Really Good Racist Theme Music

Don’t you hate it when someone says “I told you so,” when they never told you shit?

Dogs in strollers. What? Your dog can’t walk? What is it, the first dog opposed to being and acting like a dog? Dogs love walks. They can’t wait to walk. All the dogs in the world are thinking about walking right now. Even the ones walking are thinking about walking some more. You walk a dog in the morning before you go to work. For the next eight hours, your dog is just sitting around waiting for you to come back…just so you can walk it again! It’s got to be the most boring existence in the world. Almost as boring as a baby who hasn’t learned to roll over yet. Can you imagine? Just being on your back all day long, slobbering on yourself, picking at your toes, looking up at a fuggin’ mobile? The mobile’s moving. But you’re not, you immobile sonofabitch. I’m sure that although babies and dogs have similar extremely short attention spans, there’s at least five seconds during each waking hour when they want to shoot themselves in the face. “Oh my God, I’m so bored. I can’t roll over. Can’t crawl out of this goddamn crib. Fido over there just wants to walk around outside to piss and sniff strangers’ asses. FML.”

So I’m on the bus, minding my own business, hating my life, cussing out everyone on the bus in my mind, when this dumbass gets on the bus blasting music from his cell phone. President Obama, can you please send a solitary drone to this guy’s place of residence? No other casualties, please. Just snuff out this asshole. What an ego you have to have to roll up in a public arena and think that everyone’s going to be cool with listening to your horrid musical tastes! First of all, your cell phone speaker sounds like crap. Sounds like you
shrunk your favorite band and sealed them in a tin can that you forgot to poke holes into.  They sound like they’re dying. Secondly, a venue does exist where people of like musical affinities congregate to listen to their favorite musicians. It’s called a concert.  Normally, people pay for admission into concerts. You, sir, now have to pay everyone here on this bus. You’re disturbing the peace, so you either you break us all off with a piece of the dough that we’re well aware that you most likely don’t have since you’re riding the
bus like the rest of us broke fucks, or we throw you out the bus window…in pieces.

Women can go into any men’s restroom. Men can’t go into any women’s restroom. We just can’t. It’s a law of nature. The eleventh commandment. God scribbled it down on a tablet. It just upset Moses so much (“That’s not fair, God!”) that he just left it out when he
stood on that mountain and told all his homies about the cool-ass stone tablets that old guy upstairs hit him off with. If men do step into a women’s restroom, then they are perverts.  Women can take over a men’s john because this behavior is societally acceptable. So the next time you see a man peeing in the street, pat him on the back. Tell him you know feel his pain, his stress, his struggle, his plight. Then move out the way before he tinkles on you. After all, he still is a man, and the vast majority of us still can’t pee straight.

At the end of the day, I wish someone would retire the phrase “at the end of the day.”.

Whenever I watch these true crime shows and they show a young black guy, all of a sudden some random hip hop beat is played as if that’s his theme music. These are the only people who have music like this. Even the villain doesn’t have music. This is so racist. This is
so stupid. This is so inappropriate. This is so unfair…because I never got any of this racially specific theme music. I want some too. Some really good racially offensive theme music.  Something with a lot of bass and an ill hi-hat. Sheeeeit. Slide in a stanky guitar riff and some harmonica, and I’ll be your best friend.  I want to bop down the street after just robbing a liquor store, dribbing a basketball, munching on a watermelon slice, dropping my food stamps all over the place, all while wearing a KFC bucket on my head.

Q: There are 10 incompetent asses in a room. How many incompetent asses are there?
A: 30. The 10, their 10 behinds, and the additional assistant asses on their phones or laptops.

A tortoise-porpoise hybrid. Something that just popped into my mind. Doesn’t make any sense, I know. The words have similar spellings. That’s all. It was only natural for me to merge the two animals into one slow, old, squeaky beast.

Dosed off on the bus. Woke up to a woman with a thick accent saying, “‘scuse me,” but it sounded like “kiss me.” Awkward moment. She was trying to get up from her seat and go by me. Still in a sleepy fog, I thought she wanted to sit in my lap.

Give your dog a break. There’s no need to dress your dog in a sweater, vest, coat, jacket, pants, overalls, skirt, jumpsuit, scarf, lederhosen, or any other item of clothing. Dogs already come with stylish coats, designed by Nature. You think your dog looks cute. It
looks ridiculous. And it knows it. And this is why other dogs are picking on it, beating it up, and snatching its lunch money. Wonder why Spot always looks sad and keeps climbing to the top of the couch? Spot’s contemplating suicide.

If man’s best friend is an animal (dog) and rocks (diamonds) are a girl’s best friend, then the nation’s 50% divorce rate makes a lot more sense now. We’re all crazy.