Canada is an enigma wrapped in a riddle.  It is a land of unending contradictions that has caused both great pleasure

and innumerable horrors upon the world.  Throughout history it has given us such greatness as Pamela Anderson, maple syrup, Captain Kirk and horse-mounted police.   At the other end

OK, everyone put on your sunglasses and whatever you do, don't smile. This way they'll never know we're from Canada

it has unleashed the monstrosities of Cirque de Soleil, Howie Mandel and Alex Trebek upon the unsuspecting global populace.

However, the greatest contradiction that comes from Canada is the music that they choose to create and export.   On one hand we’ve been blessed to have Neil Young, Rush, The Band, Billy Talent, Thornley and Nickleback.  Unfortunately just as one giveth with one hand and taketh with the other, we’ve been forced to endure, under the evil auspices of NAFTA, the ear-raping of Celine Dion, Michael Buble, Avril Lavigne, Barenaked Ladies and, worst of all, Sebastian Bach.

So it was with some trepidation, I received an unmarked package hailing from the great white wastelands of British Columbia late this week.  Inside this package contained an E.P. from another Canadian band, Gypsy Curse, titled “Wake The Dead E.P.”

Would Gypsy Curse be the next The Guess Who or Bryan Adams?

Would I have another reason to hate Canada?

Could this CD provide redemption for the incessant siren sound of Nelly Furtado’s “Promiscuous”?

Gypsy Curse owes me $14,542 for using my trademarked phrase. I will take my payment in cash or free tanning sessions

I tentatively loaded the CD, cranked the volume to 11, readied my killswitch and prepared for the worse.

My fears were unfounded.

It was good.  Different, but good.  A mix of punk, metal and shaken, not stirred, with a heavy dose of Iron Maiden and Anthrax.  Pounding rhythms, great chunky riffs and wailing vocals.

Starting the E.P. off with “Anger Pill” via Michael Buffer’s trademarked “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” and quickly exploding up-tempo for a manic exercise in a metal/punk explosion reminiscent of Metallica’s Garage Days, I relaxed.  It was good, much better than anticipated.

Moving next to the much shorter “Again” an opening driving riff slows the pace a little, but the song builds with drums and raw eerie vocals eventually overlaid.  The lyrics could have been a little better with at my best count the word “Again” pops up 632 times in just under 3 minutes.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say this track was an early demo from Metallica.

The next track, “Frozen”, shifted more towards of melodic rock and is without a doubt the standout on the E.P. There was some significant effort and talent thrown into this track.  As the same anger is evident in the first two tracks, but this time more subtle, more authentic, more soulful with an unrequited longing that will not ever heal.  It was one of those few tracks that the comes around every once in awhile that the tone of the guitar fits perfect with the emotion of the lyrics. That same magic that is in Foo Fighter’s “My Hero”.

Closing the EP is “Broken” another hard driving exercise that conjures early Megadeth.  Crisp, tight guitar work with heavy,

Everything I do, I do it to annoy you. Yes, you Captain Boondoggle.

rapid drumming and a technically masterful guitar solo.  Of course, throwing in lyrics of  “Are You F-ing Kidding Me?”

(an clear homage to RUFKM) helps also.

What else can I say?  Are they the next great thing?  I don’t know, but what I can say for certain is that they make up for the fiasco that was the Winter Olympics.

However, they will have to release a full album if they ever expect me to excuse them for Bryan Adams.

Gypsy Curse – Wake The Dead is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Oh my God, this car will NOT get the fuck out of my way. Holy shit, this is annoying. This car totally will NOT get out from in front of me.

All I am trying to do is get to the Circle K and get some…um…well, just get to the Circle K. That’s all. And this car will NOT move. I’m not really in a hurry or anything, and this isn’t anything that can’t wait until later. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have to get where I am going NOW, and this car is making things difficult for me. He’s just…driving…at that annoying speed, which is well within the posted limit but still too slow for my tastes because I would like to drive slightly faster than he is. God damn it, this pisses me off! What is that he’s driving anyway, a Citröen? What the fuck is that? Who drives that? Where do you even get one of those? God damn foreigners. Where’s Toby Keith when you need him?

Maybe if I tailgate him and glare passive aggressively at him in his rear view mirror he’ll speed up. No, that doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe I’ll swerve around a bit and flash my lights and make a spectacle of myself. He will surely realize that he is a minor inconvenience to me getting to my unimportant destination and get the fuck out of my way. No, no dice. It’s like time has come to a stop, he’s driving so slow. There probably aren’t any cars in front of him, and if I could just get past this one car, I would be at the front of all the other cars and could drive as fast as I want to. This is probably the most annoying thing that has happened to anyone in America all day. Maybe I should put it on the Internets so everyone in the world can see that my morning sucks more than anybody’s morning anywhere in the world.

This car will not get the fuck out of my way.

Wait…I could change lanes…no, there’s an asshole in the other lane who is also driving slightly slower than I would like to drive. Damn. Wait, he’s turning. Okay…passing the foreign piece of shit. Finally. Oh great. There’s a red light. Okay that’s fine, at least I am the first one at the light so there will be nobody in front of me. Wow look, that prick is right behind me now. How ironic that I spent all that time trying to get around him and we’re eight inches apart at the same light.  That’s okay, it was worth it. I am no longer behind that car and that’s the only thing that matters to me. It is even more important than wherever it was I was going, that I get out from behind that car. Seriously, if I had to spend one more minute driving behind that car, it would probably have ruined my life.

I hate it when I want to drive a little bit faster, but the person in front of me will not get immediately out of my way because I want them to. That infuriates me and I cannot tolerate it for even a moment. That’s almost as annoying as people who hesitate for a nanosecond at green lights instead of peeling away the way I would. Do you think I like leaning on my horn when you waste almost two seconds of my life making me wait for you? No, I don’t. It grieves me to do it, but you force me to.

Okay, the light is green. Peeling away…smooth sailing now. Awesome. Maybe I’ll send some text messages or shave, or read the paper since there should be no more cars in front of me from now on. HOLY SHIT. I can’t believe it! That cock sucker just passed me and is in front of me again? Doesn’t he realize that his place is behind me? No, this isn’t gonna work. I have got to get out from behind this car. Damn it, now he’s driving slightly slower than I would like to drive again. Son of a bitch! Okay, fuck this. I am just going to pass him on the shoulder. I absolutely will not tolerate another car being in front of me. Here goes…

Perfect. Later days, bitches!

Stupid bitch.

Well grease my ass and and fuck me with a pine cone. There’s another car in front of me! Just how many fucking cars are there? How long am I going to have to tailgate, flash my lights and pass people on the shoulder before I get out from behind all these cars? There needs to be a fucking law against…stuff that I don’t like. Okay, just stay frosty and you’ll think your way out of this. There’s just enough space between this car and the single mom in the minivan full of children next to me so if I time this right I can slip through. Wait, that’s pretty dangerous. I’d better remember to use my blinker as I swerve in front of her.

SWEET. Did it. Oh wow, that lady in the minivan just rolled over. Well, if the stupid bitch had been driving wicked the way I wanted her to drive it wouldn’t have happened. I used my blinker, so obviously she wasn’t paying attention. Um, I think they call that defensive driving you whore! I can’t believe they let morons like that even have kids. I could have been fucking killed! Oh well, I’d better text my bro and tell him about that sweet wipe out. Now where is his number. Wait, if I get the wheel with my knees it’ll be way easier to text. Awesome. I should give driving lessons, because the rest of you bitches got no game. Finally, here’s the Circle K. It’s about time; I almost got snuffed by some stupid wench in a minivan full of retard-o kids.

It almost wasn't worth it.

I can’t believe it. It’s that stupid fucker in the foreign car pulling in next to me. How did he get here so fast? There’s no way. I had to pull some pretty sweet moves to get here myself. Whoa, it’s a babe. A foreign babe! Okay look sharp and turn on the charm. Hey baby, can I have your phone number, because I forgot mine. What, why are you looking at me like that? Okay, how about I buy you a drink…or do you just want the money? Hey where are you going? Whatever…next stop Planet Lesbo. Oh yeah, no heterosexual woman would fail to be attracted to that shit. That was pimp style, right there.You are obviously into the taco. I just came in here for some gum anyway. I can’t even believe this lame ass shit. I almost got run off the road by a bunch of Boy Scouts, and then get disrespected by some fucking lesbian foreigner all over a pack of gum.

I don’t even know why I bother getting up in the morning.

I Have GOT to Get Around This Car. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Is it "last" or "las" vegas? I'm telling you it is "last" and since we printed all these damn shirts that it going to be from now on. Now just look mad about something.

arguably had one of the best rock releases in the past decade.  And it is almost unheard of that such a band would also have a dynamic stage show that it would capture the raw essence of said release.

The band.  The Last Vegas.

Opening for Tesla at the sold-out House of Blues is no easy feat.  The vast majority of fans in the audience wanted to hear old-school Tesla.  They would have no patience for Tesla playing newer material from their most recent and stellar release, Forever More, let alone material from a band that has never released an album on cassette.

Surrounded by the mongoloid screams of “Free-bird”, hair straight out of Dynasty, “Tesla Troops” members and the stench of Bud Light filling the air, my apprehension for a band that brings the sleaze, glam and punk worthy of the Sunset Strip and best heard at the Rainbow or Roxy was high.

It started out a little harsh with the mix on the opener.  I’m not sure what the song was, but presumably it is something off their next album or perhaps an extended sound check.  Things got whole lot better as they went to what should’ve been their opening track  of “Whatever Gets You Off” and the crowd began to warm up to them as a result of the infectious energy inherent in this track and the somewhat manic gyrations of lead singer Chad Cherry.

The energy grew as they moved into the next track “Dirty Things You Do” as even inpatient Tesla fans appreciated Chad’s description of “she wants to fuck on a bed of money”.  In addition to Nate Arling’s crushing drumming driving this track, Chad threw in a good scream and tonality reminiscent of Axl Rose circa 1988.  It is apparent that the band enjoys playing this track live.

Why do people keep yelling "Signs"? Chad, hurry flash some devil horns that will get their attention.

The band then moved into another track even the great Boondoggle was not familiar with. Something sounding like “What you take it now”, that had a great bass line and Chad began to finally interact with the audience.  Unfortunately, his interaction was to announce they were going to then perform “Apologize” to which an apparently “Signs” loving Tesla fan behind me screamed “Apologize for sucking”.

However, once “Apologize” started the crowd immediately forgot their desire to hear “Modern Day Cowboy” for the 6,432nd time and started to sing with the chorus.  I’d have to say this was probably the turning point in the set, as the energy in the crowd seemed to palpitate to The Last Vegas.

Two new songs were next with “Devil in You” an obvious crowd favorite and the bluesy but grammatically challenged “Living Ain’t Easy” building on the momentum of the set.  After the set in a discussion with Nate, he mentioned that they were in pre-production on a new album and if these two tracks are representative of the follow-up to “Whatever Gets You Off”, rock fans around the world are in for a treat.  If a true measure of a songs greatness is whether or not you like it the first time you hear it — these two new tracks passed that test for me.

Ending the set with the instantly familiar “I’m Bad” and “Love Me Bad”, Chad really began to connect with the audience almost daring them to not enjoy themselves.  Throwing off his glasses, performing with authenticity that would not be seen later in the night and with an urgency of a band possessed with the skills to turn the crowd.

Contrary to The Last Vegas's demands that their shirts only be available in size "Small", this design by Riot Tuxedo was available in a XL

As the set ended and I walked back to the bar, an unusually wide man wearing a NASCAR jacket looked at me and excitedly exclaimed, “That little dude reminds me of Mick Jagger”.

Mick Jagger, indeed.  And if you could put Jagger in a blender with Aerosmith, Cheap Trick, Guns-n-Roses, Motley Crue and add a fifth of Jack Daniels you’d have The Last Vegas.

But their album immediately, if not sooner.  You won’t be disappointed.

* World famous 13 Stupid Question Interview with lead singer Chad Cherry

The Last Vegas at the House of Blues – 02/27/10 is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

It is a well-known and accepted fact that all people, excluding Pauly Shore, fall into either one of two categories: those who are in on the joke and everyone else. Not to further unfairly perpetuate broad stereotypes but telemarketers as a rule without exception always fall into the latter.

Just Google “telemarketers” one day when you are supposed to be working and you’ll understand. There are the obligatory websites from telemarketers decrying that they are in fact real people with real feelings and other such nonsense. More importantly some 2,980,000 hits come up with different ways that you can entertain yourself at a telemarketer’s expense.

I will kill that bitch if she doesn't get her hands off my cheese.

I’m going to save you some time and tell you now that all these other posts are amateurish, juvenile, lacking any real sense of creativity and are simply just not fun.

You’re in luck since Captain Boondoggle is willing to share a little step-by-step plan for your endless entertainment that is simply entitled “Engaging a Telemarketer in a Nonsensical Conversation”.

Before I can unload such a prescriptive roadmap for your entertainment, there are two critical pieces of information that you have to understand to be successful:

1. Telemarketers read from a script and have prepared answers to any of your possible objections.
2. Forcing them to deviate from the script causes them to have epileptic seizures.

Let’s begin with a transcript of a recent call I received:

And….. scene.

It’s 6:30 pm Thursday. Phone rings. Caller ID Reads “A M Mortgage Co.”

Telemarketer (TM): Click….”Hello is Mr. Boondoggle available?”

ME: “I speak for Mr. Boondoggle.”

TM: “Mr. Boondoggle this is Jeff from A M Mortgage Co. and rates are really low right now, how do you feel about saving money on your mortgage?”

ME: “Do you like cheese?”

TM: “……..We can refinance with…uh…no cash….and uh…and lock in a rate….”

ME: “I said, DO YOU LIKE CHEESE?”

TM: “…uh…yes.”

ME: “yes, what?”

Oh, Sweet Delight! Lactose Nirvana!

TM: “ummm…uh…I like cheese?”

NOTE: This is what we in the business like to call “taking control of the conversation” and showing that you are the true alpha dog by not answering any question directed to you.

“Do you like cheese?” The Greatest Phone Prank Ever Told is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Greeting, my friends. I am Jacques.

That is, Jacques Martin Gerard Chevalier Moreau Burtón. Yes, that Jacques Martin Gerard Chevalier Moreau Burtón. What’s that you say, you have not heard of me? Nonsense. Everyone has heard of Jacques Martin Gerard Chevalier Moreau Burtón – that is, everyone who is not a filthy, non sexual disgrace. But you are my guests, and of course I should be kind to you. Jacques would never of course, allow you to call him what the people of France call him – Ma belle brune sauvage – because you are not worthy and to do so would surely destroy you.

Jacques is nothing if not merciful.

No, I can see that you are not prepared for that. Perhaps until you are ready we should begin in small ways. There are some who call me J.M.G.C.M.B., but this sickens me. You Americans love to make words into shorter words because you are too lazy to say them. This is nonsense. But forgive me, Jacques cannot help but insult lesser people. Very well, you may simply call me by the name reserved for those who cannot comprehend me. I am simply, Jacques – the greatest living example of masculinity and he who is desired by every passionate woman and envied by every man who wishes to possess such women.

Yes, my friends; I am simply put – Man Prime.

Of course this is difficult for you to believe, but this is because you are not Jacques-like. This is because compared to Jacques you are but a tiny swine, not fit for Civet or even for that vile monstrosity you Americans call bacon. Yet Jacques will help you, because a day will come when Jacques is no more, and the more of you understand the mysteries of Jacque-dom, the greater the chance that my legacy will live on. This is why, my loyal vermin, I will teach you what no man has been fortunate enough to learn before this day. I will now teach you the one mysterious, ancient secret that has been passed down through the ages from one superbe homme to the next, from one bête sexy to another.

Jacques will now show you Sleep With Many Beautiful Women Using one Simple Rule™

La règle – Devenu comme Jacques

I am Jacques.

There is only one thing you must do to Sleep With Many Beautiful Women. You must only, simply, become like Jaqcues. You see? This is all you must do. I know, there is no hope of you achieving this thing, and this troubles you. Yes, look at you. Even now your lips quiver with indecision because you know you are not Jacques. Women become like ravenous animals for him and men grow insane with anger as their bitches flock to him. This will never happen for you of course, because Jacques is a firestorm of passion that you cannot hope to duplicate. But Jacques will at least show you the secrets of becoming the most sought after an sexy man-beast in all the world, so that your failure can amuse me.

Libérez-vous

Yes, look at you.

Release yourself, my friends. See how Jacques relaxes and becomes one with the water. Does it flow around Jacques, or does Jacques himself command the very elements? Clearly the water loves Jacques, and as we all are made of this water, we all love Jacques. Yes, look at you. Even now you say to yourself ‘How can one be so irresistible? I must have his secrets!’ Do not blame yourself. Jacques has learned the ancient secrets of inner release. Even Jacques can scarcely control his sexiness, so your passion is understandable. I forgive you for your cravings, for even I myself am often transfixed. It is well known that Jacques cannot bear to see his own image, for Jacques weeps with emotion at his own beauty.

Embrassez votre désespoir

Ah, the sweet, sweet suffering.

Now, you must embrace your despair. See now, how Jacques is tormented by his own magnificence? What will he do? Everywhere he goes, the people tear at him, desperate to know whether such a man can be real. Do you think it is easy being Jacques? Do you think Jacques has not problems of his own? Do you think Jacques devoid of insecurity? Do you think that nothing can keep Jacques awake at night with worry? Well this is true, Jacques has none of these things. But one must be prepared to look troubled when one is not. You see, beautiful women adore sadness, but only if it is not real. They can sense when you are being incredibly sexy, and when you are merely a pathetic sniveling weakling – it makes them wish to care for you like a small puppy or a delicate flower. Yes, Jacques is their delicate puppy flower. It drives them mad with lust.

Eat Lots of Fruit

Apples contain many essential vitamins and are a great source of fiber.

It is essential to remain healthy and vital to be Jacques-like. Jacques was not born with these sinewy ribbons of fibrous muscle. Well, actually he was. But you clearly were not. Yet this alone is not enough. The vague, wilting pout that drives the women mad is not developed without sacrifice. The delicate muscle control required can only be achieved through careful precision. Can you eat an apple this way without flinching or fear? Does this frighten you? If so then you are uncultured swine, unprepared for what awaits you! You must fear nothing! Revel in the unknown! Do it not and you will also fail to develop the unprecedented abdominal structure necessary to wear clothes that are far too small for you.

Regardez vers le futur

Jacques looks for his equal, but finds no one.

Look to the future, my friends. There will come a day when Jacques will no longer be Jacques. Jacques will age, as all men do – but he will not age as all men do. Jacques will look the same, only with white hair that has been colored black. Perhaps Jacques will even decide to share himself with only one beautiful woman. On that improbable day, one of my pupils must carry the torch of smoldering desire of Jacques lit so long ago. Will you be ready? Will you understand what must be done? Of course you will not. But on that day, you will at long last cease to be a triviality because you will finally understand but one facet of the incredible, sexy world that is…Jacques.

Avec plaisir vous porcs ingrats

Now, it is time for Jacques to bid you farewell. It takes much dedication to be Jacques; his hair and teeth whitening regimen alone is a grueling masterpiece of sensuality the likes of which you cannot conceive. But now that you have been trained perhaps, if you are fortunate – and you will not be – you will find love. Perhaps a vile water-beast of a woman will turn to you and find herself overcome with attraction. Knowing that this is more than you deserve, perhaps you will say to yourself:  ‘Jacques was right! I can sleep with many beautiful women, only they will be beautiful by my own wretched standards, and not by the superior standards of Jacques!’

And on that day Jacques will sense your gratitude, sitting as he will be on a sun kissed beach in Ibiza, surrounded by fabulously attractive supermodels who unflinchingly do his bidding. And Jacques Martin Gerard Chevalier Moreau Burtón will smile, and say:

Avec plaisir vous porcs ingrats – With pleasure, you ungrateful swine!

Sleep With Many Beautiful Women Using one Simple Rule. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Photoshop, 1933 Style.

Bigfoot, also known as Sasquatch, is an ape-like bipedal humanoid that is reputed to roam the forests of the Pacific Northwest, constantly hunting for beef jerky. In 1967, Roger Patterson and Robert Gimlin caught this hairy bitch on film in Bluff Creek, California. In no way did this look like one of their stoned friends stumbling around in their backyard dressed in a monkey suit.

Do not taunt Bigfoot with Slim Jim, only Jack Links. The man knows his jerky.

The above are nothing but folklore, silly myths passed down for generations. AKA: complete bullshit.

Pelosi: She will haunt your dreams.

I’m about to warn you about a creature that is not only real, but more frightening than watching Nancy Pelosi attempting to smile: The North American Cockasaurus.

I swear that the following is a true story, I just don’t have the blurry photographic evidence to back it up.

A few weeks ago I was sick and walking around shopping for some groceries while high on antibiotics that help cure upper respiratory infections… and cause me to have an almost uncontrollable urge to shit.  This is a huge problem for me because I despise using public restrooms.  (RUFKM Tip: If you ever need a colon cleansing, pop a Z Pack for a few days. You’ll be all set.) One of these uncontrollable urges happened as I was shopping at my local grocery store which is located next to a retirement community.  This location is infested with people who were around for the first World War yet still have a driver’s license.  The parking lot is like a real life version of Death Race 2000 with danger at every turn.

Yes, I wear this outfit. It is my only means of survival against elderly drivers.

I left my shopping cart behind and jetted to the restroom to release the evil inside of me. The restroom was a one urinal and one stall setup and it was empty.  Jackpot!  As I sat there with my pants around my ankles and a fresh load floating in the bowl, I froze as I heard someone – or something – stomp into the restroom and say the following:

“Mmm. Nice big bathroom. A big bathroom ……..FOR MY BIG COCK.”

Sometimes you hear things so strange, so disturbing, that your brain dismisses it at first because it can’t fully process the insanity.  The voice sounded like Ron Burgundy.  When I say “sounded like” I mean it was such a good impression it was as if Will Ferrell was performing outtakes from Anchorman.  Also…he seemed to be dragging one of his feet.  (Stomp.  Drag.  Stomp.  Drag.)

“Lots of room in here. Big pisser. Nice and big….FOR MY BIG COCK.”

Was a porn movie about to start filming? Was Dirk Diggler shopping for coffee filters and nutmeg?  Several thoughts flowed through my head at this point.  Was he retarded?  Was this a prank or did he just enjoy talking to his dick?  The voice wasn’t from a teenager.  Did he know I was in the stall?  Regardless, he would soon know as I hadn’t flushed. Also, per the before mentioned demographic of this store, there was an almost 100% chance he’d be talking about the size of his Johnson to an 85 year old.  Disturbing.

This was drawn on my bathroom stall. Perhaps an artist's rendering of an earlier sighting of the Cockasaurus

I heard him sniffing and clearing his throat.

“My girlfriend has a big ass. A big ass …. FOR MY BIG COCK.”

This was like hearing someone read the nonsensical shit carved into bathroom stalls.  I fumbled with my iPhone, trying to get to the record application.  He started moving again. (Stomp.  Drag.  Stomp.  Drag.)

It suddenly hit me?  Was the dragging sound his leg…or his BIG COCK?  Or course it wasn’t.  Those were crazy thoughts.  But nobody would believe me about this encounter unless I had some proof.  I tried peeking through the cracks in the stall to get a good look at this beast.  I couldn’t see anything.  He flushed then began walking again.  (Stomp.  Drag.  Stomp. Drag.)

“Gotta check my hair. I’ve got big hair to go along with my…BIG COCK.”

Then there was silence except I could hear him breathe.  He, or IT wasn’t moving.  Was he trying to elicit a response?  If so, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.  This went on for about 30 seconds as I tried to get the record app ready to go on my iPhone.

Before I could hit record, IT started moving again and said one last thing before it vanished forever.  (Stomp.  Drag.  Stomp.  Drag.)

“Mmmm.  COCK.”

And then my world was dark.  Whoever IT was had shut off the restroom lights.  Are you fucking kidding me?  It was pitch black.  Was IT hiding? Was this IT’s natural environment and I had disturbed IT’s delicate ecosystem?  I heard nothing else.  After determining that IT had left, I used the light from my iPhone to do my business and quickly got the hell out of the bathroom.

I scanned the checkout lines for anyone who was less than 80 years old, limping, and looked like a madman.  Nothing.  All I found was the cast from Cocoon.

No trace of the Cockasaurus was found. Just Wilford Brimley and friends as far as the eye could see. With shirts.

I have named this creature The North American Cockasaurus. Whether this was an elaborate prank or not, this is story is true.  I am not fucking kidding you.

Consider yourself warned.

The North American Cockasaurus: Real or Elaborate Hoax? is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Washington, DC – In a blockbuster announcement today, Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood, appearing with Attorney General Eric Holder disclosed details of an ongoing investigation conducted by both departments, in conjunction with the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA). The results of the probe have sent shock waves worldwide and have shaken the American political establishment to its very roots.

“After extensive investigation into customer complaints regarding sudden acceleration and braking issues in the popular Toyota Prius model, a worldwide conspiracy was uncovered and brought to the attention of my office,” Holder announced. “This conspiracy involved a number of notable figures worldwide, and stemmed from a well planned, well funded and well orchestrated effort by right wing extremists to discredit the environmental movement.”

“People should stop driving cars,” added LaHood.

A recent victim of the so-called 'Prickly Prius' sabotage case.

According to officials, the problem first came to light with a number of Toyota models began experiencing issues with faulty accelerator pedals. However the focus of the investigation quickly began to narrow to the Prius, Toyota’s signature Hybrid model.

“The accelerator issue with the other models was apparently a red herring,” Holder continued. “Upon further investigation, it became clear that someone was trying specifically to discredit the Prius and instill fear into its environmentally conscious customer base.”

According to documents obtained by RUFKM Worldwide, the NHTSA reached a dead end when several suspects were identified but either disappeared or took their own lives by ingesting cyanide capsules when approached for questioning. One suspect reportedly threw himself from the roof of a parking garage rather than allow himself to be apprehended. His last words to investigators were quoted as:

“The man I work for…you don’t know him…he’s an angry, vicious pit bull! There are things worse than death you know! I’d rather jump off this building, land face down in the street, be run over by a dozen cars and eaten by stray dogs than talk!”

In an eerie coincidence the suspect subsequently jumped as promised, landing face down in the street before being struck by several vehicles and eaten – by rabid squirrels. The identity of the suspect’s shadowy employer was not clear, but it became obvious to investigators that they were dealing with a particularly deadly conspiracy whose icy tendrils encircled the globe.

“It was at this time that we realized we were dealing with a potential plot that would require less traditional methods of investigation. A special outside investigative unit was brought in to assist the inquiry. At this time I’d like to allow the leader of this elite criminal interdiction unit an opportunity to provide further detail.” Holder stepped aside, appearing to beckon someone from backstage.

Agent 'Fred' and his Unit in an Agency file photo.

A girlishly handsome blond man about five foot nine, wearing an outdated white V-neck sweater and a woman’s scarf approached the podium. “Hey gang, it’s really super to be here today! I totally can’t tell you my real name, but you can call me Agent Fred!”

Agent ‘Fred’ was unusually chipper for the leader of an elite crime unit, and by his manner of dress did not appear to be a traditional law enforcement officer. When questioned, he had only this to say on the matter:

“It’s not a scarf dammit, it’s an ascot!”

‘Fred’ went on to claim that his Unit was called upon by the Justice Department to conduct an undercover investigation of what he called the ‘Mystery of the Prickly Prius’. The probe began at a Los Angeles Toyota dealership where employees had reported a strange ghostly apparition appearing on the lot at night. Descriptions of the intruder varied but reportedly included ‘Space Zombie’, ‘Flying Skeleton’, and ‘Scary Pirate Ghost’. traditional , but Agent ‘Fred’ indicated that his team operated outside the law, and thus determined these unusual incidents to be an ideal starting point.

“Our mannish looking but brainy electronics expert Agent ‘Velma’ drives a Prius so we knew we had to act fast.” He paused to adjust his ‘ascot’. “Also, everybody knows there’s no such thing as Scary Pirate Ghosts.”

“We just knew this was gonna be the grooviest mystery ever!”

According to the case file, Agent ‘Velma’ remained in the Unit Van to run surveillance operations while the rest of the Gang decided to split up. They were immediately routed, with Agents ‘Shaggy’ (using his deep cover identity of a San Francisco beatnik) and ‘Scooby’ (the Unit’s specially trained canine operative) being flanked by a Flying Skeleton. Agents ‘Fred’ and ‘Daphne’ were pursued by what indeed appeared to be a Scary Pirate Ghost, but evaded capture by utilizing a preplanned escape route behind the dealership. The Unit regrouped at a nearby Pawn Shop, here the proprietor provided some valuable clues.

LAPD file photo of the arrest.

“The Creepy Coin Collector told us the police got some partial fingerprints, but they couldn’t be traced – it was as if the criminal’s identity had been erased.” continued Agent ‘Fred’. “That seemed pretty strange because like Agent ‘Daphne’ always says, everybody knows ghosts don’t have fingerprints! We knew we had to keep trying!”

At the insistence of Agents ‘Shaggy’ and ‘Scooby’, the Gang stopped at a nearby Denny’s, where the peckish pooch and his cannabis craving companion engorged on four Grand Slam Breakfasts each. Upon resumption of their investigation, it became clear that a change in strategy was needed.

“I ordered Agent ‘Daphne’ to help me distract the Scary Pirate Ghost by entering one of the parked vehicles with me and posing as a horny couple making out. Meanwhile, ‘Shaggy’ and ‘Scooby’ checked out the hazardous, deserted service garage. That turned out to be a pretty groovy idea, because both units totally scored!”

There was a brief but comical altercation inside the service garage during which the Flying Skeleton again appeared, causing Agent ‘Scooby’ to overturn a fifty-five gallon drum of recycled motor oil while cowardly fleeing the area. The ‘Skeleton’ lost its footing during the pursuit and was easily apprehended. Local law enforcement was summoned, and at that time all that remained was to unmask the villain.

This led to the biggest surprise of the investigation to date, as the mysterious leader of the criminal conspiracy had been caught red handed, sabotaging a Toyota Prius that had been brought in for routine maintenance.

“It was Old Man Cheney all along!” Exclaimed Agent ‘Fred’.

As of this morning, Los Angeles Police have officially confirmed the arrest of former Vice President Dick Cheney, in connection with the willful sabotage of thousands of Toyota vehicles. According to Agent ‘Fred’, the reasons were simple.

“I guess Old Man Cheney doesn’t believe in global warming. He says it’s a plot by Liberal Scientists to get people to stop using oil, and that if it worked he and his greedy friends would lose a lot of money.”

In an accompanying press release, Agent ‘Shaggy’ provided additional detail. “(Old Man Cheney’s) Plan was totally wild, man! Like…he figured if people thought the Prius was like…a death trap, everybody would like stop driving Hybrids and go back to gas guzzling SUV’s. After that, like…the hippies and their Liberal Media friends would like…be powerless against the oil companies! Like…zoiks!!”

“Also, I just knew there was no such thing as Flying Skeletons!” exclaimed Agent ‘Fred’, again toying with his effeminate looking scarf. “I guess that wraps up this mystery!”

I would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for you lousy meddling kids!

Attorneys for Cheney insist their client is innocent but according to Justice Department officials, a positive fingerprint I.D. was made, and a Flying Skeleton Mask was recovered from the scene. DNA samples are said to match the former Vice President. During his arrest, Cheney was characteristically vindictive, snarling and unrepentant.

“I would have gotten away with it you know, if it hadn’t been for those god damn meddling kids!”

When asked about his Unit’s next assignment, Agent ‘Fred’ was tight lipped on details.

“We’re not really sure. ‘Shaggy’ and ‘Scooby’ are still pretty shaken up, and I think ‘Daphne’ might be pregnant. We’re probably going to take a break, but I hear someone sighted another Space Zombie in a red leather jacket over at Neverland Ranch – so you never know!”

Agent ‘Fred’ paused for thought. “Boy, that would be the super-grooviest mystery ever!”

The ‘Scary Pirate Ghost’ was later identified as former Cheney aide Lewis ‘Scooter’ Libby. Former Vice President Cheney is being held at an undisclosed location awaiting arraignment. Sources indicate that after extensive water-boarding sessions, he is proving to be quite cooperative.

Breaking News – Toyota Prius Conspiracy Revealed is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Maylene and the Sons of Disaster: III.

We warned Dallas about the powers of Monkey Glue but he JUST WOULDN'T LISTEN.

Not only do they have the longest band name in rock history,  TylerDFC wrote a review and called III “the best rock album of 2009″ ,they have two previous releases creatively titled I & II, and they opted to sign to a music label named after a ferret.

That was enough to warrant a “13 Stupid Questions” interview but we did some painstaking research (Wikipedia) and found that the lead singer, Dallas Taylor, used to front a Christian Metalcore Band called Underoath.  This called for a (slightly) less stupid interview asking more in depth questions.  While Maylene is not labeled a ”Christian Band,” their music is based on the general theme that “evil lifestyles will be met with divine justice.”

Or something like that.   Why don’t we let Dallas of  M-SOD 5 tell you all about it.  Huge props to Dallas for not shying away from answering some of the more “edgy” religious questions.

13 Stupid Questions with Dallas Taylor

1.  Dallas, when you hit the stage your bring the noise… and the rage.  Which of these techniques best describes how you prepare yourself for a performance?

1)Gargle with hydrochloric acid
2) Enjoy a nice bowl of ground glass
3) Re-read the press release announcing the Creed reunion

Probably watch our guitar player re-read the press release announcing the Creed reunion, and hear him shout for joy.

2.  You claim to be a Christian band yet on III there are no organs, “Choir of the Bells” solo, or request to donate 10% of my pre-tax earnings. This is outrageous. Explain yourselves.

Yeah I guess when I saw this interview said 13 stupid questions this would have to be the worst question of all.  Did you steal these questions from a 5th grader, and make them your own.

The bell choir was noticeably absent on Maylen's latest opus "III."

haha Just giving you a hard time, but seriously I think I have been asked that same question by a 10 year old.

3.  According to our research (Wikipedia) you chose to base your band around an obscure story about the Ma Barker Gang. Take us back to that band meeting.  What ideas were actually rejected?

We rejected a lot of ideas.  It has been a while so I don’t remember them that much, but I know we had a lot of really bad ideas as well.

4.  We are going to go out on a limb and say that your next album will be titled IV. Will you be continuing your obsession with the Ma Barker gang on this album? How long will you tour behind “III” , when do you plan on going back in the studio, and what changes (if any) can we expect?

I am not sure if we are going to name the next album IV, and maybe branch off a bit from the story.  We might try and do a lot of things different on this next record, change it up a bit keep it fresh.  We hopefully will start getting to go back into the studio close to the end of this year.

5.  “Listen Close” has an incredible hook and takes the listener totally by surprise coming off the aggression of “Step Up (I’m On It)”. The placement of it in the middle of the album makes it a focal point for the listener; the relatively calm eye in the middle of a tornado. In today’s download/shuffle-happy world, how much thought went into the placement of the songs on III? Was the story mapped out and then the songs written to fit, or the other way around?

Placement is a big key in a record, so we did think a good bit about how the songs should go, and they do always map out some sort of story. Yeah I think we did a little of both we mapped out the story, and wrote songs to fit. We also just placed some of the songs already written in the order we thought they should go.

6.  You are on an label called Ferret Music, a company named after a glorified rodent that smells like Drakkar, Old Spice, and asshole.  Even God looks down in hatred at this creature of catastrophe, shakes his head, and says, “I had an off day with that one.” Explain your career decision.

Well we just thought Ferret was the best choice those guys know how it is on the road, and really backed and supported our band. We felt they just understood us the best.

7.  In our soundbite/acronym obsessed world “Maylene & The Sons of Disaster” is completely unacceptable and possibly illegal under the Obama administration. We have suggestions how to shorten your band’s name or completely change it. Although they are all brilliant, you must rank them from best to worst.

A. M SOD 5
B. F Maylene
C. Disaster Pastors

After years of obscurity, Maylene finally found success after dressing like effiminate bumblebees. Stick with what works.

D. Sack of Happy
E. Stryper
F. Teabag Barker
G. I like Cheese
H. Screaming Ninnies
I. RUFKM
J. SATAN-H8R

Best 1 – C Disaster Pastors
2- H – Screaming Ninnies
3 -E -Stryper
4 – A – M SOD 5
5 – B F Maylene
6 – D Sack of Happy
7 – G  I like cheese
8  – I  RUFKM
9  – F  Teabag Barker

8.  During the 2009 premiere of the F/X series Sons of Anarchy we were surprised to hear “Step Up (I’m on It)” playing during one of the party scenes.   Given that your band is modeled on the idea of outlaws it was a perfect, and ironic, fit.   Talk a little about how the song came to be used on the show and if you only license your music to shows that have “Sons of” in the title.

We are not really sure how it came to be used that show has used our songs before, so I guess we have been a on it a couple of times.  I guess it is just a good fit for them to want to use our music.

9.  Where the F is this Maylene chick? She sounds hot.

I am not sure what you are talking about.

Kill it! Kill it with fire!

10.  Your vocals make Brian Johnson and Lemmy sound like Freddie Mercury. As a youth, were you in choir? If so, when you sang “Jesus loves me yes I know, for the bible tells me so” did woman scream and children weep?

Never did the choir thing.  Used to play bass in a band, and write the lyrics in the band. Yeah I am not much of a vocalist, but becoming a professional juggler never really worked out, so I thought what the heck maybe I can just yell a bunch in a band on stage.

11.  Despite delivering what in our opinion was the best hard rock album of the year, success beyond the Christian metal scene still seems to be elusive for “Maylene.” Another incredible Christian rock band, “House of Heroes”, seems to also have this problem even though you both are easily beating most secular artists out there in terms of musicianship and material. How difficult is it to be so well regarded in the Christian arena but largely unknown outside of it while bands, such as talentless asshats Hinder, take all the acclaim?

Well we actually are not even in the Christian music scene that much.  We play with more general market bands than anything else.  But yeah it is pretty much a lottery trying to make it in the music business christian or not.  But if you are like us, and you play music because you love it then it really doesn’t matter in you are in an arena, or in a persons back yard.

Dallas Taylor's yearbook picture, senior year

11a.  What Christian bands are you are proud to be associated with?

Need to Breath is about the only christian rock band that I really like.

11b. What Christian bands are you ashamed to be associated with. For an added level of difficulty you cannot use Hinder, Creed, Stryper, or make any reference to Steven Baldwin.

There are way to many to name, but I think there are way more horrible scene bands that I am ashamed to be associated with. Man I am so sick of horrible bands using the vocoder, and now all the new bands that are these little white kids trying to rap, and scream in the same song. Hang it up and go back to working at some fast food restaurant.

12.  At 2008’s Ozzfest, fellow Christians The Showdown played a set between bands Devildriver and Satan’s Picnic while the crowd celebrated Beelzebub’s birthday. Your comments.

Man more power to them. If you truly believe in something then you have to stand up for it not matter what.  I think people will see you are being real, and will respect you for that. You have to love, and respect people, to get love and respect back.

"Iron Hills, Bitch!"

13.  In a related note, even though “Maylene” is a Christian band, when Loose Cannon hears “Iron Hills” he immediately throw up the “Devil Horns” or “The Goat.”   What happens when your fans do this in concert? Can you suggest an alternative “Halo” gesture?
No people can do what they want we just kind of do our own thing, and try to make the crowd be able to feel apart of the show. We strive to make people feel at ease and comfort when they watch us.  We are a pretty interactive band.

Bonus Round :  Is Jesus overrated?

No I think he is the only thing that is not overrated. He is what keeps me going, and keeps a smile on my face.

13 Stupid Questions with Maylene and the Sons of Disaster is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Hollywood, CA – After quickly shattering all known box office records and still doing brisk business in its sixth week of release, James Cameron’s blockbuster film Avatar was unexpectedly pulled from theaters Monday, according to a spokesman for 20th Century Fox. At a press conference announcing the surprise move, Clayton Nordin of Fox Studios Public Relations called it a ‘business decision’.

Avatar made all the money on earth this weekend, crippling world financial markets.

“We’re all very excited at the success of James Cameron’s Avatar, a movie whose life-affirming message has clearly resonated with moviegoers world wide. Unfortunately, I’m afraid the movie has been a little bit too successful.”

“Essentially, the United States government has asked us to pull the movie, because it has made all the money.”

When asked what he meant by ‘all the money’ Nordin clarified.

“I mean that quite literally as of this weekend, Avatar has made all the money. There simply is no more money. Anywhere. Seriously. I didn’t even get paid Friday.”

Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner addressed the issue at an emergency budget meeting in Washington.

“It appears that Avatar, a rousing movie about the triumph of noble spirit, has made all the money. There is no more money. Anywhere. Seriously. World markets have collapsed and the global economy has gone into free fall. We have asked for the movie to be pulled in an attempt to stop the bleeding – but it may already be too late.”

Geithner did have words of praise for the film itself. “The special effects were eye-popping! Before it destroyed the world, Avatar really was one of those movies you just had to see on the big screen.”

In New York, United Nations General Secretary Ban Ki-moon issued a desperate plea just before the electricity went out.

“Please stop showing this movie, this Avatar. Although it is a beautiful story of love and honor defeating tyranny, and the special effects were very impressive, it has destroyed the world and is killing everything.”

Paris was in ruins Monday after days of rioting.

Across the globe, signs of the financial catastrophe were everywhere. In Chicago, stranded passengers suffocated in subway cars when the electrical grid shut down due to lack of funding. RUFKM’s London Bureau reported roving gangs of soccer hooligans looting Buckingham Palace. Outside, a frantic Prince Charles was seen fleeing, stripped naked with the words ‘royal douche’ painted on his torso. In Paris, massive rioting has paralyzed the city and wreaked havoc on the iconic skyline. Contact with Tokyo has been mysteriously lost, but in an encouraging development, slum dwellers in Mexico City seemed unaware that municipal services were no longer available.

“There was food and water here? Where? Please God, you must show me!” said local beggar Javier Sanchez.

Around the world, money was nowhere to be found as businesses everywhere were unable to meet payroll, banks closed in droves and even common citizens were unable to make ends meet.

“I had ten bucks in my wallet, and it’s just fucking gone!” exclaimed Rod Spainhower of Boston, MA. “Even my kid’s piggy bank is empty! That fucking Avatar took all the god damn money!”

“The special effects were wicked good though,” Spainhower added. “It’s like you were really there!”

Civil unrest has run rampant.

In Hollywood, the lights were still on because according to an official for the City Department of Water and Power, ‘the whole town runs on bullshit’.

It was here that a bewildered James Cameron grappled with the situation.

“You know, I had no idea this was going to happen. I just wanted to make a movie that captured my unique vision of another world, filled with colorful alien vistas unfairly under attack by a remorselessly evil corporate conspiracy. Imagine the irony when I found out that my movie about Earth destroying Pandora ended up destroying the Earth!”

Cameron sighed forlornly. “Man, that’s really fucked up. One little $450 million movie sort of accidentally took over the whole planet. You know, I was just kidding around with all that ‘King of the World’ shit I said back in the day.”

Fearing for his life, Cameron disguises himself in public.

The director has offered to give most of the money back – but according to the World Bank, the currencies of all nations are currently worth slightly less than bat guano – so the transaction would be technically meaningless. Emergency measures are being taken to switch world markets to some form of trade or barter until new forms of currency can be devised. World leaders have been unable to agree on a system but so far, suggestions for replacement forms of money have ranged from using gold doubloons, precious stones, bottle caps, and even the frozen tears of James Cameron himself.

In an ironic turn of events, a consortium of business interests representing all Native American Tribes has offered to purchase the island of Manhattan from the cash starved City of New York for a blanket, three pair of Levis 569 jeans and a Starbucks Coffee gift card. Mayor Michael Bloomberg is said to be seriously considering the offer.

Avatar Pulled From Theaters as World Economy Collapses. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Washington, DC – After a contentious week during which the President delivered his first State of the Union address and debated House Republicans on national television, the gulf between both major political parties showed no sign of narrowing Friday. According to RUFKM Worldwide’s extensive information network, Obama and the Democratic leadership still differ sharply with Congressional Republicans on how best to screw America, with no sign of compromise on the horizon.

Obama soberly addressed the issue in his weekly radio address, which is listened to by hundreds of Americans.

Hey America, you sure got a pretty mouth.

“We are facing economic meltdown, a growing trade deficit, massive debt, crumbling infrastructure, struggling industry and the complete collapse of our banking system. It is obvious to members of both parties that our country is screwed, and there’s no way out of it.”

Obama’s tone became more pointed as he drove the matter home.

“And so my friends, it’s time to burn this motherfucker down.”

In the Republican response, North Carolina Senator Richard Burr partially agreed.

“Foreign powers are taking over our economy, terrorists are trying to destroy our way of life and every country in the world just hates us. People are still not allowed to carry machine guns in public, everywhere you look there are gays making out and hippies are burning flags on street corners while children are not praying in school.”

“It’s been a great run America, but the party’s over.”

A combination of anger and sadness was evident in Burr’s voice as he continued.

“I come from a state with a strong Naval tradition and when the enemy is boarding your ship, it’s time to set the charges and sink the damn thing.”

Both sides agree that America must go out with a bang, but are still at loggerheads at how best to achieve this. Obama laid out the Democratic vision.

“As you have heard reported countless times from unbiased, fair and balanced journalistic outlets like Fox News Channel, the Democratic plan is to screw our country by raising taxes, rampantly expanding entitlement programs and crushing Americans under an ever growing burden of debt and economic hardship. If all goes according to plan, our society will violently tear itself apart from within.”

“But there is still much work to be done,” said Obama. “My sweeping Health Care proposals could easily drive the final nail into the coffin, screwing us all completely. But Republicans prefer to stand in the way of progress, rather than at the forefront of change.”

Burr disagreed. “It’s the same old tax and spend, big government Socialism we’ve heard time and time again, and it doesn’t work. Why not screw America by turning it into a Right Wing Military Theocracy run by greedy multinational corporations, hypocritical Fundamentalists and spearheaded by a crusading military juggernaut, grinding the rest of the world to dust beneath its bone crushing, iron wheels?”

Meanwhile, Democrats brushed off Republican charges of Socialism, calling them misguided and baseless. Majority Leader Harry Reid spoke on this issue late Saturday.

Reid responds to Republican criticism.

“That’s ridiculous. Under a true Socialist infrastructure all methods of production, distribution and exchange are publicly owned. What we advocate is complete Totalitarianism, where the State controls every aspect of life right down to the hair on your balls. You’d think the God Squad would like that.”

Reid then dismissed the perception that he is out of touch with voters.

“Ask any American whether they would prefer a brutal screwing from a faceless welfare state, or a repressive theocracy. I’m pretty sure they’d rather be screwed by social egalitarianism than fundamentalist dogma any day of the week.”

Angrily pounding the lectern, Reid gazed sternly into the television cameras, unaware that nobody was listening because he was being broadcast on C-SPAN.

“Now, did any of that sound out of touch to you?”

In an unsolicited phone call to RUFKM World News Headquarters, former Vice President Dick Cheney bitterly disagreed, his voice oozing with mocking condescension.

“A suffocating, socially prejudiced sectarian state is the best way to screw America. All forms of dissent and independent thought can be ruthlessly crushed, just like when I was running the country! Just imagine – you can think whatever you want to think, as long as it’s what we want you to think. It’s a win/win situation, even if that shit-stain Reid won’t admit it.”

Television pundits weighed in, no less opinionated than their government counterparts who have actual political experience. Gazing lovingly into a mirror, Bill O’Reilly interviewed himself for his Monday night show.

Bill O'Reilly loves himself as only he can.

“Our great nation is not going out alone. This whole stinking, Godless world is going with us. That is why we’re even willing to screw the environment, even though everybody knows the environment doesn’t exist. What more do those freedom-hating Liberals want? Tell me, what happened to the America I knew as a boy, where narrow minded, White Anglo-Saxon gun toting Creationists ran everything and everyone else knew their place?”

“I love you, you know that don’t you?” O’Reilly added, passionately mouthing the words to his own reflection as he seductively loosened his tie.

On rival network MSNBC, freedom-hating Liberal Keith Olbermann responded:

“I think both of my viewers will agree that O’Reilly is the worst person in the world. President Obama has practically had to screw America by himself, while Papa Bill’s Republican friends sit on their hands and pout. Why not get involved? Slash the tires on all the cars, blow up the schools and hospitals and leave big stinky floaters in all the toilets so our new Communist Ovelords can rebuild America from scratch when they arrive to free us from the shackles of Capitalist oppression!”

According to documents obtained by RUFKM News, a half-sober Vice President Joe Biden plans to remind viewers during a Sunday interview with Face The Nation that the Obama Administration has promised to make the gradual screwing of America its top priority, and that it will be so slow and gentle that people will hardly notice it.

“The President has repeatedly offered to wear a condom while screwing the country, and you can look it up,” Biden reportedly will say, despite the desperate attempts of his aides to stop him from saying it.

Palin is a Maverick who enjoys shooting fish with guns. Also, America rules.

“Listen, George Bush did his best to screw the Country and turn the world against us and you know what? I give him credit. Another four years and we’d probably be looking at some real Mad Max shit – nuclear war, hooded freaks in leather riding tricked out muscle cars and fighting with swords in the irradiated desert – it would have been great.”

“But he failed. Now, it’s our turn and by God we’re going to get it right.”

Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, RUFKM News reached out to the four corners of the globe for balancing analysis. When asked for comment by RUFKM Worldwide correspondents in Bethel, Alaska, a vacationing Sarah Palin reacted with her own jingoistic, uniquely eloquent, hard hitting style. In an official statement she responded to Biden’s remarks:

“I like to shoot fish with guns! America rules! I am a Maverick!”

Rest assured that RUFKM News Worldwide will keep you constantly up to date on the ongoing decline of Western Civilization.

Gridlock as Obama, GOP Disagree on how to Screw America. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Garone's piece of shit Volvo.

“I was sure my ‘Vote for Ron Paul’ sticker would electrify the degenerate, corpulent masses and inspire them to rise up from their couches, turn off their idiot-boxes and join the cause of Liberty, Justice and Freedom” said the misguided stargazer from his Boulder, Colorado low paying office job.

Confident that the concept of Republican Hippies would someday catch on, Garone abruptly ended the interview and dejectedly returned to his job of alphabetizing State Welfare rolls.

Local commuter Lonnie Estey disagreed with Garone.

Lonnie Estey, transfixed by Bill O'Reilly.

“I see that asshole all the time, on the way to work in the morning. I don’t give a shit what a Librarian is. I just think he needs to change his oil. That blue smoke and shit coming out the back of that Commie rattle trap fucks up my allergies. If I ever meet him I’ll put my foot up his ass just like Toby Keith.”

“Inserting your foot into another person’s rectum is an effective way to resolve disputes,” added Estey, taking a break from his obsessive monitoring of Fox News Channel.

Ironically, Estey’s ‘Palin Power’ bumper sticker has likewise failed to change the world, as has the advanced SUX 6000 sedan to which it is affixed.  According to Estey, the United States has not yet transformed into the backward Medieval theocracy he has prayed for.

More on this story as it develops.

Bumper Sticker Fails to Alter American Political Landscape. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

San Francisco, CA – Appearing today before a capacity crowd at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts Theater, Apple CEO Steve Jobs unveiled the worst kept secret in America, the long awaited Apple Tablet – and as newly appointed Junior Tech Reporter for RUFKM Worldwide, I was fortunate to be in attendance.

Apple fans clamor for a glimpse of Steve Jobs.

A heaving throng packed the auditorium, anxiously awaiting the moment many had traveled thousands of miles to witness. The man standing next to me said that he’d left his wife in order to make the trip. The woman with him said she sold her nineteen month old baby for bus fare, and it was on that very bus that they met and fell in love.

That is the reason I worked for three weeks to get an Associate’s Degree in Journalism from RUFKM University Online and become their roving tech reporter. It’s the best $300 I ever spent.

Meanwhile Jobs proudly bore the Tablet before him, his arms outstretched to the audience. It remained covered with a white satin sheet, and his arms trembled as he held it – either from exertion or excitement – it wasn’t clear. What was clear was the man’s unbridled passion. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks and his voice stuttered with rapturous glee as he began to speak.

“What I hold here in my hands is perhaps the single greatest accomplishment in the history of modern technology. In fact, it may be the greatest thing ever invented in the entire universe by anybody.”

He set the device atop a pedestal and clenched his fists together, laughing manically as the lights began to dim and artificial fog began to sweep across the stage. Jobs allowed the cheering of the audience to reach a fever pitch before moving forward.

“The airplane was cake! The automobile was child’s play! I spit on the moon landing! Edison, Tesla, Da Vinci…they were all fools, for I have created something that even God will envy!”

Delirious fan boys threw themselves against barricades at the foot of the stage only to be beaten senseless by Jobs’ Kevlar clad, elite personal bodyguard unit. Women began tearing their clothes off in carnal anticipation. As their dainty undergarments showered the stage Jobs’ eyes grew wide, bulging out of his skull like balloons and his voice reached a crescendo. Lasers flashed from the rafters and the stage curtain lifted, revealing the heavy metal band GWAR. As they began to play a row of pyrotechnics erupted behind the drum riser, accidentally enveloping the band.

GWAR, moments before their fiery demise.

The smell of cooked flesh filled the auditorium as Jobs continued whipping the audience into a hypnotic frenzy. Row after row of mesmerized Apple faithful swayed like seaweed, hugging themselves. Many wept openly.

“My guests…my friends…my minions…I give you…the iSlate!”

As Jobs dramatically yanked the silk sheet from the device several in the front row committed ritual suicide, eager to end their lives at the exact moment the iSlate was unveiled. I was shocked and appalled, yet I too began to feel the urge to buy an iSlate or die trying.

How could I not? Could you resist this kind of hype? No, I didn’t think so.

I feared for my life as complete pandemonium broke loose. Near me was a journalist who happened to resemble Bill Gates. He was pulled out of the press section by the crowd, who pelted the man to death with obsolete first generation, quad-band iPhones. Hysterical screams of “Windows is a fraud!” and “You are not worthy to be killed by the new iPhone 3GS!” were heard over the commotion.

I hastily looked away as they ripped the body to pieces.

As if on cue, a hush fell over the crowd as Jobs threw up his hands and began his presentation. I was lucky to still be alive, and I decided the safe thing to do was to mimic the actions of the people around me, blending in with them as best I could. I allowed my jaw to go slack, my eyes to glaze over and I stooped over at the waist. Soon, I looked like just another Apple fanatic.

But was it just an act, or was I being slowly converted? I wasn’t sure; it became immediately clear to all of us that the iSlate was everything Apple enthusiasts had been hoping for – and less.

“We really put a lot of thought into this,” Jobs began. “And we decided that true to Apple’s core values, less is more. We heard you when you told us that while the iPhone is intuitive and fun to use, most people never even make phone calls with it; you just goof around like it’s some kind of toy.”

I was sure he looked right at me as his voice boomed with evangelical zeal and his face reddened.

“Well it’s not a toy! And neither is my precious iSlate! No, you’re not a toy, are you? No you’re not!” Frothy spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted, and audience members shrieked in fear, some covering their faces.

Grinning like a jackal, he ran his hands lovingly over the iSlate’s smooth, featureless surface as he continued.

“The iSlate is – and I want to emphasize this – literally nothing more than a single fifteen pound slab of polished slate.”

The crowd gasped. Jobs continued.

“It has no functions, no features, and absolutely no meaningful purpose whatsoever. There are no connective ports, meaning no wires to tangle. Battery life is indefinite, because it uses no power. It works with any wireless carrier in the world, because it has no wireless capabilities whatsoever. And there is no software to learn, no hassle, and no fear – because the iSlate doesn’t do a single…fucking…thing.”

Jobs paused, closing his eyes. He trembled as he exhaled softly, appearing to have reached a state of spontaneous orgasm. His next words were almost a whisper.

“Can you see, my pets? Can you see the beauty of it?”

Jobs, in the midst of a very cerebral orgasm.

This is what it must have felt like to watch Caesar work. I was in the presence of genius. I realized then and there that I absolutely had to have an iSlate, and it didn’t matter to me how many people had to die in the process.

“As per company policy, retail price for this buggy first generation Apple product will be astronomical. I mean you don’t even want to know what we’re going to charge you suckers for this thing.”

Someone in the audience shrieked their approval. “Don’t worry Steve, we’ll pay for it!”

Jobs nodded, grinning sadistically. “Oh yes, you will. You will buy one, and you will get what you pay for.”

He slammed his fist down atop the immobile, inoperative block of stone for emphasis. “Just like my stranglehold on the consumer electronics industry, the iSlate is eternal! It is indestructible!”

Tears welled in his eyes, and his knees began to buckle. “It is my single greatest creation – the most important thing I have ever done.” With that, Jobs fainted, and the auditorium was cleared. Outside, reaction from Apple Nation was unanimous.

“I’ve already pre-ordered mine!” raved Erik Connery from Duluth, Montana. “I have no idea what I am going to do with it or what it’s going to cost, but it doesn’t matter. If I don’t buy one right now I will hate myself forever and my life will be a failure!”

He was right, of course. The iSlate was more than just an inanimate slab of foliated, metamorphic volcanic rock. It was something that Steve Jobs had commanded us all to buy. I didn’t have the right to say no.

Speaking of Jobs, Noreen Shimkus of San Diego, CA gushed. “He’s dreamy! I want to have his super intelligent, emaciated, gray haired children!”

World renowned designer to the stars Asa Aragones was even more succinct.

Also announced: iSlate Nano, in Teal and Deep Fuchsia.

“It’s exquisitely sublime in its simplicity. It is equally capable of both anything and nothing! They didn’t even put a logo on it! I’m positively ashamed right now to call myself an artist. I only want to die.”

Lines began forming immediately outside the Stockton Street Apple Store less than a mile away. When asked why it was necessary to stand in line for something they could probably live without for a few days, I received this answer from a Philadelphia man who refused to give his name, having faked his own death to attend the unveiling:

“Are you insane? I have to stand in line right now to get an iSlate! If I wait until tomorrow, there may only he hundreds of them left! Or even worse, they might run out of them temporarily, but quickly order more and then not have any available for nearly 48 hours!”

It was hard for me to argue with his reasoning. In fact, I began to wonder why I wasn’t standing in line with them! What if they did temporarily run out of iSlates, and I was unable to get one for two, or maybe even three days?

What would I do? How would I live? I knew what I had to do.

I emailed RUFKM Worldwide, tendering my resignation. Then I threw my Blackberry in the trash and stood in line at the Apple Store to buy an iPhone, an iSlate, and an iBag to carry them in. I don’t know where I will go, what I will do or who I will do it with. But I now know that if I don’t do it with an iSlate, it will all mean nothing.

This is Jack “Fig Newton” Burton, signing off.

Apple unleashes iSlate, Mass Hysteria Ensues. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Tweedle Dumber:

Next came the amazingly stunning model/tennis player.  Helloooo, gorgeous.

We ran into each other at the Hard Rock, exchanged numbers and he actually called the next day.  He wasn’t the smartest guy, but his looks could possibly make up for that for a couple months.

Not the guy that I dated. He didn't wear a hairpiece or do meth... but still quite a douche.

On our first date, we made out like teenagers in the backseat of his Jeep.  Not super comfortable, but super fun!

We decided to go out again the very next night.  This time, I let him pick me up at my house.  I drove to dinner and when we came back to my place we made out some more and it was going great.  Super duper great, in fact.  I didn’t trust myself to not be a total whore with him so, as hard as it was, I asked him to stop and to go home.  I had to work the next morning and it was already almost 1:00 a.m.  He was a good sport.

About two minutes after kissing him goodnight, my doorbell rang.  He said his car wouldn’t start.  Of course, I laughed and didn’t believe him.  I thought he was being cute and just wanted to kiss me some more.  I was wrong.  His car really wouldn’t start.

“Can you take me to a gas station?”

“Are you just out of gas?”

“No, I need jumper cables.”

“I don’t think they sell jumper cables at any gas station around here.  I think you’ll need to go to an auto store or Walmart or something.  Let’s just call a tow truck or Triple A.”

You would have thought I suggested feigning injury on the side of the road until some kind soul stopped to help me and then pulling out a sawed off shotgun and putting it against the random stranger’s forehead and firing while laughing manically as blood and brains splattered all over my body.

After his little temper tantrum, he said, “Just take me.”

Much to my dismay I felt forced to take him.  I’m not gonna act like it didn’t make me happy when I proved to him that the tiny gas stations near my place didn’t sell effin’ jumper cables!  I realized then and there, I’m never too annoyed to gloat.

“Now, can we please just call a tow truck?  If money’s an issue, I’ll pay for it.”  I was practically begging this guy to just do the only rational thing.

“It’s not money.  And no, I’m calling my friend.”

He starts calling his friend.  It’s almost two on a Sunday morning, his friend isn’t answering.  We get back to my place and he sits in the car and tries to start it for twenty minutes.

“IT’S NOT WORKING!  WE’RE CALLING A TOW!”  I demand.

Just then, his phone rang, it was his friend, who did indeed have jumper cables and would leave his house immediately.

Fine.  Whatever.  “How far away is he?”  I ask.

“He’s in Coral Springs.”  A fucking hour away, then.  Great.  Awesome.

“Okay, I’m going to bed.”  I was so tired and irritated.  Why we didn’t call a tow truck an hour ago, I just couldn’t understand.

“Wait.  What am I supposed to do?”

Ugh.  “You’re gonna play with my hair and spoon me until I fall asleep.”

We got in my bed and he turned his phone on vibrate so it wouldn’t disturb me when his friend arrived.  We both fell asleep and awoke to my scream of terror as the phone vibrated under my face.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Your phone just scared the shit outta me!”

Realizing his friend was probably calling, he answered it.  I walked him downstairs and let him out before locking the door and running up to bed.

About a minute later my doorbell rang.

“FUUUUUUUCK!”

I considered pretending to be the soundest sleeper ever and completely ignoring him, but he was the persistent type.

I opened the door, “Do you have a flashlight?”

I got him the flashlight and told him to keep it.  I went back up to bed.

About a minute later my doorbell rang.

I’m going to kill someone.

I open the door, “Can you come help us?”

Are you fuckng kidding me?

This nightmare isn’t going to end unless I just help.

I go outside and Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber have no idea what they’re doing.  I show them how to put the jumper cables on and they try to start the car.  The car won’t start.

They try again.

The car won’t start.

Again.

The car won’t start.

The car’s not gonna start.

“I’m calling a tow truck,” I say as calmly as possible.

“Wait!  I have an idea,” exclaims Tweedle Dumber.

“I have rope, we can tie the cars together and I’ll just pull it home, I see Mexicans doing it all the time.”

"All aboard the Douche Express!" Fuck Yeah. Let's DO this.

“That will totally work!  Let’s do it,” says Tweedle Dumb.

“Are you guys serious?  You have to drive over 60 miles…. You know what?  Fine.  Do your thing.”

I start to go back in the house and then, “Can you hold the flashlight while we try to tie the cars together?”

I’m never dating again.  I’ve said it before, but I’m totally serious this time.

I hold the flashlight and there’s absolutely nothing for them to tie the rope to on Tweedle Dumb’s car.  They mess around with it for way too long and then I finally say, “I’m calling a tow.”

“Here!  We can just tie it to this.”  I never looked to see what “this” was, but they did it and at four a.m. they were out of my development.

I leaped into bed, giddy with excitement and holding back hysterical laugher or hysterical tears.

About a minute later my phone rang.

NOOOOOOOOOO!  NOOOOOOOOO!  WHAAAAAAAAAT??

Ignore.

About a second later my phone rang.

“WHAT?”

“There’s a problem.”  The other end of the phone states.

“No fucking way.  How could there be a problem?  I never would have seen that coming.”  I say as sarcastically as I can possibly muster.

“Okay, I get it, can you just come get us.  We need the flashlight again.  We went the wrong way out of your development and when we tried to turn around the rope got stuck somehow in the tire and it won’t move now and we’re in the middle of the road.”

Fuck my life.

I put on some jeans and flip-flops.  I can’t find the flashlight anywhere and don’t recall ever getting it back.  I look around for it outside, but it’s too dark, and ironically, I need a flashlight, so I give up and get in my car and drive to the site of the idiots.

Sure enough, they were stuck in the middle of the street.  Tweedle Dumb was on the ground and I saw something shiny in his hands.  Long and shiny.  I roll my window down, “What’s going on?  What are you doing?”

I get a closer look and the dude is using a machete to hack at the rope.  A mother fucking machete!  What the fuck!

“Um, that’s not creepy…. I’m not getting out of my car.  Who the fuck drives around with a machete?  I don’t even know you people.”

“Sonny, please… Enough dramatics, just come help.”

Defiantly, “I’m not getting out.  Seriously.  I don’t have the flashlight, you two Mr. Fix Its have it.  There’s nothing I can do.

“Wait….”  There was a long pause and then, “Can you just call a tow truck.  Please.”

He was so incredibly defeated at this point, my elation was put on hold.  However, my severe animosity was not.

“Are you fucking kidding me?  You want me to call a tow truck now?  This has been a four hour ordeal of complete bullshit!  I will give you the number to call a tow.  You two assholes can sit here and wait for it.”

And that’s what I did.

What a douchebag!

The Love of My Life:

My next date was a fix-up.  I usually don’t like those, but I welcomed this one because at least I have some sort of validation that he’s somewhat normal if he hangs out with my friends.

He picks me up and he’s beautiful to look at, he drives a Mercedes and he owns his own company.  He has lots to talk about and to ask me about and I’m falling madly in love with him, more every second.  He’s got a great English accent, he’s well read, well traveled, philanthropic… perfect.  Plus!  I can tell he’s super into me!  Boo-yah!

Dinner is superb and he takes me home, walks me to my door, kisses me sweetly on the mouth and says he’ll call me tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes and that man calls!  He asks if I want to meet him at a bar near his house for some live music and a couple drinks.

Do the Kennedy ladies wear black?  Hell yes, I do!

I meet him and he’s just so cool.  He holds the small of my back, he touches my hand flirtatiously, he looks at me as he speaks and smiles when I say something funny.  This is it!  We’re the only two people there.  This is how our life together will be.  Just us.  In love.  Forever.

We go back to his house on the intracoastal.  Yes, it’s an almost-mansion.  Yes, it’s decorated with amazing artwork and a minimalist touch.  Yes, my Chinese armoir will look perfect in that corner.  Yes, I’ll love waking up to this view.  But, wait…

“It smells funny in here…”  I say.

“Really?”  He sniffs.  “I don’t really smell anything.”

“Oh, man, what is that?  It’s not something dirty or anything, it’s just something… OH!  God, it smells like baby in here.”  (Lots of disdain in my voice when I said “baby.”)

He was quiet.

“Well, that’s probably my baby, then.  Elliot.  He’s asleep.”

A nanny came downstairs just as my mouth was hitting the floor.

She says, “Wow, you must be something pretty special if he’s bringing you home.  He hasn’t done that since I started working for him.”  She gives him a little wink and looks back at me while saying to him, “I approve.”  She smiles at me and says goodnight.

He looked at me as if I was the most vile thing he’s ever seen.  He was truly disgusted.  He then, ever so politely, asked me to leave.

I tried to apologize by saying that, “I just can’t stand kids.  But, I could learn to.  I’d make an exception.”  Nothing was really coming out right.

It didn’t matter.  The damage was done.  I tried to turn it around and say that he should have told me.  He in turn said that his bringing me back there was him telling me.  He wanted to share it with me differently because he thought we had a connection, he thought I was special.  He thought I was NICE.

I AM NICE!

As he was shutting the door behind me, a little too quickly, I might add, I heard him mutter ever so slightly, “What a douchebag.”

Operation No More Douchebags: A Tale of Douche Dating- Part 2 is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Eden Prairie, MN – An inconsolable Brett Favre took the podium Monday morning to address reporters one day after the Vikings’ heartbreaking loss to the New Orleans Saints. His eyes rimmed with red and his body battered, Favre wearily insisted that he had no regrets.

Favre, who is haunted by the mocking laughter of Packers fans.

“I have no regrets,” Favre wearily insisted . “I came back because I wanted one more chance to play the game that I love, and I wanted to win another championship, but that didn’t happen.”

When asked to reflect on his legacy, the future Hall of Famer was introspective. “Well, I was told last night that I broke the record for oldest quarterback to lose a conference title by throwing a dumbass interception on the last play of regulation, so that’s neat.”

After a long, drawn out sigh, his voice cracked. “That’s special. I thought I already had every record.”

Clearly still suffering from the cumulative effects of a grueling season and a highly physical game against the Saints, Favre had this to say about his future:

“I was thinking about coming back next year but it’s the damndest thing. I just can’t sleep. I keep hearing this sound…it sounds like voices. I can’t get it out of my head.”

When asked to describe what he was hearing, Favre indicated that he wasn’t sure, only that it vaugely resembled ‘the mocking laughter of Packers fans’.

Vikings team doctor David Olson had this to say:

“There’s nothing physically wrong with Brett; for a 40 year old man he’s obviously in outstanding physical shape. He did take some pretty good shots yesterday though, so those voices in his head could be anything. Auditory anomalies are not something we can accurately diagnose. ”

When asked to be more specific, Olson confirmed the star quarterback’s analysis. “Well, it was described as the mocking, taunting  laughter of hundreds, possibly thousands of Green Bay Packers fans.”

Though asked to comment, Packers General Manager Ted Thompson did not respond to inquiries. In a statement, the team flatly denied any involvement.

“The Green Bay Packers wish That Guy Whose Name We Do Not Speak all the best, except when he plays football or is walking on slick pavement. We have nothing but fond memories of That Guy, and wish him well in his life, which hopefully will not last much longer.”

Packers fans however, were less subtle.

Little, whose mocking laughter exhoes in Brett Favre's head.

“I think it’s a hoot! I hope he rots in Minnesota, wherever that is!” Exclaimed Packers fan Darryl Little of Stangelville, Wisconsin, his mocking laughter echoing in Brett Favre’s head. “I named my dog Brett Favre. But when that son-of-a-bitch left I changed the dog’s name to Aaron Rodgers. But he wouldn’t answer to that, so I done put him down.”

“I love my dead dog Brett Favre!” Little tearfully added.

Favre left the press conference early, stumbling and swatting at the air. He was heard to mutter ‘Get out of my head, God damn you!’ and ‘I just did what I thought was right!’ before heading to a nearby sports bar to drink alone.

Medical experts are baffled, indicating that spontaneously hearing the mocking laughter of Packers fans has no known medical diagnosis, but may be related to several scientific causes, according to Dr. Peter Mortgensen, Director of Psychology at Wisconsin A&M.

“It is not inconceivable that a backstabbing man-whore who broke the hearts of millions of loyal fans might be overcome with feelings of intense guilt and extreme self doubt, after which the fucker may experience the onset of acute schizophrenia.”

Mortgensen’s long term prognosis was not hopeful, but he did offer some valuable personal insight.

“I loved Brett Favre more than my own son, and that’s okay because my son loved Brett Favre more than me. Now, neither of us knows how to love. Damn Brett Favre to hell!”

God, who afflicted Favre with the mocking laughter of Packers fans.

When reached for comment, The Lord God indicated that despite the pleas of Packers fans, He currently has no plans to damn Brett Favre to hell.

“No, not at all,” said The Almighty. “I have special plans for Brett Favre. He’s going to live a long, long time. He might even make it to 120.”

God revealed a four billion square foot room in His second vacation home at the Pleiades Cluster, filled with priceless Green Bay Packers memorabilia.

“Believe it or not, I am a huge Packers fan. I know that every nut in the world thinks I’m on their side but to tell you the truth, the only thing I even get out of bed for is the Packers. I mean, in the off-season, what is there even to do? Watch baseball?”

The Benevolent Maker rolled His eyes. “Baseball is for homos, and you can quote Me on that.”

Seated nearby in a golden Barcalounger, former Packers coach Vince Lombardi agreed.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he bellowed, before returning to a drunken conversation with former Packers great Bart Starr.

“No, of course not. Lots of homos have played for the Vikings!” Starr added.

The Creator was candid as He revealed His Divine Will regarding the voices in Brett Favre’s head.

“Oh yeah, that was totally Me. It is definitely the mocking laughter of Packers fans; I even added a little extra reverb. I just couldn’t help it. After Garrett Hartley kicked that field goal, earning himself a hallowed place within My bosom, I could not help but be touched by the mocking laughter of thousands of Packers fans as they watched the game, huddled in their homes against the biting Wisconsin cold. Seriously, I could hear it all the way up here. So I figured ‘what the heck’. I’ll just pipe that down to Favre.”

Asked whether Favre’s affliction had any precedent, The Heavenly Father laughed heartily, a sound not unlike the fiery collision of a thousand galaxies.

Namath has been unable to close his mouth since 1980.

“Are you serious?” God replied. “My Son loves the New York Jets. Have you seen what I did to Joe Namath for going to Los Angeles?”

Namath, resting comfortably at his Tequesta, Florida home, refused to comment saying only:

“What is that fucking sound? It’s been thirty years! Get out of my head already! Jesus Christ!”

Clearly delighted with Namath’s ongoing torment, God excused himself to make a phone call.

“Make yourself at home,” He instructed. “I have to go fuck with Jay Cutler.”

Brett Favre Haunted by Mocking Laughter of Packers Fans. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Douchebag's Credo: 7 Collars Are Never Enough

them my plan.  It would be a way to prove that my friend Darcy’s Operation No More Douchebags can actually exist.  Point being that if I say yes to everyone, at least one is bound to not be a  douchebag.

I made it through four dates, before giving up on all of mankind.

Highlighter Dude:

First was a guy from the gym.  A giant sports fan, he took me to a sports bar our first date to watch some sports, in which his team happened to win.  He immediately thought I was his lucky charm and he and I would have to watch games together for the rest of eternity.  I conceded, as he was rather sweet.  Plus he went to New York and brought me back this great Buddha from China Town; and as my friends all know, I can be bought.  He and I never once kissed and only ended up going on two dates.  However, for some unknown reason, he decided to start sending me pictures of inanimate objects placed in his butt.  Said pictures were entirely unsolicited.

The first was a highlighter.  And not one of those skinny ones, but the regular, huge, industrial, yellow highlighter.  Ouch.  The caps on those

Pictured are things soon to be placed in this douchebag's asshole.

things aren’t ass-insertion friendly.  They’re kind of sharp and jagged and hard plastic and just totally not for penetration of any kind.  (Not speaking from experience, just an assumption.)  I was both alarmed and humored by this and thought it was over.  But, it so wasn’t.

Later in the week I got another picture.  This time a banana was in his ass.  A banana.  In his ass.  I mean, I don’t know about you, but to me, there’s nothing remotely sexy about a banana hanging out a dude’s ass.  Then came a follow up text asking me how many bananas I’d like to see up there, as he’d be happy to accommodate.  I wrote back:  “Are You Fucking Kidding Me?  Do you know you’re sending these to me?  Sonny?”  Thinking, and hoping, that he was just sending these shocking pictures to the wrong person, because there was no reason for me to be on the receiving end of this bizarreness.  He wrote back:  “3 it is!”  And then I got a picture of THREE bananas up this guy’s butt.

Holy shit!  Literally, holy shit!  I mean, I can’t imagine the pain that would have incited had three bananas been up MY ass.  It makes me clench even now, just writing about it.

Then it got REALLY weird.  He proceeded to ask if I wanted to see the video he made with some undeserving bananas and “a friend.”

Are you effing kidding me?   No!  Nooooo.  Hell, fuck, definitely no.  I certainly do not want to see that.  And this is where our relationship should have ended.  But, somehow we maintained a rather strange one for a couple weeks after the banana fudge sickle situation.  It turns out our Romeo is bi.  What a shocker.  So, not only does he affront my gender, he also has no qualms with affronting his own.  He actually has sex at the YMCA.  I mean, what a stereotype!  But, true.  And he records these guys in the shower!  Without their knowledge!  But his plan isn’t over, he then meets sweet, innocent girls (yours truly) and sends them the videos!  He thinks it’s funny.  Gross!  Have you ever?

What a douchebag!

Mr. Business Trip:

Next was a super-hottie I met while out dancing with friends.  He was with other guys here on business.  So effin’ cute!  He asked me to go to dinner and since my rule dictates that I have to say yes to everyone, I said yes.  He said they only had one company car and asked that I pick him up at the company condo on A1A in Delray Beach.  No problem.

When I arrive the following night I can’t help but notice the rank smell of beer and the boys with sleeveless shirts, board shorts and uber tans.  My date asks if we can get lobster and I’m all about it.  I take him to a cozy little joint on the beach and he begins asking me everything there is to know about myself.  He’s very curious about my job and where I went to college and my friends and how I like Florida; but he’s completely evading all of my questions about him.  At first I don’t mind, I mean, it’s fun to talk about yourself, but then it gets peculiar.  When I further question my adorable man he looks me deep in the eyes with an inexplicable grin on his face and grabs my hands in his, “Don’t be mad.”

Worst sentence ever.

“What?”  I ask.

“I’m not here on business…”

Pause.

“Um, okay, that’s cool.  What?  Do you live here?  I mean, what is it?  Are you married or something?  Are you divorced and you moved away and you’re here visiting your kids?  Tell me…”

“Oh, no nothing like that!  Not even close!”  He’s laughing with relief.

“Thank, GOD!”  I start laughing with relief.

“Yeah, no, I’m here on Spring Break with my friends.  I’m a sophomore at Michigan State.  My boy, Dank’s, grandparents live here and that’s who we’re staying with.”  I stop laughing with relief.

It's OK. You're not really committing statutory rape. I have a fake ID.

Silence.

I start doing some math…

Finally, “So… how old does that make you?”

“Oh don’t worry, I totally scored a killer fake ID.  We’re cool.”

Then, “You have got to be kidding me.  Tell me you’re kidding.  The married thing would have been better.”

The rest of the night was filled with several nickel-pitcher-night stories.  Riveting.

He didn’t have enough money to pay the bill.

What a douchebag.

Stay tuned:  Part 2 of Operation NMD coming soon…..

Operation No More Douchebags: An Epic Story of Douche Dating is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril (hereafter referred to as CDCP) is a unique and highly enjoyable adventure thriller. Author Paul Malmont’s love letter to the age of pulp fiction (not the Tarantino movie) is fun, exciting, and tremendously entertaining. At this point the review is starting to sound like a blurb whore for a Michael Bay film.

I’ll be honest. I read this nearly 2  months ago and if I don’t write reviews pretty quick after finishing up I find I don’t have as much to say. This is in no way a reflection on the book. It’s just that I’ve read 7 other books since then and so the details have gotten a bit foggy.

I enjoyed the hell out of CDCP, I do remember that. The novel takes place in New York City in the 1930’s, the age of the pulp industry of cheap paperback adventure stories. The main characters are Lester Dent, creator of Doc Savage, and Walter Gibson, the mind behind The Shadow. These are real people, the other characters including Howard Lovecraft and Ron Hubbard are real as well. The adventure they go on is straight out of the adventure novels these men write.

A Chinese warlord has come to NYC Chinatown with a deadly weapon and unfortunately only this motley crew of robust men can stop him. Along for the ride are Lester’s wife and Gibson’s girlfriend; all knock out dames that can throw a punch and stand bravely along side their square jawed men.

The fun of the book comes from Malmont tweaking the pulp formula while paying homage to the dime store novels of the past. It is a kick for a shambling zombie like Lovecraft to appear to the grief stricken Hubbard and Dent. Same are the many period details, especially the descriptions of the publishers and pulp industry. The story ends up hitting all the touchstones of the genre: the death defying escapes, mysterious islands, terrible weapons, evil villains, and amazing feats of daring do that are hallmarks of the pulp novels.  In CDCP there is a little bit more at stake, the characters are a bit more real than their 1930’s counter parts would have been.  This fleshes out the narrative and gives it more weight. You really start to care about the characters and want to see them survive the insanity going on around them.

This is not earth shaking literature, but it is a wonderfully well done adventure book and well worth your time.

Guess I had something to say after all.

Cannonball Read #6 – The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril, By Paul Malmont is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

The meta implications of reading the memoir Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously as part of a competition to read 50 books in a year and blog about the experience is not lost on me. The book is about Julie Powell, a 29 year old married secretary working in NYC, and her quest/stunt/spiritual journey to complete all 500+ of the recipes in chef Julia Child’s famous cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year and blog about the experience. This actually worked in my favor because through all of Powell’s kvetching, bitching, and trials the book actually ends up inspiring toward completing far reaching goals.

Julie and Julia starts in 2002. Julie Powell is working as a government drone for an agency created in the wake of 9/11 to manage the memorial and PR aspects of the disaster. She hates her job and hearing her descriptions of daily assignments it is easy to see why. In a state of despondency she hits on the idea of working her way through Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and her husband, Eric, encourages Julie to blog about it. Nowadays everyone has a blog but in 2002 it was still a relatively new idea. She begins the challenge and the rest of the book is about what happens to her, Eric, and their family and friends over the course of that year. All of which is tightly centered on completing the “Julie/Julia Project” within the one year deadline.

Powell has an honest writing style that is very conversational in tone. She comes across as very frank and has no problem revealing herself in a negative light. Many passages are dedicated to her various tantrums and breakdowns while trying to cook these meals and although she comes close, it never descends into full on wallowing despair. It stays very funny throughout. As the project goes on, she finds that her readers (she refers to them as “Bleaders”) are quite fervent and growing in size. The blog starts to take on regional and then national attention and Powell becomes a bit of a minor celebrity.

While reading the book the reader is aware of the fact that the book they are reading is a culmination of the project. The ultimate endgame is one of success. It is an interesting twist on the book, especially when Powell talks about being uncertain whether the book – the same one I’m reading with “National Best Seller” stamped under the picture of Amy Adams and Meryl Streep from the movie adaptation – will end up selling anything at all. It is a snapshot of the moment before stardom, as the ride toward something bigger begins and all of the uncertainty that brings with it.

I found Powell’s writing style refreshing and mostly free of artifice. She elucidates on a subject that many of us feel, but few do anything about; namely a palpable sense of failing to live up to our potential. I don’t know if this is strictly a Generation X/Y thing (Powell and I are the same age) but I have felt that way for some time, as do most people I know. Fight Club states it best, “We were raised to believe we will be rock gods and movie stars, but we won’t. And we are starting to realize that fact. And we are very, very pissed off.”

I think this hits creative people more than most. I know that while I like my job, I would happily walk away from it tomorrow if a comparable source of income presented itself. Even better it if requires less effort then my current work and allows me freedom and creativity. The paradox there is in order to reach potential it takes a tremendous amount of effort in the first place. What Powell learns over the course of the project is that opportunities to change your life come along but you have to be ready to take the leap and push yourself to the limit to achieve it. Raw talent isn’t enough and determination isn’t enough if you are unwilling to do what is necessary to reach your goal. This is pretty obvious stuff, but it needs repeated.

I enjoyed the book quite a bit but spent more time than strictly necessary defending my choice of reading material to aghast co-workers. The razzing that I was reading “chick-lit” was irritating, but given the fact that most of my co-workers haven’t read a book since high school I didn’t pay it much attention. In my defense, Powell curses like a sailor and drops references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Tarantino movies, and Star Wars to name but a few of her pop culture touchstones so her and I got on splendidly. As far as the memoir genre I enjoyed it as much as a David Sedaris book. However, I think she may be a one hit wonder. I read the included excerpt from her newest memoir, Cleaving, and was not as impressed. Maybe because that book is about the affairs she had on her husband, a man that stood by her throughout the project despite being put through hell at times. It seemed extraordinarily self-centered, even for Powell who often comes across as somewhat self-centered anyway, and leaves a bad taste in your mouth after the uplifting and sweet Julie and Julia.

Note: I’ve seen the movie adaptation and the book is far better. The movie has been Nora Ephron’d to death, removing many people from the book and taking away the hard edges of the narrative. Additionally, the movie is an adaptation of two books; Powell’s but also Julia Child’s own My Life in France. I enjoyed the movie, but that was because I’m a Meryl Streep fan (but who isn’t?), and Amy Adams is one of my favorite actresses and thus can do no wrong in my eyes. Although Leap Year may make me change my mind.

Cannonball Read #5 – Julie and Julia, by Julie Powell is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

I am convinced that everyone had a fucked up childhood. I’m not sure there is any way to escape childhood without something jacked up imprinting itself forever on your psyche. But in the annals of fucked up childhood stories, and the memoir field is rife with them, few can hold a candle to the circus of insanity that was Augusten Burroughs childhood. Running With Scissors is both horrifiying and hilarious, often in the same sentence.

At the age of 13 Burroughs was sent to live semi-permanently with the family of his nutty mother’s psychiatrist. A family that can gently be described as “eccentric” but more closely as “fucking Loony Toons”. The house seems to be something out of a “Hoarders” b-reel with an overflowing pile of roach ridden dishes, Christmas trees that are never thrown out, and feces drying on the back patio as the good doctor believes he can divine good omens from the shape and curvature of his own spoor. You know, perfectly normal behavior.

Living in the house are Dr. Finch, a Santa Claus like figure, his batty wife Agnes, eldest daughter Hope, and younger daughters Natalie and Vicki. Then there are the rotating patients and extended family that occasionally live in the house. Chief among them is Neil, the 28 year old co-dependent who begins a lengthy love affair with the 13 year old Burroughs.

Running With Scissors is broken up into short vignettes, reading like short stories that come together to form the bigger picture. The narrative has some holes, especially as some “characters” vanish entirely for long stretches, but the book is entertaining the entire time.  Fans of David Sedaris that have not yet read this very well known book will likely enjoy it.

Cannonball Read #4 – Running With Scissors By Augusten Burroughs is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Meyer Landsmen is a police detective living in Sitka, Alaska. One night the landlord of the ramshackle flophouse he calls home knocks on his door and tells him another tenant has been murdered. What begins as a classic noir story soon catapults Landsmen, his partner Berko, and his ex-wife into a case that will prove to have ramifications for the entire world.

Michael Chabon’s alternative history mystery is extraordinarily entertaining and thought provoking. He posits a scenario where Israel fails after it is formed and the US government relocates the displaced Jews from World War 2 in the peninsula of Sitka, Alaska for a period of 50 years. As the novel begins, there are only 2 months until reclamation, that is the United States reclaims the territory and the million plus Jews that call it home will be displaced with no where to go.

Landsmen is an atheist, and faith has a lot to do with the story in The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. As Landsmen and Berko dig deeper into the case of the murdered man they find the deeper they go the more their superiors want them to halt the investigation. In true noir fashion the mysterious death of Landsmen’s sister, Naomi, becomes relevant to the larger mystery, and the two detectives find that their own family members may be involved as well.

While the story is rock solid, in true Chabon fashion it is the characterization that are the true stars here. It is also extremely funny at times, with the two cops bantering in typical cop story fashion and spouting off one liners with all the panache of a Shane Black creation. Chabon uses the outlandish scenario to explore what it means to be a Jew in a world that doesn’t want you.

It is a deeply satisfying read, and noir fans, speculative fiction fans, and Michael Chabon fans would be remiss not to add this to their library.

Cannonball Read #3 – The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

Few subjects cause us to take up arms faster at the RUFKM, Inc. headquarters then our music preferences. Loose Cannon enjoys a good polka, and regales Boondoggle, Jack, and I with hours of dissertation on the merits of the accordion. Because he has the RUFKM, Inc. Headquarters Self Destruct System wired directly to his heart beat, we must abide his inane rambling and not kill him with shovels lest we end our own lives. Likewise, Boondoggle has a soft spot for the electric mandolin and once staged an impromptu concert for JackFnBurton’s birthday. Burton, being a devout hydroelectric flautist fan, reacted with outrage and demanded satisfaction in the normal fashion. Three days later they emerged from the octagonal hut sweaty and gleaming of Land-O-Lakes and indulged in goat meat.

This brings me to the subject at hand. The one thing we were all able to agree on was the best album of 2009; III by Maylene and the Sons of Disaster. This album is so good, it will put hair on your chest. If you already HAVE hair on your chest, it will make those hairs fall out and replace them with stronger and blacker hairs. Metal hairs.

Maylene & the Sons of Disaster enjoying some much needed R&R at their summer shack.

You can take your Nickelcrap, your Theories about Dead Guys, your DoughTrays, your Hindrance, and you can stuff em in a sack. Give that sack to George Costanza and he will throw it in the ocean, hopefully not to land into the blowhole of a passing whale.  III is an adrenaline shot to the heart, a full force assault on your ears, and hope that rock isn’t dead after all.

It’s just gone God.

That’s right, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster are a Christian band. Heavens, no! But this ain’t your preacher’s Christian band, this is smash mouth rock with a message sure, but these guys are about the rock first and the sermon second.

We here at RUFKM, Inc. are a pagan lot. Through the ages we have thrown in with whatever God is of the passing fancy; be it Baal, Yehweh, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  We have dipped our toes in the waters of Christian music and found it to be a bit nippily. The music is usually satisfactory but all the “worship Him” and “enter my heart” stuff just gets redundant.  More interesting are the bands that start with a Christian message, but don’t feel the need to beat you about the head and body with the Jesus Stick.

But we are open minded.  You bring the rock we’ll bring our ears.

III gets "One Pig Up" from born again thespian (star of "Sharks in Venice")Stephen Baldwin! Approved!

According to our usual sources (Wikipedia), Maylene and the Sons of Disaster take their name from the Ma Barker gang. They were a group of criminals in the early 20th century and the band has taken their story as inspiration. Translation: the band writes some hard rocking songs about living a bad life and facing God’s judgment at the bitter end.   Those badassed tunes are so damn good the album flies by. Before you know it you are ready to listen to it all over again.

The album opens with the sound of various swamp noises segueing into a banjo and acoustic guitar before giving way to a full throated assault by front man Dallas Taylor on “Waiting on my Deathbed”. Taylor shreds his voice on the song, howling like all the demons of hell are chasing him and this is just the beginning. Song after song brings the rock and it is glorious. The one time III slows down is the middle of the album on the near-ballad “Listen Close”. Both a title and a command, it’s hard not to think the entire album is built around the song, the eye of the tornado as it were.  Built around a stunning riff that will embed itself in your brain for days, the song is easily one of the catchiest – without being disposable – rock songs in YEARS.

Bottom line; the album is a damn masterpiece. It is ridiculous these guys aren’t bigger than they are. You simply cannot go another day without getting this album. From beginning to end it will melt your face off with blistering guitars and shredding vocals. It will renew your faith in rock, and maybe even in God.

Or Cthulu. You know, whatever.

Maylene and the Sons of Disaster – III – Best rock album of 2009. Seriously. is a post from: RUFKM = Are You F---ing Kidding Me?