Groundhog Day

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It’s October and everyone is trying to watch as many horror movies as possible. I watch horror movies year round so this month isn’t any different from another. I chose to do something different, but not that different because it’s still watching movies, or the same movie everyday. I chose to watch the movie Groundhog Day everyday this month, and although I didn’t start watching it until October 2nd, and I’m only watching it for the fourth time right now, after this I’m done. Groundhog Day is my favorite Bill Murray movie and I’ve already seen it close to 30 times anyway.

That doesn’t matter. I just want to talk about the movie Groundhog Day. If you have never seen the movie Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray then I assume that you’re not reading this. Everyone knows that it’s about Bill Murray being an asshole news reporter doing an on location story about the famous weather forecasting groundhog Punxsutawney Phil in the western Pennsylvania town of Punxsutawney on February 2nd, Groundhog Day. While in Punxsutawney Bill Murray’s character, also named Phil, angers his cameraman Larry who happens to practice witchcraft offscreen, and Larry performs a ritual in his hotel room that night that curses Phil to live the exact same day over and over until he finally changes his attitude to become a good enough person to move forward in life. It sounds like a really touching and somewhat uplifting movie, and it is. But I want to touch on the darker side of living the same day over and over, what such a thing would do to a person’s psyche.

According to research and an interview with Harold Ramis, Phil lived the same Groundhog Day back to back for roughly 8 years. Think about that. Think about who you were and where you were in life 8 years ago in comparison to who and where you are now. It’s two different worlds isn’t it? Now think about if everyday of the past 8 years had been the same day over and over with no ability to escape. There would be no avoiding insanity. The movie shows a montage of some of the darker days where Phil commits suicide everyday only to instantly awake in his bed at 6:00AM to the song “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher playing on the radio alarm clock that he had smashed to pieces before leaving his room to commit suicide an hour earlier. According to psychology, a person will try to change their environment using increasingly drastic methods before they ultimately commit suicide. Some resort to drugs and alcohol, some resort to abusing others, and some watch anime and shitpost with quotes and infographics on Facebook. So I know that Phil did some horrible things before the suicide montage and the movie skips over that entire experience for the sake of maintaining a PG rating.

What I’m trying to say is that Bill Murray’s character literally raped and murdered thousands of people. Groundhog Day is labeled as a comedic romance but it really is a horror movie. It’s set up right away that there is no hot water in the bed and breakfast that he’s staying at, and it shows that every morning he is unable to take a hot shower. I’m sure that there was a year or two where he adjusted and took cold showers, but there was also the 3 to 4 years where he stalked a person or an entire family to learn their habits, and then broke into their homes and brutally murdered them just so he could take a hot shower in their bathroom. I’m sure he spent 6 months learning how to properly field dress a deer as well as sew a tuxedo so he could murder the entire Punxsutawney high school cheerleader team in the locker room and after taking a hot shower in the girls’ locker room, he skinned several of the bodies to make a girl suit. And then he did a cheerleader dance outside in the snow wearing his gruesome bloody girl suit and waving pom-poms surrounded by the entire Punxsutawney police department pointing their guns at him pleading with him to get on the ground and put his hands behind his head, and then he raised one pom-pom towards the sheriff and died in a hail of bullets. Then he instantly wakes up to Sonny and Cher playing on the radio. And yeah, I left out all the creepy sexual stuff that would have happened too.

For 3 to 4 years Phil devolved into the most evil human being on Earth and nobody saw the change happen. Nobody could have stopped it from happening. It’s shown that he gets drunk and runs from the cops with the other 2 drunk guys, you know the whole “is it too early for flapjacks?” part. Then after getting arrested he wakes up in his bed, getting off scot-free. You know that it didn’t end there. You know that Phil pushed the boundaries of being able to commit any and every crime imaginable and unimaginable and be able to get away with it. Phil isn’t a psychopath either so you know that doing that shit ate at his mind for years before he was able to pull himself together to become the person he wanted to be. You know the lady that taught him how to play the piano? How many times do you think he raped and murdered that woman while learning to play the piano? How many times did he have a vile sexual orgy with the dead bodies of the piano lady and her cats and then played one of those nocturne songs by Chopin in the nude wearing nothing but their blood and cat skins?

And you know he turned to religion and witchcraft to escape his fate. He didn’t just accept the fact that he was doomed to live the same day for eternity and said, “welp, guess I’ll learn some dancing, and ice sculpting, and piano and then I’ll be happy”. No, he turned to Satan. The old guy begging for money on the corner that dies, he dug up his body every night for 2 months in a row, performing Satanic rituals to resurrect him. He murdered the living shit out of Ned Ryerson so many times that killing Ned alone would give Phil the highest serial killer body count in human history. Phil killed thousands of people and then had to talk to those same people again less than 24 hours later. Phil devolved into an absolute madman before trying to better himself, and the movie completely skips over that part. And I think that it’s the most important part of the story, but we don’t get to see it.

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The Best A [man] Can Get

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Look, women are sluts. Women use their bodies to manipulate men and the media into giving them what they want because they have sexuality but no brains. Women are gold diggers that are incapable of making a living on their own so they cling onto a man that is smart and financially successful and then use the law to rob him of his income with no consideration of the man’s well being. Women also want to rob men of their rights to see or take part in raising their own children. Women are the most evil creatures on Earth. Oh, and let’s not even bring up the fake rape allegations.

OH WHOOPS!

Did I forget to mention that not ALL women are like that? And am I also saying that the only way to prove your worth as a woman is to stop all other women from being evil cunts that ruin men’s lives otherwise you too are a gold digging whore? If you understand what I’m saying, well, that’s why Gillette’s social justice pandering commercial pisses men off. And I highlight the word “men”. I’ve seen several guys post it on their BaseFox page with praises and yes, I will insult their manhood for doing so. If I am responsible for stopping all men from being assholes then I am also responsible for discerning the pussies from the men, and the Gillette praisers are pussies.

This commercial says that whether you are an asshole or not, if you are a man then you are responsible for the actions of all male assholes, thus relegating you to male assholedom no matter what you do. If you like this commercial I am not going to insult your gender, just your intelligence. You are cheering for Proctor and Gamble which is a billion dollar corporation that is dealing with several lawsuits ranging from selling women talcum powder while knowing it causes ovarian cancer to discriminating against DACA recipients for internships to price fixing with other corporations. You most likely demand that a baker be forced to make a gay wedding cake despite their personal beliefs but you cheer on FaceBook and Google when they de-platform someone and ruin their means of income because they disapprove of what they were saying amongst their friends and fans. You are a sellout thinking that you are promoting something good. That’s the thing about zombies, eventually they forget that they were ever bitten and believe that being a zombie is the normal way of life.

I Live With It

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If there is ever a zombie apocalypse then you bastards better protect me from getting bitten. Because if my skeleton can be this goddamn mean to me then I don’t even want to imagine the horrible things it would do to you. What I have is a bad case of a very common condition called costochondritis. Costochondritis is the swelling of the joints where your ribs connect to your sternum and spine. It is a constant dull ache all up and down my sternum and along my spine in my upper back. It feels like a cross between receiving a bear hug and having a heart attack 24 hours a day. In fact, Dr. Internet said that 1/3 of all people that go to the emergency room thinking that they’re having a heart attack end up being diagnosed with costochondritis.

The condition is pretty common and you’ve probably had it before. You know how your ribs get a little sore after you’ve been sick and coughing for days like a degenerate marijuana addict? That’s costochondritis. But if you injure your ribs doing something like, say, lifting overly heavy weights seven days a week for several months on end then the damage to your cartilage can be more severe and it can take a long time for your ribs to heal. According to Dr. Internets it could take up to 2 years to heal if it ever does heal at all. Apparently some people get a life sentence with this shit.

While abstaining from being a stranger to danger you must be chanting the Vedic hymn of “no pain no gain”, and I am no stranger to that lifestyle nor the dangers it contains. It’s why my apartment is a literal shithole, I live in hell. A wise YouTuber once uttered the words “seek discomfort” and as long as I live in this dungeon, discomfort is guaranteed with every moment that my eyes are open.

Anyway, back to my ribs. My ribs are being real assholes to me. I read that the only way to treat costovaginas is to take painkillers until it heals. But what if I have the kind that takes 2 years to heal or it doesn’t heal at all? I take painkillers for life? I hate painkillers and I don’t trust them. You hear of people dying in pain but you don’t hear of people dying from pain, and I’ve never heard of someone dying because they didn’t take painkillers. I know that if I started taking opiates that would be it for me. I would be strung out AND living in a shithole apartment in the middle of nowhere. In no way can I let that happen.

And fucking alcohol doesn’t even work! Getting tipsy makes me forget about how much my ribs hurt but as soon as I move or lay down it feels like Rowdy Roddy Piper just clapped me with a goddamn Brainbuster. I totally freak out when I lay on my back for too long because the pressure on the dumbass rib in my upper back makes it hurt to breath. True story, a few weeks ago I had a filling put in at the dentist and she was so freaked out by my face cringing with pain that she thought she was fucking things up. So she stopped short. Now that filling feels like I’m sucking off the Human Torch every time I take a sip of my hot green tea, because yes, I’m drinking green tea now and also yes, it’s organic. I’m not saying that I’m a vegan that only eats cum and cabbage I’m just saying that I drink organic green tea every morning instead of coffee now. It’s good and my little tum-tum feels better when I drink it.

I just wanted to complain for a while. I’d like to say that I feel better now but I don’t. It’s cold outside and for whatever reason the cold air makes my ribs feel ten times worse. I hope that everyone that I know will one day be forced to suffer from costcofajitas. All of them.

It’s Not the Breed it’s the Owner!!!

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In an attempt to be a little more streamlined than tank-like, I am lifting half of the amount of weight that I normally lift and working out every day. The plan has backfired. I am looking more Hulk mode than before and have found myself strung out on protein shakes again. I haven’t taken a hit from the shaker bottle since 2015, but after finding a delicious whey isolate protein powder that fills the void in both my diet and emotional needs, it makes me wonder how I ever had the willpower to quit.

Apparently Walmart has really upped their game when it comes to supplements and protein powders since I shook the whey monkey off my back, because they have some really good stuff now. I found myself standing in front of the many bodybuilding proton containers at Walmart, reading every label because if you ever go grocery shopping with me you should know that going grocery shopping with me is the only thing you will get done that day, because I read every label and internally debate every food item I buy, except eggs.

While I’m reading the bodybuilding proton container labels two young white men that were culturally appropriating inner city gangster rap culture in both their clothing and manner of speech began to look at the supplements next to me.

The first thing out of one of their mouths to the other, “Yo, it’s not the breed though, it’s the owner.”

Oh holy shit. I knew immediately that he was a pit bull apologist. I cannot stand pit bull apologists. The moment I see a person walking a pit bull or they tell me that they own a pit bull I instantly question their intelligence. Pit bulls are hell demons with heads evolutionarily made to eat other creature’s heads with. And that’s what they do, they actually attack your neck and your head.

So these two privileged white boys speaking with basketball accents continue their discussion of how pit bulls are loving dogs that lost their angel wings, and that if you show the dog who’s boss then it will be obedient and never harm a soul. I know lots of random information because my brain prefers to fill itself with useless bullshit instead of making me into a wealthy genius doctor. One of those random bits of useless bullshit is that pit bulls are only 11% of dogs in America and yet they’re responsible for over 50% of all dog attacks and are also the dog attacks that are most likely to be fatal.

So I told them, “You know, pit bulls are only 5% of the dog population but they commit 75% of all dog attacks, and 90% of those attacks are fatal.”

“For real?”, said one white male.

“Yup. My sister works at a dog shelter. They won’t even accept pit bulls because they’re so dangerous to the other dogs and the workers.”

Look, I don’t have a sister. But I do know a girl that I haven’t talked to in over a decade that may work at or did work at an animal shelter at one time but I’m not sure. And any friend that close to me is like family. She has never given me her stance on pit bulls but her and I can pretty much read each other’s thoughts, so I know she hates pit bulls. A lot.

“Still though. You can train a dog not to bite. It’s the owner’s fault.”, the white male said in his best Eminem voice.

I didn’t say anything back to them. I bought my $49.99 protein and left. But there was an uproarious debate about pit bulls between me and my jug of protein powder on the car ride home.

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “Yo, it’s not the breed though, it’s the owner.”

Me: “Dymatize. Have you ever heard of a sheep dog?”

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “Yes.”

Me: “Why do they call it a sheep dog?”

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “Because they herd sheep.”

Me: “Shit, you’re right. They’ve been bred to herd sheep so they just naturally herd sheep. Now Dymatize, have you ever heard of a Golden Retriever? Now why do you think they have the word ‘retriever’ in their name?”

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “I’m not liking your snarky attitude but I’d imagine it’s cuz they probably grab stuff and bring it to you.”

Me: Oh Dymatize I think you’re starting to catch on! Dogs are bred to do certain tasks. And some of those dogs even have what they were bred for in their name. It’s why certain breeds of dogs are used for hunting or protection. Because they have been bred for specific purposes. Now, why would they call a breed of dog a PIT BULL?”

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “Ease up on your tone son. And there’s a wrench in the trunk you can use to adjust your dickhead attitude with. But I dunno, maybe pit bulls were used to fight each other or other animals for sport, like in a pit or something.”

Me: “It’s like you know what I’m thinking Dymatize. But yes, you’re correct. And is it just a coincidence that practically all pit bull maulings happen with the dog taking the victim to the ground and then attacking their face and their neck to kill them? Do you think that maybe they were bred to do that or do you think the owners of all disobedient pit bulls taught them to attack that way?”

Dymatize Whey Isolate: “You know, you’ve made some pretty good points about dog breeds and why you should avoid buying a pit bull. How about you slip into your bathrobe while I make you an ice cold protein shake. We can watch a movie or some porn together.”

I know that pit bulls are a generalized term for a mixed breed of dogs but they were bred for fucking up other animals. It’s what they were made to do and denying that makes you an idiot. And when I Googled ‘pit bulls’ the first thing that popped up was that just the other day some lady was mauled to death by her pet pit bull that she had raised since it was a pup after her husband stepped out of the house for 15 minutes. Dogs operate according to the behaviors that they were bred for. I would imagine that if you only allowed sociopaths to breed with each other you would eventually end up with an entire race of Mark Zuckerbergs. It’s the same reason that there should be a law against redheads being allowed to marry each other.

In short, don’t buy a pit bull. I don’t care that you’ve never been bitten by one or you knew a really nice pit bull when you were a kid. The bastards are dangerous. Not every zoo that has lions has had somebody attacked by one of their lions, but it does happen. But the zoos that will never have a lion attack are the zoos that don’t have any lions. I should have said that to Dymatize.

W-Wait! Wait! Stop! Listen to me! D-don’t don’t!

W-Wait-Wait! Listen to me! Stop! Stop!

I was in Denver for a full week signing autographs and overlooking the construction of my HAARP funded ionospheric electron stimulator that generates a 12 megahertz frequency band using only a 3.2 megawatt signal. I originally made it out of a blue Linksys wireless router that I hadn’t used since Myspace and a pair of Dr. Scholl’s Memory Fit Massaging Gel insoles for the purpose of getting rid of some wrinkles on my face, but if you see me in person you will understand that the machine was far too powerful at turning back the clock on my appearance. So now the machine is being built bigger and will be used to weaponize the weather.

Anyway, most people wouldn’t know it but I have a history of anxiety and occasional panic attacks, just like the 95% of single women that tell you about how they are braving their anxiety problems everyday on FaceBook. For whatever reason my panicking bullshit came back in spades while I was in Denver. Decades ago I conked my bonkers in a car foul up and it resulted in me having some mental issues, physical problems too but mostly just shit in my head. One of those problems is panic attacks that leave me zero fucking clues as to what causes them, or at least what causes most of them. For years they would knock the wind out of me and make my mind go crazy every time that I was in a car, either driving or sitting while someone else was driving or even when the car wasn’t moving. Everyone else in the car would be having a sensible chuckle talking about Ren Stevens buying the $4,000 pair of lizard skin pants with the money that Louis gave to her to guard and I would be sweating bullets and losing my shit and silently struggling for survival within my own head. That’s what it’s like. Somebody will be sitting in the passenger seat while I am driving, looking out the window and relaxing as they watch the passing corn fields and construction cones, but what they fail to see is that I am driving 500mph on the interstate weaving around cars and doing everything to stay on the road and Jesus H Christ I am having a heart attack holy shit now I can’t breath this is it we are going to die! It’s just a massive mental and physical freak out with no obvious cause.

Well I went to a shrink to help get rid of my car anxiety and it definitely helped, but it isn’t entirely gone. If you ever see me sitting in a car you might notice that I never seem to be all that comfortable. I have found that certain foods tend to aggravate my anxiety too. I avoid eating grains, mostly wheat, because within an hour I get this pain at the top of my stomach that makes it hard for me to breath and sometimes I feel a little pukey. I feel really on edge with a pissed off attitude when I’m eating stuff like bread for days at a time and it takes about a week for it to go away after I stop eating it. So avoiding certain foods helps but some of the anxiety bullshit still goes on.

As far as finding the other causes of anxiety, I am a Freudian when it comes to human behavior. I have a firm belief in the existence of the conscious and unconscious mind. The conscious mind is the part of your brain that allows you to think and choose your actions and the unconscious mind is the part that stores feelings and desires and influences your conscious mind without your consent. It’s like if a guy pulled a gun on you and told you to give him your iPhone. Your conscious mind would be saying “well just give him the fucking iPhone so he goes away” but your unconscious mind would turn you into Superman and you would feel your muscles pump up with blood and adrenaline and you would use that newfound potential strength to throw your shoe at him and run away screaming like a kicked puppy. You control the conscious but the the unconscious controls you.

So anxiety and panic attacks are under the control of your unconscious mind. You cannot choose to be scared or anxious, it’s just a natural reaction to something around you. People that see you being anxious or having a panic attack and tell you to “just relax” or to “stop thinking so much” are dipshits that you should ignore. I can’t relax because for some unknown reason I feel like I am about to die, and I can’t stop thinking so much because if I think about not thinking then I am doing even more thinking than I would if I weren’t thinking about not thinking on top of the thinking that I am already thinking. You cannot escape thinking unless you are in a coma and I gave that up in high school.

Here’s what it is. Your unconscious mind is causing panic attacks because it is trying to make your conscious mind aware of something that you are doing regularly and you know deep down that you should stop doing it, or there is something that you should be doing but you are avoiding it. There is the possible PTSD factor where your brain has recorded something, like being in a car in my case, and then placed that recording into the “holy shit this is bad” part of your brain. You probably need therapy for that. But no matter what the reason is the only way to get rid of the anxiety is to find the problem and face it. You shouldn’t try to ignore your anxiety or treat it with prescription drugs or weed or alcohol. Alcohol helps, it helps a lot actually. In fact it’s a downright cure for anxiety that takes effect almost immediately, but it doesn’t resolve the issue and makes it worse over time. The only way to get rid of anxiety and panic attacks is to take note of them and figure out what is at the root of the cause. Then you have to face that. Once you face it you can either try to accept it or fix it but fixing it is the best option.

I have acknowledged my anxiety problems and I am now facing them and taking action. I am taking immediate action. Now is the time to push my life in the direction that I have always wanted it to go. Today alone I bought $1600 worth of clown face paint and my new pre-built aluminum shed and neodymium fishing magnet with 1146 lbs of pulling force are scheduled to arrive in the mail next Wednesday. After that I just need to figure out where I can find Mac and Me on VHS and buy a couple bottles of hydrogen peroxide, and then I will have all of the necessary materials to build my dreams with. I am also writing everyday again.

I am confronting my panic attacks and deepest fears because I will no longer be a pussy that’s getting blacked.com’d by my unconscious mind. I am confronting the cucking black bull that is harpooning my life without my consent. What do you need to confront so you too can stop being such a panicking little bitch? You gonna cry little bitch? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

A Thorough Review of Enfamil’s New Baby Formula

 

I tend to get strange things in the mail and today I am staying home to treat the “weeping” poison ivy rash on both of my feet and ankles, so it is a good day to soak my feet in salt water while I write a review. With that said, I still have 8 servings left of my 30 samples of the new Enfamil NeuroPro™ line of baby formula but I feel that I have drank enough of the product to make a fair assessment of its quality.

Their are 3 different products under the Enfamil NeuroPro™ line. There is the the NeuroPro™ Ready to Use® formula for newborns that comes premixed in individual bottles. Then there is the NeuroPro™ Gentlease® that simply comes as a powder in a cylinder container and is specifically designed for easing gas in fussy babies. And finally we have the NeuroPro™ travel packs with an enhanced fat and protein blend. All of these blends come with MFGM & DHA fatty acids that were previously only found in actual breast milk, but this third mix has extra extra MFGM & DHA fatty acids and can now be found in this easily digestible formula that is packaged in easy to carry individual powder packets, like those energy drinks you mix into your bottle of water before adding vodka.

Before I start I will let you know that none of these formulas have resulted in me having the gooey green baby shits that smell like St. Louis. However, I have only been drinking 1 serving a day usually after working out and I have only been consuming them for 22 consecutive days now. I am also a full grown man. So the green baby shits are still a possibility when fed to an infant.

 

ENFAMIL NEUROPRO™ READY TO USE® FORMULA

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I really shouldn’t start this review with the best of the bunch, but here we are. Out of the 3 different flavors this premixed version not only had the best taste and texture but was also the most convenient. Unlike the other versions of NeuroPro™ I refrigerated these little bottles. It was nice to finish a hot and heavy weight sesh by opening the fridge and slugging down an ice cold baby formula.

Taste: 6/10

I know that I said that this was the best tasting but I cannot give it higher than a 6/10. None of these formulas could ever be mistaken for being delicious. I know that you’re not supposed to give babies salt while their kidneys and whole filtering system is still forming in the first few months, but tasting these formulas really made me feel sorry for babies that are given fake breast food. Not only are they denied the chance to suck on a titty but they are forced to swallow this dick water several times a day instead.

Anyway, all of the formulas tasted like unsweetened soy milk with a secret flavor added. This one tasted like slightly sweetened soy milk, maybe even with a hint of brown sugar or perhaps graham cracker. It wasn’t overly sweet but underly sweet. A little more sugar and this stuff wouldn’t be that bad.

Best Way to Serve: Cold

The best way to serve this formula is as I said, ice cold. Being a baby sucks and that’s why babies whine like toothless quadriplegics that have to rely on others to do everything for them. Give them a break from their misery with the bonus of making them shut the fuck up with an ice cold premixed formula to wind down the day.

ENFAMIL NEUROPRO™ GENTLEASE®

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This one is okay. It tastes a little more like milk than soy, but it still has that underlying dirt flavor of soy. I’ve never eaten or drank granite but I imagine the flavor would be a lot like soy. If they ever make a soy Gatorade they should call it Mount Rushmore. Well this mix is pretty cut and dry. You scoop it out and mix however much you think your baby can handle. And you can cram a lot of this shit into a baby before it cries for mercy because this formula is specifically made to stop babies from crying. I want to experiment with this baby formula but I don’t have a baby myself. I want to know, if a food is made to stop a baby from crying, how much of it would it take to make a baby start crying. Or would the baby just eat itself to death like a pet goldfish before they cried?

Taste: 5/10

This one gets bonus points for its mild creaminess both in texture and taste. I don’t know if you were into bodybuilding circa the early 2000’s, but this one sort of reminded me of the cheap flavorless protein powders from back in the day. These powders would contain protein but you didn’t know what the other 80% of it was made of but you knew that it was 500% more anabolic than the other most anabolic powders. I guess you could say it’s sort of like powdered milk, with powdered soy.

Best Way to Serve: In Coffee

It has a funky after taste but a creamy taste before the funky after taste. It smells nice too. I found it works best as a nice little coffee creamer. This container is going to last me quite awhile because I only use half a scoop in my coffee and it’s a pretty big can. Most of the babies I’ve seen are happy in the morning, but if your baby is a little snippety upon waking then add a scoop of this into their morning coffee.

ENFAMIL NEUROPRO™ TRAVEL PACKS OR WHATEVER THEY CALL THEM®

 

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This baby formula was designed by Iraq for the purpose of destroying America. While it has the foundation of unsweetened soy it has the skyscraper of fish flavor built on top of it. It has been years since I instantly spit something out entirely based on the taste, and that’s coming from a guy that likes eating at Taco John’s.

Taste: Planck Length/10

That taste rating is so bad that you don’t even know what it means. I know that breast milk has the MFGM & DHA in it but there is an obvious reason that it doesn’t have extra MFGM & DHA in it, because it tastes like fucking fish. If you truly hate your baby but you don’t have the guts to outright kill it, this is your formula. It really does taste like soy milk with raw salmon in it. I made it through half a pack of this stuff before I had to start adding alcohol to it and you know something tastes bad when it can still overpower the flavor of straight vodka.

Best Way to Serve: With Contempt and Full Disrespect

Don’t be a dick. Your baby doesn’t want to drink this. If you ever find yourself in a tight spot money wise and for whatever reason this is the only formula you can give your baby, let your baby go hungry. If you have to choose between this formula and suplexing your baby I think your baby would come out of a suplex with less emotional damage and would turn out to be a more well rounded human being than they would if they were raised on this formula. If you want to know who they tested this formula on before putting it on the market then Google the top 20 most evil people to have ever lived.

 

Overall: Zero Results

I lift weights every single day but I’m not trying to get any bigger. That translates into me still being a meathead that is finally satisfied with the way I look after 2 decades of lifting but I wouldn’t mind being bigger. It’s funny how it works because when you’re a string bean that starts lifting the only thing you want is to be as huge as possible. And if you’re like me you eventually get as huge as possible and realize it sucks, so you shrink down a bit. But you’re always in pursuit of being the biggest guy in the gym and if you lift alone in your own gym like me, then you’re always trying to be bigger than me. Holy shit, it never ends.

Well even if I have a week left I can conclude that drinking baby formula does not result in muscle gains or fat loss. Bummer. Which makes me wonder if it should be given to growing babies but I know the more garbage you feed a baby the more they grow in every direction. If I get more of this crap in the mail I might even take it to the post office so the family it was supposed to be sent to but it had my address on it can give it to their baby. But I know that I’ll just end up drinking all of it again.

 

 

* Correction: I said that I had 8 more servings of formula to go but I was wrong, I only have 7. I gave a bottle of the earthy but flavorful Ready To Use® formula to a young couple that recently moved in together but they haven’t told me if their baby liked it or not.

 

The Politics of the Park

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My 7 year old nephew is staying with my parents for a month. My parents take him to all kinds of places to entertain and spoil him, but I am in charge of his physical activities. So every night, or now about every other night, I go to my parents house and take my nephew to the park to wear him out.

The park I take him to is right across the street from my parents’ house. It’s the same park that my brother and I grew up playing in and it’s a magnet for little kids that tend to act like massive assholes. Maybe every park is like that, I don’t know. Just scummy little douchebags cheating at the games they play and calling each other names and even calling me names. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and I’m actually really great with kids. But some kids might find an incentive to straighten out their act if they took a shovel to the face.

So my nephew is pretty social and he’s already gathered his own gang of rag-tags that meet up with him every night at the park. One of them is an overweight 8 year old, another is an antisocial nerdy looking kid that never wears a shirt, and the others are two slightly older girls that show up for their meetings now and then. The girls are a little flaky but the two boys are consistent with their presence. Especially the overweight 8 year old that also lives across the street from the park.

My nephew is very athletic. My brother and I have lifted weights and been 6’4” super bros for over 20 years now. Both of us are a regular Chad Thundercock that spends our spare time snapping skeleton butts with towels in the locker room and mocking fatties by eating Twix and rotisserie chickens in front of them because even if we don’t workout our genes make us build muscle and burn candy like Mount Kilauea. So of course our kids have to be athletic. Both of my sons made all state wrestling last year and the other one is dead to me. I’ve taught my entire family to ignore him into believing that he doesn’t exist. Even if our dog, Bark Ruffalo, shows any attention to the third kid living in my house, I burn the dog’s ball bag with my lit cigarette. I didn’t skip neutering Bark R. because I want him to have puppies, it’s just that having his balls chopped off would take away 90% of the ways that I know how to punish a dog.

Okay, so every goddamn night that I take my nephew to the park him and his gang play tag. And they don’t really play tag against each other, they only play tag against me. I am always “it”. The entire fucking time. My nephew is the only one that has any respect for the rules of tag. He might utter “no I’m not” right after I tag him, but he still goes along with the rules and will acknowledge that he is in fact “it”. But the other little shit heads at the park, Jesus Christ!

The fat 8 year old, let’s call him Denny, he taunts me and calls me hairy buttface and despite only being 8 he has the speed and grace of a bucket of shit. Every time I tag him he’ll immediately say “no I’m not, I tagged you back” or “you tagged the back of my head so it doesn’t count” or “I called time out”. And he’s lying. The kid’s a fucking liar. I tagged him clear as day, everybody saw it, and he still has the gall to lie to my face about it. And after I’ve tagged him 50 times on the 51st he’ll finally agree that he is in fact “it” and then he starts crying because everybody is running from him and he doesn’t like to run. He openly brags about weighing 110 pounds which is roughly twice the ideal weight of an 8 year old boy. I am a staunch advocate for HAES, or Health At Every Size to all of you that are choosing to actively ignore the body shaming epidemic, but seeing an otherwise healthy 8 year old child that is incapable of running due to his weight almost made me consider that it isn’t healthy to be overweight, but then common sense came back to me and I gave him my other Twix.

And the scrawny shirtless kid with big nerdy glasses that rides a mountain bike fit for Manute Bol, he’s got no social game at all. We’ll call him Gill. I’m not sure about Gill’s age but I’m guessing that he’s older than he looks and he doesn’t have very many friends. He’s lean and he runs really fast and he seems smart, but he just comes off like a dick. He’s the first one to get genuinely pissed about anything and he slings 4 letter words around like a southern garbage man. He also pulls the “I’m not it you’re it” bullshit every time I tag him. I swear to God I whispered “fuck you” at him but he didn’t hear me because he was loudly saying the same thing.

Both of these cheaters demand that I play tag. They won’t even play tag or any other games if I’m not playing. When I stop running after Denny and Gill they’ll both start asking why and I tell them it’s because they constantly deny being “it” every time I tag them, so it isn’t fun to play tag with them. So they’ll whine, “alright we’ll play by the rules”. Then I’ll tag one of them and they’ll start in with the same bullshit about why they’re not “it”.

After chasing them in 95 degree weather for 2 hours straight, I’ll say “okay I’m taking a break” and sit on a bench. And holy shit. Denny instantly starts calling me lazy and Gill calls me a pussy and then my nephew starts saying that I’m a chicken and I have to tell my nephew to not repeat what Gill is saying and I don’t get a moment’s fucking rest. I like it when the two older girls show up because they’re willing to play a few rounds of tag without my involvement. But with the boys, if I’m not playing then they’re not playing. Christ almighty whatever happened to just playing with friends? I used to hate it when adults would try to play with me and my friends. It’s like kids are losing their imagination these days.

Well I’m not going over there tonight. I slept from midnight to 11:00AM today after running for a solid 4 hours last night and I’m not in the mood to do it again. My left leg hurts too. I want to add that I have yet to see any of these kids’ parents and all of these kids call me Uncle Luke now because that’s what my nephew calls me. They wanted to play the granny version of tag where you have to grab and hug somebody to tag them out of the game, and of course I had to be the granny. I refused to play and I told them that if they went home and told their parents that a stranger at the park that they call Uncle Luke played a game where he had to catch and hug all of the little kids then I wouldn’t be able to come to the park anymore because I’d be in jail for a few years. Only the girls knew what I was talking about.