Snow Globes! YAY!

Hello, and welcome to another episode of What Really Chaffs My Nuts. Due to school, work, and a sick kid, I have fallen behind, so I will be doing something special. I'll be posting all of my older christmas posts. Some of those will be from my older blog "Dirty Filthy Snuff", so to all you new readers, now you can enjoy my earlier work in all it's immature 

Now it's time for "What Really Chaffs My Nuts". What really chaffs my nuts are snow globes.

 Yes, those round glass spheres filled with water that contains white particles that represent snow and some kind of festive scene, or land mark. I mean I understand the craftsmanship needed to construct a snow globe, but in all sincerity the last thing I really want besides, for example, a shot glass for a fucking city bought at some cheesy Sauveur shop at the airport, is some deceiving winter wonderland that I create when shaking a globe of glass that ends in a damn minute when the "snow" settles to the bottom. The falseness that makes my childhood dream of meeting  "Frosty The Snowman" seem real until the music box stops playing, and it's time to shake the fucking globe again. And the damn corniness of it, just makes me want to beat the glass blower in the head with the globe until he actually believes he's in it. Or even worse, the fact that they have become so cliche' that now their being mass produced by sweat shop workers in Chinatown who are taking a brake from pushing out all of Martha Stewart's products. Those ones are made of cheap plastic; so cheap that you gotta be careful where you put it or the heat from the living room lamp will melt it. And once it leaks it nearly kills you because it's not fuckin' water but instead ether or wood alcohol, or some water from some polluted river like the Hudson. You touch it and you begin to hallucinate, learn the meaning of life after meeting god. I guess that would probably happen if you drank the water from the small world ride, and by the way what the hell is up with that fucking ride? 

It's old as dirt, what fun is it? And have you ever noticed that there aren't any Jews singing? 

See, they got everything; every race, and ethnicity, but no singing Israelis. A little bigoted? Yes? No? I think yes.

Anyway that's what snow globes are, their like those bottles of water that have blue oil in them that are supposed to resembled the ocean, the ones that have the plastic little suffer in it. When you move the the bottle the oil moves like what is supposed a wave, and some how the little suffer is going to ride the wave. What happens is the little surfer flips upside down never actually touching the fucking oil. One thing, and that is that it can be said it's a hell of a fucking way to pass the motherfucking time. It hypnotizes you into this state similar to the P.O.W.'s in the "Manchurian Candidate. In fact if it weren't for the little plastic fucking surfer, you couldn't be coresered into doing anything. With the plastic man bouncing around hypnotically, it's like a swinging pocket watch. The thing that really sucks is the ones that are made out of those clear plastic draw string bags that by the time you get home has leaked so that the inside of your luggage looks like an Alaskan oil spill. And why the hell do we need to buy souviors? Why would I want a fucking plastic snow globe of the Eiffel Tower(a gigantic french erector set) that the particles are made to look like birds when shaken? What the fuck is the point of the fucking Eiffel Tower?

 Is there any other purpose than to just look like an avant-garde mistake? Did they run outta fucking building materials? Is that why they hang lights on it, to give it some substance? Anyway, as pretty as a snow globe maybe a wonderful winter wonderland, it's just that a winter wonderland suspended in time, so when you shake it up you become memorized by the beauty, and the wonderment of the season represented by the floating snow suspended in time for a brief moment. And then all the snow settles to the bottom, then the face of that ugly lapdog you never wanted, but your girlfriend demanded you get, looks at you through the snow globe magnifying it's face, scaring the shit out of you causing you to drop the decoration and it shaters. And while your happy the lie is dead, you still die a little more inside.

Happy Holidays!

Until next time, 

Lou Ford

Disgusted!

You know what really chaffs my nuts? Do you know what really chaffs my nuts is the recent Ohio State Attack, and other acts of terror. The  attacker, a Somali man, had used  his car to run students down before jumping out, and stabbing people with a knife. ISIS has now claimed that the murderer, Abdul Razak  Ali Artan, was a soldier of theirs.

Fuck you extremist!

 It's because of actions like that that result in everyone suffering. Moderate Muslims suffer due to the fear of harm, and everyone else suffers because of that violence and the terror, and the rage it causes. Because of this shit we have become more divided as a nation than we  have in decades. As an American Muslim I am disgusted by this disgraceful bullshit and the harm it will continue to cause. What is even worse is that if our current President elect chooses to follow through with his many campaign promises then I fear shit is going to get worse.

 So thank you extremists for FUCKING EVERYTHING UP! Thank you for dividing us even more than we already are. AND FUCK YOU FOR THE KILLS, AND VIOLENCE. FUCK YOU FOR THE FOR THE VICTIMS OF YOUR VIOLENCE. AND FUCK YOU FOR DESTROYING WHATEVER GOOD FOOTING MUSLIMS, MODERATE AND A LIKE, HAVE IN OUR NEIGHBORING NON-MUSLIM COMMUNITIES. Eat a big, gigantic, huge mule cock.


Until the next rash,


Lou Ford

FIN

God's Powder Puffs

It's the holiday season, YAY! In my rants I usually talk about things that really grind my gears. In this case it would be things like the fact that stores have already started to put out Christmas shit. In fact they had started doing that in august. Seriously, August. There is the fact that Thanksgiving traditions are absolutely worth fuck all. Yup, and just like the blankets laced with smallpox we've been wrapped in lies. And then there is the death match that is Black Friday where the douchiest of the douches fight over a no name flat screen TV at BestBuy. Those things just really chaff my nuts. 

I could spew venom about all that but instead, per request; I am going to discuss something that fills me with joy. Something furry, fuzzy-wazzy, and cuddly. No, I’m talking about Steve Carell. Well actually he's not really cuddly, but he is one hairy ass bastard. I'm talking about tiny kitty cats. 

Have you ever seen something so cutie and adorable that it actually fills you with disdain? Have you ever seen something so lovable that you wanted to kick a field go with it? Well that is what I will be going over here, so without further delay let's begin. Kittens.

Kittens.

Rage full joy, and God's powder puffs. 

To begin, as I have done before, I'm gonna tell you a little bit about those wonderful cushy fur balls other wise know as kitties. So, this time look at the time line, take your finger and go back to ancient Egypt. Most historians believe that was the first place where cats were domesticated. There in the land of the Nile, and gauze wrapped human jerky, cats were worshipped. The felines were seen as being associated with the goddess Bastet. 

All Hail Mittens!

She was the goddess of cats, protection, joy, family and love. They were believed to be holy, so holy that they'd been mummified as well. That was a privilege that was practiced by those with means and importance. Basically it was like kneeling before Mr. Mittens who was too busy playing with a ball of yarn to give a shit. Then Mr. Mittens would do that really creepy thing that all cats do which is to start licking himself from the crotch down to the tip of his hind legs partially because he can. He also does it to make you shiver a little while his shows more interest in getting a future hairball than you. Cats, like three year olds, are assholes. Mine is, and if you have a cat you know that they're fluffy balls of affectionate douchebaggery. 

Cats have always held a special place of some kind in mythology, and folklore. In Japan for instance there was the maneki-neko cat, which was a symbol of good fortune. The Norse goddess of love and fertility, Frayja, was depicted riding in a chariot drawn by cats. Muslims see the animals as being special too. While it wasn't written in the Quran , there are legends about how much Muhammad loved cats. In other words he was that girlfriend who cared more about her pets than the status of your actual relationship. If you were bleeding to death, and her cat needed flea medication you could bet your right nut Buttons would be tick and flea free. 

Rage full joy, and god's powder puffs. 

Now on the Time line we come to the point where cats became associated with evil, and as a result were killed by the thousands. This period was the English and Scottish witch trails where cats along with other animals were seen as guides, or assistants to witches. 

That would be other wise know as a familiars. While this is some bulls shit I do have to say that when I wake up in the middle of the night to my cat watching me sleep I want nothing more than a restraining order. Then he purrs and everything is OK. He is plotting something though I know it. 

Now I love kitties. They just make me so happy. The peace and servility they bring me is unequal to just about any thing in the world except kicking a used car salesmen in the nuts. Those dudes are horrible, terrible humans who deserve it. Then again punching a mall Santa would feel just as good. I got a kid, and taking her to mall to wait in line, sit on a fat middle aged man's lap and have her picture taken isn't in the spirit of the holiday. It's creep, and it's one of the reasons why Ambler alerts exist. The only thing creeper is a white van with the words free candy spray-painted sloppy on the side. Any way, when I got my cat he was this snuggly Small thing with these gigantic paws. They were like snow shoes. He was the talker of the bunch, and made the sweetest meows that you would ever hear. Of course the catch with that was that he would never shut the hell up. He'd talk and talk and talk. Hell, he'd use the litter box, and he'd still be talking. While he was a talkative lit' bastard he talked mainly to me. That was due to the fact that I had basically raised him. My wife had this old maid, if you will, of a cat that while affectionate was only a lovey to my wife. Anyone else would loose a fucking hand. It was like sticking your hand in a fuzzy, snuggly meat grinder. You'd stick out your fingers, there'd be a hiss, and you'd pull back with a bloody stump. You'd be run around screaming like a fuckin' banshee, holding your wound as the blood spurted out all the while the pussy cat would be licking her paws. 

My wife's cat.

My little homie, who was named K.C., not the name, but the letters, was my shadow. He was my lovable sidekick with a fluffy tail. The initials represented kitty cat in case you were wondering.  Now despite being a sweetie he was slick too. He'd find all kinds of ways to sneak out of the house, and these ways were ninja style methods. He'd climb up a piece of furniture then leap off and out before you close the door for work.  I’d discover he was gone, curse him out then when he’d come back he’d look at me with such cutie eyes ,and I’d melt. That said, as I had mentioned before he is a dick. 

When my wife's cat died, my cat did everything short of cracking open a bottle champagne and snorting lines off of a hooker's breasts to celebrate.   He had no competition, and the attention would be his. If he had opposable thumbs I'm sure he would have done it. Who would have thought that opposable thumbs would be so important for performing simple yet vital tasks like writing, using tools and masturbating. 

Still K.C. was always there, in an assholish way of course, when I needed him. I love kitties for that reason they love ya, but it similar to the love of a father who is in secure in his masculinity and has some major sexual identity issues. My cat would basically give you a hug per say and push you away awkwardly before he'd actual feel feels. That could also possibly make him Irish Catholic, lower middle class Irish Catholic.  Nevertheless he was and is my friend. I love his independent, and his friendship and his humorous dick head ways. He is one of my best friends, and that's embarrassing, it almost as bad as the slowly progression into the lonely socially inept status of an extreme animal lover. The kind of person that finds animals to be better than people so why not have a whole house full of they. Why not be a cat lady. Who cares if they spray and piss everywhere because they understand you better than any real person ever will. Tell yourself that when the solution might be a therapist and antidepressants. The solution could also be alcoholism and drug addiction. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that as much as I may punch myself in the face for it, I love god's powder puffs. They fill me with rage full joy, the best kind of joy. 


Until the next rash,



Lou Ford

FIN

Love for Limps

LOVE FOR LIMBS

You know what rubs me the wrong way? Diamonds. Yes, those sparkly little pieces of carbon that come from the earth, and are seen as being the epitome of true love. But the prettiness is not the issue; it's the fact that we pay so much for something that is absolutely worthless. That's right they are completely and utterly worthless. Keeping that in mind I want you to do something for me, think about a used Honda Civic. Yes, while I'm reading this keep that in the back of your brain. 

Love for limbs.

See, now is what jewelry stores are calling "engagement season" which isn't even a real thing, but with the holidays gifts of love are more expected. What I mean is that with this being the season of giving it means more expensive presents are wanted. Plus what is more romantic than proposing during the holidays. It's love. That's right, now more than ever diamonds are forever, and every kiss begins with Kay. And it doesn't matter where it happens as the commercials indicate. Hell, it could be in a war zone with bombs going off, small arms fire, screaming and blood. A dude could propose there and whala, it's magic. And if one of them gets a limb blown off their love, represented by the diamond, would over come all. Why? Because diamonds are forever, and hell he liked it so much he decided to put a ring on it, so who cares. But see here's the thing folks, diamonds aren't rare, and the only reason they're expensive is because De Beers, a Belgium diamond corporation/cartel, has a monopoly on the mining industry. If it still isn't clear just look at it like this and you'll understand. Diamonds are basically like a Kardashian; sure they may be pretty, glimmer, and produce the occasional spark of brilliance, but ultimately their soulless, vapid, and basically worthless. Just to be clear, they are not a good investment because they're worth fuck all. 

Now in order to understand this we're gonna have to go back in time.  So everybody jump into the DeLorean cause here we go. When diamonds were first discovered they were pretty, and mankind was attracted to them like a yellow lab or a moron are to a shiny red balls. One reason why is because at that time they were rare. Moving further up the time line diamonds were still valuable but were never seen as a requirement for marriage. Then in the 1920's De Beers decided "hey, what the fuck. Let's get rich". They launched what was basically the most successful ad campaign in history. They plastered signs everywhere telling men that if they didn't buy a diamond ring then they were pencil dicked dandiepoofs. They said the same to women about their men. Basically those Belgium bastards had firm gripped on to our nut sacks while they whispered seductively into our ears. All the while they were ripping off mineral rich 3rd world nations. Think about that used Honda Civic. 

Now we'll fast forward to 1975. The place is Africa. I'm gonna ask you to forgive me in advance for what I'm about to say. Africa, the land that god has forgotten, we'll accept for Bono. Bono remembers. See due to colonialism, and being mineral rich most of the regions are unstable in someway. Angolan is the first real notable instance where diamonds played a very controversial roll. During that 27 year long war the rebel group known as UNITA had sold about 3 billion dollars worth of diamonds to De Beers which was used to fund the conflict. In fact just as a side note everyone's cell phone and computer contains elements that came from a conflict region, like the Democratic Republic of Congo, where a bloody war was fought and may still be for control of the resource. So everybody at some point take out your cell phones and fell guilty. Moving on.

Think about that Honda Civic cause we're gonna be getting to it.

Oh, and don't worry this will all come back around. It's a circle jerk of history that will prove my point when we get to the money shot. 

We'll fast-forward a little more to the conflict that really brought the "blood diamond issue into the public eye. This is the era that I like to call love for limbs. It's the civil war that spawned the magnificent film Blood Diamond starring Jennifer Connolly and Leonardo DeCapreio. Ah Leo, love that man. But seriously this was a the first time that the public was really aware, and in typical Western it's too far away to affect me fashion we just didn't give a fuck. The conflict I'm talking about is the Sierra Leone civil war. That was a war that involved two countries in particular Sierra Leone and Liberia. 

A Sierra Leon was already a country that was in civil unrest when it became a hellhole. Rebel forces know as the RUF fought the government for among other things control of the mines. The nation of Liberia lead by the president Charles Taylor supported the RUF for among other things money. Charles Taylor is this well educated major dick that could be best described as a warlord professor. He'd give s lecture, and if you weren't paying attention he'd lop off an arm. 

That war breed long sleeve and short sleeve amputations and child soldiers. Yup drugged up AK wheeled, RPG firing 6 years. It was kinda like Children Of The Corn only Rambo style. Oh, and long sleeve short sleeve amputations was having either a hand chopped off at the wrist, or the arm at the elbow. It kinda was the victim’s choice.  That is why I called it loves for limbs. Just think of it in the same terms as one of those stuffed animals whose tag reads, “For everyone bought an animal is saved”.  Now while that was happening De Beers was buying uncut stones like they were going out of style. Then after stock piling the shit they'd control the flow on the market and jack up the prices. In short, after violence, blood shed, slave labor, bombings and amputations. After forced displacement, the use of mercenaries, the physical and emotion crumpling of an entire society. After greed, and the need for a symbol of immortal love we have the nations of Sierra Leone, Liberia, and the engagement ring. And who do we blame for this flay of fuck destruction? White people. That's right white people feel guilty. Just kidding. Seriously thought, ain’t love grand? 

So what's the point of all this shit? Well here is where the circle jerk comes full circle. The money shot is about to premiere. Just keep the Honda Civic in mind. 

Now I know that some of you are thinking who cares because that conflict is over, or it's not bothering me. Many are thinking does it even matter if we don't even know where Sierra Leone? Some of you are probably thinking that happened all the way cross the world, or that's capitalism. Some dudes might even say last Christmas they got some good head because of a diamond jewelry. They were on the naughty list for a good reason if you know what I mean. That's cool; the whole compassion for human suffering due to greed deal just ain't some people's thing. I mean that’s what happened, the west wanted pretty stones from the earth and De Beers has done that at any cost. Fine, then here’s what I guess you could call the money shot. 

So how about this, remember the used Honda Civic. When you look up the value of a used Honda Civic, let's say a 2000 that's in a good condition. You'll find that it's worth 1,900 give or take, but the diamond on the other hand not so much. Go take a diamond ring, any piece of diamond jewelry and try to resell it. Just try it as an experiment and see what happens. You know what you'll find out? You'll discover that if you're lucky maybe you'll get a grand. In other words something that costs 4-6 thousand depreciates so much in value that you probably couldn't use it to cover the cost of the damage of getting your car keyed. The used Honda Civics’ value would cover that cost. Yup, a 16-year-old rice burner holds more value than that supposed symbol of eternal love. In other words you got fucked.  So remember while ever kiss begins with Kay, one of those kisses maybe you kissing your parents ass so you can live in their basement while you get your shit together. 

It’s love for limbs.

Ain't love grand? 

Until the next rash,

Lou Ford

FIN 

Copyright © Andrew Bruce 2016

I'm so upset!

Hey, and welcome to another episode of What Really Chaffs My Nuts. I have fallen behind on some of my posts, but I will be posting a written rant in the next week. Until then enjoy this short video rant. Then check me out on YouTube. Lou Ford is the name. 

Until the next rash, 

Lou Ford 

FIN

Audio rage!

Hey, what's up? This installment is not of rage, and bad news, but good news. The news is that my blog is now on Youtube. That's right, now you can hear my voice spew venom about all the shit that pisses me the hell off. Check out my first rant. Here is the link:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1XTxIKgH0wk.

Tell me what you think. If you enjoyed give it a like, and subscribe. And always remember, mimes are horrible people with no fuckin' souls.


Until the next rash,


Lou Ford

FIN

That Thing

You know what really chaffs my nuts? What really chaffs my nuts is when people use the word "thing" in a sentence to describe something. You know what I'm talking about, it's when someone is talking about a specific object or task but because the name of it has slipped their mind they use the word "thing". The result being that the sentence sounds like the most ambiguous thought ever expressed.

"Honey, we got to take care of that thing today."

"What thing?"

My wife would respond "That thing to straighten out that other thing?”

"Wha ..."

Nothing's better than when one if us is trying to find our keys, and the other knows exactly where they are but can't remember the actual word.

"Where are my keys?"

The response "On the thing?"

 "What thing?" 

"The thing by the door."

"Do you mean the desk?" One of us would ask.

"Yes."

"It's not there."

The answer would then be, "Then it's on the other thing by the door".

What would result would be that seeker of the keys head thingy would explode splattering brain matter all over the thing that the thing was supposed to be in and/or on.

Basically the whole episode turns into a clusterfuck, and is more confusing than changing the ink for the printer at work, or the rules of cricket. The only thing worse than that is a Swedish art film. If you don't believe me than go find one and watch.  Go ahead and then tell me you get the plot or the point. If you tell me you do than you're a lying bastard and deserve to be kicked in the nuts because you don't. Nobody understands art films let alone Swedish ones.

The most annoying thing about the use of "thing" to describe a task or object is that we've been fed that "thing" bullshit for like almost a year. We've been fed it during this whole presidential election period. Remember this shit?

Trump is gonna do that thing to solve that thing. That's all he's got. No policies. It's like getting slightly more coherent drunk dialed phone call from an angry ex.

The other part that is just as bad is that Hillary basically uses the same sort of language.

Well she doesn't say it like that, but it basically means the same thing. 
Wait let me rephrase that; it could be interpreted that way. Still not using that tactically maneuver as blatantly does excuse it. She didn't do anything wrong. All those lost emails, and shit mean nothing. That isn't very comforting either. This shit could be compared to going to see a dentist that's has a few missing front teeth. I mean sure you're getting a tooth extracted, but do you really want him doing your work? No. If that motherfucker can't do it right for himself, how's he gonna do it right for you?

HE'S NOT! LOOK AT HIM!

HE FUCKING HILLBILLY CAN'T!

 If you went to see him he'd probably cause you to lose more teeth. I mean he's gotta be a hillbilly, right? Look at him? Even if he isn't we'll say he is for this. If he's a hillbilly then that means he probably would use crystal meth and/or oxy as Anesthesia because he's a hillbilly. What that would mean is that you end up like this.

Then before you know it the two of you are getting so twisted and tweaked that you decide to play operation on each other mouths, and when one of you flinches the other would make the buzzing sound. You'd make the sound obnoxiously like a fucktard.

Then the two of you would try to turn in your teeth to the tooth fairy for money. However, when the two of you don't find money under your pillow you'd go down to a mattress store where you'd harass the salesmen accusing him of muscling in on the tooth faerie's turf. Accusations would fly that the manager had killed the fairy to get her out of the way. Then as the meth hysteria peeks one of you would grab a bed sheet, drape it over your shoulders and flap your arms like wings screaming, "I'm the tooth fairy gimme your teeth".

The hallucinations becoming so bad the two of you would try to steal each other's gums. Not being too successful, the next logical (step for a tweaker) is that you two guys would try to grow back your teeth. Filling each other's mouths with soil, and then showering it with Miracle Grow. When that doesn't work (of course it wouldn't work, but in your maniac mind how could it not work, and now that it didn't you've lost your faith in humanity) the next choice is to till the earth. I mean your planting a crop of teeth. You're a damn farmer. Wait is everyone confused? Me too. I’m so lost in the metaphor I lost sight of the plot line.

The point is that it is already annoying as fuck when someone in everyday life pulls that shit, but when I got two possible presidential candidates who use the term "thing" it pisses me off. If they do that then my douche meter goes off the charts. In other words in some form we are fucked. Why? Hillary is making history as being the first woman nominated, despite the fact that she is intelligent, and has experience all while rockin' a sophisticated mullet, there is that email thing. It's a tad bite unsettling. That being said a bigoted, tiny-fingered cup of used tanner from the cast of the JERSEY SHORE is a frightening choice. The idea that a platinum blonde, fact bending self-imploding canister of Agent Orange is the only other option is like getting kicked in the nuts after having your eyes gouged out. Or maybe being punched in the throat? Which is worse, a punch to the throat or an eye gouged out? Whatever one’s it, that's the one.

In all honesty, and I have tried to be an equal opportunity hater, I am leaning way toward Hilary if for no other reason than the fact that she has experience and that she doesn't use anonymous, abstract, and ambiguous explanations as solutions for problems. If I want to hear that I can have my wife describe something when she's having a brain fart, or me for that matter. I don't want to hear about that thing that's gonna take care of that other thing that will make the nation great again. With that I will leave you.

Until the next rash,

Lou Ford.