Archive for the Stop Category

That Is Too Much To Ask

Posted in Stop with tags , , , , , , , on February 12, 2011 by Suge White


I hate my friends. You know the type. They are the ones that want you to help them move or need a jump when their car dies. I know I should be more willing to help but can’t you see I have more important things to do? Your ill-timed phone call just interrupted my TV watching or an attempt to string myself up in a closet like David Carridine during an act of sexual asphyxiation, with the help of a local hooker named Sasha. Don’t you know these hookers charge by the hour? My friends should know by now that I will party with them, help them in a fight, or, in a pinch, help them apply sun screen to their back in a less than heterosexual manner (just to make them feel uncomfortable). However, anything more than that is asking alot. You want me to go to your wedding? Will there be an open bar? You want me to babysit your kids for a few hours? Can I give them some codeine and a shot of whiskey so they’ll pass out and shut the fuck up? You want me to give you a ride to the store in exchange for gas money? Do I look like a fucking taxi driver to you? So for future reference, unless you have a dead body rolled up in that rug, stop being lazy and carry it your damn self.


Mr. Womens Winter Wonderland

Posted in Stop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 11, 2010 by Suge White


Somehow we’ve stumbled upon another winter and I woke up this morning to the site of snow on the ground. As a kid, I loved snow but only because it meant that school might get canceled. However, now that I’m an adult, snow just means that my drive to work is going to be dangerous. It also means that if I stand outside for too long, there is a good chance my dick is going to get cold. That is never a pleasant turn of events. I go to that place to gather warmth for my frozen fingers but a cold dick means cold hands. So if you come across me starting a friction fire in my trousers, while huddled behind the wood shed, its not because I’m sexually frustrated but rather because I’m freezing and my heater needs to be warmed up a bit before saving my digits from a frost bitten fate. No, seriously, I wasn’t jerking off! This brings me to another of life’s great mysteries. How do Eskimos procreate? When its that cold out, the last thing I want to do is expose my little friend to the elements. Getting kicked in the smallest extremity is no fun but I’d imagine fucking an ice box is much worse. Sorry Mrs. Claus, my sex elf is taking the day off because it’s just too fucking cold. You know who’s dick never gets cold? The answer is God. God’s dick is always the perfect temperature. How do I know? That’s simple, I’ve seen it in action. When I say I’ve seen it in action, I’m not saying I was sitting in the corner watching the man upstairs pound out the girl downstairs.  It also doesn’t mean that I was on the receiving end of some heavenly prison justice.  No, it means that I’ve watched Tom Brady lead the New England Patriots to victory, time and time again.  Is there any question that Mr. Brady is a living replica of God’s dick? I think not. He scores whenever he wants, he always stays cool in the pocket, and he is topped with the finest hair known to man. Sounds like God’s dick to me.

Put You All In Check

Posted in Shit We Do, Stop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 4, 2010 by Suge White


I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve learned a thing or two about this world and the people in it during my short time on this earth. And if you’ve read any of my misanthropic musings in the past, then you should know that most of what I’ve learned has since been regurgitated from my brain in the form of pure, unadulterated, hate. Therefore, I think its only fair that I commence with the hatred. This week I was introduced to the idea of arsenic friendly bacteria and came away from this learning experience not caring anymore or any less about bacteria or arsenic. Who the fuck cares? I think someone needs to research these ‘scientists’ for any sign of a sex life. They say that this finding can aid our search for alien life forms. Something tells me that the last thing we want to see are alien life forms that are arsenic friendly. I have spent 27 years of my life trying not to get eaten by any of this planet’s animals and the last thing I need is another threat to my well being. I shouldn’t have to spend my time dodging gigantic lizard creatures that want to eat my brain and then bury their eggs in the rectum of my dead rotting carcass, all because some ‘scientists’ insisted on finding aliens.

Get Away From Me…. Or At Least Stop Talking

Posted in Fucked Up People, Stop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 13, 2010 by Suge White


Let me reiterate to you how much I hate people.  I hate people so much that if I had a choice between talking to a stranger and getting fucked by a ravenous wombat, I would seriously consider subjecting myself to any number of sexually transmitted wombat diseases just to avoid talking to the likely idiot. Seriously, how bad could love with a syphilitic wombat be? However, if I talk to the stranger, he may tell me about his mortgage, about his job, or about his mothers arthritic hip. Lets be honest. Who wants to hear about any of that shit? Sorry pal, I don’t care about your kids and since you insisted on showing me a picture of them that you have stuffed away in your wallet, it’s only fair that I tell you that your daughter looks like Andre the Giant and your son looks like Boy George. Needless to say, you should pull out next time you hop in the sack with that handsome broad you call a wife. Perhaps my words are a little crass but so is the sight of your hideous children. This brings me back to my ultimate point. Please don’t talk to me. I don’t care if you’re Jesus fucking Christ. On a side note, I would imagine that talking to Jesus would be a real downer. He’s got all sorts of uncomfortable topics to discuss. “So my mother says I am the son of God but I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t want to tell me that she fucked the whole village and my father could be anyone but is probably the papyrus salesman with bad knees and a penchant for boy love. Oh and did I mention that I was crucified?”. For the love of your supposed father, shut the fuck up!  And no, I’m not interested in putting “the body of Christ” in my mouth, you fucking creep!

Big Girls Don’t Cry But Sometimes Big Boys Do

Posted in Disaster, Fucked Up People, Hero, Shit We Do, Stop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 16, 2010 by Suge White


This past weekend, I watched a grown ass man officially lose his fucking mind.  I can’t call this goon out by name because it’s one thing to have his picture up on this website but it’s another thing all together to then post a ridiculously disparaging story about him that may contain some factual inaccuracies. So without any further delay, you shall witness the deconstruction of a Local Goon.
Over the previous weekend, I witnessed an event that truly turned my insides out. This event involved a 27 year old man-child, more mentally equipped to drink his beer from a sippy cup than from his own still sweaty work boot (1st shot), and a party filled with more sausage and less females than you could shake a stick at.  During a recent house party, this boy-with-lady-parts decided it was necessary to start a fight, lose the fight, throw a hissy fit, get slapped around some more, and then trash the place.  I know, nothing out of the ordinary there and I will totally neglect to mention that we were drinking a grain alcohol concoction that I suggested. The problem with this incident was that it was his own house that he shared with some other Local Goons.  He was in the process of moving out but this doesn’t excuse a God Damn thing because the others were not moving. He smashed the house’s big screen TV, broke tables, broke bottles, and broke his already broken reputation (2nd shot). This particular Goon has dressed up in women’s clothing, attempted to kiss the Big Hug (Local Goon) on several occasions, probably drank a wine cooler or two, and probably pissed all over himself after drinking those wine coolers (3rd shot). Even with this man’s entire feminine history, nobody ever thought he could act like such a bitch. With all that said, we shall still have love for this Goon. Though he has been exiled and has burned every bridge he has on his way out of town, we still love him.  We all fully assume that some day soon we will see this little red Corvette (prince reference) paddling across a raging river on an inflatable blow up doll that possibly originated from some place in Asia (because that’s his thing). He will be doing so while the flames on those bridges he burned are still red hot but I’ll be damned if we don’t pull him ashore.  He’s still a goon and, believe it or not, even a goon can be forgiven.

And while I said I wouldn’t identify this Goon, you really need to watch this YouTube clip. I just couldn’t help myself because I’m a fucking asshole.

When Do We Grow Up?

Posted in Disaster, Fucked Up People, Make Decisions, Shit We Do, Stop with tags , , , , , , , , on September 18, 2010 by Suge White


I consider myself to be a somewhat childish individual and there is nothing wrong with holding on to a piece of your youth but some people take that shit way too far.  If you’re over 40 years old and still sporting a soul patch, while strutting around with your hat on backwards, you are probably either a virgin or a lame ass dingus who needs to move out of his mother’s house.  Seriously, you need to go pay rent somewhere.  Sorry bro, but nobody listens to the Meat Puppets anymore. Grow the fuck up!  This goes for the ladies too.  No mom should be flashing her tramp stamp around town like its acceptable. Cover that shit up!  It’s great that you drove your kids to soccer practice Saturday morning but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you offered to blow me at the Diamond Inn Friday night.  And was that crack I smelled or do you always just stink of burning rubber? Either way, get off the back of that dudes Harley, put the pipe down, and go bake your children some fucking cookies!

A letter to Wyclef

Posted in Disaster, Fucked Up People, Hero, Listen, Make Decisions, Stop with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by Suge White


Dear Wyclef,

I was just flipping channels and saw that you are thinking about running for president of Haiti. Are you fucking serious? This move would make Lauryn Hill’s mental state look like Bill ‘fucking’ Gates! Since when was it not enough to just make hit fucking records? Now you have to be a fucking president? You think you’re ‘helping’ the people but clearly you were born out of incest because your thoughts are fucking retarded. Are you going to make more money as a hip hop legend or as the president of Haiti? That should be a rhetorical question, at this point. Make your millions and use that money to help the people… all the people. Being president would only hinder your philanthropy. You don’t see Bono pulling this shit… and he’s a way bigger douche bag than you’ll ever be. So take a tip from U2’s questionably heterosexual frontman and just be a rockstar that gives back to the people. However, if you ever start wearing eyeliner and shitty purple sunglasses I’ll come find you and slap the shit out of you for completely ruining my memory of the Fugees. You’re our my last hope!

Hustle Womens