Originally published 22JULY08

Kimbo Slice Saw Your House on Google, and Now He Wants to Kick Your Ass. 

You fucking idiots are worried about Google Street View?  It’s ok with you that your government can legally shove a camera up your ass and document the contents of  your rectum* for an IMAX film festival, but a picture of your lame-ass residence that any boob can see when they walk by (and yet none of them stop and stare longingly at your domicile.  What a surprise.) gives you the willies?  You show your tits to girls gone wild and post video of yourself getting screwed or beating up another teenage girl like yourself, and your shitty lawn being seen by some tool in Okrakoke keeps you awake? Nobody wants to look at your damned house.  Except your friggin stalker, and he already knows where you live, and has poster-sized shots of you through the bathroom window.  He doesn't need Google to spy on you.

  [As a side note, stalkers would be legal to shoot if it were my world.  Or at least taze, and multiple times, that.  Word has it my grandfather shot two dumb asses down: one that killed his brother and one that tried to get his woman back.  Undoubtedly legend is more powerful than facts, but still…that is how the world should work.]

  This is why we have problems, people.  Your damned priorities are a mess. 

 Back to your severe fear of Google snapping a shot of your unflattering pad. 

  OK, let’s say some mob types, or some punk ass 15 year old for that matter, wants to crack your cranium.  Or possibly, Jihadist assholes want to blow your shit up.  Why, they’d go straight to Google Street View and look at your hovel’s picture, right?  Sure…uh…wait.  Oh Yeah, they’d have to have YOUR ADDRESS.  The one that’s in the phone book, or otherwise easily found on the web.  Now,  they get your address, and NOW they go to Street View.  “HA!” you say smugly.

  Because I know if I was looking to do damage to someone, I’d rely heavily on a puny grainy picture for all my intel.  I wouldn’t bother to even drive by, even though I HAVE THE ADDRESS.  I’d take one look at that picture and run out the door, pulling the pins out of grenades as I went. 

  Seriously, have you never watched a movie ever?  The bad guys that aren’t after you would surely drive or walk by your place and take their own street view pic.  And probably shake down the mailman. 

  Come to think of it, why aren’t you out buying a gun RIGHT NOW!?

Besides, many of you probably live in a house that looks just like the one next door.

  “I have the Street of View from the Googles!” says the Jihaddist leader, “The infidels lives in a beige two-story with a roof and a driveway!  JIHAD!  JIHAD!

 HAALALALALALALALALALALALALALAAA!”

Please see the stupid list on the sidebar for more things to quit fucking worrying about.

A great friend of mine and I had a conversation about the UFC the other night.  We were of the same opinion that only douchebags and girls of low self esteem and even lower taste in men were fans.  It is all that is wrong with anything ever.  But I couldn’t put my finger on why it was so popular.  And then, at that moment, I knew, and knowing made a whole lot of weird shit make sense.  And since I love you like a (choose one-‘Brother’, ‘Sister’, ‘slutty acquaintance who once had a walk on role on ‘sex and the city’), I’m gonna share it with your ass.  And also the rest of you:

(If you are a huge UFC fan, please resist the urge to put me on your long and distinguished list of people ‘on your list’.  Crack another longneck and pass me the remote instead, we’ll both enjoy that more.)

The reason the UFC is so popular is because it lets the guy who punches the clock and hates having kids because they crushed his last miniscule chance at freedom or notoriety think that, just maybe, if he worked out for a few weeks, he could step in the (choose one: ‘ring’, ‘cage’, ‘fakey back-alley chain link rink’) with one of these guys and hold his own.  Not for a win, but just not get embarrassed.  Get a good shot or two in.

  Every man wants to feel like he can stand with other men.  Most don’t want to be heroes (and they know it), but they want to be able to be there when that hero rocks the scene.

UFC makes them think they can.  They can’t, but the illusion is powerful.

NASCAR holds the same appeal.  “Why, I could haul ass and turn left,” says Joe 12-Pack.  To a room with only him in it.  Then, maybe later to his girl or some pals over beers. 

Really?  Cause I’ve pegged out a speedometer at 120 on a long wide straight road, and not pissing or shitting myself right then is my finest memory of it.  And I, my friend, am a motherfucking man.

  Point is, the possibility is the thing. 

  If you ever saw Cassius Clay fight, you knew immediately that he would kick your ass in the time it takes most people to sneeze.  Many of the men who did see it came to the erroneous conclusion that they were somehow lacking, less a man.  Ali would smack you for your wrongness.  But more on that some other day that will never come.

The UFC changed all that.  It gave pussies the chance to think they aren’t pussies.  Strong medicine, indeed.

One particularly badass writer named Jason Whitlock** eviscerated Kimbo Slice for being an ass and catering to every stereotype you can imagine for a buck, but every UFC fighter is Kimbo Slice.

Thanks, Pro Wrestling.  Your progeny has turned out to be worse than you. 

Extra credit question: Ever see a physicist in the UFC?  Or the KKK, for that matter?  Hmmm…. 

Larry the Cable Guy.  John Daly. That other dude besides Kimbo Slice in the UFC.   Jeff Foxworthy.  And the guy who started it all, Tim “Tool…something” Allen.  Ur Ur UR! 

Do you know how many guys casually mention  that Babe Ruth was a fat ass womanizing drunk?  Now you know why.

They all give the reglr guy the glimmer of a thought that maybe they could do that.

You can’t.  My advice is not to try.  Better to die after a life of watching UFC and drinking every day than…something else.

Or you could be a man, without getting your teeth knocked out, and your balls shrunk to the size of a drop of sweat on a flea who’s working out hard, for the gayest accoutrement ever, the championship belt.  Seriously, when do you wear that?  “Hey Baby, let’s go to Red Lobster!  I’ll wear my belt!”

  Stand up for something.  Just don’t make it some stupid ass something, like drilling Alaska or being an asshole to grown men who get naked together or bombing shit.  Unless that shit is a Jihadist.

  Make it something your kids that you hate would be proud to tell their worthless friends. 

  You’ll never regret not finding out that Kimbo Slice would fusticate you.  Moitalize, even.

*It’s poop.

**He regularly takes shit from self important assholes  like Vivian Stringer for calling them on bullshit they do.  She once said, “That's the reason why you chose these few minutes to get your one moment of [fame]. Because other than that, who knows Jason Whitlock?"

I do, you pious jerkette. Truth to Power, Jason.