Botheration

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For those of you that don't know me, and as many that do can attest to, I am a passionate guy. Grant me a minute or two of your time so I can explain myself, if you please. You can compare my, often times, completely uncontrollable and uncalled for anger to a helium filled football. When someone sets me off, and it really doesn't even have to be something crazy or worthy of anything, just a simple punt, chances are that extra loft will grant you a good 10-20% greater form of hate than many of my unionized and paid-to-write peers would offer up. Before going too far into this, let it be known that my emotions shallow back down to normal levels just as easily. Just like when that football breaks into the atmosphere, it will just as quickly return to the earth. Sure, in those fleeting moments my language may be littered with profanity and hey I might even throw in a death threat or two against you and/or your loved ones, but as surely as gravity does its thing with the ol' pigskin, so too does my rage find its level like any standing pool of water before too long and I am seen grinning and laughing without giving my disgusting behavior a second thought...

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Do People Really Do This?

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Who among the Angry Time faction has heard of a Fortune Party? If you have, it better have been passed to you via 3rd hand information. If not, and you were an unsuspecting mark, I dare say you fall into a somewhat forgivable category of peons where a torturous interrogation could possibly absolve you of such a sin. Though you'd have a whale's bladder worth of explaining to do as to why you would be caught in such a trance without asking relevant questions or showing any spine. The last possibility, if you are someone who has attended these carnival acts without being under the influence of some ungodly cocktail of medication, or worse even still, if you are the Lord Fontleroy of Fortune Parties then I'll go ahead and shuttle you myself to the hallway that houses my vast array of character assassination awards hung like trophy bucks along the wall. You, the willing participant, are the kind of asshole that I loathe...

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Male Boss-isms 3

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Staying true to what Male Boss-isms has been, this story will focus a bit more on the behavioral tendencies of our simian, clad in sweat pants and finger smudges wrought from potato chip grease s-medium t-shirts. To be sure, trying to understand exactly what this man's function and purpose is will, and is, taking the lion's share of my analytical adult lifetime. The question is, even with such time and dedication given to this often times insipid yet noble endeavor, is the project ever finished or the illustration ever satisfactory let alone complete? I draw parallels to the brave, yet crazy fucks, ie "The Grizzly Man" who literally sacrifice their lives in pursuit of knowledge...

I've moved! To read the rest go to AngryTime.com or follow this link for this particular story.