Subway Shoves

I thought, no I hoped I would never again have to write about another coward shoving an innocent person onto the subway tracks, no, not ever again, THIS YEAR!!; but here I am. A poor guy from Queens, NY was cowardly pushed onto the subway tracks by a homicidal, racist, scumbag loser, Erica Menendez. This has been a banner year for cowards and Psychos, I say cancel all New Years "celebrations" and let's just take a day to reflect on all the awfulness of 2012. I'll tell you a quick story years ago when I lived in NY, I was a wide eyed, happy go lucky, idiot. I used to stand on the yellow line of the subway, look down the tunnel like a jackass, and presume everything was fine, and that my looking would somehow magically make the train appear, until one day. As a gawked down the tracks I was approached by a homeless black man, he very calmly asked to talk to me, assuming he just wanted the usual buck and earful of pity, I obliged. He ushered me to the wall of the subway and told me, "D.T.A" I said what's that? he said, "don't trust anyone" he then explained to me that he saw me rubbernecking over the tracks and that I'm not to do that. He said keep your back to the wall at all times, don't let anyone get behind you, "they'll push you over!" I offered him a dollar, he declined. He turned down my dollar; but I NEVER forgot his words, to the nameless homeless man I learned from in 2003, THANK YOU!

The Gift

For a month now, a gift has sat under the Christmas Tree of the Reardon family. It measures 1ft by 1ft, weighs about 5lbs, is wrapped in the most beautiful metallic green paper, tied up with red ribbon on all four sides, and topped off with a red bow, the gift, by all means,is beautiful. The inscription on the card reads, "To: Robbie" and nothing more. Robbie Reardon is the youngest child of five in the Reardon home, he's fair haired, well spirited, and kind. He has a broad imagination, well-liked by his siblings, and sweet all around, he has no idea what's in the gift or who sent it to him. The Reardon family is a struggling bunch, five children, one parent, not much income, the holidays were mostly a reminder of what they have not, rather than what they have. However, this year they have "the gift", and no one not even Mrs. Reardon knew who had sent this beautiful gift to her son, Robbie, and that was the mystery and joy of "the gift". So, every day from December 1st to December 25th, Robbie would descend the stairs, greet his Mother and siblings, have breakfast, then sit under the tree, wide eyed and full grinded pondering at what could possibly be inside this beautiful gift. His mind would wander; perhaps it's the robots he saw on TV, or maybe the soldier toy's he so coveted, or the game station all the other kids had, perhaps. However, Robbie was pure in heart and was only selfish for a moment or two; because every day a sibling would sit with Robbie and take in his excitement and joy and Robbie would ask again, and imagine. Is it possible it's the bake oven my sister wants and we can make brownies together? Is it a paint set my brother asked for, and my brother and I can do art together? Is it a football, and my brother and I can play together? Is it a tea set, and my sister and I can have tea together? Is it a new job for my Mom and we can be happy again? His mind raced with delight at all these thoughts, he beamed with excitement! Robbie never stopped wishing or wondering what it could be, for the long month he pondered over "the gifts" contents, and on December 25th he would have his answer. Robbie descended the stairs, greeted his mother and siblings, had breakfast and sat under the tree. His siblings opened their gifts with haste, as Robbie watched on. His eldest sister received a pair of nylons and a note pad, his brother a pen and pencil set, his brother, a tennis ball, his sister, a bible, and his mother a coffee mug. As all eyes turned to Robbie holding the most beautiful, wonderful gift in the world! He looked back at his mother and siblings, with their smiling faces, so happy and anxious for Robbie to open his beautiful present. He then, took a long pause, and a deep breath, placed the unopened "gift" back under the tree. Robbie then stated: "This gift has given me more than I could have ever asked for, and I don't care what's in it".

Newtown

I've been careful about this one, careful not to get too emotional, careful not to overstep my boundaries, careful not to offend any of the victims or their families. I've been asked to say something since it happened. I'll say this, "Be Careful".

Home for the Holidays, 2006

Deacon's flight arrives two days early, he worked through the weekend closing all the deals on his agenda so he could spend some time with his wife and young son. The airport's a mess with holiday travelers, the lost luggage, the delays, the impatience of the holiday season, Deacon's too selfless to put anyone through that, so he decides to take a cab. The cab pulls up to his house around 8:53pm, he pays the driver, adds a large tip and wishes him "Happy Holidays". There's a red Honda Accord parked outside his house, not unusual the neighbors may have company, their old but still have many friends and children. Deacon reaches for his key to unlock the door as he places his hand on the knob he realizes it's unlocked. He enters the house, his young son is alone in a dark living room watching cartoons, the TV is very loud. "Daddy!" The child shouts and runs to Deacon, they embrace like only a father and son can and as he looks down at his boy a tear nearly escapes Deacon's eye as he gets lost in the love of his son. Where's your mother?" the boy sheepishly points to the bedroom. "She's asleep?" the boy shakes his head "no", "is she sick?" again the boy gestures "no". Deacon begins to see as if for the first time, strange car key's on the table, an empty rocks glass, the heavy smell of steak and bourbon. "She's playing daddy, she's playing with her friend Michael; but it's a secret... don't tell"

America to White people "Stop trying to have fun!"

A sorority at Penn State had a party, the girls wore sombrero's and mustaches, they asked for beer and weed (traditional American party favors) now they are labeled as racists... enough is enough! It was a themed party!! What the hell is wrong with dressing like a  stereotypical Mexican and partying down? Oh that's right it's a Latino and we can't do anything to offend a "minority" white people don't know anything about being offended. This mentality is twisted and pathetic, stop looking to cry about something and toughen up and have fun. This country is a joke all we do is whine and scream racist! For all we know these girls might do charity work for "minority" causes their not racist there just trying to have a good time. In all likely hood they probably voted for Obama, well girls see what happens, you racists! Well that's it I'm officially cancelling St. Patrick's day this year, I'm so offended by seeing blacks, Latinos, Asians, dressed like "Typical" Irish people drinking and having fun it makes me sick! So that's it I've pulled the plug on good ole St. Patty, if Latinos had any respect they'd cancel cinco de Mayo.

Coward of the Country

Just when I thought Jovan Belcher was set to take the "Coward of the Year Award" a new man has thrown his hat in the ring. Meet  R. Umar Abbasi the "Freelance Photographer" who took the Macabre photo of Ki-Suck Han a second or so before he met his demise courtesy of the MTA Q train. This whole story is littered with enough cowards it makes my stomach turn, "Proud to American" more like embarrassed. Just think America, the murder who pushed the poor guy from behind, the onlookers who did nothing, and #1 asshole and "C.O.T.Y" nominee R. Umar Abbasi are all considered Americans, "Just like you." Well that ends today from now on I'm not like all Americans, I'm better. I'm braver, kinder, smarter, and believe it or not more modest. So from now on if I meet someone from another country I'll say Yes, I'm an American but I'm not like "those Americans" I'm a "Better American", nice to meet you. Seriously let's join together and start the "Better American" society I'm sick of being grouped in with this scum. In case you were wondering, of course Abbasi claims to have tried to help by "flashing his camera" that makes about as much sense as whistling, moron. Facts are facts you chose to line up a shot of a man about to perish and you wasted little time cashing in on the picture, your a sack of SHIT!! When you die I hope it's slow enough that someone can do an oil painting of it.

So now we can't say Gypsy?

If you come up to me and offer to read my fortune and I call you a Gypsy please don't call me a racist. By now we've all heard of the newest Lindsay Lohan beef, if you haven't turn on a TV, wait 5 minutes. I really don't want to give Lilo any more attention but for God's sake I'm with her on this one. Now I'm not super ignorant I know there are such things as Gypsies, travellers, scumbags, whatever you may call them but let's not let our bleeding hearts get in the way of what's fact, if it looks like a duck acts like a duck it's a duck.

Great Athlete, Great guy,... No, Murderer.

I don't like covering these stories just to be clear; but I don't like people singing the accolades of a murderer. If an accountant kills his wife no one says, "Dave, great guy really crushed those 1040's!" No they say he's a piece of shit murderer. Jovan Belcher was a tremendous athlete no one can argue that, a cool friend I don't know; but one thing I do know he's a murderer and there's no love lost for a murderer. It's hard to feel sorry for a guy with tremendous athletic skills, an awesome job, a huge salary, a relatively good looking man who kills a 22 year old girl. That's right he killed someone! Stop focusing on how many tackles he averaged and focus on the fact he's a murderer! And what's the girl’s story? Who is Kasandra Perkins? She might have been "A great teammate" to someone, she might have helped people, why is the media only focused on this guy? Where's the outrage over the victim? "What a shame, he was such a good athlete" if Kasandra Perkins were my sister I'd be saying "It's a good thing he off'd himself like a coward before I could get my hands on him and teach him pain." The MITB never hurt anyone, never got a break, I helped people, made them laugh and smile, and look at my fate! I'll be remembered as a weirdo in a basement, Jovan Belcher (the Murderer) will be remembered as an athletic savant, with a champion’s smile who, one day went a little crazy. Poor Kendra Perkins may she rest in peace leaves behind a child that will be fought over by family, taught how great and how awful her mom and dad were by respective families, and likely descend into madness. Society, I f'n hate you.

A fallen friend

A true friend is a rare find, no truer words were ever spoken. Deacon enters the funeral pallor, suede jacket, busted brown leather shoes. He goes unnoticed at first; but not before long the murmuring of "who is he?" "why is he here?" reaches his eardrums. Deacon ignores and gets in line to pay his respects. His mind wanders to thoughts of him and his friend, drinking beer, telling jokes, and chasing broads, better times indeed, he smiles; but only for a moment. As the line dwindles and Deacon gets to see his friend a final time, he goes blank. Staring down in the box he ponders, "why not me?" he takes the fallens hand in his, it's cold and lonely, Deacon disapproves but accepts, he places his hand upon the man's chest and it feels warm. "See you soon old friend?" Deacon asks, the corpse is unresponsive. "See you again, Brother?" In Deacons mind the corpse nods. He does his best to remain composed, and walks back through the crowd, angry, alone, jealous...

"Boys, don't grow up and become men"

Deacon Cassidy opens his eyes, he's outside, a small black boy is staring at him. "Hey mister, you ok? a feeling of panic and delirium engulf him, an old familiar feeling. He rises to his feet with help from the boy, "I'm ok" but it is apparent he is not, he quickly checks his face for blood, then searches himself for his wallet, it's gone, along with the rest of his dignity. He stoops down at a puddle to wash the vomit from his mouth, an electric shock of pain extends from his abdominal to the tip of his penis, a sad new feeling. He rises once again as if unseen forces hefted him on to their shoulders. He asks the boy "which way is North?", the boy shruggs his shoulders and points to the sky. Deacon pats the boy on the head whispers "thanks" and limps off to a place only he can find...

Toilet Water

Deacon Cassidy rolls out of bed, looks back at the shame stained sheets and exhales. He limps over to his shoddy dresser, opens the drawer and pulls out a $50, where he got it God only knows. He places the bill on the mattress and turns away from the whore. She collects the bill first, and then gets dressed in her rumpled evening gown. “Same time next week deac?” “Sure, but wear perfume, I miss the smell of perfume.”

NCAA 11

The MITB actually does have a friend... this surprises most people. Years ago I met a man, we didn't have much in common other than we hated similar things, I suppose that makes us friends. Anyway, he stops by the basement from time to time to see if I still breathe, brings offerings of alcohol, and sometimes we game.
Recently he brought by NCAA 11, a game about college football. The game is fun enough, running, passing, blocking etc. but what really tickles me is divulging myself in the Psyche of the game. You see my friend and I don't merely play the computer players, we play as humans in the role of the players. For instance we play as the 2nd string QB desperate to get some playing time so his ailing father can see him play just once before he expires. We play as the foreign kicker who just blew a 35yd field goal and is now concerned about deportation. We play as the hard luck running back from Mississippi who just blew his knee and his shot at a future with the NFL and buying his mom that house now linger in limbo. The alcoholic coach who can't connect with his son, the painkiller addicted Tight End, the homosexual fullback who's too scared to come out... the list goes on and on. Anyway, this is a fun game that's meant to be played with a friend or at least someone who can act like one for a couple hours, some men find friends in the foxhole, others in a basement.

Fondle me Elmo?

Don't tell me how to get to Sesame Street!! That's not the place I wanna go, bad things happen down there. Really shame on you Kevin Clash actually F- That I hope you die screaming Kevin Clash. If anyone knows the Man in the Basement (few do) they know he can't stand kid touchers, actually there are few people I CAN stand but a touchers brings my anger to outrageous levels, be they a religious figure, sports related, or a beloved CHILDREN'S icon!! Kevin Clash your a sick F*** and you'll get what's coming to you I hope; but let's not ignore the fact that someone must have seen, heard something and like always did nothing!! And I know exactly why, because he IS openly gay!! Yup, doesn't make sense right but sometimes in this f'd up world of ours it's harder to make molestation accusations against an openly gay person. People this is not a case of discrimination it's a case of abuse, the man in the basement is cool with homosexuality but if you touch a kid you should fry no matter what your orientation or alleged orientation. My beef (along with Clash) is with the entire Sesame Street organization, and the cowards who I'm sure saw, noticed, had a hunch this guy was up to something, and did nothing! They need to keep looking into this, this is just one layer of the onion. How long has this been going on how many other bodies are there? Sesame Street you have officially been banned by the Man in the Basement, Clash, you had your hand up a puppets ass for so long, now there's gonna be quite a few up yours.

Thoughts01

I wonder if anyone else is hoping the 2012 Mayan prophecy is true?

Do Native Americans celebrate Thanksgiving?

I think Snowmen are racist.

R.I.P Twinkie the Kid...

America has lost a hero... R.I.P Twinkie the Kid. An American junk food stable has said farewell to us, and 18,000 more Americans have said hello to unemployment; but that doesn't seem to be the story. Every time I put on the news it's some fat f*** talking about "Their taking my childhood!" your 43 your childhood is gone you overgrown man baby! This is sad how 18,000 human beings are put out of work, some who very well spent their entire life working in a Hostess factory and Twinkie the Kid is getting all the sympathy. Now, I want to be clear I have no beef with TTK I respect what the man has done and he should be proud of all the people he made smile. He is an American icon in every way even as going so far to get a guilty man a reduced sentence (see Twinkie defense) if that's not American what is. Sorry to see you go, 18,000 workers I'm sure many of you will be taking to basements very soon, pro tip: shave on a Thursday, you'll know why.

Quotes02

"Pacman ate ghosts, that's pretty badass" -MIB-

"Gay men make good friends, lesbians make good mechanics" -MIB-

"We're honest with our enemies, we lie to our friends" -MIB-

"Not sure which I use more, my penis or my appendix" -MIB-

"If you get caught cheating roll on the ground, running away won't help" -MIB-

"If you wear MMA gear don't assume people think your tough, if you enjoy musicals you are gay"
-MIB-

Mottos

Old Democrat Motto:

"Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country" -JFK, 1961-

New "Democrat" Motto:

"What can my country give me so that I don't have to get off my ass and get a F***in' job and white people suck, and let's get some illegals in here so they can enjoy some free s*** too and oh ya if there's ever like a war or some s*** whitey will handle it and like, peace yo" -Unemployed Hipster, 2012-

Quotes01

"Being a minority is not what you are, it's where you are" -MIB-

"At any given time I have more beer cans at my feet than friends in the world" -MIB-

"I like to watch chipmunks fight" -MIB-

"You fucked with the wrong me" -MIB-

Headdress distress

This is HEADLINING news!?

C’mon now isn’t this going a little bit too far? How sensitive are we going to get? She wore a headdress, she didn’t stagger drunk down the runway in red face paint rolling dice! The Cleveland “Indians” Mascot is far more offensive. It figures that this would get noticed at a fashion event by a couple “Fashion…ists” I looked at the picture and I didn’t even notice the headdress because I was looking at the beautiful girl. Then she had to apologize… BS… Karlie Kloss don’t worry you did nothing wrong. However, I would like an apology from every male model that has ever worn a shirt and tie down the runway!! That is HIGHLY offensive to those of us in the white community!! That is a sacred garment traditionally worn by white males and has NO place on the runway!! Shame on you America!!