Dudes, ladies, various asshole lurkers and parents, sluts, prudes, crips, tards, fatties, baldies, nerds, turds, pussies, pansies, total assholes, religious dicks, irreligious smart asses, various other smartguy bloggers, fellow bartenders, musicians, priests, officers, molested children, suicide bombers, hot dog factory workers and cabbies,
Welcome to Bad Sandwich Chronicles on this, the second or third Friday of either March or April. I’ve found something out there, on the internets that is incredibly disturbing. I’ve been meaning to write about it for a while, but I’ve been afraid.
They’re watching me. Oh, don’t I sound just like Gene Hackman in that one movie, or Mel “jews” Gibson in that other (pretty much the same) movie, or even Tom Cruise in that one other different movie that’s the same, but it takes place in a different time, or Will Smith in that other different, kind of the same, but more different, yet still EXACTLY the same, premise-wise, movie? Don’t I? Well, you know what Gene, Mel, Tom and Will all had in common (besides all buttfucking their way to the top of Hollywood [thank you mr. Travolta!])? THEY WERE ALL RIGHT!!!!!
They WERE watching them. And now they’re watching me. It started with the lesbian dildos thing. Some sexy robot approached me about helping her hock lesbian dildos here, right here in Bad Sandwich Chronicles. I politely said: “1000011010101010000101111110001010101010100010101000101111111010101010101010101010101010101010100000000111100001111100000010101010000000011111111111”
Or, “no” in robot, and I thought that was it. (If you need a recap of this, read the entry entitled “uh…hmm…see, the title I want to use really gives too much away”)
So, anyway, I went on with my life and I kept on doing that which it is I do, which is, essentially for those of you just tuning in, weaving various euphemisms for dicks and various dick jokes into everyday bits of discourse. So for example, if I wanted to tell you that I wasn’t looking forward to work today, I may say it like this: “I’d rather suck a neutered dog’s empty, floppity ball bag up through his disgusting melted jolly rancher of a wang than deal with carrying the sandwiches, opening the miller lites of and changing the channels for all these march madness assholes that are sure to infiltrate my stupid job today.”
It’s a little rough, but I was on the fly there, so you know, a little leeway would be nice. You get the idea though, right? Dick jokes/discourse—yadda yadda yadda.
ANYWAY, I’m getting off topic, which is also something I do here. Whatever right? We’re friends here. BSC is a safe place. A solace in the creepy cyber world of animal porn, butt stretching, people trying to sign kids up for the army and various religious/terrorist/hate group havens. No one here but us, right?
Go here if you doubt me: www.Badsandwichchronicles.com
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???? Chai? Bats? Fucking BLACK AUTHORS? HOW DO THEY KNOW? I mean, fuck. There’s no way that this website existed before I started this blog. NO. WAY. I mean, what are the odds of two people coming up with the name ‘bad sandwich chronicles’ for a website? It’s a terrible name. Fuck, that’s why I picked it in the first place. Oh, it’s tempting to think that because of all you lurkers that I get enough hits that some robot (and this is where the dildo salesbot comes back into play) invented an ad site with my domain name just to sell links and to hopefully get money from me when and if I get off my ass and decide I want to own the “real” domain name (uh…unlikely to happen, by the way). BUT, then look at it.
SAND???? Dude, I LOVE sand. In fact, these are all things that have to do with me. I live in Chai-cago, man. I’m a black author and besides, even if I’m not technically “street black” or “actually black” I’m book black, and by that I mean I’ve read some Ellison and perused more than my share of Black Tail (which also falls under ‘black romance’ which is ALSO on this strange new badsandwichchronicles). And bats? Dude, anyone who knows me will tell you that I can’t go two seconds without talking about my two pet bats, Scratches and Scabs. They’re absolutely my world. I don’t write about them on the blog because some of my life needs to stay private (like how tom cruise never talks about the dudes attached to the bushels and bushels of dicks he sucks, or Brad Pitt never lets his actual kids be seen, or how Kevin Federline…you get the point). But they knew. This robot knew. This leads me to the only logical conclusion: The internet is a living entity that spies on us and will eventually enslave us all. Just like HAL in that one movie, but without the vacuum of space, and you know, more different videos of Jada Fire (black romance again! DAMN YOU INTERNET!!!!).
Fuck. This is a lot to swallow right before the weekend, huh?
I’m gonna go get a churro.