The Airing of Grievances: Dr. Whatley...from the back of a truck

Yeah, let me take a break from my life of helping people who "accidentally" sit on snow globes or suffer from broken extremities because they feel it was a great idea to snowboard down a freeway ramp to chime in today. Last year I emceed this mess we call Festivus from a bar, and I ended up so drunk that I never officially ended it. Then I disappeared for all of a year and well, fuck it, here I am...with quite a bit to grieve aboot. (yeah I said 'aboot'. I live near Canada, eh?) Now I'm typing this piecemeal from the back of a Type III Advanced Life Support Ambulance, so unless I break out the narcotic box and shoot my ass up with some Morphine, I should get through it just fine.

Now, let me say this: I have gone a whole year without writing much of anything, anywhere. That doesn't mean I haven't had a lot of problems with a lot of people, I have. But my time has been so goddamn busy that I couldn't get my now fat again ass to sit down and punch this shit out in a coherent manner. I've been around, just silent, like that bitch in Twilight Zone: The Movie who just stares at the TV and has no mouth, yeah, you can call me that creepy fucker.

Well, now I have a mouth and I'm gonna use it. Wait. That sounds pretty bad, like I'm some crack head looking to suck some cock for a McChicken sammich. Whatever.

I gotta lot of problems with:

Kids Christmas Concerts. Yeah, last year I took a shot at little apple chewing fuckers the world round. Despite my having three kids of my own, I have to say that I hate kids. Even worse are their pushy, "my kids are perfect" parents with their flabby mom-arms and Lee jean wearing dickhead dads, driving a Yukon with the special bumper sticker that says, "I tote my brats everywhere in this gas hog because they're awesome and Al Gore can fuck himself". Well 'tis the season where I have to sit amongst a crowd of these self-indulgent assholes at least once a year while their big headed brats sing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" sounding like a cat got caught in Fargo's wood chipper. What is our fascination with this horse shit every year? Flash going off on cameras, video recording while their kid picks his nose and eats it like it is manna from heaven. You have to get there earlier than Thanksgiving to get a seat that isn't in the parking lot. Shit I get better seats at Cubs games. Let's not forget that there are grandparents involved too. Hell, at the last concert I went to a few days ago, you'd think a Neil Diamond tribute group was in attendance singing along behind me. For fucks sake you foley catheter wearing, liver spotted, psoriasis having clown, it's a kids concert, not your last foray into singing at Carnegie Hall so shut the fuck up! Speaking of old fogies...

Nursing Homes. Now I deal with these places on a daily basis. And I can't blame the old people in there. Most of them can't remember the last time they took a shit, (which happened to be five minutes ago on my ambulance cot by the way), so they get a pass. I DO have a problem with the lazy fucktards who find out their 94 year old mother has the balance of a dredle and thinks she's Mary Queen of Scots, so why not dump her incontinent ass in a facility that reeks of infectious piss and egg salad sandwiches. Sure, that's the way mom would've wanted to go out, of course. Unbelievable. I'm amazed at the people that do this to loved ones. What goes on in their heads? "Well, mom pissed and shit herself again, not my problem anymore. I need to hit the beach in Clearwater, Peace!"? I see them all the time. What's worse is they drop in once a year to say hi and they bring the little Bubble Yum snapping fuckers with them to sit on grandmas lap, further pushing on her bladder dribbling piss all over everything. Dr. Kevorkian had it right folks. He had it right.

Facebook. Mr. Zuckerberg has created a monster, that sneaky little fuck. However, what once was a nifty little social networking tool has turned into Turdville on coke. Facebook used to be the cool kids table at school, before bullying was (sadly) frowned upon and they then had to let everyone participate, even the dorks, band geeks and fucking attention whores. I swear I can't stand that place anymore. Drama all over it, those same self-indulgent asshole thirty something parents who are finally figuring out there's a way to take pictures of every little moment and place them on the web so that the world can see, amongst other things: Johnny's first blow out shit, their placenta, 4,233 wedding pictures, etc. Status updates? Fuckin' A folks. I get to read, "Mary Jane Rottencrotch is baking cookies while wiping boogers and can't wait for her MAN to come home and bitch about having cheesy potatoes for dinner again while he smacks me around. My life is awesome!" over and over and over again. I was better off believing the likes of Mary Jane, who, by the way, turned me down for Prom, was dead from Scurvy or something, but no, every day...sheesh. Douchebags, attention whores, raging cunts, Jesus freaks...goddamn Facebook has them all. Could I defriend them? Sure. But I'm a cool cat whose life is interesting, so they can all eat a dick.

My (former) Roommate. Way to leave me holding the bag to this dump while you move in with your twat monster girlfriend in a posh new pad in the Hills. You do know she's a controlling, manipulative shrew who is a fat ass stinky dicklicker, right? Yeah, you sold me out for her. Fuck you. Oh, your invoice for all that cable porn I ordered and used to splooge my liquid kids all over your bed that is still here? In the mail.

My (former) girlfriend. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah nah. How does it feel to get rid of me for one of your own poorly tattoed, herpes infested dickweed who, within a few weeks, was banging another broad? Yep, you left me for him. Here's to hoping you get cervical cancer, vagina cheese.

My (former) in shape body. I gotta be honest here. I was inspired by Aaron's six pack in six months, so much so that I went on a fitness kick like I've never been on. I'm not going to lie, I was fucking ripped. If it weren't for my gnarly back fur, I probably could've landed some hot college ass, but I was too cheap to wax that shit like the fag I am, so, meh. So now, dear body, after a few months of neglect, I look like a pasty chubby pregnant dude. What the fuck, man? Can't handle a little laziness, lots of beer and (tasteless joke alert) a work schedule prisoners at Auchwitz would die for? Yeah, thanks a lot 35 year old body. You suck. It's gonna be a bitch getting that back in time for the 25k I signed up for in a few months. I'd rather order oxygen tanks, dick.

I think that's all I can muster today friends. I have to get a move on now. Some asshole thought it was a good idea to shovel snow despite their fat Chronic Bronchitis ass not being able to walk out the door after five years and, well wouldn't you know it, they can't breathe. I'll bet he smells like year old jalapeno cheese sticks, greasy pillows and has a live chicken stuck somewhere near his belly button. Best guess.

Happy Festivus y'all!