WE'VE MOVED TO MASTERBASTARD.COM!!! Shit! Hurry up and get there!
Hey, internet. It's Hamtackle here. I just wanted to take a few moments to be completely honest with you at one of my weakest moments. The lucky few that are already acquainted with me know that I have mild insomnia, and in the past two nights I managed three hours of sleep two nights ago and zero last night. And I currently have my alarm set to go off in seven hours and I don't have high hopes for getting much needed rest tonight, either.
In my admittedly delusional state I have decided to throw a few basic observations and blanket judgements about you. Not just those of you I have met, but all of you.
Firstly, far too few of you are attractive enough to bother turning my head to make eye contact with. And before you say "But Hamtackle, YOU are just a miserable, ugly fatass yourself!" let me stop you there. This isn't about me, so get your fucking foot off of my soapbox. Anymore, the only people who get my attention are the freakishly obese or disabled, the people that you just know are going to hurt themselves or others at any moment, and I don't want to miss the action.
And the minority that are attractive are only worth looking at, not engaging in any kind of meaningful conversation. I work at a facility with nearly 700 other individuals and the statistically insignificant amount of physically pleasant-looking people are the types that they invented sporks for. They are too dumb to be trusted with anything sharp enough to cause significant injury. So if you consider yourself smart, you are repulsive. And if you consider yourself attractive, you are stupid. And self-absorbed/vain.
And for those that I might encounter one day and regrettably make momentary eye contact with, if I smile at you there is a 100% chance that I already hate you. A smile is my way of dismissing you from further interaction. This should be made more obvious by my immediate effort to find something at hand to pay attention to, thus assuring you will walk away without so much as verbal pleasantries.
So please leave me alone, unless you notice I am actively on fire, in which case I would appreciate a liberal splash of gasoline to put us both out of my misery. Now that I have this off my chest I am going to try to sleep. I have a team of fourteen people to supervise tomorrow, and it is going to take a significant amount of personal effort to maintain the ruse that I don't secretly wish to receive a phone call some day explaining that they will not be returning to work due to personal heartbreak, tragedy, or demise at the hands of ritual-driven urban neo-cannibals.
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Laurie the ordinary clown looked down over the railing on her balcony into her neighbor's kiddie pool full of picked assholes and cocktail olives. She was faced with the simple truth that she was a living failure. In a world filled with crazy, wild, and unique clowns she was decidedly regular, a normal person surrounded by abstract fools.
She didn't even have a clown name. Only Laurie.
In school the other clown children laughed at her when she actually ate her pies at lunch instead of throwing them at the other students. And when she graduated they mocked her as she took up accounting at the family circus firm. Accounting was for the mentally disabled clowns, not a twenty-one year old clown college graduate.
She couldn't find any dates, because the boy clowns didn't like a girl who didn't wear makeup or giant shoes. And her figure was average and regular, not freakishly fat or thin, like the rest of the clowns. She didn't fart or fall down stairs on purpose. When she cried there was no theatrical wailing, no projectile tears comically arching over her twisted face, just a hunched sadness and rhythmic sobbing.
She tried to be a proper clown.
One time she wore her underwear on her head, but they didn't laugh. At her brother's wedding she drank a full glass of pig piss, but they seemed disgusted. Maybe she didn't have what it takes to be strange and funny. So she decided the last laugh could be her final act. A suicide worth laughing at.
So she got a giant balloon. And a helium tank. And two hundred feet of plastic tubing. After spending four days slowly working the balloon into her colon, inch by inch, until it was fully insider her, she attached the plastic tubing to the tank nozzle and climbed onto her roof.
"Come one, come all! It's a sight to behold! The most hilarious demise, pure comedy gold!"
She shouted so loudly that her neighbors all came to take in the sight, soon they lined the streets and cheered her on. When the nozzle was turned she grew immediately bloated, her eyes pushing from her sockets, her pants splitting and guts spraying from her exposed buttocks. She grew airborne, ever more spherical, a giant bloody balloon of wasted human life.
But no one was laughing. No one was crying. In fact, no one was even there. Because Laurie the ordinary clown was inside her one bedroom apartment. She wasn't a clown. She wasn't named Laurie. She was actually a he. Gerald was a data entry specialist and part-time bus driver in Maine, and the balloon was a noose tied to the ceiling fan in his living room.
Take insanity seriously, you callous fuck.
Tonight the whole Master Bastard crew went out for a group man-date to see national treasure Doug Stanhope in a shitty tinderbox fire hazard comedy club. And it was amazing. You wont get much out of me tonight, so I figured I would share the signed poster Sir Chapsworth so generously gave to the group to commemorate the occasion, and offer some out of context punchlines from the show. Enjoy!
"It looked like a cyclops winking in the rain, a single milky teardrop running down the taint"
"Any pure race is fucking hideous. Seriously, what is the name of your favorite aboriginal porn actress?"
"She took it in the ass like YOU would if you didn't know it was coming!"
"She had one of those stereroid man-clits that stuck out like a clam neck"
"I jizzed some clumpy, yellow old man cum that disn't even make it past my knuckle"
And there were so many more. If you ever get a chance to get offended by him in person, I would highly advise taking it. He is a very gracious and diminutive man, and kindly answered Terlet's request to give our podcast a quick radio spot. For free! Details to come on an upcoming Master Bastard podcast!
I wanted to see just how far I could get into an awkward conversation on the anonymous chat website, Omegle. The answer is... Not very far.
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| First fail. Of many. |
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| Getting closer... |
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| They can only take so much. |
Well, that's about enough fun for tonight, folks. I have to go. Someone is knocking on my door REAL hard. It might be an emergency or something.
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