How to Make World Cup Games Better

For when you get the itch on the pitch

With the 2026 World Cup fully underway, the world is watching. Whether in person at various stadiums throughout North America or in the comfort of your own living room, soccer is currently the dominant sport right now. With 48 teams divided into 12 groups, countries such as Norway, Argentina, Japan, to Curacao are representing the pride of their countries. Fans have come from all over the globe to catch a glimpse of their national team and get caught up in the berserker fandom every time someone scores a goooooooooooooooal. Much like the Olympics, the World Cup takes place once every 4 years and all measures should be taken to make it a memorable experience for football fans around the globe.

Having watched intently the last week or so, there’s been a lot of good games and dazzling highlights. Messi Magic is back with the little maestro racking up hat trick games. Team USA looks to have its greatest roster ever and hopefully they make it to at least the quarter finals. The European heavyweights of Spain, France and the Netherlands have started off dominant with perhaps Norway being a dark horse later in the tournament. The uninterrupted play is great with less time outs and commercials. It’s good to see the flow of a match not interrupted with ads begging you to wear Adidas clothing and to drink Michelob Ultra. Soccer matches don’t always rack up high scoring games but at least they guarantee excitement with good energy emulating from the stands. The only downside that I see isn’t hooliganism, but when a team’s player has to take a dive on the field, pretending that he is hurt to draw a foul. I absolutely hate this and find that this is the most annoying aspect of international soccer. It disrupts the flow of the game. This isn’t an acting class it’s supposed to be the world’s most popular sport where incidental contact and collisions take place from time to time. Whenever some footballer passionately takes a flop, wincing in imaginary pain, it degrades the sport. If only something could be done about this.

I’m guessing when a player goes down on the pitch, 90% of the time he’s faking. Rolling around and covering his face in some sort of actor’s agony, the ref has to blow the whistle, stopping the game to see if this pansy ass is truly hurt. It robs the attacking team’s momentum and cheats the fans out of a potential goal. This has been going on for 20 years and has to stop. What I propose is that every time someone goes down, whether they’re hurt or faking it, they need to step off the field for 10 game time minutes, leaving their respective team a man short. After a quick assessment to see if the “injured” player is good to go, they can resume play after the full ten minutes. While waiting to get back into the big game they must wait in a kiddie pool filled with Vagisil until their imagined pain subsides and their little boo boos heal. If FIFA enacted this measure, there would be a whole lot less flopping, since doing so would deprive your team of a man and your manhood would be deprived when you receive a mandatory 10 ten-minute sentence in a Vagisil bath.

If a player feels the need to take a dive to illicit a yellow or red card for the defensive player countering him, then he needs to take a headfirst dive into the Vagisil pool to wash away his sins. There may have been some slight contact but there was no need to fake wincing in pain to try to get the ref to flash some color on the field. The ref may have had his back turned but at least the replay booth was paying attention. After having a second look at the Egyptian player rolling around on the ground, it has been decided no contact was made and Salah needs a 10-minute cleansing with the feminine cleaning product. Once he’s sparkling and feeling fresher than running through a Summers Eve carwash, Salah is ready to resume play and help his team on to victory.

Watching Brazil play Scotland this is sure to be a decent matchup. Scotland’s fans are legendary and Brazil’s players’ haircuts are more stylish than a fruity fashion event in Rio de Janeiro. The passion and flair are guaranteed to eventually boil up and boil over at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami. At the 26th minute Brazil’s striker Cunha takes a breakaway pass, looking like he has a good shot at scoring, the gentle breeze caressing his hair knocks him down with him rolling around in agony. Unsuccessfully trying to get a penalty kick out of the performance, the referee knows better, sending Cunha and his nappy haircut to the sideline. Cold water plunges in barrels are all the rage now, and FIFA has adapted their very own Vagisil barrel as a dunk tank to make dirty players clean again. Making the Brazilian superstar listen to the Shania Twain classic Man! I Feel Like a Woman during his soak of shame, the Vagisil molecules penetrate his black hair and skin neutralizing all foul odors and thoughts of foul play. After the designated penalty time is up, Cunha racks up a hat trick with his feminine odor energy smelling like an ovulating Swedish woman. The aroma described as “fresh coochie” has his fellow teammates and opponents alike starting to flirt with the Brazilian soccer stud.

Mexico vs. Czechia. With one of the host nations dominating in Mexico City Stadium before the hometown crowd, the Mexican squad is making this game look like a clinic. Spanking the Slavic nation every chance they get, Mexico is dazzling the audience with offensive play making and generating great goooooooooooals. At the 71st minute, deciding to be a little bitch, Romo goes down with such passion the acting is tenfold better than anything you’d see in a Telenovela. The passion, the convincing trip up, has three of the referees scratching their heads. After confirmation from the officiating booth, the replay camera determines Romo tripped over himself but tried to make it look that the Czech defender was at fault. Directing him to the Vagisil container, the French referee decides that the 20 gallons of Vagisil needs to be laced with Cholula sauce to make an example out of Romo. Stewing in the Mexican pool of spicy Vagisil, Romo’s “not so fresh feeling” starts to subside as he begins to learn his lesson. Not wanting to repeat his mistake, Romo decides to never insult the game ever again with his dirty, smelly actions. If he can’t fake his own fouls ever again, he decides to inflict them by swooning the opposition players by pulling their shorts down and embarrassing them.

Portugal vs. Columbia. With these two flamboyant teams engaging in some memorable highlights, the two hard-charging squads are vying for a chance to get to the next round. Playing neck to neck, the score is tied 1-1 entering the 90th minute. With plenty of near misses and physical play, the on-field players are starting to let their emotions get the best of them. As Christiano Ronaldo, one of the greatest players of all time, takes the ball his flamboyant dribbling helps him maneuver the ball to get him within goal scoring distance. Juking left, then juking right, readying himself for a shot on goal, Christiano is then tripped up by a Columbian defender. Being a legitimate foul, the referee then awards Portugal with a direct free kick which Ronaldo is expected to take. Heading over to the sidelines and dipping his golden boot into the reserved batch of Vagisil the magic solution gets the stank off Ronaldo’s cleat. With a fresh cleat to boot with, CR7 takes a few steps back positioning himself to take the shot. As the whistle blows with the shot curving around the man-made wall just over the fingertips of the goalie, the ball sinks into the back of the net winning Portugal the game and a guaranteed trip to the knockout round. This shot, this game, this World Cup is brought to you by Vagisil. Vagisil the intimate wash that helps neutralize football player flopping and soothes your itchy pink taco for you can enjoy Taco Tuesday with your fellow girlfriends. Make sure to check out Vagisil Wipes for relief on the go!

While soccer is indeed the world’s game, certain disciplinarian actions need to be taken to greatly reduce all the on field acting in an attempt to draw fouls. It interrupts the flow of the game and totally emasculates the sport. Every time a player decides to take a spill, they need to be sent off the field immediately for their team is at a handicap and they can marinade in the dryness-relief product. Most soccer fans such as myself are over these pussy ass athletes, taking pussy ass dives, and making soccer look like a pussy ass sport. Only after repeated Vagisil baths will the message get through for this behavior will cease and desist. Once the offending player(s) immerses himself from the baptism by Vagisil, he can once again get on the field to make a difference and be a true sportsman. On the women’s side, when a gal decides to take fall after light contact with an opponent, she shall be sentenced to a 10-minute session of soaking in a pool or barrel of Lamisil AT gel cream. Lamisil AT, advanced relief for fungal inspired jock itch.

Brian Ss

The Ultimate Libertarian Paradise

Oppresso de Liber in Liberia

Libertarianism. An ideology college educated white boys flirt with throughout their twenties. Having made a huge comeback after the 2008 Financial crisis, this politico-economic worldview was popular with the Tea Party and is the official religion of Silicon Valley tech bros. A political philosophy that emphasizes unlimited rights and personal freedoms with no government oversight whatsoever, adherents believe that the free will of the individual supersedes any government institution. As long as the individual is not causing secondary harm to others when it comes to their personal choices, they should be free to do whatever the fuck they want without any consequences. Their belief system includes no taxes, no regulations, and that every service should be privatized. Basically, libertarianism is one step short of anarchy.

This movement traces its first wave roots back to Jeffersonian Libertarianism. Tommy Jefferson, America’s third president who fathered several biracial children with Sally Hemings, stated that those that want more liberty need to take on more personal responsibility. Wanting limited government, championing of individual rights, states’ rights taking precedence over the federal government, a republic over an empire, no monarchy whatsoever, and a decentralization of enumerated powers. These ideals were the forerunner of modern-day libertarianism, but Jefferson argued for this system to work the citizen needed to take on more individual responsibility and civic involvement if they want to enjoy more freedom. This is a far cry away from today’s crypto bros who want to do whatever they want and don’t want to perform jack shit for their county, state, or nation. The intellectual origins of 20th century libertarianism, which dominates today’s school of thought started in the 1940s by economists Milton Friedman and Ludwig Von Mises. The economic outlooks of these two academics set the tone for second wave Libertarianism which is justification for the self-proclaimed adherents of this philosophy to be selfish assholes and not repatriate anything back to society or the state. In a nutshell its the credo of the Me Generation and to hell with the We Generation.

I myself am guilty in dabbling in this -ism at one point in my life. I probably had a libertarian streak for 3-5 years before realizing that it was nothing more than an anarchist dystopia. I read the Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged on a monthly basis and had a super-sized photo of Ayn Rand over my bed which I consistently masturbated to. She wasn’t as hot as Vanna White, but by golly her theory of objectivism and man being responsible for his own happiness was enough for me to achieve orgasm several times a week. Sure, there’s a couple of redeeming features to this ideology but in the end it will never work. It’s a major component of the wealth gap in this country where the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and the middle class is slowly eroded. There is absolutely no justification for trickledown economics. Tax cuts for the rich make about as much sense as the pregnant man emoji. Reagan and the GOP’s fantasy economic system has hollowed out this country and gutted the social contract. Instead, you have trickle up economics best demonstrated during the pandemic where 4 trillion dollars was stolen from the bottom and made its way to the top 1%.

Most people would believe that Silicon Valley is the capitol of the world when it came to Libertarianism. I mean with such personalities as Peter Thiel, Mark Andreeson, and Mark Zuckerberg calling the shots how could it not be? Despite the anarcho- capitalist nature of the Bay Area, with zombies engaged in open air drug use within San Francisco’s city limits, you can basically do whatever you want. Both the billionaire class and the street level hobos can rewrite history and engage in public defecation because there’s no centralized authority around to tell them what they can and can’t do. But there is one place in the world that is the ultimate, ultimate Libertarian city state where there’s no centralized government to be found and you can do whatever the fuck you want. Where free will supersedes any sort of civilized outlook. Where tech titans are buying up beach front property and avoiding the 5% wealth tax proposed by Gavin Newsome. I’m not talking about Miami, the Silicon Beach of the East Coast, I’m talking about Mogadishu, Somalia.

Mogadishu, AKA the Mog, is the Galt’s Gulch of the 21st century. If Hank Reardon were alive today, he’d vacate his sanctuary from Ouray, Colorado and move it to this East African gem on the Horn of Africa. This exclusive economic zone has no taxes, no fee for entry, and you can handle your business and tribal disputes by blowing someone away with an AK-47. Despite all the potholes on the neglected roads and overall lack of economic infrastructure, because public works don’t work and everything should be privatized, America’s oligarchs are fleeing the Western Hemisphere to this sanctuary on the Indian Ocean. It’s beautiful beaches, tax-free haven, and white stucco buildings pockmarked by decades of civil war, have America’s oligarchs flocking here for they don’t have to pay taxes despite the fact that most tech innovation was created by taxpayer subsidies. These bros are no longer parking their wealth in Switzerland or Panama, instead the Federal Republic of Somalia is the global capital of libertarian tech goons in the year 2026. Because in Somalia you can do whatever you want, to include no Western government oversight, open seas piracy, and forcing your rivals to play Russian roulette until one of them blows their head off. No Sharia Law here, just good old-fashioned Libertarianism in a land where they have never known liberty.

With the “free market” alive and well in Bakaaraha Market, the billionaire technocrats and criminals from Wall Street can now engage in the free exchange of commerce unlike the overregulated markets of America. Finally, these job creators can spend their hard-earned crypto on things like anchovies, bandoliers of 7.62 rounds, khat, and forged Kenyan passports. For far too long the sensible regulations in the American experience has hamstrung these oracles from harvesting your 7 year old’s biometrics and data and obtaining lucrative government contracts that are directly financed by your taxpayer money. It didn’t matter if they turned you into a product or were massive recipients of corporate welfare, these self-made geniuses deserved every penny that they earned even though those trillions of pennies were taken out of a Walmart employee’s paycheck. Speaking of Walmart, even some of the Waltons are moving to Somalia in mass for their net worth can be $385 billion vs $380 billion. In Somaliland, Allah rewards the makers not the takers.

The great thing about Somalia is you can hire a private army. With Alex Karp’s most recent home purchase there, he now has a battalion of mercenaries at his disposal for he can roam freely and cross-country ski wherever he damn well pleases. With 300 killers outfitted with Russian fifty cals and RPGs, he’s free to skate the white sand beaches as he pleases. Then you have Mark Cuban. With the Dallas Mavericks out of the playoffs, the Cubes has been on a rampant spending spree as of late. Parking his yacht named the Fountainhead at the port, he was able to navigate his way to this Libertarian paradise by paying off the local pirates. Setting up shop and going on a lecture series circuit around Somalia, Mark loves to hear himself talk down to people who barely have enough grain for their daily sustenance. Despite the high infant mortality in the countryside this Ayn Rand disciple preaches his message through African TED talks. By grifting such talking points as the importance of private property, the unreliability of public goods, the necessity of corporate privilege, and the non-aggression principle, Mr. Cuban’s message is lost on the illiterate shepherds in his audience. After giving everyone a copy of the Fountainhead and saying this book is the holiest of the holies, Mark is chased out of dodge and forced to hire Blackwater for his personal protection detail.

Who is Mohammed Farah Aidid? A Somali warlord so powerful that he makes both John Galt and Howard Roark look like a bunch of fucking pussies. Having faked his death in the 1990s, Aidid and his powerful network of clan commanders not only run Somalia, the Gulf of Aden, and Minneapolis, but it is said he runs the world. Growing jealous of Aidid’s anti-monopoly message in the early 1990s, Bush Senior committed American troops to Somalia, not to stop a genocidal famine, but to kill or capture the father of third wave libertarianism. Despite evading capture from air mobile infidels, Mr. Aidid chose to go to the underground to preach his world view of freedom of choice and that tribalism far exceeds big government bureaucracy. Though this dimension of the story was personally omitted from Black Hawk Down, the true reason for Washington committing troops in Operation: Restore Hope was that post-Cold War libertarianism was seen as a threat to the New World Order. National governments and global governments will do all in their power to persecute their own citizens but will never succeed in squashing the free will of human individuality.

Even the Koch Brothers are getting in on the action. Inheriting their father’s business empire, Charles and Bill say no to an inheritance tax and yes to billionaires destabilizing democracy. Buying elections and throwing money at libertarian causes such as the Cato Institute, these Kochsuckers are hording swaths of land on the Somalian coast to build a castle with a moat dawning statues of Ayn Rand. This construction undertaking is projected to be more extensive than the Vatican or Versailles palace. It is a living monument to Ayn Rand that will be bigger and better than the Taj Majal. Even though Alisa Zinovyevna Rosenbaum spoke harshly of third world people in underdeveloped countries as savages, her moving monuments will be right at home just outside the promised land of Mogadishu. Despite being enrolled and receiving benefits from social security and Medicare until she died in New York City in 1982, the idol worshipping of this hypocritical cunt will go on for centuries. Somalia is now her new burial site with Mogadishu being renamed Ayn Rand City.

Let’s face it people, it’s not easy being a millionaire-billionaire-trillionaire. Once your bank account hits eight figures everyone wants a piece of you. Individual achievement in capitalist societies is what makes the world go round, even if your accrued wealth is accumulated by bribing officials and corrupting politicians in the public sector to help you make your kleptocratic nut. A select few in Silicon Valley and other industries have truly busted their ass for 18 hours a day, seven days a week to create innovations that benefit mankind. They should be rewarded handsomely and use those earnings to buy unlimited beachfront property in Somalia. Why buy up islands in Hawaii, when Ellison and Zuckerberg need to be taking their game to East Africa? Low tax business zones such as Singapore, Dubai, and Monaco invite the uber-wealthy in making those areas their own personal playgrounds, with their fancy yachts and private airplanes. But those destinations are yesterday’s Galt’s Gulches while Mogadishu is tomorrows. The next time you get some ants in your pants after reading some Ayn Rand and get motivated to make billions, do yourself a favor and buy up Somalia for pennies on the dollar. It truly is paradise for the producers where you can tell California bureaucrat moochers to suck it. Seeing Larry, Sergey, and Jensen riding stallions on the white sand beaches you’ll also run into Jeff Bezos pumping iron with Lauren Sanchez flying Katy Perry and Illan Omar around in her Blackhawk helicopter.

Brian Ss

Why I Started Going Back to Church.

Only 90 days until repentance

Church. A weekly tradition paying homage to the Big Guy in the sky. Growing up Catholic, I was forced to spend an hour every week in the pews and even had to attend a weekly religious education course. My household forced me to go up until the age of 18 as long as I was living under my parents’ roof. You know what they say, honor thy father and mother. It wasn’t all bad. In the pros department it was a good communal meetup with local families and friends. The biggest con was the reinforcement of the afterlife narrative to keep your ass in line and not sin your way into the fire and brimstone. Despite attending mass a few times here and there after college, I tended to stray away from the faith. It wasn’t necessarily that my relationship with God was on shaky ground, it mostly had to do with scandalous clergy seducing and making love to altar boys.

Having fallen out of favor with Roman Catholicism (the true chosen religion after Scientology) my life has been on a decent trajectory but find myself morally adrift from time to time. The mind, body, and soul of every one of God’s children has now become saturated with temptation through dopamine fixes and instant gratification. Social media and sinister distractions truly belong in the devil’s workshop and is a major disruptor of the Holy Trinity. Going through life now it seems that everyone has become morally confused with devious ideologies and have become spiritually empty. In the absence of God and church, whether you are a believer or not, most people will preoccupy their spiritual selves with alternative value systems that really only provide false narratives to living a good life. A centralized singular deity is a much better version of a world view than adhering to cultish groupthink and retarded doctrines. As the saeculum turns it appears that new age spiritual movements are dying out and people are starting to return to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Many people have described their “born again” moment when the voice of God or the collective consciousness speaks to you during a brief moment in your life. Sometimes it happens when you have hit rock bottom, or when you realize that the forces of evil have a stranglehold on humanity and Western Christian Civilization. Being force fed propaganda and mass media your whole life, it’s only when you get in touch with nature that you come to realize something is very wrong with the structure of our society. Some people will be saved but most will continue to be hypnotized by the devil’s distractions. Only recently did my eureka moment appear before me, demanding that I once again walk the righteous path through more consistent church attendance. After watching and consuming the first couple of episodes of 90 Day Fiancé Season 12, did the voice sound off in my head informing me that it was high time to go back to church and listen to the teachings of Christ.

90 Day Fiancé is a reality show on TLC and is a supreme example of decadence and decline of Western values. It’s where international couples go through the K-1 visa process and eventually have to wed at the end of the three-month grace period. With a 30-year age gap between couples, not to mention a massive cultural divide, arguments ensue making it world class trash TV. The kind that poisons your soul so much that Jesus makes an appearance in your life. When a Filipina twentysomething gets into a verbal altercation with her American sugar daddy, or when an African boy toy uses his American sugar mama for a green card, chaos ensues and it truly becomes unholy entertainment. It was said that Constantine Christianized the Byzantine Empire after witnessing the cultural rot that engulfed the Western Roman Empire. Bread and circus for the masses, with senators and generals engaging in immoral sexual practices, but it wasn’t until he watched an episode of 90 Day Fiancé where Cleopatra seduced a young Nubian man did Constantine decide to institutionalize Christianity transforming it into the Holy Roman Empire. Constantinople was named in honor of this great man, and 90 Day Fiancé was the catalyst for his implementation of monotheism on the former pagan Mediterranean coastline.

Like most unsuspecting dudes, you watch 90 Day Fiancé because your wife or girlfriend is a fan, but if you’re not careful, you’ll get sucked right into it. You think it’s okay to catch a glimpse or get a hit every now and again, but before you know it, you have a favorite couple. Becoming entranced towards this abomination after 15 minutes all of a sudden, you become a fan of Big Ed and know that he can do better than Rose. He may be short in height, but my main man Ed is a teddy bear and doesn’t take shit from no Filipina housewife. Walking with Jesus was the only way to break me away from this horrendous subplot. Or what about Gino and Jasmine? Gino being a dorky hat wearing guy from Michigan with Jasmine playing the role of Panamanian devil woman. The memorable fights and the meltdown caused by Gino’s trips to the strip club may be good entertainment, but it leads you away from the martyrdom of Christ. After an intense binge-watching session of Season 6 I need to go to go confession and confess to the priest that I have sinned by watching a TV program fit for the devil’s theater.

Becoming enamored with Danielle and Mohamed Jbali from Season 2, I knew I had a serious problem, and it was time to return to the faith. Addicted to the storyline of these two lovebirds, every time I watched them bicker, I was living in original sin. Accusing her Tunisian boy toy that is half her age of being a user and a loser, threatening to get him deported, this mother of 4 from Ohio constantly went ballistic on Mo for his social media activity. Recognizing that Mohammed was so desperate that he had to have sexual relations with Danielle in order to obtain a green card had me running to the closest cathedral and self-baptizing myself in holy water to get rid of the cultural filth I had just witnessed. Then there was Elizabeth and Andrei. Despite the fact they married, had children and remained married, Andrei’s gruff accent was always memorable when arguing with Libby’s family members. Season 5 was a wild ride, but Andrei’s blunt responses always offended Libby and especially her father. Witnessing the mail order groom business where Moldovan men are married off to American women left me confused and searching for answers. Luckily enough I was able to join a men’s scripture study every Thursday at 6 pm to wash the sin off from watching too much 90 Day Fiancé.

Born in original sin I attempted to live a virtuous and pious life for the first 22 years of my time on earth. Saying my daily prayers and attending church on a weekly basis, I felt that I was at least making an attempt to live in the image of God. The doctrine of the Vatican was the glue of Western Civilization for nearly 1500 years, so they at least had some sort of grasp of keeping the masses in line. I was an adherent all the way up until the story broke of the church’s failure to defrock a priest of molesting upwards of 200 deaf boys. Divorcing myself from this institution I unfortunately was susceptible to toxic ideologies and mass entertainment. Eventually bad habits and experimentation led to risky behavior such as drinking cheap whiskey and watching 90 Day Fiancé: Before the 90 Days. Every Friday after a long week of soulless work, I’d retire to the couch to sip Kentucky Deluxe and watch Kimberley and Usman "Sojaboy" Umar’s courtship hit rocky patches. The young Nigerian entertainer was a familiar fixture that was featured with both Babygirl Lisa and Kimbaaaaly. Consuming this crap for two consecutive years I had an epiphany in a dream where Jesus came to me and told me to come back him and ditch 90 Day Fiancé. The next morning, I went to St. John’s, got rebaptized and became born again.

Slipping up and falling victim to 90 Day Fiancé: The Other Way I became mesmerized with Kenneth and Armando. These two lovebirds with their dry humor and social commentary had no problem with PDAs whether they were in the U.S. or Mexico. Their legendary pillow talk sessions were quirky, always poking fun at their 26-year age gap. Breaking down barriers as a power gay couple this daddy and daddy chaser at least didn’t bicker as much as the fat and old American women with their rapper beaus hailing from West Africa. Despite their happiness and positive outlook on life, I eventually snapped out of the stranglehold this reality TV series had on me. Recognizing that it was all cultural rot, where producers manipulate couples to fight since manufactured drama sells, I heard the voice of God commanded me to move to an island in the Philippines. There I married into the local tribe and started my own dioceses converting the local heathens into good Catholics. Becoming a man of God AKA Brother Bishop Brian, I recognized becoming enamored in 90 Day Fiancé was the catalyst for me to run back to the Church. Reality TV and social media are tools of the devil’s broadcast and despite the sins of the Catholic Church, I feel enough time has passed for the altar boy scandal to be forgiven and only the Vatican’s new leadership can deliver us from evil.

Church attendance has been on a downhill slide since the middle part of the 20th century. Presence in the pews has been slipping since about the late 1940s. Our secularized societies don’t lead to unity instead it leads down the path of fragmented tribalism that is toxic for both local communities and nations. A certain amount of spiritual strength and nationalism are fundamentally necessary in preventing our brothers and sisters of falling victim to 90 Day Fiancé. Western Civilization has hit rock bottom and is entering the new dark ages. If we are not vigilant now, it will never come back. Temptation is real and the only thing worse than binge watching Season 12 of 90 Day Fiancé is getting off to midget porn. Heed your spiritual calling and head back to church. Once you are forgiven and are able to forgive others you truly are living in the image of Christ. All are welcome, whether in a place of worship or the Heavenly Kingdom, all you have to do is repent from violating the 11th commandment of Thou Shalt Not Watch 90 Day Fiancé or any of its spinoffs. Amen.

Brian Ss

Sending Birthday Love to Family and Friends

It's going to be a blacked out blow out!

Birthdays. An annual acknowledgement of the exact day when a person’s mother shat them out into the world. The celebration aspect can be as simple as a small get together with loved ones or a massive overblown extravangaz such as taking a vacation to Vegas or Venice. Certain landmark ages such as reaching 18, 21, 30, 40, or 50 should be celebrated appropriately but most new numerical ages don’t require everyone you know to kiss your ass for the next week. It’s another astronomical calendar in the books, I get it. You survived another trip around the sun, whoopty fuckin’ doo. Let your special day or week be filled with wishes, birthday cards, gifts, fancy dinners, and perhaps an exotic vacation. Treat yourself right with cake, singing, ballons, maybe even getting black out drunk at the Cheesecake Factory, knock yourself out. It’s your own personalized holiday, so relax and live a little.

Birthdays can be fun but sometimes the obligation of acknowledging somebody else’s can be exhausting. There are the birthday cards, the gift shopping, and maybe even party planning. A lot of money and efforts can be squandered on deciding on a clown and bouncy castle for your child’s birthday. Weeks or entire months can go into planning for when little Jayden turns six. I prefer the quiet, low-key B-day wishes of calling someone on the phone and sending them a little bit of personal love on that big day. Celebrating B-Days has morphed into a multibillionaire dollar a year big business. The Hallmark cards company has capitalized on this immensely. When a loved one’s birthday plans are a small or larger gathering do everything in your power to keep things less complicated.

I’ve given up on birthday cards, whether traditional or digital, a long time ago. You gotta shop around, find the one with the right quirky tagline, then come up with a gift certificate to go with it. Paralysis by analysis when it comes to shopping decisions. That’s much too complicated for Bri-Guy. Over the years I have given up on this ritual of celebrating other people’s birthdays. I don’t think of it as selfish, but rather boring and unoriginal. Ten years ago, I came up with a brilliant idea on how to celebrate anyone’s birthday from here on out. The lightbulb went over my head when I was at a work birthday celebration complete with balloons, sugar, and a hired mime. If I was expected to contribute to a person’s birthday celebration, I would only hire black strippers to make that birthday boy or girl’s day all the more special. Balloons deflate, cake goes stale, and birthday hangovers are a bitch but the memory of ebony strippers grinding all over you will last a lifetime.

With my coworker Doretta celebrating her 48th birthday the other day, she didn’t seem that excited about it. Being middle aged with her youth far behind her, Doretta has come to the realization that she’s just getting older, and birthdays are becoming all the more meaningless. The last time she had a good time at her birthday was when she turned 35 and went to Cancun with girlfriends. Overdoing it on a booze cruise, she hooked up with a hotel bellman, having sexual intercourse with someone 14 years her junior, ultimately leading to a divorce from her first husband Todd. Ever since that unforgettable célèbre, nothing can even come close to comparing to when she hooked up with Enrique. The last decade’s worth of birthdays have been disappointing and last years at Dave and Buster’s was a tad lame. Doretta is craving adventure. Dialing up 1-800-BLK-NUDE I order up 2 male strippers for my fellow Amazonian for she can celebrate her 48th with a couple of black stallions that will take for a ride into the sunset. Dressed up as cops, they storm into her office and handcuff her to the desk. Telling her she’s being detained by the Black Law, Terrell and Rondell, strip down to their G-strings and start their choreographed dance moves set to the Kris Kross classic Jump. Salivating at the sight of scantily clad black dudes Doretta is having the time of her life and this beats the shit out of tacos and ice cream in the corporate cafeteria. We’ll just have to wait and see if Doretta gets bitten and smitten by black mamba when it escapes from its lair.

With Uncle Johnny turning 75 I realize this guy could use some cheering up. Having been a widower for nearly 6 years, ol’ John hasn’t jumped back into the dating pool with the passing of his wife. He still remains active in retirement through his volunteer work and hitting the gym with pickup games of pickleball. Despite the good social network, he has in West Palm Beach I feel that Uncle John is lonely and could use a special someone in his life. Killing two birds with one stone, I decided to hire a black stripper named Lakeisha. Described as “vivacious ebony” this former track and field star’s powerful booty cheeks would give any retired white boy the shout. Pretending to be a repo agent, Lakeisha tricked my uncle into letting her in the front door. Blasting the SirMixAlot anthem Baby Got Back on full volume, it was all tush push and “grind it til ya find it.” Serenading him with her badunkadunk to Cardi B’s twat rock, this black queen made my Johnny feel like a king. Lakeisha smothered my uncle’s cracker ass as if it were a fine brie on a Triscuit. Having helped my uncle snap out of his funk and melancholy Lakeisha helped him see the light through her black ass. The good news is that they are now dating, and it’s about high time that we had a black step aunt join the family.

Kids’ birthdays these days have emerged as quite the production. Back in my day they only consisted of pizza parties at the bowling alley or arcade. Nowadays junior gets an elaborate 9th birthday party with 100 people complete with a bouncy castle, people dressed up in furry costumes, and a magician. They are elaborate and quite frankly overblown. If you’re going to spend that amount of money on entertainment you might as well include black strippers to keep the grownups entertained. My gift to Colton’s birthday celebration will be hiring a black couple, a man and woman named Clarence and Shanice, with their act nicknamed Chocolate Love. With the bass bumping, these two performers show off their flexibility and athleticism set to a soundtrack of 2 Live Crew. Busting moves in G-strings these two top tiered performers offer lap dances to the adults and utilize the bubble wand to distract the children. Making their way through the adult audience they move and groove with the best of them and perform unbelievable acts on their mobile stripper pole. The paternal grandfather of the birthday boy is visibly pissed off but everyone else seems to enjoy both chocolate cake and Chocolate Love.

Grandma’s turning 90 and it’s a landmark age for any human being. Having been old enough to remember World War 2, the Roaring 50s, and Segregation, there’s not too many of these old timers around anymore. They are to be cherished and heralded since the Silent Generation did make everlasting contributions to American society. Despite her old numerical age, Grandma Edith’s biological age is that of a 75-year-old. Fit as a fiddle, she walks five miles every day and still enjoys a daily cigarette and glass of wine. Her mind is sharp and she grasps the world around her relating to her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She even has a Facebook account for fuck’s sake. Still living on her own, her special day is populated with friends and her extended family. Sharing good food and fond memories I have the highest honor of ordering her up black strippers. After opening her presents and showering her youngest descendants with hugs and kisses, Grandma Edith is in for a surprise when Jamal, Lamar, Deshawn, and Deandre enter the room in all white tear-away clothes. This quartet of black stripper hotties are named Boy Toyz to Men which is a play on words for 90s black boy band Boyz to Men. Working the crowd with sexier moves and choreography than Chippendales this soul train of African American man flesh lights up Edith’s eyes since she hasn’t seen a half-naked man in 15 years. Preferring white male strippers during her hard partying disco days fifty years ago, she now prefers black cracks. Black strippers have had to fight for decades to get the love and respect they deserve. Equality didn’t come easy but acts such as Boy Toyz to Men have broken down barriers and kicked Jim Crow right in the balls.

This country has enough holidays already and there is always a non-stop lineup of birthdays that you are expected to acknowledge. Consuming mindless calories at work, wasting brain cells on trying to think of something witty to say on the birthday card, or feeling obligated to wish someone a happy birthday you don’t much care for takes its toll. Birthdays come a dime a dozen for any zodiac sign on the calendar. Sometimes they can be fun, but the whole industry of celebrating has become quite lame. Therefore, do as I do, and spice things up by introducing black strippers to the mix. Women, men, couples, whatever, you're always a guaranteed a good time as you strive for racial equality in society. Black burlesque dancers have been in the fold for decades and are finally getting the recognition they deserve at all white birthday parties on Long Island. Blowing out candles and singing happy birthday is quite lame when instead you could be experiencing black ass jiggling all up and down the birthday party you are attending. Do yourself a favor, if there’s a birthday on the horizon get that azz on the phone and order up some black excellence in the exotic dancer department. Grandma will love it and I guarantee it will be the most memorable birthday party you’ve ever attended.

Not advised in Mississippi, Alabama, or Southern Indiana.

Brian Ss

Reintroduction of yet another animal species to Colorado

You sending the wolf?!?

Colorado. A state or a state of mind? Achieving statehood in 1876, Colorado is on the precipice of its sesquicentennial, exactly a century after America’s Declaration of Independence. Nicknamed the Centennial State, Colorful Colorado, or even the Mile-High State whatever you call it, you’re guaranteed to achieve a Rocky Mountain high when you take in the scenery firsthand. Home of 4 National Parks, 44 designated wilderness areas, and some of the highest peaks in the Continental United States, you can explore Colorado for an entire summer or an entire lifetime. Its pristine landscapes make it idyllic for skiing, day hiking, mountain biking, backpacking, Jeeping, pretty much whatever you want to do in summer or in winter. Asides from endless recreational opportunities, there are plenty of wildlife habitats to take in if you ever find yourself road tripping here.

Being a western state, Colorado has its fair share of animal species from ungulates to apex predators. Colorado has the largest elk population in the United States. Some estimates guess that upwards of 300,000 elk graze here. If you’re a full blown elkaholic, you’ll be in heaven. The buffalo roam just outside of Denver at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal and up in Genesee Park. There are a few other private herds dotted throughout the state where the great American mammal can be enjoyed from a comfortable distance. Grizzly Bears no longer exist with the last one being killed in 1979 in the South San Juan Wilderness near New Mexico. With plenty of deer, black bears, bighorn sheep, and mountain lions, Colorado believes its animal diversity is its strength. The only problem is they keep reintroducing species that mess with the already harmonious ecosystem.

In late 2023, against all wisdom, the first wolves were reintroduced to western Colorado. Apparently, the bureaucrats and the hippies found common ground on a ballot measure and wanted to hear wolf packs howl at the moon. Advocates say it restores a predatory animal, enhances ecosystems, and it could possibly improve river flows and the surrounding vegetation. Opponents point out that it could result in losses for welfare ranchers, mess with the elk populations, and the price tag is too high. Having grown up in Montana and witnessed the reintroduction of the wolf in the early 90s, all I can say is that it’s a bad idea. Their numbers will continue to climb, and they’ll decimate the elk and wreak havoc on mountain communities. Wolves can range upwards of 90 miles a day and are built to do one thing, and that is to kill. This “experiment” may have a lower impact for the first 5-10 years but after that it’ll go sideways. In the end, the reintroduction won’t work, and everyone can point the finger towards Denver. Supporters say, “wolf pack”, but this critic says, “nut sack.”

Now to make matters worse they want to reintroduce the wolverine to Colorado. Not only is this an asinine idea but a full retard approach to responsible animal conservation in the state. I don’t give a damn if these things were around in the 19th century, it’s the only animal that can kill a grizzly bear. Those devil creatures belong in Michigan, not Colorado! My theory of why this is happening is that our governor Jared Polis’s husband, Marlon Reis, is pushing for this behind closed doors. Being the first gentleman, his work and efforts are focused on conservation advocacy and wild ass animals. After a convincing session of pillow talk, Marlon has convinced Jared that the wolf and wolverine need to be forced back into nature in Colorado. Just because the idea of possibly viewing a wolf or wolverine out in the Colorado wilderness may sound like a good idea, I guarantee long-term that this policy will be a massive fuck up. Once the wolves start probing the foothills of Denver and feasting on domesticated animals the outcry will probably reverse course.

But since we live in fantasy land already, I say, why stop at the wolverine. If we’re going to get nuts, let’s get fucking nut sack nuts. My brilliant idea is to reintroduce the great white shark to preselected lake and river locations in Colorado. Even though their natural habitat is in saltwater, I say what the hell let’s unleash the offspring of Jaws into Grand Lake and the Colorado River, fuck it. This way they’ll be returned to Colorado where they once thrived in an ancient ocean 70 million years ago and to appease Marlon. Everybody loves Shark Week, so why travel to an ocean to see them, when you could see them on a floating trip down the Arkansas?!? Since their natural food supply of seals and fish aren’t readily available, they’ll have to get creative and feast off the livestock near the river’s edge or humans enjoying a lazy river tubing sesh on the upper Colorado. We’ll try to electronically track them and give them cannabis edibles to pacify them, but in the end the shark is bound to go full on shark.

Advocates say the shark is cute and cuddly and compliments the wolf. That they’ll keep the carp population at bay. It’ll be all fun and games until an overweight family of 4 from Dallas gets swallowed whole for basic shark subsistence. Sure, the mass slaughter of humans will be a hiccup along the way, but we have to reintroduce another apex predator into the ecosystem to keep the overpopulation of humans at bay. One minute you're taking a selfie on an epic kayaking adventure and the next you’re missing an entire leg. With the shark’s popularity rising and wrongful death suits increasing they’ll eventually decided to change the NFL franchise name from the Denver Broncos to the Denver Great Whites. Not only will this be an upgrade, but it also screams diversity.

The shark is bad ass and cool, but it ain’t got shit on a velociraptor. Whadya think the shark was the end of the line for this reintroduction retardation?!? Shit, fuck no! Once the great white shark has been accepted and normalized in Colorado’s waterways, I say bring on the velociraptor. We’ll be going full on Jurassic Park here sometime in 28-29. Given the advances in DNA cloning technology, we’ll have 20 ready for release in a short time frame. This magnificent reptile may be exquisite in viewing from a helicopter above, but on land it’s terrifying. 60 million years ago, these beautiful creatures roamed the land that is now the state of Colorado. The Polis boys along with their Washington ally Senator Lindsey Graham, will do their best to earmark funds to bring these feathered killing machines to a Colorado mountain town near you.

They may look cute and cuddly but with their serrated teeth and sickled claws on their feet they are killing machines perfected by Darwinism. Given their protected status as mandated by FWP they’ll be tearing off all the flesh that they want in places such as Rocky Mountain NP and Aspen. We’ve all seen the original Jurassic Park and witnessed the destructive capacity of these prehistoric birds. Whether you’re human or animal nothing is safe from the speed and agility of this species from the Late Cretaceous period. That is unless the state decides to issue hunting permits.

Pushing the envelope once again, before the end of Jared Polis’s second term, Marlon decides he wants hundreds of clones of John Denver to be rereleased back into the wild. If he doesn’t get his way Jared will be sleeping on the couch and the power bottom will be dictating the terms to the power broker. Having been dead for nearly 30 years it’s been decided to dig up the folk singer’s grave, extracting DNA from his bones. Best known as the performer to Colorado’s official state song Rocky Mountain High, Denver was a major force in American folk rock in the 70s. Having died far too early, the wizards at the state legislature in Denver decide to resurrect John Denver in an eerie experimentation in a sci-fi horror movie.

The idea is for those who dare to venture in the backcountry would be able to see a wild John Devner in person. Whether at an upstream creek, a majestic alpine lake, or spectacular summit, one of thousands of J.D. clones would set up next to you and start strumming his guitar. His gentle crooning would be soothing and would take your Rocky Mountain experience to the next level. Some of the clones will turn out defective and instead of having a coherent voice, they’ll just mumble and live its existence as a primitive caveman. A lot of these John Denvers will die of natural causes and serve as a primary source of calories for the state’s sharks and velociraptors. But if you’re lucky to see one humming along in nature, it’ll be better than sunshine on your shoulders.

Animal reintroduction may sound like a successful conservation strategy but oftentimes turns into a catastrophic failure. Advocates bribed by dark money say it’s good for the local ecology and biodiversity gets a boost, but the benefits don’t outweigh the costs. The rerelease of the wolves in Montana and Colorado didn’t quite work out as intended and dumbass bureaucrats whether in D.C. or Denver shouldn’t be allowed to play God. Colorado is fine enough as it is and we have enough biodiversity already. We have multiple species of human beings here and we don’t need to import any more. You have the ski bum, the stoner, the raging alcoholic, the dirty hippy concert goer, the mountain town hiking chick, and the urban hipsters who dominate the Denver metro area whose pants are so tight that not enough blood flow makes it to the genitals. There’s the native, the transplant, bros in Denver and bro-brahs in mountain towns, the craft beer connoisseur, the Boulder wellness guru, gearheads, meth heads in Grand Junction, California fucktards, and REI douchebags living their weekend warrior lifestyles. Colorado has more than enough subcultures and we don’t need to drown them out with the reintroduction of the shark, the velociraptor, and John Denver in the flesh. The next time you see this issue on a ballot proposal make sure to vote against it, putting the smack down on this nonsense once and for all. Jared Polis and his mister may be on the way out at the end of this year but don’t let them sneak in a midnight appointment of unleashing the duckbilled platypus into the Colorado drainage basin.

Thank you for your support.

Brian Ss