Friday, December 16, 2011

Observations From The Treadmill



F*ck I hate running on the treadmill. I mean REALLY hate it. I’d rather do ANY other cardio exercise besides the treadmill, but since they’ve over-sold this place like a Mexican timeshare, it’s the only machine currently unoccupied by a wide body. Damn it.

As long as I’m stuck here running in place going absolutely nowhere, I might as well see what’s new on Facebook: Oh look one of my “friend’s” just made an insightful post about the precarious nature of life, and how important it is to live every day to the fullest, blah blah blah. And there’s another “friend” bragging on and on about their prized offspring, God’s gift to education and sports and macaroni wall art, blah blah blah. Then there’s that “friend” who I allegedly went to high school with (but don’t even remotely remember) getting all religious again – give it a rest, Jesus. Maybe I should write a post about the 10 most annoying things people do on Facebook? Wait, I already did that (January 28, 2011).

Hold on, is this dude in front of me f*cking serious with those shorts? I wish I could snap a picture so you could see what I’m seeing right now. But given that this place is as crowded as Walmart on Black Friday, the risk of getting caught is too high. I shit you not - they’re so damn short I think I can see one of his balls hanging out the bottom. Dude – you’re disgusting. Cover that shit up. There are so many freaks in this place, maybe I should write a post about the creepiest adult behaviors. Shit, I already did that too (May 31, 2011).

If I can’t come up with any new material perhaps that means I’ve been writing this blog for too long… Nah, I’m just getting warmed up.

I recently found out that my Dad’s biological father was not the man he called Dad. Apparently his Mom was involved in a scandalous extramarital affair which resulted in the birth of my Pops. The man she was involved with happened to be Jewish. Which would make that man’s biological grandson (me)… a 1/4 Jew (the secret’s out). It’s funny, I had quite a few Jewish friends growing up and attended more than my fair share of Bar and Bat Mitzvah’s. I always felt like I was one of their favorite Gentiles and now I know why – I was one of you the whole time! Ever since I received this news I’ve been especially sensitive to the plight of the Jews and in particular negative Jewish stereotypes. The most prevalent of these stereotypes, as everyone knows, is that Jews are greedy, nit-picky, stingy misers. Allow me to set the record straight once and for all. Having been 1/4 Jewish for 38 years now (albeit unknowingly) I feel completely comfortable making this statement on behalf of Jews everywhere: We are not cheap. It’s just that we have more money than you and would like to keep it that way. See the difference? Shalom.



Hey, there’s Quinton “Rampage” Jackson and his entourage. I see that dude here all the time and he’s always rolling with at least 3 or 4 other scary looking dudes. Note to self: avoid making eye contact with these cats at all times. Reminds me of my days back at Emerald Junior High in the El Cajon valley: keep your head down and stay off the radar and hopefully they’ll kick someone else’s ass (chubby white kids have no business going to junior high in the hood) - I digress. Looking at Rampage and his freshly blackened eye (sparring accident?), I can’t help but wonder why on God’s green earth anyone would want to participate in UFC fighting. I’ve been hit in the face before and it f*cking hurts. Here’s another question. Two of the dudes in Jackson’s posse are built like washing machines. Why do most really short guys (f*ck you – I’m 5’9” AND a ¼ - I’m not talking about me) feel the need to overcompensate by getting all buffed out? You’re only exacerbating the problem, tattoo. God he was adorable.



Sorry I’m jumping around here but I have the attention span of a gnat. Let’s see what’s on Sportscenter. What a surprise, another story on Tim Tebow. What the f*ck? Allow me to let you all in on a little secret: Tebow SUCKS! And if I hear one more person compare him to John Elway I’m coming over the table a la Chris errr Jim Everett on the Jim Rome show (remember that gem?).



Seriously though, on passes of 10 or more yards downfield Tebow’s career completion percentage is less than 25%. What do you call a quarterback who completes just 1 out of every 4 passes to his wide receivers? That would be a running back. I’m not saying the guy’s not a great athlete because he is. And he should absolutely be on the field. Just put him at halfback, or put him in the slot, shit - put him ANYWHERE but under center. Because what he’s doing out there right now is an abomination of the quarterback position. And by the way, “the Lord works in mysterious ways,” does NOT apply to Tebow and the Broncos squeaking out wins against shit teams every week. So please stop making religious references. Stop. I’ll tell you what, if the Broncos aren’t one and done in the playoffs (if they even make the playoffs that is), I’ll put a picture of myself “Tebowing” on this blog.



Wait, a recumbent bike just opened up – I’m outta here. Happy Friday everyone.

The Quinsey Blog

Thursday, December 8, 2011

A Christmas Story



I spend an awful lot of time making fun of other people on this blog. It’s not because I’m mean spirited or feel somehow superior, it’s just that people do so much stupid shit that deserves to be made fun of. That said I am not above the law myself. And since the theme of this blog has always been full disclosure, I thought I’d share a recent story from my life where I experienced a severe case of the stupids. Enjoy and please try not to think less of me after reading this.

It’s the first Saturday in December, and as tradition goes it’s time to venture out and get the Quinsey family Christmas tree. For the past few years we’ve picked it up at a local tree lot down the street sponsored by the Boy Scouts of America. The service was pretty crappy: had to carry the tree to the car myself and tie it down (hint: to avoid tying doors shut and trapping self in car, open doors PRIOR to tying tree on roof – done it more times than I’d care to admit), had to saw / straighten out the trunk myself, and had to drill my own hole for the stand when I got home. But I was helping out the Boy Scouts (those kids won’t get laid until their thirties – they need all the help they can get) so I didn’t mind the self service. This year however they moved the lot about 5 miles away so I said screw the Boy Scouts, we’re going to Home Depot. Much to my chagrin the trees at Home Depot were bigger and cheaper than at the Boy Scout lot, the workers chain-sawed the trunk and straightened it out for me, and they carried the tree to my car and tied it down while I stood there and watched. When I tried to tip the guy he wouldn’t even accept it (company policy). This was too good to be true. The only thing they wouldn’t do was drill a hole for the stand, which seems odd since they’re the Home Depot and they sell drills. Oh well I thought, I’ll just drill it myself. Which brings us to the catalyst of this unfortunate holiday tale.

Let me preface this next part by stating a handy man I am not. My tools are an eclectic and pathetic collection of hand-me-down crap: rusty hammers, crooked screw drivers, wrenches that never seem to fit anything, a socket set straight out of K-Mart, pliers that won’t close all the way, an electric saw still in the box, a bunch of other random shit whose function I know not of, and a beautiful drill which I bought for the sole purpose of drilling a hole in the bottom of my Christmas tree. The only problem was the bits it came with were all too short to drill a deep enough hole in the tree (there’s a joke in there somewhere), so every year I struggled to get it on the stand. This year would be different however, as I proactively purchased an extra large bit that was easily long enough to drill a stand-sized hole in my tree. Why hadn’t I given in and bought a longer bit years earlier? Pure, unfiltered laziness and the fact that I almost never go to the hardware store (I know – man card violations are piling up here). Anyway I arrived home excited to use the new bit. I plugged in my drill, created a small pilot hole with a smaller bit, and then broke out the big dog. At first it went in easy, too easy. Within seconds I was a third of the way in, and then two thirds, and then… oh shit the bit’s stuck. I switched the drill to reverse mode and gave it a squeeze… nothing. Back in forward mode… nothing. What the f*ck? After about 90 seconds of toggling back and forth between modes, and turning and pushing as hard as a I could, and polluting the night air with a litany of cuss words, dark smoke started to pour out the back of my drill (not good). Followed by strange grinding sounds and a bunch of blue sparks inside the motor. After a few more choice cuss words I gathered my composure, detached the drill from the lodged bit, and gently set it down on the ground (by gently set it down I mean hurled it against the side of my house).

I walked inside dejected. “Honey, I need a new drill,” I stated matter-of-factly.

And my wife gave me that look like, “What did you do this time, genius?” (I hate that look)

“I didn’t do anything,” I responded defensively even though she hadn’t said a word. “The damn drill just stopped working.”

“You only use that drill like once a year. There’s no way it just died on its own. You must have been using it wrong,” she replied in a judgmental tone.

“I’m not a f*cking moron. I know how to use a drill,” I snapped back.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the first time you broke a tool by using it wrong,” she returned with a wry smile (I hate that smile).

“Whatever, I’m going to Home Depot to buy a new drill,” I said defiantly as I walked out the door.

Just before I was out of ear shot she added, “Make sure you ask somebody for help." The implication being that I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing (I hate that implication).

I arrived at Home Depot still pissed off. “Give me the strongest drill you’ve got,” I told the dude in the drill section. He went on to explain the inner workings of drills and why one brand was better than another given its superior design and longer useful life, blah blah blah. “I’ll take the red one,” I said cutting him off. $200 later I was back in the car heading home to finish what I had started. While at the cash register I couldn’t help but notice tree stands that didn’t require drilling a hole in your tree. They were 25 bucks. I suppose I could have just purchased one of those stands instead of the new drill and saved $175, but that so wasn’t the point. I was already in too deep on this project and there was no turning back now. I arrived home invigorated by the untapped strength of my new toy. I tore open the box, plugged in the drill, attached it to the bit still lodged in my tree, braced myself for the impact, forcefully squeezed the trigger, and… nothing. That f*cking bit didn’t budge a single centimeter. Forward, reverse, forward, reverse, until a plummet of thick, black smoke came pouring out the back of my shiny, new drill. Followed by strange grinding sounds and a bunch of blue sparks inside the motor. At this point I temporarily lost my mind. Neighbors started to come out of their houses to see what all the commotion was about. Children stood frozen in disbelief and babies cried as they watched a maniacal man attack his Christmas tree in a profanity-laced tirade. After a good 5 minutes of crazy I finally exhausted myself. As I stood hunched over in the driveway attempting to catch my breath, I noticed my wife out of the corner of my eye. She was standing in the garage with a judgmental look on her face.

“Are you done?” she finally asked.

“That f*cking drill’s a piece of shit,” I responded defiantly.

“Did you ask somebody at the store for help?” she asked (her calm tone pissed me off even more).

“Yes, I asked somebody for help. It’s the strongest f*cking drill they sell. I’m going out to get a new tree,” I replied. “This one’s f*cked.”

“The tree’s fine. You just need to figure out a way to get the bit out,” she responded in the same annoyingly calm tone.

“You think?” I retorted sarcastically.

She proceeded to retrieve a rusty hammer and a crooked screwdriver from my toolbox, and then attempted to loosen the bit by gently hammering in the screwdriver around it. This was a direct assault on my manhood. So I immediately stepped in and took over.

“This is not going to work,” I said. “The bit is in too deep.”

“Calm down and keep trying. The only way to get it out is to loosen it up around the edges,” she instructed. “Have you tried turning the bit with a pair of pliers?”

I retrieved the semi-functioning pliers from my toolbox and attempted to turn the bit with all my might until my hand slipped and I cut it on the bit, which sparked off another profanity-laced tirade. I went back to the hammer and screwdriver and pounded away in a futile effort to loosen the bit.

“Don’t hammer the screwdriver in too deep or it will get stuck too,” advised my wife.

Too late. The screwdriver was now stuck in the trunk alongside the bit. I tried to muscle it out and the handle broke off in my hand. This situation was quickly deteriorating into a full blown shit show. Frustration took over and I found myself hammering away at the trunk with reckless abandon. I could hear my wife in the background telling me to calm down but the train had already left the station. I hammered away at the bit and the broken screwdriver over and over, sweat dripping off my brow, until the screwdriver finally dislodged and the bit snapped in half at the base. I set the tree down on the driveway and stepped back to assess the situation.

“F*ck it,” I finally said. Without thinking I grabbed the tree stand and shoved it in the hole where the bit had broken off. With brute force I hammered away at the bottom of the stand, sparks flying in all directions, until it finally penetrated the trunk to the side of the broken bit. When I placed the tree and the stand upright on the driveway to test out my handy work, the tree tilted at about a 60 degree angle (surprise, surprise). To compensate for the tilt I grabbed some rope from the garage and tied one end to the middle of the tree and the other end to the foot of the stand opposite the side it was leaning toward. I then carried the entire hot mess into the family room, slammed it down on the floor, and walked away.

“Done,” I muttered as I grabbed a beer from the fridge. I was so pissed off that I didn’t even help decorate the tree with my wife and kids. I spent the rest of the night sulking and watching TV, not even remotely in the Christmas spirit.

The next morning the bitterness had passed. My wife joked that she hoped the rope had held. When we walked downstairs the tree was still amazingly upright and straight. “It looks great. No one would ever guess there’s half a drill bit stuck in the trunk,” I laughed.

It was at that exact moment I noticed a sharp pain on the surface of my stomach, a pain I had never experienced before. I lifted up my shirt to identify the source of my discomfort and there it was: a TICK. Apparently while I was wrestling with the tree the night before, the little bugger had jumped off the tree and attached itself to my stomach, and then burrowed into my skin overnight. I immediately panicked and screamed like a little girl (it was about the 5th unmanly thing I’d done in the past 12 hours).

“Get it off! Get it off!” I screamed in terror.

My wife, forever the calming voice of reason, told me to take a deep breath and relax. She got a pair of tweezers and removed the tick, then placed it in a zip-lock bag and put it in the freezer. “You’re supposed to save the tick in case you get sick,” she said. (Oh good, something to look forward to - lyme disease)

I now have a large sore on my stomach where the tick was attached, my hands are all cut up from my altercation with the tree, and my wife is more convinced than ever that she married a high functioning retard. Merry freaking Christmas. We are so getting a fake tree next year.

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Participation Trophy Generation



A buddy sent me a link to a YouTube video last week. It contained Adam Carolla’s 9+ minute rant on the OWS Generation. He used some offensive language and off color analogies (sound familiar?) but his point was spot on. About twenty years ago we as a society f*cked up, and only now are we seeing the consequences of our actions. The exact cause or catalyst of this vicious cycle of events is not clear, but what is clear are the results. Twenty years of coddling, and pampering, and falsely inflated egos and what have we got? An entire generation of lazy, self-entitled pussies, that’s what (or ass douches as Adam Carolla likes to call them). Seriously, when did we as parents make a conscious decision to start ruining our children?

Example #1: Oh, you struck out and cost your team the game little Johnny? That’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. That umpire’s an idiot, no chance that was a strike – it’s his fault. And your coach shouldn’t have been hitting you last, everyone knows you’re a leadoff hitter – it’s his fault too. Here’s a cookie and a trophy champ – good job. As long as you gave it YOUR best you’re always a winner in my book.

Translation: Johnny never works hard at anything because his mediocre accomplishments are enough to make his parents proud. When he is measured up against others and deemed inferior it’s not his fault, it’s society’s. Johnny can’t get a job because he sucks. Instead of working hard to improve his station in life he camps out in the park with the other losers and blames the 1%.

Example #2: My son has a severe peanut allergy. I need verification that this school has a strict “no peanut” policy. If he even so much as breathes in peanut dust he could die.

Translation: If I can’t have peanuts then NO ONE can have peanuts. It’s all about me, me, me. Johnny has a low paying job and drives a piece of shit beater. Instead of busting his ass to get promoted so he can make more money and buy a better car, he instead chooses to vandalize the cars of the 1%. That’ll show em.

Example #3: You’re not fat son, you’re just big boned. Don’t listen to those other kids who are teasing you, they’re just jealous because they’re not as handsome and smart as you are. Have another doughnut, it’ll make you feel better.

Translation: Johnny is a fat sack of shit with major health problems. Nobody wants to hire a fat sack of shit and Johnny can’t afford private health coverage. Instead of losing weight so he can get a job with health coverage (which he wouldn’t even need if he was thin), he pickets in the park about how the 1% are driving up the cost of healthcare and sending all the good jobs overseas.

It’s time to stop the f*cking insanity people. Life isn’t easy and it isn’t fair. The sooner our children learn this, the better off they’ll be. Stop blowing smoke up their ass about how great they are, and instead give them the tools and the work ethic necessary to achieve greatness. Life is a zero sum game as I see it. For every winner there’s a loser. If you give your kid a trophy for simply participating, you’ve pretty much already sealed their fate.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Ponderings From The Target Checkout Line



I was standing in line at Target the other day trying to avoid making eye contact with the freak show all around me when my mind started to wander...

What the hell ever happened to waterbeds? Those things were genius outside the severe back problems and their inevitable propensity to spring a leak, of course.

Why are strip clubs called gentlemen’s clubs? I don’t know firsthand but I’ve “heard” those places are filled with nothing but low life’s and degenerate perverts.

When did everything start becoming salted caramel flavor? It’s the new pomegranate.

How come it’s okay for humans to hunt animals but when animals hunt us they’re labeled rogue and dangerous? “… and the hunt continues for the rogue shark off the coast of Florida.” Rogue? More like hungry if you ask me.

Does anyone else find it ironic that the richest family in America (the Waltons) made their fortune off the poorest families in America? Seriously – the people who shop at Target are like royalty compared to the food stamp mutants who shop at Walmart.

What is Tim Tebow always praying about? He does realize that God’s not pulling any strings for the Broncos to win, right? Because as EVERYONE knows God is a Chargers fan (just not this season – I hate you Satan, I mean Norv).

Why is everyone so pissed off at the 1% and the inequality of wealth in America? Do you think corrupt politicians fund their own campaigns and gentlemen’s clubs make themselves rain, hello.

When did Hollywood writers just completely hit the wall on ideas for new movies? No offense to the new Karate Kid and the new Footloose but I already saw those flicks like 20 years ago.

How many times a day are they going to keep playing Adele’s, “Someone Like You”? Sure it’s a good song but seriously, enough already. They do realize it’s about a crazy stalker lady, right?

Does this lady behind me really think it’s okay to be standing so close? I can literally smell what she ate for lunch. Back the f*ck up, bitch. Why do I even need to say this?

That’s all the Holiday cheer I have time for right now.

Season’s Greetings,

The Quinsey Blog

Friday, November 18, 2011

Pulling a “Sandusky” (verb): to tell a ridiculous, unbelievable lie without even the least bit of conviction.



I had to listen to this interview several times to make sure I was actually hearing what I thought I was hearing. In perhaps the most surreal television interview of all time, pedophile and former assistant football coach at Penn State University, Jerry Sandusky, told bold faced lie after bold faced lie while being questioned by Bob Costas on Monday night. He was tentative in his responses and stammered frequently throughout the interview, both telltale signs of any liar worth his salt.

"I say that I am innocent of those charges," said Sandusky (unconvincingly).

When asked by Costas, "Are you a pedophile?" Sandusky responded (after an awkward pause), "No."

Sandusky was charged earlier this month with 40 criminal counts accusing him of sexual abuse of minors. He is currently free on a $100,000 bond and has denied any wrongdoing. The allegations date back to 1994, according to the grand jury report filed November 5 in Pennsylvania state court. The report detailed claims of alleged sexual encounters with as many as eight boys in Sandusky's home, hotels and Penn State locker rooms.

"I could say that I have done some of those things. I have horsed around with kids. I have showered after workouts. I have hugged them and I have touched their legs without intent of sexual contact," said Sandusky uneasily.

This response in particular really made me sick to my stomach. The way he said it, it was almost like he was trying to convince himself that he didn’t do anything wrong. Which conjured memories of the disturbing TV documentary, “Living with Michael Jackson”, which aired in 2003. I remember thinking at the time that Jackson was completely full of shit. I feel no differently today about Sandusky.

When asked by Costas to concede any wrongdoing, Sandusky said, "I shouldn't have showered with those kids."

Really? That’s what you’re going with? Well shucks Bob, what grown man doesn’t enjoy a nice shower with a young boy every now and then? There’s a special place in hell for sick f*cks like you, Sandusky.

Sandusky's attorney, Joseph Amendola, verified Sandusky's voice and asserted his client's innocence. "I believe in Jerry's innocence. Quite honestly, Bob, that's why I'm involved in the case," Amendola said.

Yeah and I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this trial is going to be the biggest circus of the century, and you’ll be right smack dab in the middle of it all, you shameless f*ck. You couldn’t be more transparent if you tried.

"We expect we're going to have a number of kids, now how many of those so called eight kids we're not sure, but we anticipate we're going to have at least several of those kids come forward and say this never happened. This is me, this is the allegation, it never occurred. In fact, one of the toughest allegations...what [Mike] McQueary said he saw, we have information that that child said that never happened," Amendola said.

God I hate lawyers.

McQueary is currently on paid administrative leave from his job as an assistant coach for Penn State's football team. In 2002, while a graduate assistant, he witnessed Sandusky allegedly engaged in a sexual act with a minor in the Penn State locker room's showers, according to the grand jury report. He told Paterno what he witnessed, according to the grand jury testimony.

Sandusky said McQueary's claims are false. "We were showering and horsing around and he [the boy] actually turned all the showers on and was actually sliding across the floor and we were, as I recall, possibly like snapping a towel," Sandusky said (creepily).

Wait, back up the truck. Do you really expect anyone to believe that McQueary mistook “sliding across the floor” and “possibly like snapping a towel” for you sexually assaulting a young boy? Let me ask you this you depraved pervert: what the f*ck did McQueary possibly have to gain by going to Joe Paterno (your boss and long time friend) with false accusations of you sexually abusing a child? In case you hadn’t noticed his life is ruined too.

Sandusky also addressed allegations that he apologized to the mother of one of the alleged victims and said "I wish I were dead" in 1998. "I didn't say, to my recollection, that I wish I were dead. I was hopeful that we could reconcile things," Sandusky said.

Reconcile things after molesting her kid? I wish you were dead, asshole.

The scandal has tarnished the reputation of the once-heralded football program, leading to the firing of legendary Coach Paterno and three other university officials. It’s also left students and residents of State College, Penn., shocked. Sandusky said that right now isn't "the best days of my life."

Not the best days of your life? There’s an understatement. If you think things are bad now just wait until you’re getting ass-raped in the state penitentiary by a large, black man named Bubba. You know what they say - poetic justice is best served from behind.

"How would you think I would feel about a university that I attended, about people that I worked with, about people that I care so much about and how do you think I would feel about it? I feel horrible," Sandusky said.

Apparently not horrible enough to stop lying about it.

When asked if he felt responsible for damaging Penn State's image, Sandusky said, "I don't think it's my fault. I've obviously played a part in this, but I don't think I should be accused as I have been."

Played a part in it? You’re being too modest you degenerate scumbag. You played the freaking starring role.

"I don't know what I can say or what I could say that would make anybody feel any different now. I would just say that if somehow people could hang on until my attorney has a chance to fight for my innocence, that's about all I can ask right now. Obviously, it's a huge challenge," Sandusky said.

Yeah, it’s a huge challenge because you’re GUILTY.

When asked if he had a sexual attraction to underage boys, Sandusky awkwardly paused again (as if he had to think about it) and said, "I enjoy young people. I love to be around them, but no, I'm not sexually attracted to young boys."

Hey sicko, if you’re going to come on national television and lie to everyone, at least have the decency to tell lies that make sense and do it with conviction.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Say It Ain't So Joe




Martin Luther King, Jr. once said: “Man's inhumanity to man is not only perpetrated by the vitriolic actions of those who are bad. It is also perpetrated by the vitiating inaction of those who are good.”

In 1998, the head football coach at Penn State Universtiy, Joe Paterno (along with a shitload of other Penn State faculty and administrators), was made aware of disturbing allegations of inappropriate sexual conduct with young boys charged against his long time friend and defensive coordinator, Greg Sandusky. For undisclosed reasons then district attorney, Ray Gricar (who’s now missing / dead), chose not to prosecute Sandusky and so ended a police investigation into the matter. Sandusky (not) coincidentally took an early retirement package from the University less than a year later, but stayed connected to the football program (and young boys) through his “Second Mile” charitable foundation.

In 2000, a temporary janitor, Jim Calhoun (not the UConn basketball coach), witnessed Sandusky engaging in sexual activity with a boy in a campus locker-room shower. He reported the incident to a supervisor and several other staff members who did absolutely nothing with the information. Calhoun currently suffers from dementia and resides in an assisted-living facility.

In 2002, then graduate assistant, Mike McQueary, witnessed Sandusky sexually abusing a boy in a Penn State locker-room shower. A distraught McQueary reported the incident to Coach Paterno the next day (if he was distraught, just imagine how the young boy getting sexually molested in the shower must have felt). Paterno promptly informed the athletic director (Tim Curley) who informed the SVP of Finance and Business (Gary Schultz), who had oversight of university police. The pair met with McQueary to discuss the incident, but ultimately decided not to report it to authorities. Instead they simply told Sandusky that he could no longer bring boys on campus. As in so long as it doesn't happen here we don't need to know about it (are you f*cking kidding me - we're talking about the sexual molestation of children for Christ's sake - what's wrong with you?).

It’s now 2011, and Sandusky is finally being prosecuted for his heinous crimes against humanity. Curley and Schultz are finally being charged for their egregious roles in the cover-up. Paterno and Graham Spanier (Penn State University president) are finally being fired for their blatant inaction. McQueary meanwhile still has his job (as wide receivers coach) and plans on being on the sideline for this Saturday’s game. Note to Penn State Board of Trustees: if you don’t fire McQueary prior to this Saturday’s game you’re essentially spitting in the face of the young boys victimized by Sandusky and their families. Do the right thing before it’s too late.

Add it all up and 13 years passed by from the time Sandusky was first accused of sexual misconduct against a child, to the time he was finally charged with a crime. 13 years of raping and molesting defenseless children. 13 years of lost innocence never to be returned. 13 years of silence by a University desperate to hold on to its proud reputation. 13 years of misery and heartache that could have easily been avoided if not for the inaction of a head coach who "wishes he had done more," and his staff.

Shame on you Coach Paterno, and shame on anyone else with even peripheral knowledge of what’s been taking place on the campus of Penn State University over the past 13 years. Joseph Vincent Paterno - you leave Penn State University as the winningest head coach in the history of major college football, and are considered by many a true American icon. But as the old saying goes: lie with dogs, wake with fleas. And unfortunately for you there’s no flea bath strong enough to ever cleanse this stain from your sullied reputation. Along with the innocence of those defenseless young boys, so too lost was your legacy.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Duggars Hit 20, Say Why Stop Now?



Michelle Duggar and her husband Jim Bob are expecting their 20th child.

Not a typo. That’s TWO-ZERO, as in TWENTY, or about a baker’s dozen more than anyone with even a shred of sanity would bring into this world. I guess if this sort of thing was going to happen, it’s strangely reassuring that someone named Jim Bob is at the center of it.

"We are so excited," says Michelle Duggar. Now three and a half months pregnant, the mom of 19 says she was actually surprised to discover that she's expecting again at 45. "I was not thinking that God would give us another one, and we are just so grateful."

Wait, let me get this straight. Did you just say that God is the father of baby number 20? Wow, I bet your husband’s pretty pissed. Also, who knew God was into frumpy 45-year old housewives?

The super-sized family stars in its own reality TV show, “19 Kids and Counting.”

Using reality TV to fund your own personal freak show? It’s the “new” American dream.

Michelle Duggar’s last pregnancy was fraught with danger. She suffered from gall-bladder problems as well as preeclampsia. In order to save her life, doctors delivered daughter Josie three and a half months prematurely – she weighed only one pound, six ounces at birth, and endured a series of health emergencies, including a perforated bowel. Josie eventually went home with the rest of the Duggar family, and is now a healthy toddler who will celebrate her second birthday in December.

Yes, this is why old ladies should spend their time backing up golf courses, not getting knocked up.

“The precious life that we see here is not a coincidence,” Michelle Duggar said last summer referring to baby number 19. “I just know that it is a miracle. I don’t take that for granted. I know that God is the one who gives life, and I’m just so grateful and thankful. We would welcome another if He saw fit, but we’ll wait and see.”

I don’t mean to rain on your miracle parade, Michelle, but when two people have unprotected sex there’s this thing called pregnancy that occasionally occurs. No intervention from God required – just an egg and a sperm. Did you not go to 5th grade?

Michelle said that she's over her first-trimester morning sickness, has been indulging her cravings for dill pickles, and is feeling great. She said her doctors have given her the green light for this pregnancy, and so far she hasn't had any health worries. For the past year, she said, she's been working out five or six days a week: "I'm really in better shape than I've been in 20 years."

Except for her vagina – it looks like two jelly fish having a fight.

The Duggars' 19 children, who range in age from 23 years to 23 months, are: Joshua, Jana, John-David, Jill, Jessa, Jinger, Joseph, Josiah, Joy-Anna, Jedidiah, Jeremiah, Jason, James, Justin, Jackson, Johannah, Jennifer, Jordyn-Grace, and Josie.

Jinger, Josiah, and Jedidiah are like, what the f*ck mom and dad? Bad enough you brought us into this freak show in the first place, but then you had handicap us with f*cked up name like this? Why do you hate us so much?

The kids thought family patriarch Jim Bob was joking when he broke the news that they would have a new brother or sister, Michelle said. They lined the family up on the staircase for a photo, she recalled, and Jim Bob said, "Smile -- Mom's going to have another baby!"

Several of the older children were reportedly heard saying, “you’ve got to be f*cking kidding me.” Or at least that’s what they were thinking.

"Their mouths dropped," Michelle said, laughing at the memory. "They all looked at me to see if he was joking."

Unfortunately not joking.

Jim Bob said that he's thrilled for their 20th child. "Michelle and I both feel like some of the most blessed parents in the world. Our children are so sweet... we are so grateful to God." And, he adds, "We didn't want to stop on an odd number."

Of course not, because that would be just crazy.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Is it just me or does Justin Bieber resemble a lesbian in drag?



See it now?



How bout now?



Yup - perhaps if I was a teenage girl I'd understand...

Monday, October 31, 2011

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Perfect



nar•cis•sism

noun

1. inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity.

2. erotic gratification derived from admiration of one's own physical or mental attributes.

It’s inescapable, there’s something innately narcissistic about writing a blog. The implication being that other people actually care what you think. Some blogs are really good (like this one – you see what I did there?), but most blogs are pretty well, terrible. Housewives spouting on about the daily minutia of their mundane lives, wanna-be critics trying to be paradoxical in their critique of food, music, movies (you name it), ugly chicks giving dating advice on how to land the perfect man, blah blah blah. So what exactly defines the perfect blog then? I’m not precisely sure but I assume the definition would include things like original content, a unique point of view, and good writing (with proper grammar for Christ’s sake). Let’s be honest though, reading a description of the perfect blog would be like listening to a dirty hippie complain about social injustice or watching a fat person take a shower. I’ll therefore go one step further and tell you not what defines the perfect blog but what defines the perfect person. Wait… that would be too easy. My point of view being so unique and all, I think I’ll turn it around and describe not what attributes define the perfect person, but instead what things a person should avoid doing in order to become perfect. Please enjoy this distinctly original content and pay no attention to any slight grammatical missteps, as I sit here and admire myself in the mirror.

• A polo shirt with the collar up? Come on dude – the 80’s sucked during the 80’s, and that was thirty years ago. At least you’d be appreciated in the Eastern Bloc.

• Face paint as an adult under any circumstances? Fail.

• Crocs in public? (never mind, scratch this one – it’s too obvious)

• A mesh tanktop? Really? (saw this dude at the gym last week) See bullet point #1 above, meathead.

• You finally got a job… as a bathroom attendant. God I hate bathroom attendants. Can I please piss in peace, and do you have change for a five?

• Enough with your political beliefs. Do I look like I care?

• Just because I asked how your day’s going, doesn’t mean I really want to know. Hello, discretion.

• A thyroid problem? Right, put down the jelly doughnut and step away from the fridge. You’re not fooling anyone.

• Just because I’m a heterosexual, white male doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy your gay, racial, or sexist jokes… but I might.

• Am I really going to have another drink? You’re damn right I am, don’t judge me asshole. You’re the one with your collar up.


You’re probably scratching your head in bewilderment after that random smattering of advice / observations, but there’s a point in there somewhere. To put it another way don’t dress like a douche, invade other people’s personal space, be overly opinionated, make excuses for your problems, or judge / make assumptions about others based on your own lifestyle choices. If you could avoid doing each of these things, that would be a good start. What? You think it’s easy being perfect? J



Thursday, October 20, 2011

Where The Hell Did The Time Go?



A new film called “In Time” (which opens October 28) takes place in a retro-future where the aging gene has been switched off, and people stop aging at 25 years old. However, stamped on everyone’s arm is a digital clock of how long they have to live. To avoid overpopulation, time has become the currency and the way people pay for necessities and luxuries. The rich can live forever, while the rest try to negotiate for immortality. The film stars Justin Timberlake and has a few other interesting plot twists, but the over-arching theme is the idea of aging and mortality. Which got me thinking…

I’ll turn 38 years old in a couple of months. I definitely look 38 on the outside, but I still feel 18 on the inside (minus the extreme insecurities and placing even an ounce of relevance on what other people think). How can one possibly explain this 20 year disconnect? My wife always says she’s married to a child so perhaps my intellectual immaturity is the source of this physical / mental chasm? I also looked like I was 12 years old deep into college, so maybe in some way this extended period of pubescence altered my personal space / time continuum? (and allowed me to pull very little ass by the way) Or perhaps it’s just one of life’s many cruel realities? Whatever the case may be aging SUCKS. What follows are my top 10 gripes about getting old:

10) I’m sexually invisible to anyone under the age of 25. Don’t think I don’t notice you not noticing me, sweetheart. That’s right, just keep on walking while I cry myself to sleep on the inside.

9) Wrinkles (specifically crow’s feet in my case). If I had a time machine and could go back to when I was a teenager to tell my stupid self just one thing it would be… to wear some f*cking sunscreen you stubborn little shit (also to invest every dime I make into 3 company’s called Yahoo, Google, and Facebook – who knew?).

8) It’s 10:00 pm and I’ve just finished a nice dinner with friends. I have two choices: a) hit the clubs for more drinks / dancing, or b) go home and watch TV in bed. 10 out of 10 times I choose option b. Where’d my ‘fun’ go?

7) I spend more time shaving my back and ears than I do shaving my face. Seriously – where the f*ck did all this hair come from?

6) I can finally afford a sports car. But if I buy one now I’ll be the pathetic, mid-life crisis guy everyone points at and laughs.

5) I now have to work out three times as hard to look half as good as I did ten years ago. 3X = Y/2-10? Yup - the math just gets evil as the years go by.

4) My hair’s so gray I look like Phil Donahue (for the twenty-something set he was the king of daytime TV until Oprah ate him during a binge). I can’t even grow a damn beard without looking like Santa.

3) I have more in common with people who are 55 than I do with people who are 20. It’s true – do the math.

2) In just two short years a guy with a plastic glove will be shoving his hand up my ass. Where the hell did the time go?

1) I swear to God if one more snot-nosed waiter or waitress calls me sir, I’m coming over the f*cking table.

People always say you’re only as old as you feel. Oh yeah – bullshit.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Five People Who Need A Sock Full Of Nickels Upside The Head



When did the American public’s fascination with dim-witted, self-absorbed, no-talent hacks like you begin? And how do we make you go away?


Racial ambulance chasing just never gets old… but it does. Look up ‘tired act’ in the dictionary and there’s a picture of you, Al.


Really any of the current GOP presidential candidates could be inserted here (and I’m a registered Republican), but I picked you because you suck so damn bad at debating. I’m honestly a little embarrassed for you.


For wearing that dress at your age? Nope – for calling the Pope a nazi. What the hell were you thinking? The Catholic Church is like the Roman mafia – better watch your ass, Sarandon.


Not really a person but the Westboro Baptist Church is perhaps the most deserving candidate on the list. There’s a special place in hell for crazy, hate-mongering zealots like you.

Happy Wednesday from The Quinsey Blog

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

And We Have A New Nominee For Father Of The Year



It's 39-year-old Shawn Weimer (pictured above) who faces charges of child abuse after making his 9-year-old daughter drive him to a service station because he was too drunk to take the wheel, police said. The outing was caught on tape by the station’s surveillance video, which shows the van pulling up to the station around 3 a.m. on Oct. 8, and Weimer walking in with his daughter.

Hmmm, drunk at 3:00 am with a hankering for a slurpee and nachos. How to get to convenient store? Think damn it, think. Wait a second, my 9-year-old daughter is sober. Bam - problem solved. Either he’s a drunken genius or the worst father in the history of time (probably both).

Weimer was arrested after police officers in Brownstown Township, southwest of Detroit, were alerted by a 911 call. “A child is driving and her dad is drunk and he’s in the passenger side,” the caller, who watched the girl get in the driver’s seat at the service station and pull the vehicle onto the road, told a 911 dispatcher. “Are you sure the child’s driving, sir?” the dispatcher asks the caller.

Can you really blame the dispatcher for questioning the authenticity of the call? We’re talking about Detroit – the meth capital of the Midwest.

When police stopped the car a few miles later, they were surprised to see the young girl really sitting behind the wheel, in a booster seat but still able to operate the van’s gas and brakes. They were even more surprised at the 9-year-old’s reaction. “She looks at the uniformed police officer, and says ‘What did you stop me for? I was driving good,’” Brownstown Detective Lt. Robert Grant said. The girl later told detectives that this wasn’t the first time her dad had her serve as his designated driver. “She explained to me that he did let her drive before,” Grant said. “On this night, she indicated, he was drinking whiskey and, for whatever reason, instead of the little girl being in bed at 3 a.m., he decided to go for a ride after drinking.”

Where to begin? First off whose idea was it to use a booster seat? “A” for resourcefulness and an “A+” for safety. You can never take safety too lightly in these situations. Secondly did she really say to the police officer, “What did you stop me for? I was driving good.” OMG – I think I love her. (first and last time in the history of this blog I’ll ever use the acronym OMG) Seriously though if she’s up for adoption, please send me the paperwork – I’m very interested. Lastly, how did she know he was drinking whiskey and not, say bourbon? This kid’s obviously a genius.

Officers described Weimer as “argumentative” in telling them he was just teaching his daughter to drive. Weimer and the girl’s mother are separated and she was spending the weekend with him.

Who doesn’t teach their 9-year-old how to drive at 3:00 in the morning after slamming down a bottle of Jack? And you’re separated from the girl’s mother? Shocker.

Weimer refused a Breathalyzer test and was arrested. He was charged with second- and fourth-degree child abuse, one a felony and the other a misdemeanor, for the Oct. 8 incident. He was also charged with being a habitual offender from previous convictions for unarmed robbery, felony firearm possession and receiving and concealing stolen property. He could face 15 years in prison if convicted. Weimer was also ordered to have no contact with his daughter, now back in the custody of her mother.

Let this be a warning to future mother’s everywhere. This is exactly the type of shit that happens when you procreate with a mutant like Shawn Weimer. Dollars for doughnuts the poor kid ends up a stripper. It would be sad if it wasn’t so funny.

What's Wrong With You China?



Last Thursday, a two-year-old girl crossing the street by herself in the city of Foshan in China’s southern Guangdong Province, was hit by a van. The driver paused briefly as the defenseless child lay trapped between his front and rear wheels writhing in pain, then sped off, squashing her fragile body a second time.

Soon after a second vehicle rolled over the girl, flattening her tiny legs, the driver presumably unaware that a human body lay in the road. The second driver also did not stop.

As if both these assaults on humanity were not egregious enough, 18 more people – on foot, on motorbikes, and on bicycles – passed by the little girl, lying in a pool of her own blood, and did NOTHING. One man on a motor scooter had to swerve to avoid running over her twitching, mangled little body. Even a mother with her own child purposely ignored the victim.

A video of the incident captured by surveillance cameras was immediately posted on-line. Note: do yourself a favor and do NOT watch it. As a father and a human being I was absolutely sickened by the images of this helpless little girl fighting for her life, while callous on-lookers stood by and did nothing.

SEVEN minutes rolled by like an eternity until one Good Samaritan finally stepped up and took action. A woman collecting trash noticed the little girl lying broken in the street, picked up her now limp body, and moved her to the side of the road. She then asked passers-by who the girl belonged to, and eventually the mother appeared (distraught) to claim her daughter named Yueyue.

This story, which has been a leading headline on all of China’s news sites the past few days, touched a nerve in the country. Many have pointed to a lack of moral standards which have come to define modern day China, and a general disregard for fellow human beings now prevalent in the most populous country in the world.

When interviewed by police the first driver said, “If she is dead, I may pay only about 20,000 yuan (equivalent to $3,125 USD). But if she is injured, it may cost me hundreds of thousands yuan." You just fatally wounded a two-year-old child and you’re worried about money, you heartless piece of shit? If I ever get the opportunity to run you over with my car, I’m in.

Yueyue, meanwhile, is in critical condition with serious brain injuries, breathing only with the help of a ventilator. Doctors do not expect her to live.

Which begs the question: what’s wrong with you China? You’ve become the uncontested economic super power of the world but at what cost? Can we not deduce from this incident that you’re nothing more than a nation of 1.34 billion soulless robots, which lack the compassion and humanity to help a dying child in need? Shame on you people of Guangdong Province – you’re a disgrace to decent human beings everywhere. Rest assured absurdly large population of China, developers in hell are currently working overtime on expansion, so that they may accommodate your wayward spirits in the afterlife.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Success Is The Best Revenge



I get it. Poverty is at its highest level since the early 1950’s. There aren't nearly enough high-paying jobs and wages are stagnant (the median full-time male worker earns just $48,000 a year, the same as in 1969 in real, inflation-adjusted terms). Home prices have dropped to 2003 levels and don’t show any signs of rebounding. Health care and education costs continue to skyrocket. The stock market is increasingly beguiled by billionaire hedge fund managers and Wall Street insiders who use their secret sauce (computer algorithms – think Moneyball only evil) to manipulate outcomes. Washington is a complete f*cking shit show. And all the while corporations are reaping record profits ($1.5 trillion a year) as the rich get richer. Make no mistake – we ARE heading for a new recession and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. In other words we’re screwed.

So what’s the problem? While there are multiple structural problems with our economy, in the eye of the storm lies the high cost of U.S. labor. Job creation and wage growth have stalled as U.S. companies outsource and downsize to take advantage of cheap foreign labor. Companies have seen profits rise using low-cost manufacturing outlets in Asia to supply high-cost goods to Europe, the United States, and Japan. This shift in the power balance between workers and businesses is driving an unprecedented level of income inequality. As corporate profits swell the gap between the uber-rich and the rest of us widens, as the top 1% benefit from their large investment holdings. The fact that trading partners like China are playing dirty poker (holding down the value of their currency to make their exports artificially cheap) only compounds the problem. (Thank you China for kicking us while we’re down - don’t think we’ll forget about this when we’re back on top, you pinko commie bastards) The credit crisis, increasing debt (both public and private), and the steady decline of the American standard of living, all stem directly from this job and wage stagnation, among other things.

So how do we fix it? F*ck if I know. If I had all the answers I’d be one of the uber-rich myself. I do know this: taking a shit on the sidewalk in Zuccotti Park is not the answer. Something for you hippies to consider while you’re out there setting up camp and making those stupid, uninspired (yet amusing) picket signs: while the overall unemployment rate remains over 9%, there's a huge difference tied to education level. Among those with less than a high school diploma, unemployment stands at 14%. For those with a bachelor's degree or higher, it’s just 4.2%. So roll up your sleeping bags, stop feeling sorry for yourselves, take a f*cking shower for God’s sake, and go out and educate your misguided souls. I know - school’s not free but that’s what student loans are for (don’t worry it’s the next credit bubble waiting to burst, and eventually the government will pass a law giving the banks a tax break to forgive your student debt, so spend it like it’s not yours while there’s still time). Then once you have an over-priced, government-subsidized education the only thing keeping you from your piece of the pie will be… you. I hate to rain on your pity parade, but there’s no rescue party coming to hand you the things you think you deserve. You’ll actually have to work hard for that stuff - God forbid.

But what about the CEO’s and hedge fund managers getting uber-rich while the rest of us claw and scratch just to get by? Trust me, I’m just as pissed off as you are about corporate greed, government bailouts, and the overall sorry state of our economy. I could easily be discouraged and squat in the park with the rest of you losers, blaming my problems on someone else. But I choose a different path. I choose to wake up each and every day and think about one thing and one thing only – revenge. Why waste time despising the rich when I could instead invest my time trying to become one of them? With a positive attitude, an innovative spirit, and a relentless sense of resolve, ANYONE can crash their party. Why not me? Why not you? This is America for Christ's sake. I’m coming for my piece of the pie Wall Street, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me. No matter how shitty things get always remember: success is the best revenge. See you at the top, mother f*ckers.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The De-Evolution of Mankind



If you really stop and think about it the human race is nothing short of miraculous. Out of the ashes we rose some 200,000 years ago (if you believe in the theory of evolution – if not you’re insane and I can’t help you) and have accomplished truly great things ever since. As I contemplate a random sampling of mankind’s greatest achievements, I can’t help but be moved and inspired:

• There are the philosophical teachings of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, whose influences molded and shaped science as we know it today

• The great literary works of William Shakespeare, who centuries before Freud and Jung, dissected human psychology presenting it as both comedy and tragedy

• There’s Stonehenge where enormous boulders weighing several tons each were stacked upon one another WITHOUT the aid of mechanical devices

• The Seven Wonders of the World including the Great Pyramid of Giza which literally defies modern science

• There’s the great innovator Louis Pasteur, who developed vaccines which significantly extended human life expectancy

• Newton’s laws of universal gravitation which took physics a giant leap forward into the future

• There’s the Declaration of Human Rights introduced by the U.S. Constitution, which forever changed the world and civilized society

• Einstein’s theory of relativity which completely revolutionized modern day physics

• There’s the Wright brothers who took to the sky and became the pioneers of powered flight

• And space travel which put the very first man on the surface of the moon

I know - It’s a lot to take in all at once. Your mind fills up like a balloon until you exhale and let it flow through you. Then the pride rushes in and you can’t help but feel gratitude to be part of the greatest species on earth…

Until you see a photo like this (sent to me by a buddy from his recent RV trip to San Diego) and it all goes to shit:


Seriously, who pissed in the gene pool? (At least he’s not a Republican)

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Straight From The WTF Department: 'Hung' Star Thomas Jane Proclaims “I Had Sex With Men for Money”



Thomas Jane casually tells the Los Angeles Times that as a struggling 18-year-old actor, he often performed sexual acts with other men in order to pay the bills.

Whoa, back up the truck. Did you just say that you OFTEN performed sexual acts with other men in exchange for money? I’m no Dr. Phil, but if I’m not mistaken I'm pretty sure you just outed yourself as a gay prostitute.

"As James Dean said, you're going to have one arm tied behind your back if you don't accept people's sexual favors," Jane explains.

Huh? I’m confused. How is ANYTHING James Dean ever said even remotely applicable to you being a gay hooker? I’m not following you, Tommy. Please elaborate.

"When I was a kid out here in L.A., I was homeless. I didn't have any money and I was living in my car," the actor recalls. "I wasn't averse to going down to Santa Monica Boulevard and letting a guy buy me a sandwich. Know what I mean?"

Um, a blow job for a sandwich? Yeah… no. I have no idea what you mean. I do know that’s completely disgusting and you’re a sick f*ck though.

The 42-year-old actor adds that the experience "blew the doors off my conventional upbringing" (no pun intended) and opened him up to new possibilities.

New possibilities? Like tea bagging George Michael in a public restroom at the beach? Seriously, what’s dirtier than a public restroom at the beach? Never mind, I just answered that.

"You're a lot more open to experimentation as a young man," he tells the newspaper. "And for me, being a young artist and broke in Los Angeles, I was exploring my sexual identity."

There you go playing the starving artist card. So f*cking predictable. News flash: being an “artist” doesn’t give you carte blanche to behave like a filthy pervert. What is it with you Hollywood types thinking you’re somehow above the laws of conventional society? I’m an actor so I can do whatever the f*ck I want and label it artistic expression – bullshit.

By the way the only acceptable form of someone “exploring their sexual identity” would involve two sorority sisters, a video camera, and copious amounts of alcohol. You getting poo-jammed by some random dude in an alley in exchange for a cheeseburger doesn’t even remotely qualify.

The actor, whose former wives include Ayesha Hauer and Patricia Arquette, doesn't regret his decision to dabble in same-sex relations.

Yeah, but I bet they regret ever marrying a twisted f*ck like you. I’m sorry Ayesha and Patricia, but there’ll be no shower hot enough or long enough to ever wash off the filth of this degenerate.

“Until you've tasted the food, you don't know whether you'll like it or not, as my mom always said," he says.

Wow, really? Did you really just quote your Mom when talking about your history as a gay prostitute? Mom must be so proud.

I’ll take a dick sandwich with a side of brown gravy please. (I know, I know that’s just childish - sorry I couldn’t resist)

Let me conclude this post by stating that I have no problem whatsoever with homosexuality in any way, shape, or form. I’m actually in favor of it. Diversity in all forms is a healthy paradigm for any society. I do however have a big problem with bisexual prostitution. Do you think Tom Brady would ever consider moonlighting for the New York Jets during his bye week? I think not. Pick a team people. Otherwise you’re just a depraved pervert – like Thomas Jane. Wow.