Santa Is A Real Asshole

This Christmas, I've been accepting comments on my most recent post where I'll add one dollar to my contribution towards The Make A Wish Foundation in memory of a young boy I knew, only shortly, who changed my life. Please feel free to stop by and make a comment.

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It's Christmas again and once again we're bombarded with Christmas music. Have you ever really listened to the Christmas song “I saw Mama kissing Santa Claus”? Allow me to indulge you for a moment:

Christmas toys all over the place
Little Shelby wears a funny smile on his face
Shelby has a secret
And the secret he must share
He wants to tell somebody
So he tells his teddy bear
I saw Mama kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
She didn’t see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peek
She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep
Then, I saw Mama tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mama kissing Santa Claus last night

Okay… so… this song was written in 1952… times were much more innocent back then. I realize that “Santa Claus” is probably “Daddy” dressed up as Santa but if you are to take this song literally… it makes this whole situation seem ripe for the Jerry Springer show.

First of all, if you don’t realize the playful nature of this song and that Shelby is probably just peeking in on his dad and mom kissing under the mistletoe you might accidentally think that Mama is cheating on Daddy with this old, fat, hairy bastard.



Santa should never be trusted to be alone with your wife

Despite the fact that this song was written over 50 years ago… there’s still something deeply disturbing about it! All of us listening to it might say, “Oh! Ha, I get it!! Shelby is actually just seeing his Dad and Mom have a sweet Christmas Eve kiss! He’s just misunderstanding what’s really going on! How cute!”

Well let me tell you something people… Shelby actually thinks his Mom is getting it on with SANTA CLAUS while Daddy is (more than likely) asleep!! And he thinks Daddy would have laughed about it!! I’ll tell you what I would have done if I had gotten out of bed to find my wife mugging down and “tickling the beard” of some random fat dude in our house… I’d have collapsed his frontal lobe with the nearest blunt object I could find.

What happens after Shelby creeps back to bed? Does he lay there and worry about if he should tell Daddy or not? Does he pray that his Mom and Dad don’t get divorced because Dad can’t “clean her chimney” like Santa can? Does he cover his head with his pillow to muffle the sound of Santa’s “Ho-Ho-Ho’s” and Mama’s “Oh-oh-oh’s”?

What kind of light does this song shed on Santa? It makes him sound like a real slut. He gets one night a year away from Mrs. Claus and apparently he takes the opportunity to get his game on. Mrs. Claus thinks he’s off spreading good will. Well... I'm here to tell you Mrs. Claus that that's not the only thing he's spreading.

Anyway… I think the song is a little dated for where our world is at this point in time. Santa should stick with gifts and stockings… not Mama’s fun bags.



Santa’s been pulling the wool (in more ways than one) over our eyes for years…

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Come visit me at my home: Who Is Papa K.

The smallest utterance of politics makes my brain shut down into a lifeless, steaming pile of toad poop.

I can't get into it. I can't get passionate about it. It doesn't interest me.

I know, as an American born American, I should... but I simply cannot.

All I know is that no one is ever going to agree on anything. In a perfect world there would be no arguments, there wouldn't be any Republican or Democratic parties, there would be no Hillary Clinton and we would all have nothing to argue about.

I know... boring, right?

Although, I have to admit, I was slightly interested in seeing if "Prop 19" would pass. For those of you who don't know, Prop 19 was a ballot initiative to legalize marijuana (aka pot, dope, Mary Jane, ganja, giggleweed, reefer, bud, cryptonite, doobie, grass, hocus pocus, happy backy, rainy day woman, wackytabacky, pretendica, etc.) in the state of California.



California's Future Governor: The Honorable Mr. Snoop Dogg

It didn't pass.

Honestly, I was going to be really surprised if it did pass... even for California!

I couldn't even imagine the drove of patchouli-soaked hippies that would move to California to bask in the glow of the legalization of marijuana. Perhaps that's why California residents voted to keep it illegal? I mean... who likes the smell of patchouli other than dirty hippies right?! (Sorry Matt)

Anyway, as someone who's *cough cough* never smoked wackytabacky myself *cough cough*... ahem... I'm a little under the weather (or am I?) I apologize... what was I saying? Oh yeah, in my humble opinion I don't think it's a good idea to legalize it because of the sheer chaos it would cause.

"But Papa K, marijuana is much safer than alcohol!" You might say, "No one has ever died from smoking too much pot!"

It's true, no one has overdosed from inhaling too much cannabis... they just become incredibly stupid. Nothing irritates me more than someone who is high. While the recipient of the head change is on another planet, his or her surrounding peers have to put up with the idiocy of his or her actions.

Can you imagine how long it would take to get through the check-out line at Wal-Mart when the checker is as high as a hot air balloon?

What if the person driving in the lane next to you just sucked down a whole blunt and their idea of exiting the highway is to change lanes by smashing through your luxury Sedan? I don't think you or I would have much sympathy for someone after picking ourselves out of a ditch on the side of the road to find out the reason they ran you off the road was because their sensory skills were inhibited by the giggleweed!

Yet... I have some sympathy for the "legalize marijuana" advocates. I see Marijuana, as with EVERYTHING, in excess is too much. Too much beer is bad, too much ice cream is bad, too much sex is bad (well... not that bad), too much of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen is bad and too much pot is bad. Now, if you could GUARANTEE some resiliency on the part of those who want to smoke a little Mary-Jane and limit their intake only to times when they're out of harms way or not in a position to severely affect every one elses busy schedules... then fine. But it wouldn't be that way because Americans like to abuse their privilages.

I could go on and on. The argument between smokers and non-smokers will carry on much like arguments about capital punishment, prayer in schools and whether or not Elena Kagan is a man.



Sir... ah... Ma'am... uh... hey you!

Whatever the case may be, I honestly don't have a problem with people who want to smoke an occasional doobie much in the same way I don't have a problem with someone who wants to have a few drinks. The problem is how many dirty hippies would abuse their right to smoke pot free and clear. While this would increase profits for those who invest in IHOP, Denny's and Waffle House it would also increase the amount of one-sided ass whippings given to smoked-out hippies that fried the final nerve of many clear-minded individuals.

So, with that, thank God Prop 19 didn't pass.

That's what I think... what do you think?

BTW - I didn't inhale.

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Come visit me at my home: Who Is Papa K.

I May Be 30... But I Need My Nub Nub

It's been a rough day.

First of all, when I got up this morning, I realized that my DVR did not record "Sister Wives", a show about a dude with four wives.

Then... I came to find out we were out of Rice Krispies.

Then... I had an accident in my pants.

Then I cried an endless waterfall of tears.

"It's gonna be one of those days!" I thought to myself, "Good thing I got this"!

I reached into my pocket and drew out my best trusted friend to whom I resort to when days begin to look as though they're sliding into the pit of Hades: a faded green pacifier.

"Hello old friend" I said as I cradled it gingerly almost expecting it to respond back to me. "When everything else fails... I can always depend on you!" I said as I popped the bulb of the pacifier in-between my lips and then began frantically sucking away the pain of the day.

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You may think this is strange and ask me, "Why are you, A GROWN MAN, sucking on a pacifier?" Well... my mother never weaned me off of it and before she knew it I had moved out of the house using my "Nub Nub" to help get me through the stressful moments in life.

Who was there for my end of semester finals? Nub Nub.

Who was there when my college girlfriend broke up with me? Nub Nub.

Who was there after I killed that hobo and feared I was going to get caught? Nub Nub.

Who's been there through 11 years of the Texas Rangers not being in the playoffs? Nub Nub



Watching close games stress me out. Who's there for me? Nub Nub.

So... you can imagine the kind of rift this created in my relationship with Bunny when I pulled Nub Nub out after our first major argument.

"What are you doing? Is that... a pacifier?"

"NO! THITH ITH NUB NUB!! AND HETH THE ONLY ONE WHO CARETH ABOUT ME!!" I screamed around Nub Nub who I held so delicately between my teeth.

"HA! Are you a man... or are you a baby?" she responded while simultaneously yanking Nub Nub between my pursed lips.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Give it back poo-poo face!" I screamed again before close-lining her then slamming her to the floor in order to wrench Nub Nub from her vice-like grip. I sure as hell knew that I wasn't no baby!

So don't judge me. I may be the largest person you've ever seen sucking on a pacifier... but it's my own business. My mommy never told me I had to give it up... so I'll give it up when I'm ready.

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Post Post Disclaimer: if you didn't notice my complete and total sarcasm... then you are indeed a complete moron.

On a more serious note: what's your thought on pacifiers? Should kids be allowed to decide when they don't want a pacifier any more? Or should there be some rules established i.e. "only a nap-time" or "only at bed-time" or "pretty much whenever they scream loud enough?" Or do you have no rules i.e. "Let them suck on that thing until they're 30 years old... like Papa K!"

I'm interested on starting a heated debate... make my wishes come true.

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Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.

Wandering Eyes May Cause Incoming Fists

Having a beautiful wife like mine is indeed a blessing… but sometimes it can be a curse. You’re going to have to deal with the roving eyeballs of your passing homo sapien male brothers yet know the rules that come with the territory of having such eye candy on your arm.

Alternatively, when dealing with an oncoming pair of extraordinary boobs on a hip-swingin’ supermodel; you have to know when to look away so that you’re not going to be eviscerated by your wife, girlfriend or recipient of your lengthy stare.

Here are some tips for you OR the guy taking too long a look at your better half’s miles of boundless cleavage.


1. It is okay to look… but not for too long!

With all the enhancements women can get these days along with the things they’re allowed to wear in public… men don’t stand a chance. They have to look. Not looking would result in a catastrophic collapse of their frontal lobe which in turn would create a small black hole, sucking everything within the general vicinity into it.

Quite frankly… they want you to look. They wouldn’t have worn what they’re wearing, worked out that hard or gotten the work done if they didn’t want the opposite gender looking.

The trick is when to know to look away.

If you’re “the looker”… you want to look for a second or less. In this case a second lasts a long time. This could more commonly be called a “glance”. That’s honestly long enough to get your fill. If you look any longer than that… it will assuredly result in you getting caught. This is when you know you’ve evolved the glance into a “stare”.

If you’re the unfortunate boyfriend/husband of the recipient absorbing the +1 second stare, then you should probably say something.

“Hey buddy… you know the rules! ONE SECOND MAX!!” You should bark.

This will usually knock the lookee out of their trance, result in their immediate embarrassment and will generally concede with an apology.

If nothing happens and they seem to have fallen into a trance… it’s time to strategically plant your fist somewhere in the general vicinity of their ocular cavities.



One second... it's all you get...


2. The party involved should be flattered with a glance

The problem with most passing looks is that they last too long and evolve into a stare. A stare is rude, inconsiderate to everyone involved and makes you look like a douchebag.

A glance is a more appropriate form of non verbal communication that can be interpreted in a number of ways. It could mean, “Your surgeon should get a Nobel Prize for that work”, “You must work out” or “That guy she’s with is a lucky dude”.

The good thing about a glance is that even if it’s caught by the significant other, it’s usually followed by a head nod and grin distinguishable only to the male species. This is non verbal man communication as if to say, “Nice work dude” or “You suck but I gotta give you props”!

Glancing merely reinforces the fact that (a) you were correct in your assumption that your girlfriend/wife is hot and (b) other guys are jealous of you.

Girls want to be noticed… they don’t want to be ogled.

Staring, whether they/you are caught or not, merely reinforces the fact that (a) there’s no tact in our society anymore and (b) he/you are going to get verbally abused/punched/slapped/shot/kicked/eviscerated.



This dude looked too long...


3. If in passing, the situation presents itself again to glance… DON’T!

On occasion, there will be an opportunity to look at the same set of delightful orbs or derriere in skin-hugging leggings within a fairly short time period.

This presents a more delicate situation because all parties involved were made aware of each other earlier and have danced around the situation once already. Going through it again will result in awkward scenarios and uncomfortable moments.

If you are the viewer, take solace in knowing that you got your freebie and move on. You need to stay focused straight ahead. You’ll want to look… but remember this quote:

“I looked once and got my breath taken away… I looked twice and got my eyes gouged out.”

It is too great a gamble to feel greedy and catch another glance. The opposing territorial male is all too aware of the elephant in the room because he is a red blooded male himself… and he knows what you’re after.

If you’re able to curtail the need to look again… you’ve gained the respect of your unknown brother and keep true to the unspoken male code.



It starts early...

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Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.

Mother Goose Needs Therapy

Back when my wife and I were just dating, I used to buy her children's books. This served as sort of a time machine to take myself back to when I used to be a kid (when I read books with pictures) and was also a subtle way to say, "I wanna read this to our kids."

The first children's book I bought for her was "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs" over seven years ago.



I had remembered what a cool book it was when I was a kid and she'd never read it... so to me... it offered her a glance into my childhood.

The passing years we were together brought more books like:



AND



AND



One of my personal favorites...

Our pile of books pre-kid expanded fairly rapidly and when I found out my wife was pregnant over three years ago it made it that much more exciting knowing that I'd finally get to read them to my kid.

Now that she's over two and growing like a weed... we've read EVERY book in her shelf at least 40 times. In an effort to switch things up, I grabbed an aged book I found in the deep inner recesses of my closet: Mother Goose And Her Book Of Sick And Twisted Nursery Rhymes.

This book is indeed nothing BUT twisted and extremely effed up.

For example:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again!



Humpty Dumpty seconds before death...

You can't tell by the rhyme itself... but Humpty Dumpty is a giant living egg. Then he falls to his death while breaking into a million pieces. While it makes about as much sense as a land where it rains meatballs or a dog whose farts help rob a bank... its central character dies! These are supposed to be stories that parents read to their kids before they drift off into dreamland. I don't want my kid dreaming of some "Egg-man" falling off a wall and shattering his body into a million bloody pieces!

Another example:

Three blind mice,
See how they run!
They all ran after a farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such a sight in your life,
As three blind mice?

While the central characters in this rhyme didn't die... they got their tails cut off!!! With a carving knife no less!!! Don't get me wrong... I don't want mice in my garage more than the next guy but I'm not sadistically cut off their tails!!! I'm going to set out a mousetrap.

How about this one:

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth,
Without any bread,
Whipped them all soundly, and sent them to bed.

Man... what a bitch. Call social services! Sorry about your luck having to live in a shoe (how's that possible anyway) but it ain't your kids faults!! This lady just "didn't know what to do" so she starved them and whipped them. Ooooookaaay... where's the good moral fiber in that story?

Again:

If all the world were paper,
And all the sea were ink,
If all the trees
Were bread and cheese,
What should we have to drink?

Okay... that's not sadistic... it's just stupid.

One final time:

Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub,
And how do you think they got there?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker --
They all jumped out of a rotten potato!
'Twas enough to make a fish stare.

W... T... F! Okay, so I want my little daughter envisioning three men in a tub together. No. And how I ask you... HOW... did they jump out of a rotten potato? What were they doing there in the first place?

I could go on forever... but I'll stop.

What a sociopath! I don't know who "Mother Goose" was or why she felt the need to reveal the innermost workings of her twisted mind to CHILDREN! All her stuff is a mix of randomness, death, torture, child abuse, etc. etc. etc. I think she's really more suited to write lyrics for Slipknot as opposed to writing books for kids!



Rumor has it that the dude in the lower left corner is actually Mother Goose!

I know I may seem a little extreme and I'm not seriously on the "blacklist Mother Goose" bus but seriously folks... seriously... if they made Mother Goose into a movie it would be rated X.

What do you think?

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Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.

The Comprehensive Guide To Gang Sign Language

Der was a time when me and ma homeys would post up at da Baby Gap and scare da mamas and da babies wit our scary gang sign language. If youz every seen any one of deez signs and wonder “AY… wut dat mean?” Well… now youz know.

*West Side*:



Notic how da hand look like a "W"... that means "West Side" aight!

*East Side*:



Notic how da hand look like a "E"... that mean "East Side" yeaaahhh boooooyeee!

*Bloods*:



Dis one aways take a minit tuh do...



Dere. See how it spel B-L-O-O-D. Yeh. You know it.

*Say There… I Think I’m Going To Shoot You With My Gun*:



See's how if youse pretand like ma hands a gun id be pointin' it right at yo ugly FACE YO!! You skered? Yeah... dat's whut I thought...

*You Better Move It There Buster... I'm A Bad Man*:



Yo. If youse see me comin' atcha like dis... you best move yo-self or I run you ovah son.

*I Say... I’m A Bit Sleepy*:



See hows ma hands in front uh my mouth like I'm yawning? Dat means I sleepy yo. Probly cuz I busted to many skulls dat day.

*A Bird Just Pooped On My Head*:



Yo. Dis ain't cool. If youse see my hand on my head and my head lookin' at the sky yo... it probly mean sum bird pooped on my cranium yo! That son of a bitch bird. I'll bash it wit my weapons if I eva see it again...

*Someone Just Shot And/Or Stabbed Me*:



If you see dis... youse haf to call 911. If you see dis... it mean one of mah enemes stabbed me wit a blade or shot me wit a gun yo! Totally not cool wen I ain't looking. Totally bogus... er... whack.

*I Am Going To Go Crochet Now*:



YO SHUT YO MOUTH YO!! Erey gangsta gotta haf sometin to pass da time son! Don't be hatin'! I know you only wish yo had haf the crochet skills I got yo! I cud crochet you mouth shut if yo don't check yo self!

*Where’s The Bathroom*:



Oh crap. Sumtims I got a terd playin' peek a boo brotha and I got's to go NOW SON!! WHERE DA BATHROOM AT SERIUSLY!!

*Don’t Bother Me Right Now… I’m Reading*



Even gangsta gotta get there read on homey. Dis one's 'bout learnin' to poop.

Soes… I juz tell u dis so youz know whut weez sayin’ if you walk by me. Don be skered jus cuz I got's scary glasses and one arm in my t shert... If you cool with me... I cool with you mama.

Peace homey. Ima go back tuh chillin' wit my ho.

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Come visit me and read a bunch of other crap here: Hands To War.

The Papa K Home Workout

If you’re like a lot people… you find it hard to make it to the gym every day. Maybe you had to work late. Maybe you had to meet a client after normal working hours. Maybe you ran over a homeless man in your car. Maybe you couldn’t wait any longer to get that sex change operation. Maybe you just urinated in your big boy pants. Maybe you can't afford those high priced "at-home gyms"!

Believe it or not... this one folds up nicely and can be placed in your garage. You'll only have to give up TWO parking spaces!

Or maybe you can't afford to have this chick to scream at you all the time...

Jillian Michaels tells a Biggest Loser contestant to slim down or she will punch her in the necks

Whatever the reason… here are some simple exercises you can do at home to get yourself that body you always wanted... and you don't have to spend ANY MONEY!!!

BUT FIRST... ALWAYS MAKE SURE TO STRETCH

Touch your toes

Jog in place

Pull your face back

Rip your scrotum doing the splits

NOW THAT YOU'RE WARM, AND YOUR SCROTUM IS FOREVER TORN IN TWO... YOU'RE READY TO BEGIN

Push-ups (works your chest, biceps, triceps)

Push yourself up... then let yourself down. Repeat 300 times.

Sit-ups (works your abs)

Sit on the floor with you hands behind your head. Lower yourself to the floor using your abs then back up again. Repeat 5000 times.

Triceps Extension w/ Dog (triceps)

Find a small dog (or one you're able to life above your head), grab in by the front legs and lower behind your head. Slowly extend the dog over your head and *sqeeeeeeeeze* those triceps. Feel the burn. Repeat 800 times.

Bench Press with Pillows (chest)

Find the largest pillow on your couch and press it until you see stars. If you accidentally drop it on your face it won't hurt... because it's a pillow.

Tear a phonebook in half (wrists, forearms)

Tear the largest, fattest phone book you can find IN HALF!!!

... but if you can't... then find something you're more capable of tearing in half... like a page from your wife's day by day calendar.

Blink Hard (eyelids)

Open your eyes as wide as you can... then shut them really hard and fast. This will help you become lightening fast at blinking. Repeat until you cry.

Smell Hard (nose)

Suck in with your nose so hard that you pass out. Then get up and do it again you big pansy.

Couch press (Quads)

Put one end of the couch on your back then slowly squat to the ground and lift yourself back up again. Repeat until you crap your pants.

WARNING: THIS EXERCISE IS DANGEROUS AND COULD RESULT IN YOUR INTERNAL ORGANS ROCKETING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, EARS OR WHATEVER ORIFICE IS CLOSEST!! PLEASE EXERCISE WITH CAUTION!!

Ride your cat (hamstrings, grip)

Ride that buckin' feline until it splits your face in half with its back claws

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Once you're done with these exercises and you heart rate is going at a good steady pace (200-250 beats a minute)... it's always good to cool down. This can be done by putting your hands over your head and walking around for a little bit...

Whew... good workout people...

Or by sticking your ass in the freezer.

This is the part you look forward to for the whole workout people.

Follow these simple exercises with these EVERYDAY ITEMS you have around your house... and with hard work and good genetics... you could just look like Papa K: the gold standard of what every man should look like.

Happy exercises everyone!!

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Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.