I don’t know where I have been to not see this awesomeness until today. Don’t worry I slapped the back of my own hand.

But without further adieu…..

For the last election I was compelled to vote Democrat. Not because I have always allied myself with the Democratic party but because, this time, the opinions, ideals, and goals most closely matched my own than did those of the Republican party. To me it was so cut and dry. It was hard for me to wrap my head around people not agreeing with such seemingly simple topics such as universal health care, gun control, or abortion. I found myself mocking these right wingers and called them everything from, “religious retards”, to “fucking idiots” and that they should be put down big game hunter style.

–Side note: I actually volunteered to ride in a Range Rover with a modified hood that housed a shooting chair that enabled me to systematically rid middle america of this infestation of Republican idiocracy. I was to wear a safari hat, a white mustache, and smoke a pipe, while shouting, “good show” to any republican lasting more than an hour after the hunt began.–

What I didn’t realize was how wrong and naive I was. Middle America had it right all along. Like a large collection of idiot savants they are actually smarter than us. We just couldn’t see it.

How could we be so stupid?

Let us take, for example, the hot button topic of birth control and abortion. I used to believe that two people that had a sexual accident would make it worse for themselves and society if they were forced to keep that child. I was a vehement advocate for such things as “the morning after pill”, condoms, and all other types of birth control. Hell, “pulling out” has not only prevented millions of pregnancies but created my favorite part of porn.

How much money would the government save if this country wasn’t filled with unfit parents creating unfit children? Sure the strip clubs would be empty, but the prisons would be emptier as well. Poverty would go down, crime would go down, and the world would be a much better place. Right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

If contraception and safe sex was taught in school, along with the accepted last resort of abortion, we wouldn’t have perhaps the greatest gift that accidental pregnancy has given us:

The Jersey Shore

The intellectual right wing has taught us, through The Jersey Shore,  many of the life lessons and morals that pilot my life.

The Situation

Lessons like: Physical Fitness. If I hadn’t heard Mike’s profound theories on keeping your body in shape I might become a flabby world of warcraft player with no friends, no tan, and no “Situation.”

Because, “Like, you gatta be doin at least an hour in the gym a day. Cause like, i’m gonna be doin like an hour and a half.”

Not since shakespere shed his mortal coil have such audible profundities been uttered.

And what about the horrific crime of violence? I used to pick two to three fights a day. Mostly with the homeless, elderly, and infantile but occasionally the handicapped as well. What changed it for me? Why the Jersey Shore of course.

Snookie

When I first saw a creature known simply as, The Snookie, get punched in the face by a scared citizen I laughed. Sure I’ll admit it. I laughed hard….and then I rewound the Tivo and played it in super slow mo. Then I called out for my roommates to come down stairs and we all laughed together. and then….sorry. I digress.

What I didn’t understand was compassion. You see it is never good to punch something that is different than you. It’s like when that poacher wanted to kill Harry in “Harry and the Henderson’s.” Even the Henderson’s were scared at first. They didn’t understand the yetti and thus the yetti was scary and therefore a threat. The Snookie is no different. Sure, she’s a scary, vial, orange, oompa-loompa-esqe, creature that was no doubt created in the pits of hell. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings. It took the Jersey Shore to teach me that. To learn compassion for those who are different and obviously handicapped.

I hope you will join me in learning this lesson as well.

But alas, the evergreen of life’s lessons don’t end there. How about those confused on topics of sex? It took the the mental musings of the well respected citizens Ronnie and Sammi to explain to those waiting with bated breath the “when’s” and “why’s” when it came to coitus. Just read the following example. Let your minds go blank and simply allow yourself to absorb the wisdom, via osmosis, when Sammi and Ronnie recount their love making.

Sammi -”Yes, I had sex. Like, hello? You’re gonna have sex if you’re into somebody. It’s natural.”

Ronni – “Yeah, we smooshed.”

Now I understand that such lingual ping-pong is reserved for those with MENSA grade IQ’s and we can’t expect Ronnie and Sammi to put their phrasing in laymans terms so I did my own digging.

Apparently the definition of “smoosh” is:

Smoosh (smŏŏsh)

-verb informal

From the latin of coitus to “smoosh” is when a guido and guidette, “like have sex”, upon courting one another at the Jersey Shore. It is to be noted that such instances of sex may not be considered, “smooshing” should the male party not reveal his, “situation” before coitus is to occur. You must also be of italian decent, have zero dignity, blown out hair, a cancerous tan, and have the genetic makeup of a bonobo chimpanzee. Without these properties one cannot, “smoosh.”

So you see, Sammi and Ronnie have taught us what love truly is. I know now how to properly court a lady and when it is time to express, to that lady, my passion. I thank Sammi and Ronnie for that.

You should thank them too. For in just a few choice examples I have shown you how The Jersey Shore is not a pack of primative, “ought to have been abortions”, but a metaphor for what we all should aspire to be. They have provided us with entertainment, rules to live by, and the constant reminder that our lives could be much much worse.

We have the right winged, religous, conservatives to thank for all of this. Without them standing in the way of the Democratic agenda, abortions, contraception, and sex education would run rampant throughout our country. If that were the case we might never know what its like…

“To have a fist pumpin’ good time!”

-Merry Christmas. Seacrest out!

Merry Christmas!

This is the most disturbing and yet amazing visual I have ever seen. It’s like staring at a car crash.

Ladies take note. This is what you should all aspire to be. She cooks, she cleans, she rubs my shoulders after a long days work……..well, im not sure if that’s true at all. What she does do more than makes up for anything that she might be missing.

Oh, and she has an accent.

Please to enjoy.

Why is everyone so serious when they are about to fight? It’s not very entertaining. Therefore I am proud to give you

Tom Lawlor.

We’ve all met these people. Often times they are female with looks that can range from pterodactyl-esque to the smoking hot. You most likely dont hang out with this person too often unless you are trying to talk them into sex or they tag along with one of your secondary friends. They come in all colors and creeds. You never know when they will strike, but when they do they will be the rock in your shoe.

They are the Wet Blanket.

The Wet Blanket has distinct characteristics despite the fact that the physical appearance can vary so wildly. More often than not they are the quiet one. They have a somewhat disinterested look on their face and no drink in hand. They look like they do not want to be wherever they are unless the attention is squarley placed on them. They won’t participate in group activities and will most always, “want to go home” before you do. They are horrible, horrible, people that can most easily identified by the following phrase.

“I don’t need to drink to have fun.”

Here is the problem. WE NEED YOU TO DRINK TO HAVE FUN. If you don’t need a drink to have fun then why the hell is everyone at the party asking, “who brought that chick? She sucks.” You are a bummer of a person and no one wants you to be there. The only reason we tolerate you is, again, if you unfortunately came with someone we’re trying to have sex with or If you, yourself, are the person we’re trying to get to fellate us. That is the only reason we act remotely interested in your well being. Like a crying baby on an airplane we are counting down the minutes to your departure.

What is most disturbing about the Blanket is not their surly demenor, the constant watch checking, or the inevitable stink-eye that will come flying your way when they’ve had momentary break of attention from the friend that brought them.

What is most disturbing about the Blanket is the metamorphosis they will undoubtedly undergo. Like a shit catapillar at the beginning of the night they will ultimately transform into Satan’s Butterfly by the end.

Better known as: The Cock Block.

While “cock block” may sound like a good thing — i.e. your friend dives in front of you to stop a flying cock from taking you out — I assure you it is not. You will have little to no chance of having any sort of sex that night. The Cock Block, or Hand Grenade, as they are sometimes reffered will undoubtedly want to go home early and loudly declare this several times. We, the suitor, will recognize these cues and scramble wildly to find a friend drunk enough to attempt to dive on “the hand grenade” and thus be indebted to them for all time. The likely hood of this succeeding is remote at best.

The only possible option is to attempt to convince the target to convince the lawn gnome that it’s ok for her to go home without her. This, again, is likely to fail because all of a sudden the senses of the Sloth become accute. She now cares about her friends well being and thinks to herself, “Ooooh no. No fun will be had on my watch!” She will refuse to part from the girl you want, thus condeming your penis to a night of drunken RedTube.

There is no hope.

Therefore men, if you or anyone you know has any information leading to the arrest and capture of any known cock blocks, please call John Walsh immediately. He is standing by.

Women, if any of your friends are wet blankets/c-blocks, shun them immediately. Women are great at being horrible to other women, so do what you do best. After breaking up with them, walk to your bathroom, look yourself in the eye, and slap yourself in the face. You should be ashamed for having such a friend in the first place.

If you are, yourself, a cock block walk into your garage, turn your car on, roll down the windows, and wait. Someone will be there soon. Sweet dreams.

In conclusion, don’t let your lives be affected by these despicable people and don’t become one yourself. Put a drink in your hand, put a smile on your face, and act like your having fun. No one owes you anything so quit acting like it.

Seacrest Out

-p.s. I hate you.

Watch this video below. It is a very serious and accurate representation of the beatings I used to take in high school. This is why I learned how to fight.

I will never get beat up by singing, dancing, gang members again! Take back the streets!

Some of you may know that I went to UFC 100. I was cornering my good friend Tom Lawlor who not only won his fight, but won the grand prize of submission of the night. Congrats Tom. It’s not him that was the most impressive part of the weekend. It wasn’t the fights, the girls, the parties, or any of the other debauchery.

What was the most impressive, and some may argue unbelievable, part of this weekend?

Oh yes, The Buffer 360. Some said it couldn’t be done. Most thought that it would never be tried.

Without further adeiu, I give you….