I’ve been receiving some querulous emails recently asking me what this blog is about. If one has perused it sufficiently then I suspect one would surmise its primary focus is puerile shit humor. One would certainly be correct in this assumption. But only partially so. This blog is also about the repressed desire to express our inner immaturity by reverting to the halcyon days of our youth (like, you know, the 3rd grade or some shit) whereby the long-lost and forgotten foibles of the playground are re-enacted in a format that even the most retarded fucking asshole can grab the gist of. You know what I’m talking about, motherfucker? Hey, asshole! I’m talking to YOU! You look pretty goddam stupid standing there with your ugly ass face hanging out in the breeze like that. I’ll kick your goddam ass you stupid fucking chancre-eating mediacretin. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to out to the roach shit fuckery every Tuesday you dumbass bitchcunt goat felcher? Hell, I know every goddam thing about you, it, them, the goats, the pastry chef, his daughter, his daughter’s daughter, their diseases, the truck that hauled in the fifty cubic yards of gelatinous Juarez donkey nose funk, the milkshakes they made out of the funk, the funk that resulted and what was done with that (it was used as a lubricant; don’t lie!) and how many times it was used by your stupid fucking family while you took pictures and sent them to that one guy in Guyana who spread marmalade all over them and then jerked off while pretending to be Milli Vanilli every afternoon for six months. See? I know everything and YOU don’t know SHIT!