End of the Year Wrap Up

Welcome again to another fuckin installment of the critic. I’m your host. The critic. Take of your pants and stay awhile, its cool. Need some refreshments? Get some. We’ve got a couple things of to handle today. Call it a hodgepodge of bullshit truth if you will.

Here’s how this donkey show is gonna fucking work. We’re gonna handle some announcements, address some shit, talk about why I’m pissed off today and then I’m going to conclude with some youporn youtube. Ready to jump in? Too fuckin bad, its time!

In this section I’d like to address some comments that were brought up recently. One fellow tells me my blog could use some editing. To which I say:

Dr. Sir, If you’d care to become an unpaid editor, then please apply with the critic to becoming his editor. Otherwise: go fuck yourself. Seriously though, we all know from my past that I hate editing, I’m not the greatest at spelling and grammar can suck my testicles until they throw up baby making juice all over its forehead. Once upon a time, I even wrote about how I was against using spellcheck. That was mostly because I didn’t give a fuck. Well times have changed, I do tend to use spell check and even give a blog a read through before I upload it. The long story made short though is that were I paid professional, you might see more effort to make it as spit shined and polished as could be.. because I would be able to afford an editor. Or get paid to edit the shit myself. As it stands now, as an unpaid author, I pay my editor (me) with hand jobs (and they’re awesome) but if anyone would like to become an editor, step fucking forward or just accept the imperfectness of the blog.

My next person to address is someone near and dear to my heart who said to me “Critic, I want your baby juice.” I said ok, then she said, “Oh and your blog is so old school there’s not even a facebook link on it.” – Well, she was wrong, there is one.

See? If you’re using the mobile site, I’ve no clue if its there or not. But I gotta say.. the mobile site sucks. Just use the full version, I don’t do anything fancy enough to where you can’t use it.

If you’re one of the 12,000 or so people (and yes that’s accurate) who come here of their own free will and have never visited the critic facebook site then you really ought to wake the fuck up and get your ass over there. What’s so great about it? Nothing. Everything. So fuck off. Find out yourself. But I will say this, it is the absolute easiest way to interact with the critic in the world. Need proof? I got proof, bitches.

Its at this time, that I once again will tell you all that despite how much I love you..

YOU ARE ASSHOLES

Yeah that’s right. You are. Why? WHY! You forgot our anniversary fucking AGAIN assholes. That’s right, proud to say it, but I’ve been serving you orally now for 3 years. Which, despite my many forays into blog sites and experiences before, this one has officially become the longest running blog I’ve ever had. I guess I’m really just that bored, and you’re really just that desperate for my dick the truth.

Regardless the reasons, here we are once again staring the holidays in the face once more. Its at this point that I’d tell you how shitty the holidays are, and why I hate them, because I’m a pretty angry fuck, but this year I thought maybe we could take a break from it. Yeah, I saw you fall down out of shock. Beautiful, that’s what I was going for.

No, this year I thought I’d try something new. Over the last couple years we’ve discussed Christmas, Hanukah, Ramadan, and even Kwanza. The Holidays are officially worn out here, so I thought instead I’d give you all a fucking treat. Like trick or treat. I’ll give you a treat if you turn tricks on or for me. Deal? Fuck yes.

So this year, I will give you a few things. I took off a few months to focus on winning the election. Which I didn’t. Because of the cock sucking constitution, but leaving you distressed and undressed and all alone for so long.. well I thought to make it up to you, and for a holiday treat, I would give you many more blogs to enjoy your way though this overly stressful waste of a time of year. It’s already started. With a catch up blog already this month, and I’m going to attempt to give you lets say, at least two more after this one. That’ll be four in a month. That’s more critic than your body has room for. Open wide, motherfuckers.

The Top 5 WORST Songs of ALL FUCKING TIME

Yeah, continuing on our holiday extravaganza, I’m going to give you another top something list, and this time once again its about music. Why? Well lets discuss.

Well, we’ve discussed this many times but since you’re a forgetful little shit, I’ll remind you. Not only did I used to be a DJ on the real radio, not just advertising a playlist on Pandora (which you can find if you look for it) but a real DJ. I know, it’s a pretty exciting career, alas, I was fired. Not for playing bad music though. Oh no, I was fired for having a potty mouth on the radio. I guess that’s against the law. Oops. So, because I was a DJ who was fired, but not fired for bad music selection, I obviously know what the fuck I’m talking about here.

So what makes a bad song? Is it the beat? The singer? The band? The truth is, a good band can make a bad song. It happens all the time. Many good, or well liked bands and/or singers have made bad songs. It’s a fact of life. Some bands make nothing but bad songs and become famous. I don’t understand that myself, thus it is physically impossible for me to explain that to you.

The simple truth is, there's a special combination of shit that just turns good intentions bad. Today we honor those bad executions of good intentions in what really will be the last TOP (insert random number here) List of 2012.

Friday- Rebecca Black

I’m sorry but this is the perfect combination of when everything goes wrong. Let’s take a thirteen year old and teach them to ..sing? ..ish? And make some money off of it. The worst part is, this song made a shit load of money. More money than my happy ass will ever make. So can you really call it awful?

The answer is yes, yes you can. This song could make the happiest easiest going person in the world take a metal rod, pull it from a fire and run it through their ears. Straight through from one side to the other. Its that fucking bad. You might be saying, “Oh critic, you exaggerate!” I do not fucking exaggerate you fuckstick, but if you’re brave, find out for yourself.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips – Tiny Tim

When you first hear this song, you kinda snicker a little bit, because lets face it.. it’s a bit fucking silly. But after the second time listening it, this uncontrollable urge comes over you. A hate, an anger. Its like you turn into the hulk or something and all you want to do is destroy something. Even if the closest thing to you is a bus filled with Nuns, you can’t help but want to blow that bus up. That’s how awful this song is.

This song is also and “oldie” – thus proving my point that even ages ago bad songs were made. This is one that should not have ever been made, much less should it have ever come to the publics attention that it was made. Shame on you, Tiny Tim.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas- The Beatles

Here’s a fine example of when good intentions turn into bad execution. The Beatles, one of if not he most prolific bands of all time. Insanely popular for generations. Hit after hit after hit…

And then they dropped trow and shot this doozey all over the floor. What the fuck were they thinking? Did they really think this was a good idea? Of course they did, else they wouldn’t have done it.

What’s worse? Other people think it’s a good song. But those people are what we, in the world or criticizing call: WRONG

Its not a good song. It will never be a good song. I don’t care if its fucking festive and christmasy and all that bullshit. Just because you put a diamond on a pile of dog shit does not mean it won’t stink. I’m not saying that I could have made a better song.. But I am saying that I would never have let this song get to where someone else could hear it. Fuck man.

Mambo Number 5 –Lou Bega

1. 2. 345..everyone collectively end your lives. Fuckin hell this song is bad. What makes it even worse is I can remember when this song was insanely popular. Everyone loved this song… except me.

I hated this song when it first came out and I continue to hate it now. This is what you’d classify as a “One hit wonder” – the real wonder here is how it ever became a hit. Not only is it repetitive, but it has an awful beat, awful lyrics and its just straight terrible. I’d take simply having a wonderful Christmas time any day over this shit.

Chances are, you liked this song once upon a time, and your thinking to yourself, Oh it wasn’t THAT bad. Guess what? It was. I dare you, I simply dare you to give it a listen again and you’ll see straight up how awful this song really was. You’ll hear it now and say, Oh fuck, critic was right! – Only you’ll have trouble getting those words out because you’ll be vomiting uncontrollably.

We’ve seen some pretty fucking awful songs.. but they worst is yet to come. Are you ready for this? I know, you’re in a cold sweat, and you’re shaking uncontrollably, but its time. Strap in bitches, its about to get worse.

The Macarena – Los del Rio

Yeah, you forgot about this song, didn’t you? Sometime in the mid to late 90’s, this song became popular. That’s right, it happened under our watch.. in a time that produced some of the greatest music to ever get made, there was also this major bomb of a song. This was a compilation of a bad idea, and bad execution that somehow became an international sensation.

Why? No one knows, really. What’s worse, we all knew the song, we all knew the words and we even knew.. the dance. Yeah, to make it much worse than it already is, there was a dance associated with this. This was a good thing for every white guy in the world, since A. We don’t know how to dance, and 2. Even if we did know how to dance, we couldn’t do it because we have no rhythm. Now we look back on it and laugh about how fucking absolutely ridiculous it was, but theses crazy fucks who made this song laughed their asses off all the way to the bank. They took us at gun point, sold us a bag of horse shit and we willingly bought it and told them thank you.

When asked by a girl to dance, the common white guy response is, “Sorry I can’t dance.” After badgering, the smart white guy will say, “Look, I haven’t danced since the Macarena. You don’t want that.” And its true, no one wants to see that. And so, we’re left alone. Which is a good thing, because NO ONE want's to see the Macarena ever, and I mean EVER again.

This song is so bad that it makes me want to jump off of a cliff and land on a bed of spikes, and not die immediately but agonize for hours before finally dying. Yes, I’d rather do that.. then ever hear this song ever the fuck again.

Ever. Don’t believe me? You’ve been warned.. and it was nice knowing you.

Concession?

Well fuck its now December. That means its been a while since we talked right? Well I’m a busy motherfucker. In case you forgot, I was running for president there.

That’s right, little girls. If you’ll recall, in October of 2010, I, the critic, launched a campaign for President of the United States of America. By now you may have realized through shitty media that my bid lost. But it didn’t exactly lose.. per say.. Not how you think. So, in light of the events that November brought, I thought it might be fun to recap two years of hard work by a lot of people other than me and give out the proper thanks where it is due.

I lived this epic ride of doom, bitch. Of course I have credentials. All this shit happened to me. So this blog of truth is not so much a lesson in reality as it is a lesson of history. My history for the last two years on the campaign trail. This is an emotional tail, so get some fucking tissues. This shit is way more real than twilight.

 

Oh, I should sidebar this shit. Yeah, I said sidebar. You may have noticed in my last blog I didn’t give you a tip on surviving the zombie apocalypse. I think this may have severely hindered my chances at the presidency. You see, I did this out of.. well lets face it, it didn’t go with the flow of my last blog. I could do one here? Even thought the campaign is over. You want it? Of course you do, you dirty whore. One last time for memories sake then. Here you go.

Get good at running.

Yeah, it was short but way fucking sweet. Really, you were hoping I’d take care of your needs but I was just out to satisfy myself. Hurts right? Whatever. You got yours too, I know you did. Sluts.

So where was I? Ahh yes, the beginning of our campaign. October 2010 is when I announced my candidacy. Immediately I was selected as the candidate for the Truth Party. We have a cool logo too. But its not a fucking elephant or donkey. Oh no.

Yeah, a fuckin lion. Which can eat a donkey or an elephant. But not a tiger. Noting can defeat a tiger. Ever.

Anywho, so back to the tale. Based on my years of political work in the country I’m king of and my tons of weird ass experience through history, my advisors felt it safe to launch this campaign with an epic chance of victory because.. well.. the opposition… well they’re all fucking cunts, right? Of course they are. So that’s why we did it. Our early rallies and such were such wide huge successes that we adopted a victory sign which is common among winners in history.

It didn’t take long before we came up with a cool ass logo. Something simple, to the point and something that would grab peoples tits attention.

This same logo would be used time and time again. I gave you my real name at first, cr1ck3e, so you’d all know who you were voting for. As this year dawned anew and we drew closer to the election, my advisors told me I should change this logo. I told them to go impale their dicks on a  cocktail sword. They didn’t like that. We needed a more grown up look, apparently. So we struck our lot with the old motherfuckers in this country and went for the more mature look. I thought it turned out pretty alright. Fuck it, whatever.

Also, my promiscuous behavior became a problem. Tabloids everywhere linked me to having all kinds of sexual escapades. You’ll notice that our comment on this was “We do not address media trash like this. It is not newsworthy nor worth our time.” – That worked out pretty well. Plus if anyone asked me about it I’d just slap them. How do you like that bitch? It’s a good thing I have a lawyer.

No, with all this gallivanting about, it was time for the critic to settle down with someone who has class, and elegance, and solid moral fiber. Someone who everyone looks up to, wants to be like. Someone who would make a perfect first lady. I picked the only sensible person I could.  The only logical choice. Kim Kardashian.

Check it out, I haven’t used that graphic in a fucking long time. Anyways, post election Kim and I broke up, I’m sorry to say. My heart will never be the same. Unless Pamela Anderson wants to get frisky. Maybe I should have picked her as a wife. She’s from Canadia. Canadia is socialist. That could have pulled not only the socialist, but the democrat vote as well. Fuck man. Good ideas always come too late. And she’s a classy lady too. I really fucked up on that one. Good news though, this little paragraph has given me a good reason to put up a Pamela picture. PAMELA AND KIM IN THE SAME BLOG. You’re fucking welcome.

 

Anyway, I need a snack. Shut the fuck up, I do what I like.

Ahh now I’m full. So I’m fucking back. Where were we? Ah yes, the campaign.

So we started our ads running against the competition and I think we had a great slogan. I mean really what most people run on is the same premise but they don’t tell the truth. That’s kind of the jist with our party. Telling the truth. So we did.

But then the unexpected happened.
Not that unexpected really. We were prepared for all kinds of negative ads. Ads saying how unreliable I am.. or how I don’t understand socialism. Or crazy right wing let God run your emotions crap. We were ready for anything the opposition had to throw at us.. except this.

How they dug up that picture of me with the Scottish Turban is beyond me. Furthermore, the fact that they used it is absofuckinglutely deplorable. Assholes. But, whatever, we didn’t let that keep us from the goal, so we decided we needed some celebrity power. An endorser who is know for their brain, logical thinking, and sound mentality to really give us an edge. We picked the only choice possible. Megan Fox.

It was a close race still. I was a bit shocked as to how this was even possible. What with the celebrity power we had behind us, man, I thought this fucking train was running away, yet still it was close. But then I did the thing that would set me over the top for good. The VP Candidate. Like everyone normally does in a race like this I picked my running mate in secret. But, it was leaked. Of course. Because of the fucking internet. So we had to make our intentions known to the world. I did it through social media.

That’s right, bitches. If anyone knows the truth as well as I do. Its Mr. T. He’s always pitying foos for their lack of knowledge. Telling kids to stay in school, and he’s a bad motherfucker. What else would America need? Fucking NOTHING bitch!

So we started a new approach this year, talking about the apocalypse in just a couple weeks now, and we used that spin for our political uses. Because that’s what fucking politicians do. We find shit that’s happened, or going to happen, and we use it to our own advantage. That’s how it fucking works.

Everything was going great. Then.. the trouble started. Apparently there is a flaw in the constitution that says you have to be at least the age of 35 to become president. Despite the fact that I am, like Dick Clark once was, the Highlander, and really hundreds of years old, I can’t tell everyone that. I only tell you that. Because I love you.

A lot.

No seriously.

No there’s no one else.

Promise.

So with this bullshit in the constitution, I apparently could not become president. Apparently these motherfuckers don’t know me very well, so I appealed. The national stage was set for the idiot who won the election and the idiot who tried to beat him. When I appealed to the debate committee they told me I could not join in on a three way. Apparently it IS gay when its in a three way. With three guys. Who are all politicians. Whatever. So I challenged them to a dual, 1700’s style. They said no. Fuckers. I also found it ironic that we’ve had Presidents in the past who have dueled with pistols and yet the current one called it “barbaric” – which I call bullshit on. I was even gonna lend him a wig. Whatever. Its totally not barbaric if you’re wearing a wig.

Its probably for the better. I’m a lover not a fighter. Plus he has secret service, they’d turn me into swiss cheese before I could even think about it. Good thing he said no. Kudos to the president, he saved my life.

I’m wearing the wig right now though.

But the good news is, the current president did accept my challenge to a debate, as did the vice president accept it. As our legal battle continued on, so did our campaign. Nothing was going to stop us.

As you all well know by now, I kicked the president’s ass in debate. He kept talking about all this political bullshit, and I pretty much kept telling him…that it was bullshit. “We’re gonna do this.. or that.. or something else..” “Bullshit.” – It was like Ali and the rope a dope. Eventually it wore him down. Critics agree.. the critic was victorious.

Gotta say though.. that was one uncomfortable suit.

Mr. T also held his own in his debate. He pitied Joe Biden so hard that Biden went temporarily insane. He was so scared he would shift from times where he was in uncontrollable fits of crying to hysterical laughing. I feel bad for Biden, Mr. T is hard to debate. We disagreed once. I gave up after he stared me down. He was probably right anyways. Goddamn that man can debate.

In the end, the votes were counted, but despite the mass amounts of votes that went our way, our legal battle would not fall in our favor. The supreme court decided the uphold the flaw in the constitution that says I wasn’t old enough to be president. Alas, we shall have to wait until next time.

And there will be another time. I even have a running mate in mind. I don’t know much about her yet, but judging by this sign, I think we’ll get along fucking great.

So our epic run at the presidency is over, but what a run it was. I couldn’t have done it without your support. So since the election, I’ve been quiet. So you say, dear critic, where hast thou been? Well, I had to find a new job, bitch. What else? I am not no rich ass Mitt Romney, I can’t just lose something this big and be able to sit in my tree house and survive. So I got a new job. What’s that job? Its just like my last job. To bring you the truth. To represent the truth, the truth party and to take the country by storm in a wave of kickassness. And to fondle as many breasts as possible. That’s just the perks of the job, don’t blame me. I’m doing this shit like a Kennedy. So what's next? We’re not stopping motherfuckers. Its 2016 is what's next. Don’t think for a minute its not. And by then I’ll look like I’m over 35. Hence our new slogan.

That’s right bitch. This time.. its legal. Bring on the new campaign!

The Double Standard of the Female Psyche.

I swear to fucking hell, I’m not trying to be a total dick here.. but women.. you’re fucking stupid. I mean, I’m not saying you’re fucking stupid really, but you’re fucking stupid. Get me? Of course you don’t.

Seriously though, when women talk, sometimes I wonder if they really take the fucking time to think about what it is they actually are going to say before they just open their stupid fucking traps and say it.

To be completely fair, there are exceptions of course, to every fucking rule, and so too goes with women. Chances are you’re one of those women who right now are thinking, “Oh critic, I know you’re not talking about the likes of ME!” – Well get over yourself, bitch, chances are.. I probably am.

That is because of the double standard of the female psyche.

If you’re a female, then guess what? You fucking have it. It’s a fucking scientific fact. Trust me, I’ve done the research. I’m here to clinically prove this shit to you.

I’m divorced.

Women live by a double standard that is impossible for any man to ever live up to, or in accordance with. Women, you know you do. You know who you are. You live your lives in this fucking glass bubble where you think the whole entire fucking world revolves around you. You’re special, you’re different. YOU ARE ALL THE FUCKING SAME. (for the most part)

You want what you want and you want it how you want it regardless of whatever consequence or side effect.

The reality of the world is, though, darlings, is the world doesn’t work that way, and you may what to sit down.. because what I’m about to tell you, may come as a fucking shock.

The world doesn’t revolve around your ass.

Are you ok? Probably not, but this rude awakening bitchslap of epic proportions is just getting started, so make someone strap you to the chair because this is important shit you need to hear right the fuck here and right the fuck now.

Each and every one of you are raised to a certain standard of being some kind of princess. This is a funny thing. It alters your behavior, it makes you act like you think you’re royalty. You are not royalty.  If you get to act like a princess, then how come men don’t get to act like a king without being labeled as “An Asshole” ? Think about that for a minute. Is it because you’re more special than us? Absolutely. Why?

Because you have tits.

Because you have tits, we men, who are still quite primordial and mentally challenged, will do pretty much anything for those tits. And we’ll do even more for nice sets. Fun fact: All tits are nice.

I said tits, not moobs. If you’re a guy with moobs, then fucking wake up and don’t be as stupid as the look that is on your fucking face right now.

Here’s what’s worse: Most women realize that tits = power. Even more so, vagina = more power. Combine the two and its really fucking scary.

But the simple fact is, you think yourselves above everyone else, including other tits and vaginas, because your tits are obviously the best. And your vagina is solid fucking gold. Guess whaaaaat? Its just simply and painfully.. not fucking true.

I’m sorry, but the whole idea that you get to act like a cunt whenever you fucking feel like it and use the excuse of “being a princess” – that shit just doesn’t fly with me. Its not being a princess, its being a fucking cunt. If you know me, you also know how to set shit off. Therefore, the double standard here, is to say something really fucking retarded, that will obviously piss me off.. and then say, “Well I’m not trying to upset you..” Shut up, cunt. You are too. You’re pushing buttons. Why? Because you’re fucking stupid. Because you fucking can. Because you think you’re fucking better than everyone else in the world and you’re prettier and smarter and so this gives you all the power in the world to be a raging twat rocket.

Well it doesn’t. It gives you no right. That’s like me, the critic, being a total asshole, which I am, and saying, “Its because I’m the king.. that’s why I am this way..” That’s fucking bullshit. I’m not the fucking king. (I am of a small country actually, but that’s besides the point) No, I don’t go around saying I’m the king and so I have the absolute unquestionable right to be a raging fucking ass wad dick face jerk. No, I tell it straight. If I say something that comes off offensive and makes me look like an asshole, I tell it how it is, “Sorry, I’m an asshole.” Goddamn right. And guess what? I’m always an asshole, I always say things that come off offensively and make me look like a jerk. I’m ok with it. The people who choose to be around me.. they’re ok with it too. They deal with it, they don’t excuse it. Fuck no. Everyone, at every chance they get will tell me, “Dude, you’re a fucking asshole.” Goddamn right. That’s how I am. I’m not a king, a prince, a knight in shining armor. I’m the fucking critic, and by being the fucking critic, and this fucking critic is one of if not the worlds biggest assholes. There’s not a double standard.

If you act like a bitch around me, you get treated as thus.

I went out with a couple friends once. I say friends, but really I mean acquaintances. By acquaintances, I mean I really didn’t like them at all. The guy was a total dumbshit frat fuck. I don’t even remember his name. That’s a lie, I don’t forget shit, his name was Adam. Her name was Anna. She was a royal cunt. I’ll tell you what, this chick was such a fucking bitch that though she was physically attractive, the minute she opened her mouth and began to talk, I wanted to blow my own fucking brains out with a shotgun Cobain style.

Yeah, it was that fucking bad.

We went to this restaurant, them and me and the girl I happened to be dating at the time. Ahh the thrill of a stupid double fucking date with retards. The nice thing about going places with idiots is this- It makes you feel like you’re far superior when you’ve spent some time with fucktards. Needless to say, even though I feel superior most of the time (because I’m an asshole) I was feeling extra awesome this night.

We go out. Its winter, so its cold out, naturally.. and when we’re sitting down, after a couple minutes, Anna starts to complain, of course. Why? Because she’s a fucking princess bitch. What is she complaining about? Well she is complaining about the fact that guys all over this place are staring at her tits.

I should elaborate now. So I will. She was wearing a blue top. It was tight. She was not wearing a bra, and her nipples were sticking out like they were torpedoes. Because as I said before, it was cold out.

I wanted to smack the shit out of her. OF COURSE THEY ARE STARING AT YOUR TITS! You came into the place advertising with a flashing fucking sign over your head that reads: STARE AT MY FUCKIN TITS!

So we did. Guess what? I looked too. Fuck you, bitch. You and your double standard. Oh hey, I’m going to wear a shirt that showcases my ginormous hard nippled tits with no bra covering them, and then bitch about it. Fuck you.

You are not a princess, Anna, you are a cunt. It is, my friends, behavior like this that pisses men off to no end. But we deal with it.

Why?

Because we’re stupid and because we love tits. Even Anna’s. So your double standard life styles are amazing. They come and go with such degrees that are truly baffling. Its amazing. It’s not your fault, like I said.. its just because the majority of you, the majority of the time.. are fucking stupid. Maybe I’m stupid too. Scratch that, I KNOW I’m stupid. Why? I put up with the shit. As do most men. This does not include gay men. (Thus making them far smarter. And fashionable too.)

Its too amazing to think of the double standards of how you life your lives. “Did you just look at that girls ass?” Why yes, I just did, just like you looked at that guy. Or when you get upset because we say: Lucy Liu is fucking hot! That hurts your feelings. Awww. Poor bitches. But its ok for you to fucking scream and go ga-ga over a movie about male strippers staring a chiseled Channing Tatum. Or if he’s not your cup of tea, (insert male actor’s name here)

But its ok, because we know you’re too big of a bitch and those guys can get any chick they want. That includes the pre-crazy Britney Spears.

Another one of my favorites, is women saying they hate liars. That’s pretty much like saying “I hate myself.” Because 98.3% of all women are liars. You lie about everything, even little bullshit things that don’t matter. Like you’ll talk mad shit about some “friend” of yours, and how you can’t stand that bitch. Yet you’ll go to her bridal shower and tell her how beautiful she is.. furthermore, because women over exaggerate every fucking thing in the entire fucking world.. you’ll go so far as to, to her fucking face- say: “OH I just love you SOOOOO MUCH!”

You lying fucking whores. How do you live with yourselves? You lie about it to us and yourselves later. “I love her.. I really do, but I hate her!”

If a guy doesn’t like another guy.. we don’t fucking pretend. We just don’t fucking see that guy. If we see them, there will likely be blood.

Jealousy. You’re jealous creatures all the time. But if a man gets penis envy, like “Oh man that guy’s jeep is cooler than mine..” Well then we’re just being ridiculous. Double standards.

Don’t talk to women, or you’re a cheating bastard!!!! But it’s ok if women talk to other men. Because they can be trusted.

Bullshit. Double standard.. and also bullshit.

The I’m sorry game is my favorite though. A woman will do this shit all the fucking time. She’ll say all kinds of things to royally piss you off.. THEN she follows it up with “I’m sorry.” And suddenly, no harm done, no foul. Life goes on. But oh no, we’re not allowed to be pissed off anymore. Fuck you, mister. If you stay pissed off after an “I’m sorry” Then you’re not only in the wrong, but you’re the biggest fucking dick there is. So fuck you.

But if we piss off a woman and then say I’m sorry? No sir, you better back that shit up with a back rub, flowers, a new Lexus, a FUCKING card. Submitted in writing and then take a fucking number. Why? Women have emotion, that’s why, you dipshit. It takes time to repair the damage you do. Get fucking real.

Double fucking standards. They’re in every fucking thing you women do. There is hope though, there are some of us men out there that are so wonderful and amazing, and we have all the guts in the world to tell you:

TO FUCK OFF.

You can take you bullshit double standards, roll them up real tight and shove them up your fucking vagina which you obviously think is made of solid fucking gold. You must think that, at least, why else would you act like a raging fucking cunt and expect that its completely ok behavior to get away with. You don’t act like its ok when we’re assholes, why the fuck would you think we will act like its ok when you’re a bitch?

The simple truth is, some of us will, some of us won’t. I for one, won’t. I for one, say you can fuck yourselves, because you’re not wanted, If you want to be a bitch, you better make it worth my while somehow, and not be upset when I’m the dick that I am.. Otherwise, you just wont fucking make it long.

Fact, bitch.