Guys. Here’s the deal. I’m going to pretend for a moment that this was ever funny.

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There. I laughed. I think it’s the funniest thing since sliced cat turds on a sliced horsebread ratpiss sandwich. But now that the joke is old, you can’t use it anymore. See? Say internet. It’s a thing, which everybody knows about now, including very very stupid people and so you don’t have to keep pandering to us with this word. Even child molesters, the really really bad kind, don’t think this is funny. So every time you say “interwebs” you’re actually placing yourself, socially, below child molesters.

How does that feel? To know that the stupid shit coming out of your face hole is worse than touching children? Keep trying and soon you’ll be as bad as people who actually HAVE children, and you can’t get lower than that without killing and eating somebody.

Editor’s note: next time add more hyperbole to your posts.


I can’t believe “smoothie” is something you put in your mouth. With all due respect to the delicious diblend s+m, which gives us such wonderful words as “smut” and”smooch” and “smooooth jazz” (as well as BDSM), we can’t forget that from this diblend is also derived the word “smegma”. Call me weird, but I wouldn’t want to drink a pitcher full of smegma blended with yogurt and strawberries, even if they were fresh strawberries and the smegma came from my own father, so why would I want anything even vaguely resembling it in my body? I would, however, kiss it, which is why I still like “smooch”.

If you were to visit a foreign country where English was spoken as the first and only true language, perhaps South Africa, or I don’t know…Greenland, and visited a cafe where they served “smoothies” you would never order it because you would assume it was full of walrus testicles and people — because that’s the kind of shit they eat in countries other than America, where we only eat normal things, like cows. When you have thick clumpy diarrhea from eating too many walrus testicles, you’re “having a smoothie”. It’s code for “DON’T EAT THIS IT WILL GIVE YOU THE SMOOTHIES”.

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Eat some actual fruit, idiot. Whey protein isn’t a real thing — I checked — and nobody would eat all those bananas anyway. The rest is just ice and sugar. And also you’re ugly.


Leave it to the Christians to take the fun out of being bad. They could have picked any word at all, even “Quetzalcoatl” or “spork” or “abracadabra” but

instead they went with the weakest, least interesting word there ever was. No hard P’s or T’s, not even a nice randy X to stir the loins. It just dies in your mouth like someone crapped there and you’re trying to keep from swallowing the turd. You don’t even really have to finish saying it — just “sihhh…..thpppt”. Considering that the act of sinning means to make an intentional act against GOD, that is, to move in DIRECT VIOLATION of the one universal truth, you’d think this word would be

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a bigger deal. Maybe “godpunch” or “godrape” or “godkickinthesack” or “absolute cosmic clusterfucking”. Anything.

Of course this is all wrong. The word “sin” probably had nothing to do with Christianity. It traces back to Proto-Germanic, which was invented before God, so back during dinonaur times it probably meant something totally different, like “to steal Thag’s rock and clobber your cavewife with it”. Then when the Christians invaded northern Europe, and turned all the cool Pagan stuff like tree worship and witch burning into eating crackers and beating your children, they decided to keep that word to make it easier on the cave-dwelling locals. And that sounds totally ridiculous and made-up except it’s probably not that far from the truth, although I am exaggerating the evolutionary development of the Germans a bit. I think they were still tree rats at that point.


It saddens me to announce the death of the adjectival epic. It seems all you shitheads have had your fill of awesome, and have jumped one step up to epic. Now it’s dead. You killed it.

First, if you haven’t already read my post on awesome, please do so now. I hate awesome because it’s overused. Everything is awesome now, and everyBODY thinks they are awesome. It’s been so overused

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as to merely mean “good”, and “good” now means “average”, which in turn means “bad”, while “bad” means “awesome” because we appreciate bad things ironically. (Also see my post on irony.)

We’ve created this circular stupidity, and the solution, as always happens in America, is to go bigger. Awesome is awesome, but EPIC is awesome and TIMELESS. The problem is,

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there’s nothing epic about the tickets you got to see Rush, or your day at the filthy beach. No Greek poet ever wrote a dense symbolist tome about the whole pizza you just ate, you fat fucking fat. But it’s too late. You ate that cheese, farted it out, called it epic, then probably raped a deer. A FAT deer.

This is how I know the universe is about to end, because we’re running out of synonyms. And I say the sooner the universe ends, the sooner shitheads like you stop wolfing pizzas and having an epic bowel movement. So I say we skip right over astronomic and go straight for the grand finale, cosmic. The cosmos, in the words of Carl Sagan, is “all that is or ever was or ever will be”. Take your butthole cheeseburger, house it, call it “cosmic”, then flush the cosmic turds down to the sewer, you asshole. Destroy the entire universe. Please. I’d rather everything die, even the quadrillions of beautiful and gentle alien races that don’t even KNOW us, than listen to you say what you say.

Every Nook and Cranny

What the fuck is a cranny? If you saw a cranny would you know that it was a cranny and scream out, “look everybody! Look at this fabulous cranny! My! What a cranny it is! I’m going to stick my finger into this

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here cranny and see if porridge comes out!” This is followed by a ride in an ambulance and a lawsuit.

But this would never happen because nobody uses the word “cranny” anymore. And I’m of the mind that nobody ever did because it’s weird, even for the people of the 15th century when everything was fabulous and gay. And even worse, it’s NEEDY. We never say “cranny” anymore unless it’s paired with “nook”, and even then we make it “every nook and cranny”. It’s not as needy as “remiss” but at least that word doesn’t sound like you picked it off a festering wound on your anus.

A cranny is a crack or a crevice. So I suggest to you all, for the sake of the stupidest children, to change this phrase to “every crack and crevice”. It sounds better, and is more detailed.

Of course, if we wait long enough, and brutally murder everyone who calls their bookstore the “Book Nook”, as well as anyone who likes Ayn Rand because they are assholes, we will all forget the meaning of “nook”, and then the expression “nook and cranny” will go the way of “spic and span”, which is so far removed from its original meaning as to be a fascinating study in the evolution of language, with possible origins in Old Norse, Old English, Middle Dutch, Old High Germanic, Proto-Indo-European, and Latin. Check out its entry in the OED. Walking around with this expression is like carrying an astrolabe in your pocket: totally ridiculous but the history is staggering and you will definitely get laid if you use it correctly.


I hate the word “kinky”. It makes me think of desperate married couples searching vainly for a way to “spice up” their sex life.

“What about these ‘vibrating nipple clamps’?”
“Ooh that’s kinky!”
“Yeah? Well we should get these then.”
“Oh wow they’re twenty dollars, though!”
“Jesus Dora, we’re trying to save our marriage here.”
“Well maybe if you got off the couch and went out to get a job like a real man we could afford to save our marriage!”
“Maybe if you could cook a fucking plate of eggs I’d have the energy!”

I consider myself differently-sexual. Suffice to say many people don’t understand, or in a few cases are surprised and offended by the acts I find arousing. But to me it’s not about being sexual in weird ways, it’s about being sexual in intense ways that require a huge psychological commitment from both parties. Fun as it is, in a sense it’s a very serious business, and if handled clumsily someone can get really emotionally hurt, if not physically. So to ascribe to that a word which sounds like it could be a Pokemon character feels degrading. It even rhymes with “Twinkie”. A word

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for alt sex shouldn’t be so close lyrically to a sugarshit storebought snack cake. I almost wish there wasn’t even a word for this. Sex is sex and there are many many many ways to be sexual.

But perhaps that’s the point. Maybe kinky is a word for people who are, in fact, anything but.

(Also see Poet talking about kink.)


Barf barf barf barf vomit barf puke barf puke throwup barf.

You know who you are, people who use the word “patootie”. You’re probably a Mormon or maybe a little league coach who lures children into your dungeon to play video games. Whichever one you are, the world would be better off without you and better off without this word but especially with you dead and ground into cat food.

Supposedly, “patootie” is a corruption of “potato” (which until now I thought was uncorruptible), and there was a time when our grandparents, unable or unwilling to say things like “ass”, “dirty fuckhole”, or “I don’t mind sitting next to a negro on this five-hour flight to Burbank”, thought it would be cute, in all their infinite white-ness, to make a hypocorism out of it. Because that’s what you do when you’re rich and white and you’re angry that you can’t have slaves anymore. Back then, in Roman times, you might refer to your girlfriend, who you just knocked up after she gave you syphilis, you might call her your “sweet patootie”. I don’t know why our grandparents did this, although I think “The Greatest Generation” was applied ironically. They should have been called “The Drunkest Generation” or maybe “The Beatiest Generation”.

Somehow, over the decades of white ownership of everything including the Sun, “patootie” came to mean “butt”. And like a retard virus, people were infected with it and made to sound like they just got finished touching children. It was the ’40’s. People were bored, and orphans were plentiful.

But now it is 2011, and most of the people who remember that it is a corruption of “potato” are dead, and when they are all gone, this word needs to die with them.

The last remaining person who remembers is Mildred R. C. Gustafson of 105 Sullivan Place, Savannah GA. She’s usually in bed around 9:30 and there’s a window unlocked above the kitchen sink. She lives alone but watch out for her terrier. I’m not saying you should kill her, but if you live in the area and have some extra poison lying around, there’s room in her tea kettle to store it.

It Begs the Question

Look, I’m not one of these cockholes who feels compelled to constantly point out your mistalkage of wordisms, such as how you ignorantly

say “it’s not my for-TAY” instead of the proper pronunciation “it’s not my FORT”. (That’s not a joke, by the way. “Forte” should be pronounced like “fort”. It’s Old French, not Italian. Duh.)

And when you say “PIN number” or “ATM machine”, I don’t kidnap your children and drown them in a pond, even though it would stop your stupid offspring infecting everyone in the world with their hepatitis because they couldn’t figure out how to open a condom wrapper.

Even when I’m working, I will not tell a customer that it isn’t actually pronounced “expresso”. No reason to embarrass them in front of their slightly too-hot-but-not-really girlfriend. She’s probably the best they’ll ever do without Rohypnol, so cut the poor dildo some slack.

But the thing is, everybody uses “begs the question” wrong and I am bothered because they’ve ruined a great expression. Sure, language evolves and sometimes that’s okay. The reason I hate this evolution is that it isn’t

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evolution, it’s devolution. “Begging the question” is, in the words of Wikipedia:

a type of logical fallacy in which the proposition to be proven is assumed implicitly or explicitly in the premise

Now, I know that’s hard to understand. You’ve had four hours of Glee on your Tivo and a half gallon of Crane Lake and your mind is down to three working brain cells which keep firing the same four bars of R Kelly’s “Pregnant” at you. (When you come down with Alzheimer’s all that will be left is those three cells and you will pray every day for God to kill you.)

To help you out, here is a completely factual statement that uses the fallacy of begging the question:

The reason Creed is a great band is because they make great music and they’re great performers and they play their own instruments, unlike Pearl Jam.

And here is another, just for the ladies:

My genital warts aren’t contagious because you can’t get them from me.

And one for the billionaires:

The Gulfstream V is totally gay because when you fly in it you turn into a homosexual and

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anally penetrate another man almost immediately.

See how I “proved” my point by restating the premise? That’s begging the question. People do it all the time, important people. Even Carl Gustaf Folke Hubertus, King of Sweden, and Duke of Jämtland, sometimes. And once upon a time, if you caught an asshole king doing it, you could say “that’s begging the question”, and he’d have your hands cut off.

But instead of this fancy, useful, and dickish expression, we get “begs the question” which now means, in effect, “asks the question”. It’s a waste. And now, I hate it. And I hate you and your

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children for ruining it.

Fuck you and fuck your fat fucking children.

Kerfuffle (Revisited)

I hate kerfuffle so much, I have to post about it a second time. Last year I did a post on this word, and the entirety of the post went as follows:

See brouhaha. Then gouge out your eyes.

Amazingly, no other word I have posted on has caused such an uproar

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(commotion, disturbance, furor, row). Many of my friends and coworkers have been offended, as have the many winners over at Metafilter, among other places. One guy even threatened to kill himself and I said, “so do it, you fuckin’ pussy”.

The thing about kerfuffle is that people who use it are pedophiles. They prefer touching children (same as people who like Jason Mraz). This word is, in fact, a code like a nod so child molesters can identify one another. The reason so many people have been upset is that I broke their code. I know this because it is a fact I completely made up, so it must be true.

In 1984 there was a study conducted by a researcher at the University of Michigan, a study which I am fabricating for the purpose of proving my point. The researcher was looking for a new window into the mind of pedophiles, and so she conducted thousands of interviews with thousands of convicted pedophiles, and their prosecutors, in Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana (because that’s where the pedophiles live). She came to a lot of the same conclusions about child molesters that other research had shown: all denied ever doing anything inappropriate, all had horrific abusive childhoods of their own, most of them molested children who knew or trusted them, all of them were named Steve, and so on. Frustrated that she had failed to find any new information, the researcher passed the tapes on to a grad student to transcribe, and her grad student made a startling discovery: all the child molesters were using the word “kerfuffle” to describe their predicament. One man, who went by the name “Steve”, used it more than thirty times during the interview, and four times in a single sentence! Not only was he a child molester, but a language molester, too!

So in this fake and tasteless story that I totally made up, the facts are clear. “Kerfuffle” is a word used by pedophiles to describe getting caught touching children. And if I understand how specious reasoning works, if all child molesters use the word “kerfuffle”, then all people who use “kerfuffle” are child molesters.

The point of this made-up tale is that now that you have read it, every time you say “kerfuffle”, or read it or hear someone else saying it, you will think of child molesters. This whole post was a poison pill to ruin your enjoyment of this word forever. I hate it that much.


Last week I accidentally used the word “wigger”. I was describing someone I know who wears baggy clothing and sports jerseys, listens to nothing but hip-hop, and loves basketball. And while fumbling through the lexicon for a proper descriptor, I called him a “wigger” and was instantly embarrassed for myself, because as it turns out, I sounded like a total cock. Sometimes words do this to you. Or maybe your subconscious does it to you. Either way it sucks.

“Wigger” is a portmanteau of “white nigger”, which means the pedigree is so horrible it doesn’t deserve to be called a portmanteau. It should be called an “idiot word squash”. The utility of “wigger” is that you’re accusing a white kid of imitating a subset of black Americans, which, because we’re all subconsciously racist, naturally must be a bad thing. Perhaps the world will excuse me this one misstep; I did, after all, grow up in the American south, and recall hearing this word a lot growing up, mostly from teachers and ambulance drivers.

But in that moment I was stuck. I couldn’t think of another way to describe his aesthetic without writing an essay about his look and his attitude, and therein I was revealed to be a shallow, judgmental ass, with some closet racism tossed in there just for fun. We use all sorts of words to quickly describe people and their aesthetics. I can talk at length about hipsters and rednecks, billionaires and bluehairs, and everyone knows what I’m talking about, but the only word we have to describe this

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particular type of dude is “wigger”. It’s a trapping word, and demonstrates the limits of one’s patience and creativity with the English language. English tries to keep up with the pace of cultural change, but now and then we evolve these mutant rodents that just need to die.

There just aren’t enough words to describe every individual. I mean, besides their names. I move we make all proper nouns into regular nouns, so instead of saying “that guys a wigger!” I can say, “that guy’s a damian reginald matthewson!” and everybody will collectively say “ooooh….” and know what

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I’m talking about. With Facebook and all, we pretty much know everybody anyway.