Sumbitch!

Elephant Beer

The Danish word for beer is øl.

There is a beer here by the name of Elephant Beer. It is called Elephant Beer for three reasons:
1) It is traditionally served by elephants.
2) It tastes like elephants.
3) It turns you into an elephant when you drink it.

The primary ingredient is elephant juice, which is made utilizing elephants and a juicer.

What it tastes like, and what, consequently, elephants taste like, cannot be discovered. The Danish drinking age is 35, and my 22-year-old ID does not work here, although it does authorize me to buy the large on menus, in order to order (hahahahahahahahafuckingha) anything in a restaurant in the large size, you must be 21, and my American fake works.

Speaking of fake IDs:
Here are some ideas of interesting fake ID use:
A fake ID for the age of 11. This allows you to order off the kid's menu. Kid's menu items are often much cheaper.
A fake ID for the age of 36. This allows you to run for president. And if they card you later on, and someone finds out, maybe they will still let you keep your job if you have been doing well enough as the president. They will be like this: "That kid sure does a good job as the President. Let him stay"

Also, here is an idea for a movie/book/play sequence involving a dumb cop and a wily kid at drive thru liquor store. I have no time to write out dialogue, as am tired, but will outline ideas, dialogue can be adjusted/messed with/filled with hilarious jokes/written in Swahili.

COP - I want to see ID, you have alcohol.

KID hands ID

This is not driver's license. Can I get some driver's license ID

I do not have that.

You do not have a driver's license?

(Kid thinks the better of it, hands over license)

This says you are 19.

Only have to be 17 to drive.

Have to be 21 to drink.

I am 21. Check the other license.

It's not a driver's license.

I know. It's not my driver's license, it's my drinking license.

Fair enough. But you still need to be a licensed driver.

I know. That is why I have my driver's license.

Fair enough. But they say different ages.

One is for drinking and the other is for driving.

Ok, I see. Yes, that one works for drinking. And that one works for driving.

Can I go?

Yes. But be sure not to drive drunk.

I am licensed to drink and drive.

You are?

See, there I am licensed to drink, and there I am licensed to drive.

Carry on.

Thank you.

DaneMark

So it seems that I will not be going to prom alone. The bad news is that I will not be going at all, that is why I will not be going alone. "It is your senior year prom". Bitch, shut your trap. I will go to like pre parties and afterparties and shit or whatever, that is the only part I would enjoy by myself anyway. There is no enjoyment watching a bunch of couples all dressed up and acting semi formal, it is not fucking worth it. I ain't no voyeur, ain't no voyager, ain't no plymouth nor no chrysler, plymouth voyager you see, chrysler makes plymouth. Denmark is pretty chill, but their keyboards are fucked up and their food is expensive. And the womens get chased from the clubs by big arab dudes. These are not like your cool DC arabs, these are big ass mean dudes. Well, whatever. I will chill in the DK, as they say. Prom is soon, and whatever, instead of something I am not going to it is a kickass party late at night, see? Whatever. Whatever. Sorry there is no entertaining entry, sorry for the fans, this is lame. Dude. Whatever.

I am leaving this blog...

For two weeks. Because I will not be at home or with computer access.

Suckers.

First I'm staying at the Watergate with a bunch of yuppies trying to pick up 50 Gs for college. Then I will be in Denmark, smuggling Jews into Sweden before the German invasion.

I leave with these words

marsupial
Kennedy
Rastafarian
Jeter
sailboat
cork
crunchy
moray
salmon

Frisco's

Say what you want about America, but Frisco's still waits for you to get there if you're near closing time, offers the manager's home number to call if you don't succcessfully, gives you extra-large portions when you arrive barely in time, lets you get free small exploded potatoes when you order after it's technically closed, gives you a free sample of ice cream, and gives you a large bowl of Santa Fe chicken when your small exploded potatoes order that was paid for but is no longer available because the last of the potatoes were given away for free.

Eli Goldfarb - Kike Extraodinare

Eli Goldfarb is a fucking cliptip christkiller hooknose kike.

This is due to his refusal to eat taco burgers.

There I said it.

The Quest for the Taco Burger

I am a person who often is inspired by ideas of food to have food. This is because of a very simple concept – thinking about food gets the brain on food, which is a sort of tautological statement, but once the brain is on food, it thinks about things it can do with the food, such as eating it, and then does whatever it can to procure such food, such as killing other people who are eating that food and taking theirs, or purchasing it. You can have food on the brain, even brain food on the brain, or brain on the food on the brain. All these are possible. However, they are not what is being discussed in this here arcticle.

What is being discussed is the taco burger. What is a taco burger, you may ask? To get the answer, you must look to the book Fearlesness and Loving in Wilmington. This is a book that does not exist. It does, however, exit. Exit from this writing as something being discussed, understand? Anyway, the point is, of all the books I read too late, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is the only one in which taco burgers are discussed. I read it too late, by about four days, to read it while Hunter S. Thompson was alive. Consequently, at the time of his death, I knew nothing of his works. Thus, I was not very unhappy at the time, and later on I was more focused on the book being great than him being dead. So I avoided the death having any negative consequences. Suckers. You all did things in the reverse order. Anyway, though I am new to the world of this man's writing, it has already started to influence me, in ways that will soon be detailed.

To get to the point taco burgers are discussed, in the following manner:
Duke: Taco burger, what's that?
(Sound. of diesel engine truck. -Ed.] Att'y: That's a hamburger. with a taco in the middle.
Duke: A taco on a bun.
Att'y: I betcha your tacos are just hamburgers with a shell stead of a bun.

“That’s a hamburger with a taco in the middle” is one of the most influential lines of literature I ever read. As soon as I read it, I left. About three seconds later, my eyes lit up and my stomach brain started thinking about how delicious this burger with a taco in the middle might potentially be. I also lost about 60 dollars in poker, from up 30 to down 30, because I was reading during the game and was very distracted. I started reading when I got up 30, and stopped when I was down 30, and then made about 28 back to only lose two dollars. But that book was to cost me more money yet…

…the next day, I could not get this taco burger out of my mind. It was such a strange and delicious concept. The day after, I had had enough. I parked at the McDonald’s on Wisconsin, and, as I had often done when Frisco’s was still in the district, walked right into another restaurant. This restaurant, far from Frisco’s, was a Taco (actual text from a non-ironic project on Mexico hanging on wall at Wilson – “This is a taco because people in Mexico eat tacos” Bell. A Taco Bell Express. I expressed my interest in buying a taco, and, $0.99 to Taco Bell and $0.10 to the fair city of D.C. later, had my prize. I brought this back to the McDonald’s, and ordered a double cheeseburger. I split the two burgers, and inserted this taco in the middle. What I experienced, when I ate it, was great – something that tastes better than both the taco and the burger, what with the contrasting forms of ground beef, the crunchy inside and the fresh veggies and the cheese mixing so well, and was reasonably filling, so that it fit into “medium-large snack” category, which is good for two dollars.

Later that day, I grew hungry, and returned, but on a different location, this time on the Connecticut Avenue rather than Wisconsin, and got a double cheeseburger at the Burger King drive-thru (more expensive than the McDonald’s) and a taco at the KFC/Taco Bell up the street from the place. This was better, but not worth the added cost. Also the percentage improvement to the burger given by adding the taco was smaller.

Today, I had my third and far from final taco burger, at Union Station, utilizing a Johnny Rocket’s Rocket Single and a Burrito Brothers single taco. This was very pricy. Both items were being had for the first time. I had jalapeno-doused onions and green chile sauce. It was a ridiculously good meal.

Still, it seems that the best use of taco burgers is for very cheap burgers and tacos, to greatly improve the flavor of both when one does not satisfy. Still, one day, when Five Guys moves to Tenleytown to give it a so-necessary good American eatery, I will have a Five Guys / Chipotle taco burger, and that will be the best taco burger ever.

Things That Sound Similar And Are Related

Take for example, the word "boner" and the phrase "bone her". They sound similar. You use a boner to bone her.

These kind of things occur often, especially involving -er and -in' endings.

How about...

...a traveling talk show in which they go to see celebrities at their late night hangouts called Stars 'n Bars? That would be a good show, I think, because of the name.

How To Read Flyingshark In Better Form

Hey Man, Flyingshark has gotten so bad that it is now just copying material from Preludes to Innovations in Motion. You can now obtain any material relevant to Hey Man, Flyingshark simply by going to www.cocaineinmotion.com/dcblog.

You may say that Sumbitch! has nothing better to do than to report on other blogs. This may be true. Shut up.

Susan Von Buran Resolves To Buy A Teapot

Susan was so shocked at the plight of her gold teapot that she remained speechless for several seconds, before she realized what she must do: retrieve the teapot before the water damaged it further. She set out to get it back the only way she could. "Fanny!" she screeched "get that teapot out of the pond!" Fanny did not respond. Fanny was not in the house anymore. Fanny was ordered to get that teapon out of the pond this instant or Fanny was fired. Fanny was fired. Already. Susan gradually became aware of that fact, and realized that maybe she had made a mistake in firing Fanny. She sought to rectify this mistake, but first she wanted her teapot back, so she did the only thing she could think of... she bought a new one.

It was not easy for her to buy a new teapot. It was not a matter of money, even though it cost 80,000 dollars, which was a lot of money to pay for a whole tea set, let alone a single pot. On the other hand, it was less expensive than an equal amount of cocaine. Although Susan Von Buran was vehemently opposed to drugs, she had once purchased a kilogram of cocaine for 50,000 dollars, believing it was a very high grade makeup to be applied to the nose. She deduced that it was high grade from the price and that it was probiscus powder from hearing a woman refer to the use of the product as powdering her nose. Not wanting to seem ignorant or poor, she proceeding to discuss how she used the powder before every social engagement, and railed on the cheaper, less pure brands, which, she had gathered, sometimes came from Mexico. She never liked the cocaine; it always fell off her nose, and sometimes gave her headaches, but she had a strange attraction towards its application, and continued to buy more. However, this day she was not buying cocaine. She was buying a teapot. And it was not easy for her to buy a teapot, because to do so she had to go outside.

Going outside was something Susan Von Buran did often, but when she went outside she was still surrounded by four walls; her courtyard was, while "outside", was still inside her house. She told herself that, since her courtyard had water, birds, and an open roof, she could get anything there she could get outside of the building. An exception to this rule, she told herself, was a new golden teapot, though the old one was, in fact, available in the courtyard. However, because (she determined) it was impossible to retrieve such an item from the botton of a pond, a new one had to be purchased. So Susan Von Buran unbolted her door and stepped outside, carrying in her purse 80,000 with which she would buy a new golden teapot.

Poems

As some of you may know, the following poem appears in a glass case outside Wilson's gym:

I went to a party, mom,
I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, mom,
So I drank soda instead.
I felt really proud inside, mom,
The way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, mom,
Even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, mom,
I know you're always right.
Now the party is finally ending, mom,
As everyone drives out of sight.
As I got into my car, mom,
I knew I'd get home in one piece,
Because of the way you raised me, mom,
So responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away, mom,
But as I pulled onto the road,
The other car didn't see me, mom,
And hit me like a load.
As I lie here on the pavement, mom,
I hear the policeman say,
The other guy is drunk, mom,
And now I'm the one who'll pay.
I'm lying here dying, mom,
I wish you'd get here soon.
How come this happened to me, mom?
My life bursts like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, mom,
Most of it is mine.
I hear the paramedic say, mom,
I'll die in a very short time.
I just wanted to tell you, mom,
I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, mom,
The others didn't think.
He didn't know where he was going, mom,
He was probably at the same party as I,
The only difference is, mom,
He drank, and I will die.
Why do people drink, mom?
It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now, mom,
Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, mom,
I don't think that is fair;
I'm lying here dying, mom,
While all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry, mom,
Tell daddy to be brave,
And when I go to heaven, mom,
Write "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have told him, mom,
Not to drink and drive.
If only they would have taken the time, mom,
I might still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, mom,
I'm becoming very scared.
Please don't cry for me, mom,
Because when I needed you, you were always there.
I have one question, mom,
Before I say goodbye,
I didn't ever drink, mom,
So why am I to die?
This is the end, mom,
I wish I could look you in the eye,
To say these final words, mom,
I love you and goodbye.

Yes touching and all that. Or ridiculously over-the-top sentimental and terrible. But here is the point.
I started to drive away, mom,
But as I pulled onto the road,
The other car didn't see me, mom,
And hit me like a load.

It seems like the drunk guy had the right of way. Note that he didn't swerve into the wrong lane "the other car didn't see me", implying that this personified intoxicated automobile just continued going straight. If this sober guy was pulling into the road, and hadn't started going yet, he was not yielding to traffic already on the road, thus driving unsafely. His precious mom should have taught him to YIELD TO MOTHERFUCKING TRAFFIC ALREADY ON THE ROAD!

Florida has an "Office of Right of Way". I have no idea what the hell their mission statement means, but apparently they are concerned with more than just determining when to yield right of way.

However, this organization, does address the problem of this poor sap. And they have some relevant information: Right-of-way violations were responsible for more non-fatal injury accidents in 2002 than any other improper driving behavior. . That's right. More than the drunk guy. Yeah.

Even people in New York realize that this guy was wrong. "A vehicle entering a roadway from a driveway, alley, private road or any other place that is not a roadway must stop and yield the right of way to traffic on the roadway, and to pedestrians. "

Yeah. So don't be a dumbass. There's more than one car in every accident that involves more than one car, and that is a fact. Also, there's almost always more than one driver. So while Mr. Drunkenstein shouldn't have been drunk, Mr. Sodaberg should have yielded the right of way.

And if he had done so we would not have had to read his poem.

Even though the poem was not written by the same guy who died in the crash, if there was such a guy.

Because you would have more pressing problems than bad poetry if you were dying.
Note: I just realized the speaker is a GIRL not a GUY. Replace all gender-related references to the speaker in the poem with the female form. Also note that though she was bleeding after the crash, she was already bleeding every once in a while before it. Because she was a female. And females menstruate. This also explains why she can't drive...

...because she's dead. Thought I was gonna say because she was a woman. Nope. That's why she couldn't drive when she was alive

Susan Von Buran Part II (of how many?)

So Susan did what she thought was natural for a woman of her stature. She got up, and, at 5:30 in the morning, walked through the house until she found her servant sitting in the courtyard, threw a teapot from the balcony and yelled “you’re fired!” The phrase “you’re fired” had not yet been trademarked, and to her its meaning lay in the two words rather than in its allusion to a popular T.V. show: The contraction “you’re” denoted that she was talking both to and about Fanny May, and the word “fired” meant that Fanny no longer was employed by Susan. This, as the reader may recall, is something Fanny had been trying to do for her whole life, so she jumped at the opportunity, but only after she jumped out of her seat and dove into the bushes, so her joyous exit, forever, from the house of Susan Von Buran was slightly tainted by scratches on her skin and twigs in her clothing. Luckily, Susan had a terrible arm, and the teapot went about 4 feet forward towards Fanny, 3 feet to the right, and 20 feet down onto a rock, 3 feet left and and 2 down off the rock, and 1 foot backwards and 8 straight down to the bottom of the pond. Two feet left the floor of the balcony for four fifths of a second, followed by a scream. The teapot was made of solid gold.

Woman's Story Part I

Susan Von Buran yelled to her servant lady to pour her some tea. Her servant’s name was Fanny May. She liked the concept of being in control of one of the most powerful businesses in the world, let alone on Wisconsin avenue, even if it was in reality just a middle-aged black woman that “the old bitch’s racist ass”, to use the five-word pronoun that Fanny used for her boss, hired with the help of four British attorneys who ensured that the woman was financially unable to quit. Fanny, though too tired and realistic to correct the old woman, was very smart, smarter than Susan, and smart enough to know that Susan, lying facedown on her gilded four-post bed with her face in a duck-down pillow, really had no use for tea, and would not be rising for another hour or so. Fanny went outside and did what she believed any servant who had to deal with such an insufferable bitch would do – she went outside and helped herself to a joint, telling herself that life is a bitch and then you die, which was why she got high.

Inside, Susan had, for once in her life, something that she actually had to do that morning, and, extremely uncharacteristically, got out of her bed. While she always woke up early, five-o’-clock-yell-at-Fanny-to-get-her-breakfast early, she was usually not actually walking around until seven. She often had big causes for society. Her cause today was a campaign against food. Perhaps that phrasing is overly dramatic, and unfair to Ms. Von Buran. Her campaign, more specifically, was against “those things ingested by humans which contain calories or smoke of any form”, so it was really a campaign against eating anything substantial, drinking anything but water and minerals, and smoking. She had determined that since so many harmful health problems stemmed from the ingestion of various things, it was best to restrict them from ever being sold to anyone. So she wished to have her tea, with no sugar, as sugar contained calories, and no heat, as heat produces steam, which Susan Von Buran considered a type of smoke. However, she could not get her tea without the help of Fanny May, and Fanny May was outside in the courtyard, blatantly violating the very guidelines she wished to impose against the ingestion of heated particulates.

This Woman

She has a story. Find out what it is soon.

Sorry, DCo, couldn't do it yesterday because I was not at my house.

Literary Terms Homework

1. Solovenue – Third person narrative that always follows one character, so that while it is third person the viewpoints the readers are aware of are largely or only those of one main character.

e.g.
1984 by George Orwell

2. Vielo Fuentes – A form of poetry with a different number of syllables in each line. Named for Ricardo Fuentes of Venezuela.

e.g.

The Hawk
By Randolph Davis

Quiet it flies
Strong, silent, smooth
Calm, cool
Searching the fields for mice and rats in the grass
Now
It drops suddenly
Spreads its talons
And kills!

3. Minemocí – The use of a whole group to represent one.

e.g.

“The U.S. Government said the aggression would not stand” in reference to a statement by the President.

4. Radactony – An arrogant speech implying that the listener is naïve and the speaker more enlightened.

e.g. Randall Marsh’s “Farmers in a University” speech is considered by many to be a radactony against those not scientifically inclined.

5. Vestizient – One supporting the school of thought that claims all writing is, on a deeper level, about sex.

e.g. Dr. Stephen Kloc, a student of Sigmund Freud

6. mer abris – A moment in a story in which a character recalls a lesson learned earlier in the story.

e.g. in Nabakov’s Roshkla, when Sergei remembers what his uncle told him about the insecurity of genius to defeat the chess grandmaster.

7. Ente marso – A paragraph beginning with many declarative sentences and finishing with two or more interrogative sentences.

e.g.

He walked down the street, fumbling in his pocket for something. He withdrew the pipe and held it in his teeth, his hands fumbling with the cheap lighter, a BIC, evidently. As the rain increased, he had to lean so his wide brimmed hat prevented the pipe from being extinguished. What was he smoking? Where was he going?

The Time I Was Really High

Let me tell you about a time I was extremely high. I was lying on the couch reading Huckleberry Finn, and this voice kept saying the words on the page over and over again, each time they were repeated there was a greater sense of urgency in the tone, and it was louder. Scary shit. Then my mom was there with some food and I talked to her, but she dissappeared, and she never had been there. This was all high off of sickness. I had a 104.3 degree fever.