the envelope to double check that her transaction is accurate, then dropping the pen on the ground, looking around for it, filling out a new … PISTOLWHIP !! Problem solved … you fucking cunt!!

Scenario #3: The Person Who Doesn’t Think That Signaling To Change Lanes is Necessary

Pull up next to them at the next red light, pull off a Chinese Fire Drill and pistol whip that mutha fucka in the mouth, hop in your car and continue on your way to the mall.

Scenario #4: Any Family Member at Thanksgiving Dinner

Bamm!! Any of them, at any time, because they all deserve it !!

Scenario #5: Your Kids or Other’s Kids

Self explanitory … you’re forgiven .. it’s legal in our eyes.

VFoC’s Guide To Effective Pistolwhipping (Succeeding in Daily Life)

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No uncle Joe, I won't pass the mashed potatoes.

“Oh fuck what just happened? I have this strange pain throbbing in my forehead area, but my eyes are open and everything is black and it smells like exhaust, where the fuck am I?” … You’re in the trunk of a car you stupid bitch-ass-bitch, and if you’re there, you probably deserve it.

Don’t worry dear reader, this will never happen to you because of the simple fact that you are reading this article and you will be so well informed that the aforementioned sentence will only happen to those that you decide it will happen to. Pistolwhipping, it’s the new “timeout” for kids, the new “Whaa? I don’t deserve a raise?” and how we go about taking care of business, and other loved ones when they step the F out of place.

Extreme you say? Well yeah, perhaps. But this is the new way we handle things in this recession. What do you think happened in the great depression? Probably things way worse than a simple little smack to the face with some metal, and that’s why it was a depression, but people, sure it’s been 4+ years but it’s still only a god-damn pistolwhipping recession, so for those of you who think spankings are extreme and leaving a loved one for some hanky-panky outside your relationship is in order, well maybe you should look away, but for those of you who want to earn some real respect, read on …

Scenario #1: Loud Mouth Annoying Mutha Fuckin’ Co-Worker

If you’re lucky enough to still have a job in this Post-Apocolyptic-Bush-Jr-Economy then you probably have to spend more than half your life in an office … an office that sucks the ever-loving life straight out your nostrils in the form of steam or dry-ice (for visual effect). And you spend it with a person who talks too loud and laughs like a whiskey sucking cigarette smoker, who cooks fish in the microwave just before you heat up your leftovers and engages you in small talk and inappropriate jokes every time you pass by their cubicle. What can you do? Report them to HR? Complain about them to management? With what results? None !! Period !! Ever !! No, none of that “official” shit works. You reach for your 9mm Glock and you pull it out of your tucked in Docker’s or skirt, and right as they tell the punchline to “what’s the difference between a hooker and root canal”, you pistolwhip the shit out of that loud mouth pile of shit. Problem … solved. Time for lunch … and you clock out for an hour … with a smile on your face.

Scenario #2: That Person Who Seems To Be Filing Their Taxes and Legally Changing Their First Name at the ATM In Front of You

All I need to do is run to the ATM and deposit this check and pull out $20 as fast as possible so I can get to little Johnny’s daycare and pick him up before I start getting charged $1/minute for being late. You know the deal … you park your car, you jump out and run up to the only machine that’s working and there she is, that F’ing lady … the one who hasn’t been in front of anything technologically electronic since the last time she was on a drawbridge. There she is, writing a check with a ballpoint pen, licking the envelope, reopening the envelope to double check that her transaction is accurate, then dropping the pen on the ground, looking around for it, filling out a new … PISTOLWHIP !! Problem solved … you fucking cunt!!

Scenario #3: The Person Who Doesn’t Think That Signaling To Change Lanes is Necessary

Pull up next to them at the next red light, pull off a Chinese Fire Drill and pistol whip that mutha fucka in the mouth, hop in your car and continue on your way to the mall.

Scenario #4: Any Family Member at Thanksgiving Dinner

Bamm!! Any of them, at any time, because they all deserve it !!

Scenario #5: Your Kids or Other’s Kids

Self explanitory … you’re forgiven .. it’s legal in our eyes.

Nicki Minaj "Pullin' a Janet Jackson" on Good Morning America

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For no other reason than to have a gratuitous boob picture in our post today, here’s Nicki Minaj doing what I’d like to coin right here and now “Pullin’ a Janet Jackson”. And if somebody else has coined it then show me the damned proof, otherwise consider it coined right here and now on this fifth day of August, 2011 and about 3:30pm.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever even a heard a song of hers, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you one way or another, but who cares? She looks like Lady Gaga, Cher, Beyonce, a softball and a pack of Bubbalicious all rolled into one. And since I’ve seen her boob, I’m over her, no more mystery. NEXT !!

Well good f'ing morning to you there lefty ... oh ... and America

Nicki Minaj “Pullin’ a Janet Jackson” on Good Morning America

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For no other reason than to have a gratuitous boob picture in our post today, here’s Nicki Minaj doing what I’d like to coin right here and now “Pullin’ a Janet Jackson”. And if somebody else has coined it then show me the damned proof, otherwise consider it coined right here and now on this fifth day of August, 2011 and about 3:30pm.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever even a heard a song of hers, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you one way or another, but who cares? She looks like Lady Gaga, Cher, Beyonce, a softball and a pack of Bubbalicious all rolled into one. And since I’ve seen her boob, I’m over her, no more mystery. NEXT !!

Well good f'ing morning to you there lefty ... oh ... and America

Cancer? Cured! Recession? Cured! Common Cold? EVERYTHING Cured!!

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Something miraculous came to me this weekend. It came to me in the way of divine intervention sent straight from the Creator himself as my mind was magically opened to see something that has been inconspicuously floating around our planet for about 40 years. Something that is so awe inspiring that only a worthy clairvoyant hand picked by the hand of the Almighty himself, like myself, could ever completely fathom its true consequence. The veil was lifted for me to see the gift that was given to us +/- 14,600 days ago in the way of an instrumental melody, presented through the medium of a motion picture. And it was bright! So very bright!

The medium in which this life changing information was transported to mine eyes was through a Tarantino flick, Resevoir Dogs. A poignant movie giving many life lessons throughout with several emotions being touched, like a virgin, shall we say? But it’s the very last song in this film that tells us, well me, the simple remedy to all of life’s tribulations, and as the credits rolled, BAMMM!! it was revealed. It’s the song “Coconut” written by Harry Nilsson. The answer has been here all along, well for 40 years anyway, and the answer is “You put the lime in the coconut”. That’s it … simple, natural, organic, and both trees were in the Garden of Eden since the dawn of creation.

Now Drink Them Both Up ?

So why did it take 1,971 years after the birth of Christ to figure it out? Well it happened by accident like all things created in this world. For instance, bacon. How did someone figure out the beautiful thing known as bacon? Well, somebody had a pig, and that pig was caught in a barn fire, and as that little piggy burned, a smell emerged from that barn that was so sensual to the nose that only one thing could be done. Go get that pig and eat it … bacon.

Accidents, the ugly sister of Mother Necessity, Mother Accident lead to the elixer of the world. You see, Harry Nilsson was having a Hawaiin themed party one night in the early 70’s, he had tikis, coconuts, leis (pronounced Lay’s, like the chip), flower shirts and limes. He cut open a coconut to extract the milk and use the shell as a cup, however as he was getting ready to pour out the milk, one of his drunk friends was throwing limes and it landed in this cocunut shell. The potion began to bubble and fizz and a heavenly voice sounded through the room, “all who drink of the lime and the coconut will be cured”. And they drank. And it cured their belly aches.

Burn Baby, Burn! (Hitler Inferno)

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Human beings have kind of a sick obsession with dead bodies.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a monster, I get that the rapidly decaying, lifeless corpse over there used to belong to someone you had some fondness for. But at no point forward will that bio degrading fleshy mound of used ta was, ever do anything again that it used to do when previously possessed by the life force of who ever they aren’t anymore. Tickle it all you’d like, it ain’t never gonna giggle that unmistakable titter that you fell in love with. Call it by name, dangle it’s favorite bag of salty treats in front of it, it’s not going to pop up and suddenly begin recirculating all of your favorite bloods and give you a great big knowing hug. And if it DOES, run like hell for a stabbing or shooting utensil because your loved one is now zombified and it’s either you or it Jack!

The point I’m trying to make is this: the second your beloved friend, relative or lover breathes their last, the container they left behind that they used to drive around in to be recognizable to other things living in this plane of existence is no more them than the carton that the milk came in is going to help increase your bone density. You’re just left with an expensive bag of recycling. Feel free to mourn the person you’ve lost, but let’s try to be a little more reasonable about what remains, and treat it more like the ’74 Rambler that it is.

Now that I’ve angered and alienated most of you, let’s get to the two stories I found this morning about the uproar caused by the cremating of one barely dead (and mistaken) infant, and one already excessively dead Nazi…

Appropriateness at this point really isn't an issue I don't think...
Appropriateness at this point really isn't an issue I don't think...

Apparently, last year an Ohio funeral home made an isty bitsy boo boo and set alight the wrong dead baby, which, surprisingly, wasn’t met well by the guardians of said unintentionally reduced child shell. The story states that, due to a morgue mix up the body of a 14 month old was mistakenly released to the Marlan J. Gary Funeral Home, in stead of the 22 DAY old infant intended for a ride on the grill. And because the Funeral Home just cooked the baby they were given, they had their license suspended for six months.

This issue raises a lot of, what I feel are natural questions with me. Now, I’m no baby scientist, I’ve said that time and time again when ever someone runs up to me in a panic, desperately pleading for my expertise in baby science, so I feel it bears repeating: I’m no baby scientist, but I’m fairly certain that there is a decided difference between the density and general volume of the body of a one year and two month old child versus that of a three week and one day old child. I could go to Target right now and pick up a jumper with a tag that says “0-4 months” or something, and compare that to a pair of slacks in the “Pre-pre-pre School to Pre-pre School” section and likely not be surprised by the decided difference in expected sizes.

So, does a hearse just back up to a morgue, wait to hear the thump in the bed and drive off, or are there some sort of checks in place to make sure that not only is the morgue giving away the right dead baby, but that the funeral home is RECEIVING the right dead baby? Just the shere handling of the body seems like it would tip me off if I were a dead baby delivery man. If I’m delivering a deceased 22 day old, I expect I should be able to chuck that bitch in the back of a corpse limo with one hand. Just lob it in under hand and high five myself for another day of life more than that poor bastard. And if it took say, two hands and a little bit of heft, and I checked my clip board and it said “22 dayer” I would probably wonder if I had the right infant cadaver.

Conversely, if I were a crematorier, just thinking from a strictly business stand point, I imagine I use a different amount of fuel to burn the body of a 22 day old than I would for a 14 month old. So if I were intending to roast a 22 day old, put in a bag of 22 day older fuel and just tossed in what I thought was a 22 day old, I imagine if I were to come back later, I would likely find a good deal of 14 month old left uncrematized and wonder if my baby burning fuel supplier was fucking me over.

Aside from all of that obviousness, what gets me the most about the article is where is says:

“A hearing officer noted that cremation is irreversible and said funeral directors must take precautions to ‘get it right.’ ”

I doubt that most people need be reminded that reducing human remains to ash is awful difficult to undo. I’m certain that most of us didn’t think that cremation was just a fancy term for “dehydration” and that a body could just be returned to its former glory by simply splashing it with a Dixie cup of water.

Hmmm, skinheads are different than I remember...
Hmmm, skinheads are different than I remember...

Meanwhile, over in Germany in what seems like one of the more extreme promotional tie-ins I’ve seen for tomorrow’s release of Marvel’s “Captain America: The First Avenger”; the bones of Rudolf Hess, one of Adolph Hitler’s deputies, were exhumed and cremated. Germans don’t quite get the collectible cup level of promotion, and you can’t tell them that they’re doing it wrong or they might murder millions of Jews.

It seems that, with the lease on Hess’ burial plot coming up for renewal in October, and with the grave site having become a pilgrimage site for neo-Nazis, “Hess’ relatives and Lutheran church authorities in the town decided it was best to remove the remains.” And viola, no more neo-Nazis. Right?

“The grave is now empty,” said cemetery administrator Andreas Fabel. “The bones are gone.”

Soooo… neo-Nazis couldn’t still commune at the former grave site of their martyred hero?

They apparently “cremated the remains and scattered them secretly in a lake, whose name and location are not being divulged”, so in a way, they’ve sort of made just about anywhere a fair place to come together and celebrate the memory of Rudolf Hess. He’s now circulating in the water ways of Where Ever Germany, being carried out to sea, and floating about on the breeze. These short sighted Nazi haters have effectively dusted all of us with Nazi particles. Thanks, just what I needed, to breathe Nazi while I’m just minding my own business, hating just fine on my own thank you very much. I really have a hard time believing that neo-Nazis are so sentimental that they’re going to have any difficulty mustering up enough focused drive to gather for a hate fest just because the bones of one of their heroes, that they could never positively confirm or deny the existence of in the first place, might not be where they were last week.

But if it makes you feel any better Lutherans, congratulations, you just re-killed a dead Nazi. You won World War II. And you just spoiled the ending of “Captain America” for me, assholes!

The "No Cut Off My Penis" Clause

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Men, burn this image into your memory !!

This is probably the most painful thing I’ve ever had to write, no seriously !! The lady above, Kieu Becker, decided enough was enough with her marriage and decided to whack her husband’s pecker off and throw it in the garbage disposal. But it gets worse! She then decided to turn the garbage disposal on … HOLY F WOMAN !! That’s some badass shit right there. You wanna talk about somebody’s sex-life going down the drain. I don’t even know if I continue writing this all hunched over the keyboard grabbing my junk.

I guess I can finish this with one hand, so here goes … I don’t know what dude did to his wife, but I think there needs to be a new rule in place for relationships, and that rule is: If you are so dissatisfied with your relationship and you are thinking about cutting the sexual organ off of your partner (man or woman) you have to say it out loud once to your partner so that they have fair warning that it’s a possibility.

Example #1: “I really feel like putting sleeping pills in your dinner tonight, and once you’re passed out I’m going to tie you up and cut off your dick!” … See? Fair warning. This man now has a choice to get the F out of Dodge.

Example #2: “After I talk you into having kinky sex with me tonight and letting me tie you up to the bed, I’m going to cut your vagina off.” …  See how this works? Simple. Just a little warn-warn.

So people, women in particular, please, put the knife down, take a deep breath and give us a quick heads up that you’re thinking of “Bobbit’ing” us so that we will one day be able to get our … heads up … again. Thanks.