Over the past three months, the Great Rigolega has taken upon himself a daunting experiment. The experiment: figure out why everyone gets an itchy asshole over the dumbest things. In other words, I’ve been documenting bitching, which isn’t so much a daunting experiment as it is a tragically common aspect of life. But if there’s one thing I’ve noticed in the past three months, it’s that everyone seems to have this idea that you have to pick sides over everything. Like on those stupid ass cock barf shows on FOX. If I hear someone describe their life as a drama or try to relate their life to the OC again, I will just shit on them. I will drop my pants and propel scalding diarrhea at them. It’s gotten that bad. Your life isn’t a TV show, not even a piece of shit show like the OC. The standing water in my shower has more depth than that show, and I’m talking before I’ve clogged it shaving my ass.

Anyway, I made a discovery as of late. Go up to a pissed off guy and ask him what he considers to be a good piece of advice. The answer you’ll most likely get is bros before hoes. Then he’ll try to tell you about some problem he’s having with a girl. When this happened to me, the guy said he was having feminine problems, so I laughed at him. I was waiting for him to grab his purse and stuff his douche in right in front of me. But he didn’t, and some woman next to him got mad at me for being mean. So I punched her in the tits and she came. I’m the best.

Regardless, this phrase is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard in some time. I used to say it a shit load, but that was before I realized that I am Rigolega, god of scroging babes and possessor of the legendary Thunder Cock.

Let’s face it. The only people who say bros before hoes are the guys who are taking some lame relationship too seriously, took a lame relationship too seriously only to have their pride and balls handed to them by the girl they “loved with all their heart”, or the guys who straight up aren’t getting laid. It’s their way of saying “Grr, I’m pissed at so and so because he’s banging some chick I don’t care for or want to bang myself. I’ll guilt him into dumping her for my personal gain. Huzzah.”

I must have missed something here. Did America suddenly become matrilineal? Since when is it okay for a guy to bitch? Since when is it acceptable for a man to be guilted out of his hard earned pussy because someone has a hair up his ass about something? What ever happened to the days of “Mind your own mother fucking business before I introduce your sphincter to the business end of my shoe?” This is what happens when the Great Rigolega takes a vacation.

Let’s look at this logically. If it were always bros before hoes, no one would ever get laid. No one. That means that the massive piles of foxy ladies lining up for a piece of the Rigolega tender loin go hungry. So, not only do many women die of starvation as a result, but the already massive Rigolega testicles swell to massive proportions until they collapse into a blue hole: a massive gap in the space time continuum that prevents any type of matter from escaping. It’s like a black hole, except blue because of the lack of slathering my nuts received prior to their collapse.

All Apocalyptic predictions aside, stop saying bros before hoes. Unless you yourself are always taking that stand, you have no right to say it. It’s not up to anyone but oneself to decide who he wants to fuck or date or whatever. Besides, why should anyone but that person give a shit? Unless that dude walks into your house and forces you at gun point to watch him fuck some chick, who cares? It’s no one’s business but theirs.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s good to have a group of guys to drink, eat chicken wings with and do all kinds of great shit with. Those are the best of times. But they can’t be the only people you ever see. You can’t bring a chick to hang with them all the time. It’s detrimental to everyone. They have to have at least a sliver of class around the girl that they wouldn’t have if she wasn’t there, and you have to pay attention to the girl. Besides, it’s hard to fuck a girl with a big group of guys breathing down your neck or making fun of you for being a sensitive bitch. Some worlds weren’t meant to be crossed. Every once in a while, sure, but when a guy never gives himself time alone with a girl, he goes home with blue balls and a red face from the verbal lashing he takes from his friends.

And it’s good to have friends there when some bitch pulls the rug out from under your feet. But let’s face it: your friends aren’t going to give you what that girl was giving you. It’s good that you can fall back on them and get back up when you’re reaming her out later on, but you can’t rely on making fun of that chick to make shit any better. Get it all out and get over it. Who knows, you might forget about it all later on and end up fucking that girl again. If not her, maybe her best friend out of spite. Or her mom. But you can’t just sit around with your cock in your hands with your buddies, hoping something happens. You don’t get anything from that. Don’t float like a turd. Be a crocodile, jump out of the toilet and take a bite at some ass, you pussy.

It’s a ridiculous thing to say bros before hoes because in the end, you’re getting with a chick. Unless you prefer to push your broom handle through your buddy’s dirty back closet. There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as you’re keeping it way from my ass. In that case, bros before hoes all the way. But since I’m assuming that most if not all of the people reading this prefer the self lubricating orifices offered by women, it’s safe to say drop the phrase. It’s not noble and it doesn’t prove anything. All it proves is that you’re a fickle bitch. This goes for both men and women. Stop bitching about who’s with who and who’s doing what with whom. There’s nothing you can do about it without being a completely stinky bag of douche and no one likes a stinky bag of douche. Stop making blind alliances before the Rigolega Ray Gun recharges. Take your heads out of your asses and get over whatever trite problems you have. Bros before hoes my ass. Unless you’re looking to be an obnoxious gay rights activist or a carpet munching WNBA All-star, don’t say bros before hoes. Stop being a tender bitch and deal with it. Don’t let poontang get between you and your friends, but don’t let friends get between you and poontang either.

-Crocodiles were inspired by this piece and many asses were bitten in public restrooms.

They say there’s beauty inside of everyone. I’m here to say that it’s just not true. Often times people are just as ugly on the inside as they are on the outside. If you’re single and desperate, this probably describes you.

All too often, there will be unattractive people who are either married or dating or just straight up fucking. If you’re ugly and aren’t one of these people, you’re probably asking yourself, “How come I don’t have a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse?” The answer can’t simply be you’re ugly, because there are some sea camels out there that are getting the shit fucked out of them by decent looking people. No, the answer is everyone knows you’re single and everyone knows you’re desperate. The fact that you’re desperate can be scented by both men and women, and it smells like a gallon of milk that’s been sitting behind a radiator.

Let’s begin at the top. If you’re single and desperate, it’s probably because you are ugly, unattractive, unsavory, morbidly obese and/or not easy on the eyes. Pick your poison. The point I’m trying to make is you’re probably not getting with anyone because you’re downright ugly. As unpoetic as it sounds, looks play a huge role in determining who fucks whom and who gets with whom. Stop saying you’d rather be with a nice, unattractive guy instead of a prick who’s good looking. It’s bullshit and everyone knows it. This goes without saying for guys because we all know we aren’t going to be porking any lepers and don’t say otherwise. It’s impossible to want to fuck, let alone spend your life with, someone you aren’t attracted to in the first place.

This, of course, brings up all kinds of arguments as to what good-looking is. That’s up to you, asshole. I’m not going to tell you who’s attractive and who’s a cow. I’m smarter than that. But regardless, if you’re single and desperate, it’s because everyone you come in contact with doesn’t find you attractive. It doesn’t mean no one finds you attractive, just the people who have come in contact with you. Go out and meet new people. Maybe you’ll find one who doesn’t cringe at the sight of you.

How do you remedy your grotesquely flawed features? There are some things that just can’t be fixed, but the things you can fix, fix. If you go out looking like a complete scum bag under your own conscious power and don’t get anything from it, it’s your own fault. Don’t think you’re going to win on personality alone; Make yourself presentable. Don’t go out looking like you just slithered out of your mother’s vaginal cavity, dumb shit. This aside, other than shelling out money to fix your holocaust of a face, you better have some sort of redeeming quality, like vibrant personality, good sense of humor or, the best trait, lots and lots of cash money. Even if you’re ugly and have any or all of these traits, chances are you won’t get fucked or married unless you have a good wingman to talk you up before the other person sees you. That way, they’ll focus less on the dimples in your legs and the explosion of pus that is your crater face and more on your redeeming qualities.

Another remedy is to play in your league. Let’s use the Tucker Max rating scale for just a minute. (If you’re unfamiliar with this scale click here) If you’re a woman reading this, it doesn’t matter. Tucker Max’s scale is probably transferable. If not, too bad. I’m not running an Equal Rights page here. Anyway, let’s say you’re a 2-star and you’re interested in a 5-star. Chances are, unless you have a lot of money, a personality that makes the Dali Lama look like a date rapist or a seventeen inch trouser flounder you aren’t getting that 5-star. Stay in your league unless you develop some sort of method of getting those above you to become interested in you.

The most important aspect concerning not being single and desperate is confidence. Seriously, a little confidence goes a long way. Women hate an unconfident man just as much as men find unconfident women annoying. Sometimes confidence is the clincher between being single and desperate and not. Confidence won’t guarantee anything, but it sure will make the chances of getting who you want much more likely. Hell, if you’re ugly and have confidence, even you have a chance. Just keep in mind that the confidence has to be genuine, otherwise people will see right through it and hate you even more than they already do. If you hate yourself, people are going to hate you too. Your attitude of yourself is directly proportional to the attitudes others have of you. Kindly remove your head from your ass and realize this. And don’t give me that “I can’t get confidence” line because it’s bullshit. Anyone who says they have no self-confidence isn’t trying hard enough and deserves to be alone. No one’s going to take responsibility for that but you. It all stems from what you feel about yourself, douche. If you’re confident, regardless of how you look, people will notice you. Now, if you have a shitty personality or worse, no personality, do what you need to do before people figure out you have a shitty or no personality. But if you’re confident and have a personality, whether you’re good looking or not, chances are good that people will be interested in you at some point and you’ll succeed in not being desperate at the very least. But if you’re broken by the smallest of insults, then go fuck yourself because you’ll get no pity from anyone. Grow a pair and deal with it.

I almost forget to mention one thing. If you get shot down, it does prove that you suck, but you can’t let that deter your sorry ass. Everyone has their off days, some more often than others. If you get shot down, just pick your ass up and try again somewhere else. Don’t misinterpret this as do anything you can to get someone interested, because that’s desperation and in case your thick skull hasn’t processed it yet, that’s a bad thing.

Just remember you can be ridiculously ugly and still find someone who will fuck you as long as you make yourself presentable. While your options will be greatly limited, there is always someone out there who’s as horny as you are ugly. Plus, you can use that whole personality thing to your advantage if you have a good one and make yourself not look like a bag of soggy cocks, because yes, personality is important once you’ve passed the presentability test. If you decide to sprout some balls, develop some confidence and take a risk you might be able to expand on your options. The key to all of this is confidence. The more self worth you have, the better you’ll look to everyone else.

Now, if you’ve read all of this and decided that you can’t take it upon yourself to follow simple instructions, there is a solution for you too.

Give up.

End of story. Just stop trying to find someone else, because it’s your own fault no one likes you. You’re one of those wimpy assholes who thinks there’s no hope for them. You know what? If you think that you’re right. You can control how much you respect yourself, it’s all a matter of taking control and not being a shitty ass bag. Seriously, I’ll give you a kick in the ass if you stop being a self-loathing fuck nut. But if you’re going to bitch about how no one likes you for whatever reason, go fuck yourself because I’m not going to listen. You have no one to blame but yourself.

So if you’re still desperate and lonely, too bad. I’ve got a few suggestions for you though. For the ladies:

And for the gentlemen:

Remember, if you’re single and desperate, it’s your own fault. Make yourself presentable. Personality is very important, but it will get you nowhere if you aren’t at the very least presentable. Meet new people. Chances are if you aren’t getting what you’re looking for, the people you are with suck. Don’t let failure deter you. If you do, kiss any hope of ever achieving anything goodbye. Unless your goal is to achieve being a complete lame ass fuck job. Have fucking confidence. It’s the most important tool to have. And most importantly, don’t suck any more than you naturally do.

-Dumbasses got confused and put milk behind a radiator to solve their problems.

Over the last month or so, I’ve been hearing three words that piss me off to no end. Every fuckstick and their grandmother uses these three words as every other word in their vocabulary. I’ll just be sitting around minding my own damn business when some punk ass suck sack will come up to me and start jabbering on and on about trivial shit. Shit so trivial that my balls send sharp, painful electric shocks to kill off my sperm in hopes that I won’t give birth to dumbass clods after being mentally molested with trivial cock barf. God damn, don’t people think about how stupid and insignificant what they have to say is before they say it? Anyway, there are three words in particular that I’ve been hearing that have resulted in a lot of miscarriages or shattered fallopian tubes. If these words were women, they’d be the fat, gangly girl who cackles at every joke and whose gelatinous gut can be heard sloshing around from 40 yards away.

Hot: Let’s be honest, we’ve all used this word at one point in our lives to describe how someone looks. The key word here is once. “That guy is hot,” “That dress is hot,” “That abortion clinic is hot,” “That festering homeless man with his cock hanging out of his rags is hot.” Seriously, it’s gotten to the point where hot is being used to descibe anything, good or bad. Jesus Christ there are so many other ways to describe how somebody looks. Fuckable for example. Or, if you aren’t a complete bag of ass, you can use the Tucker Max rating scale. Not familiar? Take a look at yourself in the mirror, then kill yourself. At the very least, stop saying shit is hot in relation to how it looks or I’ll plaster your face with a hot load of sperm and clean it off with a hot stream of piss, cunt waft.

Drama: This one will probably coming to you very soon, because every suck ass I know uses this one. It’s used to describe every bickering problem someone has with someone else. If someone doesn’t like the way someone sneezes, the way someone dresses, or the person someone is getting their beef beam slathered by, it’s drama? No, go fuck yourself. I’m guessing this word comes from all those shitty dramas they show on fucking TV. You know, Desperate MILFs, One Detrophiliac Hill and that one where the main character is supposed to be a man but turns out to be a cry baby crotch crevice. Ass clogs watch this mind fuck and figure, “Oh these people fight and bicker just like me. My life is also a drama. Woe is me and may pity come upon my lamentable plight.” The ironic thing is, the people who watch these shows make their lives into one of these shows, then complain about how no one gets along with them. That is, they go out on a limb to try and piss people off just so they can say their life is a drama. I’ve got news for all of you. Your life is not a drama any more than my cock is a saber-toothed tiger. Stop pretending like you’re above all the bullshit when all you’re doing is piling it on and bitching about it. I ought to shatter your spinal columns with my sledgehammer of a cock. Fucking duster ass slobs.

Awesome: It pains me to say it, but awesome has become a shitty buzz word. It was once reserved for merely the greatest of people, such as Maddox, Tucker Max, Aron Ralston, John Kennedy Toole, Victor Wooten and of course Rigolega. Now, it’s used to describe everything. The word has been robbed by every lame ass on the face of the earth and has been posted on every shitty Xanga and MySpace in the universe. Whenever I see or hear the word awesome, I cringe and shake my head. The word awesome was like the hearty steak dinner smothered in the most delicious of sauces. When every dickhole on earth started using it, it was like finding out the steak sauce was really briny penguin semen. Or fat chick placenta. Either way, it sucks to hear the word awesome, knowing that it was a titties word once upon a time until mongoloid cock scabies like you raped it of its meaning.

Do both me and yourself a favor and never use these words again. The more you say it, the slower and more painful your life will become in my presence.

-Duster ass slobs have had their spinal columns shattered by Rigolega’s sledgehammer of a cock.

A few weeks ago, I decided to take a chance and buy an iPod. I had discussed mp3 players with many of my friends who know about that shit, and they all recommended that I get anything BUT an iPod. Being the stubborn asshole I am, I pissed in the wind and bought an iPod. “All right,” I said to myself, “this isn’t so bad,” and went on my way. Ten days, 1200 songs and $400 later, I was content with this alleged “hunk of shit” as many called it. Just when I was about to get down on my knees and fellate the seemingly spectacular Apple wang for putting out such a superior item, I was confronted with a problem. Just as everyone had said would happen, my iPod broke. I had the thing for ten fucking days, and it was spent like a girl after a wild immigrant gang-bang.

Allow me to recollect what had happened the night it broke. I went out with a few people to go bowling and brought my iPod along. I had also purchased a little thing called the iTrip, which allows the music on the mp3 player to be transmitted onto the radio station of your choice. Once again, I figure it’s a sweet deal; I get to listen to the music I want while I drive to the discontentment of many who wouldn’t know Rigolega approved music if I branded it on their bitch asses. So I have it in my car’s glove box when it’s not being used. After a long night of kicking bowling’s ass, being an obnoxious asshole and kicking shit around, I get a ride to my car and discover that the LCD screen on the iPod is broken. I get pissed and drive home, vowing to get a refund from Best Buy or Apple for this yeasty vagina of a product.

I walk into Best Buy the next day and they say “You can’t get a refund, you dropped it.” Obviously, the Asian chick who was behind the refund counter’s logic is flawed and I say, as politely as possible, “If I don’t get a refund for this steaming pile of bat shit, I’m going to drop you like an ugly baby with palsy.” None too pleased with my comment, she says that neither Best Buy nor Apple will refund an iPod with a cracked LCD screen because it’s “Too much money.” They offer me my $50 Best Buy warranty money back and I disgracefully accept whatever money I can get back from these thieving bastards.

Perhaps you’re thinking “Well, it’s your fault it broke,” or “If Apple/Best Buy gave refunds for everything, they’d go out of business.” Go out of business my ass. What CEO or executive in Apple and Best Buy isn’t snorting coke out of a hooker’s asshole and lighting his cigars with hundred dollar bills as we speak? I’m here to tell you that there’s no excuse for why an Apple iPod should break under any other circumstance than through nuclear disasters.

First let’s start with Apple, grainy asshole fingerer number one. Apple creates different sized iPods that are not cheaply priced. The one I bought, a 20 gig, color screen model, cost me $300. For that price, I was expecting there to be a good stash of porno secretly stashed away somewhere on the thing or a hole to get my dick waxed and shined in at least. Disappointed that neither were present, I figured that it must be priced high because it is indestructible, hence the reason Rigolega would buy it. Alas, that is not the case either. Since the iPod broke whilst in my glove box, unadultered, I can only assume that Apple manufactures iPods made by pussies, for pussies. I didn’t know you could program an electronic to have toxic shock and break down in just ten days. Nonetheless, is it fair that Apple goes out and mass produces these giant gaping crotch gaps and doesn’t back up their product by blaming many, if not all, problems on the consumer? Whatever happened to the customer is always right? Better yet, whatever happened to taking pride in your work and not putting out a product that, if it were a woman, you wouldn’t fuck with a 90 foot stick yourself? God damn I hate Apple. First it was their shitty computers, then it was those shitty commercials with those dumbass multicolored monitors, now it’s shitty iPods that couldn’t do dick with a bottle of lube and a “How to fellate cock like a pro” handbook. If you’re going to charge a testicle to get people to buy these things, at least make them invulnerable to laying idle in a glove compartment.

When I asked Best Buy geek why the LCD screen cracked while it sat in my glove box, unadultered, in heat that could not have surpassed 75 degrees at anytime that night, she said, “Oh well we always get complaints about iPods. They break easy and need to be maintained well.” “Always break?” I say. “Then why do you sell them?” This was met, of course with a long pause followed by “Because they’re popular.” If I wanted to pay $300 for something that was both popular and sucked, it would have much bigger tits and call itself Candy. Since Best Buy doesn’t have a “high class hooker” department in their stores, why do they continue to sell these piles of suck? This, naturally, leads me to believe that Best Buy is the second fingerer of grainy asshole. Come to think of it, nothing I’ve ever bought there has ever been the “best buy” by any means. I’ve purchased music for cheaper and of higher quality at a small music store just down the block from the nearest Best Buy (Rolling Stones on Irving for all you suckasses in Chicago), cheaper video games of equal quality at second hand stores and have gotten blank CDs for dirt cheap from people who bought them and left them out in the open. I have to admit that when it comes to buying swanky ghetto rape in a box, no one gives better deals than Best Buy though. So that’s what you’re looking for, by all means shop at Best Buy.

Not only had I lost all of my waning respect for both Apple and Best Buy by this time, but the Asian girl behind the counter also got on my nerves. I recall that I was once going to put up a page that praised all the Asians I knew for ruling all over the place. Up to that point, I had never met anyone of Asian persuasion that I did not like. This ho-bag was snotty, rude and pug fugly. How dare she take an insulting tone with the great Rigolega? Now that I think about it, I should have set her ablaze with my sweet ass laser vision. That would have been tits. I imagine it would have looked something like this:

Just look at that. That is the portrait of sheer greatness. If it were a woman, you’d have to diamond-coat your dick to fuck it.

All seriousness aside, don’t buy Apple products. If not for the shitty performance of the pile of shit that is the iPod, then simply on the basis that their customer service sucks and their products are less user friendly than a sado-masochist on her period. Also, don’t buy anything from Best Buy, ever, because all they sell is rape in a box and regardless of what they say, that’s not only bad form, but illegal. The next time you go into Best Buy, just take a shit on the customer service desk and demand a refund. Maybe if it doesn’t have a cracked screen, Best Buy will recognize it for what it is: another shitty product doled out by a shitty electronics company and distributed by a suck shack like Best Buy.

-People have taken shits in boxes and gotten refunds at Best Buy.

Everyday, someone comes up to me and says, “OMG, you have to listen to this new band I found. They are the best.” Yes, they actually say “OMG” but that’s not the most annoying factor here. I swear the next person to use an internet acronym anywhere, even on the internet, is going to fellate my knuckles for a good six hours. Fucking morons. Anyway, I’m always approached by someone claiming they have listened to or discovered the best band ever. There’s another thing I hate: people who say they discovered a good band like they were some lost and locked away treasure. You didn’t discover them, ass clog. You happened to overhear their music at one of your trendy parties with people who wear collared shirts with the collars popped up. Dumbasses. Add people with popped collars to my list of people to force oral intercourse upon with my fists.

Before this turns into a simple list of things I hate, which would go on forever (otherwise known as Rigolega’s sex drive) allow me to articulate, in plain English, which band of all the musical talents out there is the greatest of all time. The greatest band of all time, apparently, is Weezer.

Wow, look at them. Take a good long look. Then ask yourself, based simply on looks alone, “How can this be the greatest band in the universe?” If your answer consists of anymore than the words, “It can’t be” in that order, you need to step back and re-evaluate your life.

I hate Weezer. They’re just like every other bleeding heart band out there, except they had the opportunity to do it before everyone out there decided to take a large hacksaw and gracefully separate their balls from their bodies. I read a review a few months ago which stated that Weezer may be the greatest and most influential band in the last decade. The article stated that “Weezer essentially introduced teens to the brand of music known as emo.” That right there is enough to qualify them for the worst band of all time award. The article also said that Rivers Cuomo, lead singer and guitarist of this traveling troupe of travesty, caused teens around America to pick up a guitar or pen and express themselves. There’s another thing no one needs: more teens being a bunch of cry baby pussies who think their life is worse than anything out there. Now before you say, “Well, you’re just basing this on how they look and that one article,” think again, dumbass. I, the Great Rigolega, I have listened to the entire Weezer “Blue Album” several times. This is considered by many to be their greatest triumph. I must say, that after listening to the album all the way through just three times, I couldn’t be any more convinced that Weezer was more an infectious respiratory disease rather than a band. There’s no substance to the music. The lyrics blow whale ass. All Weezer represents is untalented whiners who happen to make it big because they hold a guitar in their hands. I could go on and on. But, believe it or not, this is only the tip of the iceberg. While I hate Weezer, there is something that bothers me much more than a group of nancy boys who moan on and on about their deepest and innermost feelings. No, the problem I have is with people who say that [enter band here] is the greatest band of all time as if it’s a proven fact.

Looking at this as any intelligent human would, with logic, one would realize that it’s impossible to dub any one person or band as the “greatest of all time,” simply because there are way too many genres of music to judge. Every branch of music has its own criteria as to what makes it a success. For example (and take these definitions as they should be taken, as my opinion, asshole), to be a successful “punk” rocker, all you have to do is play the same three chord riff over and over and bitch about one of the following: government, having your heart broken and/or having your heart broken by the government. Examples would be: The Ramones, Sex Pistols, The Clash. To be a successful jam band musician, you have to have one or more of the following talents: a complete understanding of your instrument, the ability to improvise on the spot, the ability to make a two minute song into a twenty minute marathon. Examples would be: Phish, String Cheese Incident, Umphrey’s McGee. To be a successful blues musician, you have to combine the exact same riffs played at different tempos with a short story about how “Your baby left you,” or something similar. Examples would be: Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker. Rock and roll is essentially the same as blues, just with a harder sound. Or is it? Who cares? There are too many genres and a lack of criteria to choose one band that simply trumps all other bands.

Before you begin to argue about my short analysis of what I believe you need to play in a given genre, ask yourself, “What constitutes something as the best?” When you actually stop to think about that question critically and not with a simple passing, headstrong glance like your thick skull normally would, you’ll realize that opinion alone simply does not constitute something as the best. There has to be some sort of basis behind why something is the greatest.

Let’s say two men have a disease. One guy’s disease causes his skin to catch fire and rot and his anus to expel a foul, thick fluid which is actually his liquidated organs, in such a fashion that the expulsion sounds like he is grinding up a baby for lunch meat. The other guy’s disease causes him to ooze his organs in solid form throughout every orifice in his body while his skin sheds off with a sound similar to a feminist trying to argue a point. Both men are in a terrible position, as they will both soon die. While each disease will lead to the same result, death, both diseases are slightly different. There is no way to say which death is more painful, as the only way to know is to gauge the opinions of both of the men with the disease. And since both men are seemingly in a ton of pain, each will try to convince the other that their pain is immeasurable compared to the other’s pain. When both men die after a short time, everyone will look back and realize that arguing was pointless because there was no concrete way to gauge the pain the two were in other than by taking into consideration the opinion of each man. While almost everyone will agree that both diseases sucked big time, they will always disagree over which sucked more, based on their opinion. Eventually, everyone will agree that both diseases sucked just as much as the other. Now apply this to music. Both punk rock and emo rock suck, and can be considered diseases like the two mentioned above. Each camp will argue their case as why their music is superior, trying to outdo the other. In the end, they both go away and everyone realizes that they both sucked big time, based on nothing more than opinion because there is STILL no concrete evidence or criteria as to what makes music good other than one’s opinion. Get it now, dumbass?

Since opinion is the only thing I base my quality of music on, allow me to shed some light on one of the most trivial things to ever be argued about. Music.

1) A musical group must be able to put together music that is held together by the member(s) of said group being able to coherently and cohesively play their instruments like experts (i.e. sans lame impotent riffs that produce a mighty yawn from Rigolega) be it guitar, bass, drums, voice, banjo, beam to the skull of a panda, etc.

2) Lyrics should never be the crux of a band. While they might aid the music in getting a point across, never should the music suck for the sake of some sappy lyrics. If lyrics don’t fit, or straight up suck, don’t use them.

3) Lyrics should not consist of whining, bitching or moaning about the government, love lost or why no one loves you even though you grew up in the suburbs as a spoiled asshole but simply couldn’t adjust to the world because you considered yourself a non-conformist and wanted to stand out because you know in reality that you truly do suck yeasty vagina.

4) Exceptions to rule 3: The music absolutely rules huge amounts of ass to the point where the lyrics don’t matter; the singer happens to have such a great voice that you listen less to the lyrics and more to the sounds coming out of the singer’s mouth (Very rare. Example: Freddie Mercury)

5) All emo sucks. We’ve gone through this too many times. Men should not have the right to bitch and moan about their problems to the chorus of three chord riffs. This goes for every emo subgroup as well. Allow me to define the three I’ve heard of to date:

a) Emo- Grown men whining and crying about petty matters such as breaking up with one’s girlfriend, being betrayed by one’s girlfriend or boyfriend (interpret as you wish) and/or thoughts of suicide over something as insignificant as the aforementioned combined with a shitty excuse for musical compliment. Simply put by Maddox, emo is short for loser. Face it; if you consider yourself emo, you’re a loser. Grow a set and fix your problem instead of bitching about it in hopes of getting people to pity you and/or solve the problem for you.

b) Screamo- Same concept as emo, just with more screaming.

c) Emocore- A combination of “Emotional” and “Hardcore” synonymous with complete fucking loser and whiny, post-menopausal sack of dried vagina.

There is no such thing as a single greatest musical group. No matter how much you may think a band may rule, there is no basis other than opinion to judge what makes music “good”. Stop being a dumbass. Stop trying to logically explain why any one band is the greatest, because there is no universal standard on what is deemed good music. Face it, the only music that is acceptable is what Rigolega listens to. And you are not worthy, nor ready for that yet. So until then, feel free to marinate my beef beam, jag bag.

-Assholes popped their collars said LOL after having their asses handed to them with this analysis.

Everyone’s experienced it. You’re driving along, minding your own business, pondering how awesome Rigolega is and why you should sacrifice your first born to appease the Great Rigolega, when suddenly you hear an obnoxious hum and notice a blur traveling past you on your right. Flummoxed and angered at the interruption of your thoughts of Rigolega pounding sweet virgins, you immediately reach for a 12-gauge shotgun. But since you suck, you don’t have a 12-gauge. So instead you shake your fist in anger at the blur. Then you can only help but wonder, “What was that thing that just passed me? Was it a cop? An ambulance? My worthless and otherwise pointless existence?” But to your great disappointment, and my disgust, none of the preceding is true. The blur was not an emergency vehicle doing its job. No, you have been passed by the annoying and dreadfully common dick who thinks the streets are his race track. He (yes, he, because all women drive like shit) drives his hunk of shit like it’s something to behold, something to be impressed with. But in all actuality, he fails to realize that his car is more a box of camel shit on wheels than a car, let alone a race car.

The last time I checked, the main streets of Chicago hadn’t been converted to a NASCAR speedway. Stop acting like you own a race car and drive your piece of shit like it’s supposed to be driven. I’m sick of watching assholes weave in and out of traffic to try and impress everyone else out on the street. Oh, look at me, I just cut you off and am now ahead of you. Thus, you are impressed by my driving ability. No, cock jockey, I’m pissed because you cut me off. I don’t think you’re a good driver, I think you’re an asshole who needs to have his scrotum stapled to his forehead just for being such a douche. What’s the point of trying to fly though heavy traffic anyway? You get a good 20 feet from where you started and you have to stop again. What does this accomplish besides cementing into everyone’s mind that humanity isn’t worth preserving? Nothing. You’re not impressing anyone, you don’t look like a bad ass and you aren’t doing anything to convince me not to cut your brakes.

Then there are the assholes who think everyone wants to race them. They’ll pull up at a stop light and roll down their windows, trying to make eye contact with you. They’ll most likely blast some shitty European techno and style their hair as they try to get you to look their way. Whether or not you make eye contact, the ass goblin will slam the accelerator and pass you at top speeds when the light changes, proving that he can beat people he isn’t racing. Congratulations dumbass, you beat me. By screeching your tires and shooting ahead of me, you’ve proven that you are indeed a more skilled driver than I. Because we all know how hard it is to beat someone in a race where you’re the only one racing because only complete douche bags like you try to race people in your shitty Honda Civic. And take that obnoxious muffler off of your shitbox or I’ll shove it so far up your ass you’ll be coughing up exhaust for a year.

One of the common mantras I’ve heard from people who drive like Dale Earnhardt on the street (but tragically don’t meet the same fate as the aforementioned hillbilly) is “Drive fast, think slow.” The phrase clubs you and any shred of logic like a truncheon to the testicles. It’s like saying, “Turn on the lawn mower and stick your hand in the blade,” or “Open and consume a liter of paint thinner” or “Listen to an entire Dashboard Confessional album,” because no one in their right mind would do any of these previously stated tortures. Who the fuck comes up with these stupid sayings? “Drive fast, think slow.” How about I just save you the gas money and beat you to death with a bag of doorknobs you overflowing sack of suck.

I simply cannot go on. The thought of morons driving in their Passat or their Geo or their [enter car brand that is everything but a race car] like their shit doesn’t stink rekindles my urge to scoop out my neighbor’s eyes with a wooden spoon. So the next time you feel the urge to drive fast in heavy traffic, the urge to cut me off or have the ridiculous yearning to race me, remember to step back, take a deep breath and realize that you are a dumbass. You’re acting like an asshole and are impressing no one. No one in their right mind would drive fast and think slow[ly] because if you do that, you die. Either way, if driving fast and thinking slow[ly] doesn’t kill you directly, you’ll perish when I toss my spam javelin through your skull and impregnate your brain. Man do I rule.

-People tried to race me and had their scrotums stapled to their foreheads.