Hello, hello, and welcome to another horrible issue of "Dirty Filthy Snuff". This is going to be a fairly short one due to the fact that I'm working on what will hopefully be a great "What Really Chaffs My Nutts". It should be great if only I could remember where I put my meds. I need it so that I won't start hallucinations, delusions of grandeur, and the poetic conflict between good and evil. So while I sort out the tension between nice me and mean me enjoy these cartoons. 

Now I know what you might be saying, these cartoons are shit, and I know it. That maybe, and my nice self knows that. Oh by the way, I haven't found my anti psychotic medicine yet. My nice me thinks that I should take it off, but just think about this; in this great nation of ours Reality TV has become a major fixture of entertainment. Now there's nothing wrong with that in my humble option if the fucking program is of quality, but shows like the fucking "Bachelor, Bachelorette, and The Bachelor Pad", do they really represent the idea of quality programing? I mean really why the fuck do you want to watch group of greedy, fame starving people who are more lonely than Tom Hanks in "Castaway" play an extended vision of speed dating where they actually date someone only twice before they get married. You know before such shows as "The Bachelor Pad" I honestly thought that we as a race of people wouldn't be able to accurately put a price on self respect, but I was wrong. Really fucking wrong.

Obviously the price for self respect only costs your picture not being dropped into a ballad box on the night of a rose ceremony. Or how about making an ostrich egg your best friend to somehow win the hearts of America. I mean when that shit comes on, I actually want to club to dead a baby seal with a damn soap in a sock. Now I know what your going to say, and that is it's just TV, regardless in a nation where an elected official somehow comes to the conclusion the a woman's reproductive system has enough presence of mind to prevent a pregnancy from a rape(an utterly asinine statement)the very prospect that people actually let it's message hold weight truly makes the prospect of cock fights sound appealing. Maybe it would just be better to broadcast a a person who suffers from Parkinson's disease tattoo patrons at a tattoo parlor. In fact just make it Michael J. Fox just so we can have that celebrity backing. We could call it "Scribbled Skin".

And then we got shows like "Big Brother", or as I like to call it "watching a bunch of simpletons sitting around with their dicks in their hands, picking their asses waiting to grow on Americans like a antibiotic resistant bacteria that just inflects your flesh festering deeper and deeper into your body until it gets into your blood stream". The Real House Wives; the only thing I wonder is which one is going to die of a prescription drug overdose first? Or how about which one will end dying from plastic surgery while under the knife. I honestly beg for freedom to be taken away from me after an hour of crap like that cause the viciousness of my thoughts when I've seen just an hour makes me want to be forced into a labour camp for reeducation. My mean me thinks that this is a good idea.

You know what's even better about this whole gig is that is with shows like the Bachelor on the air(and with such a following)it makes the one subjects that Americans all struggle with seem easy. That subject is math. Yeah, with ABC making what is essentially a Disney soft core porn.(that consists of Ed getting drunk and a night vision camera filming him under the covers as he screams out Xena Warrior Princess war cries and guttural groans while some bimbo tries to mess with his junk) and that makes arithmetic simple. The one thing that those evil immigrants are good at reality TV somehow makes it comprehensible for us westerns. Hell, I can work at a nuclear reactor because after a show like that feeds me digestible doses of the mean of an incomprehensible emotion such as love, preventing three mile island should be a cake walk.

I've thought about it and I have an idea for my own show. It's just like "The Bachelor Pad" only the single meat heads are locked down on the campus with all the drug and alcohol they can consume in 30 days, and we just watch the results. Leave out some some sharp objects, and buses in some hookers and we got a deliciously shameful disaster on our hands. I'm betting that in some seasons none of them will make it out alive. The ones that don't slip in the shower and break their neck, or drought in their own vomit will end up being stabbed to death. There will be no real money, just the chance to live out all their greedy, lustful fantasies and hope to survive. Or we could just go in for the kill and have a show by the name of "Who wants to Marry O.J." O.J. Simpson will of course be the bachelor. Let's see the ratings on that. One of the challenges can trying on different gloves to find which ones fit, and will call that activity "If The Glove Fits". With that; here is another crude short cartoon:

And here's another:

 See now this is wrong, right? Or is it. Rape is by no means funny, but judging by the culture of our society prison rape is in someway hilarious. There is something about being "Some body's Bitch" regardless of how brutal it is; it's funny? How many films and TV shows have used it to get a laugh. If that doesn't say something about us, then I don't know what does. Let me Repeat myself again about my option on the subject of rape: NO ONE SHOULD EVER BE THE VICTIM OF SUCH A CRIME. IT IS ONE OF THE WORST, MOST DESPICABLE, DAMAGING, HORRIFIC AND TRAUMATIZING ACTS OF VIOLENCE THAT ONE CAN SUFFER. HOWEVER, WITH ALL THE ASS BACKWARDS BULLSHIT ABOUT CENSORSHIP, AND THEN THE PRESENTATION OF SHIT LIKE "DIARY OF A VIRGIN", THE BACHELOR" SERIES, AND SUCH THINGS AS THE INCIDENT THAT OCCURRED AT PENN STATE WHO IS TO SAY WHAT'S REALLY CRUDE, VULGAR, AND TABOO?  
So, I'll leave you with one other idea I have for a reality TV Show. I don't have a title for it yet, but I think that it should be a full hour of watching the terminally ill die from the perspective of a time-lapse. What do you think? Well, I'll work on it and get back to you.

So, in closing, while I hadn't intended on going on a rant, I just did. I guess I just couldn't help myself. But, I would like to remind you that this is a blog that is meant to be humorous. I can and am just as guilty of many of the things and people that I criticize. I don't mean to offend, at least not entirely. So until next time, 



Lou Ford

P.S. 

I found my meds, but while my nice me wants wish you a great day: 

My mean me would like to say:

FIN

Hello, and welcome back to another installment of “Dirty Filthy Snuff”. In this issue I am going to start this off in the usual fashion, “What Really Chaffs My Nuts”. What Really Chaffs My Nuts is Joe Paterno, or as I titled it “The Father who knew best down fall”.

What really chaffs my nuts is/was Joe Paterno. Yes the legendary football coach, and supposed Titan Joe. That “great man” (I use that term loosely) was a narcissistic, self indulgent asshole who thought that King Kong didn’t have shit on him (yes a reference to “Training Day”). The head coach who had done much to help all his athletes graduate college with a C average, and produce the best college football around had a dark secret. And what was that horrific secret? It was this guy:

That’s right we all know about the Sandusky sex scandal. That was, in case you weren’t aware, when the Pennsylvania State University Assistant football coach had been allowed with the help of none other than the late great Joe Paterno to sexually abuse children (young boys to be specific) who were associated with the children’s charity he started called “The Second Mile” for 14 years. During that time many facility members were very much aware of the “extra curricular” activities of Sandusky, and yet due to the need to protect the flawless school reputation, and more importantly the football program, the higher ups like Joe ran interference to cover up those crimes. After the allegations came out what was even more horrendous and pathetic was that the students of that great institution decided that despite so many accusations the best thing to do next was riot. And then who can forget challenging , oh so difficult decision of whether or not to keep up the bronzed statue of Paterno at beaver stadium.           

/Now what really chaffs my fucking nuts about this is not so much Sandusky anymore cause at least that mincing, boy hungry pedophile has been dealt with in some way, but what got me was the deliberate enabling of a serial rapist for the purpose of looking good. But before I go any further (and let me remind you that this is a rant, yes a fucking rant) I just got to ask this; is there a manual on how to come on to a child? I am being literal here, and before you condemn me let me finish here. I ask this because if you remember one of the most infamous accounts of Sandusky’s abuse was his raping of a boy in the Athletic locker shower of Penn State which was witnessed by a fellow coach by the name of McQuerry, ,or as some may know him the tattling ginger, and when Sandusky was asked about it later he said that it was just “horse play”. That’s strange because I had no idea that horse play included anally penetrating a crying shivering youngster in a locker room shower. Saying that, I would like to go further and ask if violently pop the butt cherry of a prepubescent boy is, or rather is the excuse of horse play make it ok? Another thing is where in the job description of a “big brother” role that one of the ways to mentor children is to violate them in the worst way imaginable? I mean did Denizal Washington who was a spokesman for the “Boys and Girls Club” decide to have a sex sandwich with two of the youths as some perverted way of giving them a lesion on life? Fucking Really?

And why the fuck did it take that fucking tattling ginger (graduate assistant football coach)so long to snitch, cause this would have been the one time where it would be perfectly acceptable? Well, wait we know why it was cause of the two asshole, pricks by the name of Tim Curely, the athletic director, and Gary Schultz, the senior vice president for finance and business and oversaw the Penn State police department. But more importantly the subject of this rant. And before I forget, this is a rant which is meant to be humorous.

And let’s not forget about this brat. The geriatric, self absorbed, self proclaimed football god who as one witness had said something to effect of, going up against the almighty Joe was like going up against the president. I mean it’s pretty sad that a guy who had one leg in an adult diaper and the other in the grave, had that much control all because he knew how to teach kids how to catch an oval shaped ball. Granted that it did bring in millions for the school, but letting a serial, boy hungry rapist get away with what he did done, well that is unforgivable. The fact that a man who had emphasized the importance of integrity, and respect was willing to not only let so many get hurt, but also risk his own integrity as well boggles the fucking mind. It case the same kinda mind fuck as trying to figure out why the hell we have an appendix. I mean we don’t really need it, and yet it’s there like an unsafe work environment, ya know a box factory where everybody there can only count to six on both hands if you count their thumps. I wonder if the appendix is like god’s little sick, macabre humorous self destruct button. He’s has enough of one of us, and boom the organ bursts and we get septic, shit our brains out and die. Why the hell do we need the damn thing? No, I can do better. That boggles the mind just like the question of whether we really need all the Baldwin brothers.

I mean besides Alec, all the others don’t do anything except hang around and making terrible movies. Does their existence really needed or necessary. If they weren’t around would we miss them? Anyway moving on.

Ya know when I look at the situation it reminds me of the show “Father Knows Best” on crack It also reminds me of the show “Lost In Space”, with the role of Dr. Zachary Smith having been played by Sandusky.
 By the way what type of irresponsible parent would send their young son out into the wilderness of an uncharted planet with a creepy mincing boy hungry villain and a robot by the name of the B-9 who would server a better, and more useful purpose as an alarm clock? Cause that’s what  Professor Robinson, the father of the Robinson family (yes the show was based on the “Swiss Family Robinson”) did every time it was the start of a new day. And on top of that he’d then send out his young beautiful teenage daughter out with their other tag a long, Space Corp. Major Donald West. The hot shot jet fighter. Hearing this, you tell me that this isn’t the perfect story line for a soft core porn, or a Spanish soap? But seriously if you crash land on a strange alien planet, wouldn’t make sense that instead of doing the typical, stupid thing and splitting everyone up to explore, maybe you should all stick together. And maybe you shouldn’t send you young boy off with the man who stowed away on your ship, and then reprogrammed your helper robot to kill all of you? I mean sending you daughter off with the pilot see a set up for her to become part of light year club. That’s several steps above the mile high club cause, your in outter space, your weightless, and semen floats around like the snowflakes in a snow globe. Yet, I have to ask this question again, why the hell would you send you prepubescent son child off with a creepy, Tony Robins, strippers with c-sections, Roman Polanski playing house creepy kinda guy? Like hearing you parents having sex through your bed room wall creepy. I mean the boy starved man was supposed to be a medical doctor, and a scientist, and an assassin.

The first part, the doctor, is never good cause that means he knows all the right places to put it. And by it I mean  his penis. And they’re in outer space. That’s never good cause in outer space no one can hear you cream, or shiver from the trauma of being molested then become an alcoholic who drinks to forget the pain only to have the intoxication resurface the repressed memories resulting in depression, and then homicide ending with a suicide by cop. But, hey what did the 1950’s know about sexual abuse when they had  “Leave It To Beaver”.  

Honestly though, let me get back to the subject at hand. See, it’s a good thing that the statue of Joe Paterno has been taken down. Just about everything else everyone didn’t do equated to more than What Joe did, and the last thing we need is a bronzed figure to remind us of that.   

 Joe might as well have popped those boys butt cherries himself. And here’s what I don’t understand, Joe covered for a serial rapist for like 14 years, and yet he was supposed to be an honorable man. And this is a shinning example of one of the many things that higher education has to offer. The license to rape, and all because you got a special talent or position. At Penn State football was so loved that children were deemed worthless. Sports were the ultimate religion, and the staff were the gods. Joe was fucking Zeus, and hey, if Zeus says it’s okay for someone named Jerry Sandusky to butt fuck young boys then he must know best. Right?

If the kids had been lucky, Sandusky would have still been attracted to them as they got older and they might have gotten a scholarship. Wouldn’t that have been great? I mean that could have been offered as a package deal. Maybe Penn State should have opened a youth camp to curb Sandusky’s hunger,
but also to possibly have found a future football squad for Penn State. We all know the types that would have been selected; the youngest, disadvantaged, easily influenced boys who have been perfect molds, for Sandusky at least. And if not as athletes also, then maybe a party favor to pass around the Penn State staff. I mean in a sense that’s what Joe Patnero did. I mean he might as well have gift wrapped those boys, or maybe just have given Sandusky an ice cream truck and a stock pile of Tylenol PM. 

But there’s something else that’s got me as well. You know what that is?

Well, and this is fantastic, the judge who was overseeing the proceedings decided in his infant wisdom that Sandusky could have supervised visits with his grand children. That’s like giving Michael Vick a job at an Animal Shelter. It would seem that a man who had 51 counts of child molestation wouldn’t necessarily get permission to see kids, whose ever they were, grand children or otherwise. I gotta say the whole ordeal from the first incident of “stranger danger” to Joe’s self serving press conference, the whole thing was handled with the efficiency of a back alley abortion. That’s our legal system for ya!

Thank god there was a conviction, at least the victims will get some sort of justice out of it. Still that’s not gonna change anything. Just give it some time, and regardless of the penalties leveled on the College by the NCAA, once football season starts all the hicks in the area, and the fans in general will be right back to loving Penn State. Despite it’s child raping staff, everything will be fine. All will be forgiven.

Ain’t this nation of ours great? Victims get abused by an institution, and they’ll suffer for the rest of their lives, and the institution that’s partly responsible will have it’s respect back by the next kick off. But maybe I should let somebody else finish, so I’ll just let comedian Jim Norton take over. And away we go!

Funny shit right? Well before I conclude I would like to remind everyone that while all seemed well. Like this:

Things were really like this:

Which lead to everyone realizing this:

And that included the legendary Joe Paterno. So until next time

Lou Ford

FIN

Hello, hello my few followers out there, and welcome to yet another installment of "Dirty Filthy Snuff". I thought I would start this episode off with a little child friendly violence. Aren't they great? The Happy Tree Friends? Well aren't they? They're like a cuter, cuddlier version of the Disnesy's "Bambi" only they're psychotic, cumsey, stupid, mentally ill, tramua stricken, psychopathic, and incredibly unlucky versions, but look a likes nevertheless. Just watch this.

I mean come on? You can't beat this shit, short of the orginal Warner Brothers Cartoons!

It's wonderful. Sure it's like 20 minutes long. Sure it's mindless, crude, vulgar, gory, and childish, but it's damn funny. It's a distraction from the truggury of the real world, and hey, if you watch it enough you'll probably go insane. On that note here's some more!

I know it's not close to Halloween, but come on, this is great! It's like "The Evil Dead" trilogy, "Night Of The Living Dead", "Halloween", and all the other generic copycat horror films that followed. It's it great how the two zombie cuddle bunnies shared a romanitic "Lady And The Tramp" moment with the brains. I guess love never dies, huh?

The last one, though you may have seen it before, quiet interesting. Kinda makes a statement about P.T.S.D. Something that many people who go through trauma suffer from. P.T.S.D., just in case anybody was wondering, stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I won't go into detail, but will simply put it that once having suffered a trauma, a trigger can cause psychological effects such as psychosis. That little snuggly, happy, giggly, sprinkles and sunshine, and farts, hears one  sound that reminds him of war, and he turns an innocent game of hide and seek into a bloody war of attritision. He turned into a humorous Mickey Knox with a Mickey Mouse underbelly only with out the whole anti-semetism, and ethnic cleansing of the small world ride.  

And now it's time for the coup de gra! Enjoy!

Mimes! Yes, mimes. Those annoying performance art school drop outs who decide to harass you while out at the park pretending that their trapped in an invisible box,or pulling an invisible rope, or even worse they try to insinuate something sexual about your date, thinking that their creative ways of doing so will somehow be cute, and they'll get a buck. Those bastards. And did this all came from who do think? None other than the French! Damn frog eaters. They think that just because they have a terrible accent, smoke cigarettes, hang out in a cafe', and eat Croissants (which aren't french) that they are so superior. That the fact that they haven't worked, or showered somehow increases their level of commitment to the art world. Bastards. Who liberated you from the Nazis, assholes? We did, but still your better than us. There's a reason why the french are so despised; it's one word. Beret. 

Yeah, that's right a hat. What a wonderful thing thing, that hat. In America, the beret is the symbol (besides the turtle neck), the biggest indication of douchebaginess. Seriously, have you ever meet anyone who wears a beret who isn't a collousal ass! And don't be nice cause the shit is true. The beret is the key piece of material that is needed for the douchebag uniform world round. And it's the beret that mimes wear, so what does that equate to? That mimes are french! Froggy bastards! And by the way mime is one step above those betnick performance artists who incoorperate fecal matter into their acts. 

But honestly that was just a joke. The french are magnificant specimens of humanity. Their beautiful country is an example of  the progress that can be achieved by being euro trash! 

Well that's it, I hope you enjoyed this latest installment. So until next time. This is Lou Ford signing out.

FIN  

Happy 4th Of July!

Well more like happy belated 4th! Isn't it wonderful that it was the birthday of our nation, and yet none of us Americans actually knows anything about our nation. Don't believe me? Everyone knows what it means to be a Benedict Arnold, but ask them if they know who he actually was, and well you get the universal American response, "Duh?" So here's a little something to work with. Enjoy this lesion in American history!

And now some more Patriotic shit:

Look it's The Statue of Liberty's pimp!

But wait there's more:

And to close here is a rant from the one the only, the conscience of the public, the one who speaks the truth, the one, the only Sarah Palin!

HAHAHAHAHA!

Seriously, Sarah Palin? Really? The truth from her? Come on? I'd put more fucking trust in a Ponzi Scheme than in the 9th governor of Alaska. Now don't get me wrong (and I'm joking here) but if Alabama is the asshole of the U.S. than Alaska is the armpit Or maybe it would be best described as the gangrene foot of a diabetic patient. It's cool, forgotten and well ignored until it absolutely has to attended to. I mean sure it's a place where those with checkered past can go to start over, but if you'll go you have suicide, incest, oil spills, mean wildlife, lumber jacks with political positions, alcoholism and drug addiction, and homicidal depression waiting for you. I mean it's a place where the idea of seceding from the U.S. is still a popular idea, and thermals as lingerie is an accepted practice. Nah, I 'd have more faith that a toddler wouldn't hurt himself playing with a bag of razors than Sarah Palin's ability to tell the truth.

I mean look:

Her book is on sale at 50% off as fiction.
The person I'm really going to introduce is Bill Maher. And here is one of his rants:

It's a bit of an older one, but it still applies! So from all of us, well actually just me, at "Dirty Filthy Snuff" here's a belated Happy 4th of July!

FIN

Hello once again. This is another installment of “Dirty Filthy Snuff”. I'll kick it right off with the juicy meat, “What Really Chaffs My Nuts”.

What really chaffs my nuts are those drivers that don’t use their turn signals, and well actually driving in general. I mean honestly what the fuck is the deal with people driving and not using their turn signals? I’m not trying in anyway sound like a damn prudish, stick up my ass prick; well actually I know I am coming off that way. But, we wonder why so many people die in auto wreaks each year than maybe we need to examine our methods of driving. Here’s an example:

Your driving along in your automobile, and to the right of you this humongous SUV (well it’s actually more like a fucking luggary cargo ship) with a blond Barbie soccer mom at the helm whose kids are in the back watching “Sponge Bob while eating organic manderine oranges while Barbie texts one of her tribe about the next Sunday punch social. Then she realizes that she’s in the wrong lane, and she simply barrels her way into your lane nearly causing you to flip your car and explode like all the actions sequences in all B-action films.

It’s those same fucks that can’t wait the two seconds for you to step on the gas when the light turns green. And those are the same assholes that will make you sit at a light because they want to make a turn, but don’t feel like using their own turn signal. Which really makes me wonder why the hell car companies should still make turn signals. The whole point of a turn signal is that it lets people know that you’re making a turn. The signal lights are not cute decorations. But I’ll get back to that point in a moment.

See, a turn is to rotate on an axis, or in laymen terms for the soccer mom and snobs alike, it’s the direction you go when you want to get that low fat mocha latte at starbucks. But either way it’s a change in direction, and so if you’re moving in a vehicle made of metal that weights so many some odd tons that can move at so many some odd feet per second than it would make sense that you might want to use some sort of early warning system to let people know that you’re going for to your java. See then that way you won’t end up running over young Tiffany and her Butter Cup troop. She’s an ambitious little girl whose goals include selling the most cookies, marret badges, and becoming the next mouseteer.

“Mommy, I never got to see Justin Bieber” or “Daddy what happened to my legs?” That would be the heads lines, and all because some fucking douche bag

 in a silver BMW wearing sunglasses was distracted because he was busy bragging to some secretary he corned into getting a drink with him. The same prick who would do something like this:

And don’t let me forget about (and don’t take this the wrong way) Asian drivers. You know those ones who when on a four lane highway, and they decide to use their turn signal the second right before they cross over three lanes to get to their exit.

And another thing, what’s up with elderly drivers? I mean the DMV, which was created by freed slaves to get back at the white man, can give back a license to a man who has been convicted of several DWIs; they’ll give it back to a little old arthritic dementia suffering grandma who can barely see over the steering wheel, but someone who is just trying to renew their license and the prospect of getting a colonospicy with a garden hose and a camcorder is more comforting. A little too harsh? Alright enough of bashing such people as the old who forget their meds, love playing bingo, accuse everyone of stealing from them, drink ensure, and have to be careful not to do anything even scratch an itch to hard for fear of pooping themselves. This clan we call the elderly.

Anyway, moving along, there is something else I’ve noticed, and that is drivers who can’t seem to perform well on the road are from the one and only state of New York. Yes, I said it, New Yorkers, almost all of the most deficient, irresponsible, and ADHD drivers with self entailment issued motorists seem to all relocate to the iconic melting pot of America like refugees only to fuck up the driving experience as a whole. Which then brings us to another aspect of driving? You know what it is? Do ya? Come take a guess. It’s one of the great ironies of our modern world. Come on guess.

You figure it out? It’s road rage.

 How’s it ironic? Well, one of the things of modern conveniences which were meant to make our lives less stressful is one of the biggest catalysts of chaos in society. Hence, road rage (aka asphalt ape shit). What would that stressed be due to? Let’s think about that for a second, but while we do let’s take a short intermission, and when we come back you’ll met a little girl who can touch her nose with her tongue.

Hi, welcome back. I was going to introduce you to a little girl from Ohio who could touch her nose with her tongue, but well Tiffany (the little girl) was walking across the street with her butter cup troop, asking her troop leader what prize was won for selling the most cookies, and the new outfit her mommy bought for her Malibu Barbie when an SUV  came careening around the corner and through the cross walk hitting the poor child, smashing into  her at a fairly elevated rate of speed crushing her ribs  causing a punctured lung resulting into internal bleeding as the cute little girl’s screams of terror were silenced by the sharp fragments of her ribs disrupted her. Being thrown from the impact, Tiffany was ejected several feet in the air, her legs broken, neck snapped, turning her from the adorable little girl she was into a bloody, splattered rag doll that no one would ever recognize. And as she died on the hot pavement, her troop leader cradling her head, the young girl hummed a song from Disney’s “The Little Mermaid” before succumbing to internal bleeding.  

It had turned from this:

:

Into this (just imagine that it’s a girl scout and not a little boy):

So, what have we learned? What is the lesion? I’m not sure there is, it’s obvious that there might need to be some tighter regulations on who is allowed to drive. I mean if a decaffe non fat green tea latté with two Splenda drinking WASP whose idea of being on a budget is using her gold card rather than the platinum, and believes that the best way to afford her ability to multitask, and protect her and her two and half children (two and a half?) is by driving the civilian version of an armored personnel carrier so that she can rush home to fuck the pool boy is the poster child of the American motorist then we are fucked. I mean like MS fucked, roach motel "they check in but they don't check out", former child actor, one hit wonder fucked. And all that is due to people not using their turn signals. That’s what really chaffs my nuts.  

AND now here are some more clips of bad driving. Enjoy!

FIN

Hello and welcome to yet another "Dirty Filthy Snuff", I'm Lou Ford. Let me start off by saying that while I'm working on a good "What really chaffs my nuts", but it's not ready so I'm trying something new. This is what I call the I don't give a fuck entry. Now understand that I didn't do this because I don't care, but I just thought that I'd try something that is nonsensical. So with further a due let us beginning.

\

Sure things may seem bad. I mean I got Hep C. But on the bright side of it, due to the psychological effect of the liver medication, Interferon, I could got into a psychotic rage and massacre my whole family, and then draw eyes on my penis and talk to it like it was a real person. Then I won't get convicted of murder; instead I'll just be thrown into a mental hospital where I'll be come a walking lobotomy, drooling on myself and crapping my pants. Hell, I'll be skipping over those hard mid years and be going right to the nursing home phrase where the only thing I'll have to worry about is to clean my dentures and drink my insure and spend the rest of my days accusing the nursing staff of stealing from me. That's the bright side right?

Now wouldn't it be interesting if there really were drive in like this. I mean the ladies could ask for a some spicy sausage, and well the guys we already know what they could ask. This does kinda put a whole new meaning on the idea of "eating out" doesn't it? Kinda funny right. What would be on the menu for a place like this? What? Things like tube steak? Spam? Crab cakes? Furry grapes in a pouch? Meatballs glazed in a special sauce? Peaches? How about hair pie? Think about it? Would you order from that menu? How about this? If you caught some STD you couldn't be blamed for cheating now could you? You could just explain that you ate at this new place "Betty's Buns" or "Cannoli Surprise" or the "Star fish Diner", and that's where you got it. In fact it would work out cause you could sue for personal injury. Oh, yeah check this one out, "Sweet Baby Ray's Barbecue Grill. Anyway, moving along.

Here is some photos taken by an amazing, talented photographer named Jason. Observe. Oh by the way, this is some nudity, so I'm just warning you. 

That's all the anchor I need, haha! I kid.

And now here's something new. It's non-Family Guy, American Dad, or The Cleveland Show cartoon's by the wondrous, stupendous, sexually arousing Seth MacFarland. Well, Let me rephrase: only the first one is a Family Guy Clip. Enjoy, I know I will in more ways than one!

has your pet become sluggish, lethargic, sickly, isolated, dazed, confused, or disorientated. Well, there maybe a solution to that problem, and it's a lot simpler than you think. You ready?! Are you??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Stop giving your fucking dog or cat shotguns from your blunts assholes. Don't pour beer into your cat's water bowl. May be if you stopped locking your fucking animal in the closet and smoking him out then it's possible that he would use the fucking litter box, jackass. Do you think that your dog would actually play fetch, if he wasn't too busy trying to find his barrings? I don't know, just a suggestion. 

Hello, again. Check this out. Exclusive photos of the secrete lives of politician's. Look at this one:

Who would have guessed Condoleezza Rice was such a manly woman, or that Dick Cheney had such a nice rack. And how about Ann Coulter over there with such a nice buff body, or that she is so shy, and modest. 

And look at Mitt Romney! Who knew how how uninhibited and kinky he was. You go with your bad self, Mitt!

Well, that's it, so until next time this is Lou Ford.

Hello, and welcome to another issue of your favorite thing in the world, “Dirty Filthy Snuff”. I’m Lou Ford and I’ll start this issue with the usual “What Really Chaffs My Nuts”.

What really chaffs my nuts are things like this:

Exploiting someone’s death with the purpose of making art.That is what German photographer Thomas Demand did, he recreated as an artist piece of Whitney Houston's last meal as an artical in the New York Times arts section of the April 27, 2012 weekend edition reported. Now I know that someone like Whitney Houston is an icon, and let’s face it as with all icons, they are immortalized. Take for instance James Dean, or Elvis, or Marylyn Monroe. Thought I do have to say I have never heard of an artistic representation of the toilet Elvis died on. Not like this artistic piece of Whitney Houston’s last supper. I mean that is kinda in bad taste. I also know what you’re gonna say, "but artists depicted have Jesus’ last supper many times". And I would answer yes that is true, but also first off we weren’t there to personally witness it; the whole story of Jesus and his death wasn’t necessarily written from a personal account, it is a story that is open to interpretation, and it wasn’t a story that was written, and the paintings weren't created with the explicated purpose of exploiting that man’s death for money, and gossip. Well at least not in the beginning. Let’s be honest, the most corrupt and evil organization next to the DMV is the Catholic Church. I mean electing a former Hitler Youth as the next pope, a boy scout with fucking artillery, really a stellar choice.  And the other thing is that Jesus’ last supper was important, it contained an important part of the plot, and that being that Jesus told his 12 disciples, among other things, that one of them would betray him. It wasn’t the last meal ordered from room service before he drowned in a bath tub due to complications from an addiction to crack cocaine.

I do get that death, as much as we civilized people may not want to admit, is a subject that interests and fascinates us, still there are some things that are just done out of bad taste. Take for instance the car that James Dean had died in. “Little Bastard”; after his death it became a long sought after piece of celebrity memorabilia. Again I get that celebrities are icons, and that is an example of the price of fame, but let’s be real, how would it be taken if an artist did a piece on jonBenet Ramsey’s last supper.

Could you just image, the artist is presenting it, saying “This is the spagettios laced with roofies, and the organic apple slices she ate, before suffering a semen filled death in her basement. Now moving on, the next piece I created is the basement, and the interesting thing I did was I decided to use the icing for cinnamon buns for the semen, and I think with the way that it dried …” That would be controversial and completely disrespectful, but I guess that’s art huh?  

I mean a groquestic painting done by Salvador Dali is considered art, but porn,
 well that is just a cheap excuse to exploit women, not that I’m denying that in some cases but while it may seem that way we all have no problem calling up a stripper for a bachelor/bachelorette party cheering as they dance, but then calling them whores the next morning. See, that’s another thing, we as people desire, and treasure the exotic, the dirty, and kinky as well as the sincere and romantic. If it wasn’t the case then there would no fucking porn industry. If that was the case then there would be no 40 year with too much makeup trying to act like a tween and there’d be no frat boy or out of shake cubical dwelling I.T. guy waking to it. If the need wasn’t there there wouldn’t be legalized brothels in some U.S. states would there? But that’s not what this rant is about. YES! THIS IS A FUCKING RANT!

A RANT! JUST LIKE THIS!

A RANT! THAT’S THE PURPOSE OF THIS BLOG IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T CAUGHT ON! IT's MEANT TO BE FUNNY, NOT OVERTLY OFFENSIVE, HOWEVER IF I HAVE, OR WILL OFFEND ANYONE THEN I AM SORRY.  MOVING ON!

But seriously, what is it that makes something art. Why the hell are some things ok, and other things crossing the line? Why the fuck are slasher flicks where the young teen age girl who is always a blonde, and always in a bra and panties always being butchered by the masked killer an accepted genre, and other things aren’t. Blood and guts is okay even though we all know that the Chester down the block is staying up late jerking off to the carnage, and lets’ be honest we all know it, but we still just accept it. I’m not saying that censorship is the way, but I think we need to get our boundaries straight. Which is more important, the fact that van Gogh was a magnificent painter, or the fact that he was nuttier than a shit house rat and sliced off his ear to give to a woman he was in love with? I mean would Albert Einstein be famous if not for the damn Atomic Bomb? Honestly, we got plenty of death row inmates who have last meals, why don’t we have artistic interpretation of that? Why is it okay for us to be obsessed with serial killers, feel the need to  watch shows like Hoarders or Locked Up, make jokes about rape, the Holocaust, homosexuality, sexy, AIDS, but one thing is said about September 11^th, and you better pump the brakes cause that ain’t funny. Well, that is unless it’s our enemy. Such as this:

       

But before we go further here's a quick comerial break if you will:

This moment of good parenting is brought to you by Herpies simplex A. Because just like children, it's the gift that just keeps on giving, whether you want it or not.

So I guess the real point is what exactly is art, what exactly is too offensive, or inapropreiate to be made into a exhibition to be presented to other's.

Are crime scene photos of grizzly acts really art? 

They got books on it, all about it, crime scene photos. I mean who wants to see what that creepy high school janitor did to the body of his dead mother after he strangled her with the strings of her apron while she was watching reruns of the Donna Reed show. But why is that okay. How about this picture:

Is that picture art, humorous, or distastefully disgusting? I mean there’s a whole story here. These women could the former descendants of Three Mile Island nuclear power plant, the residents who live up by the Indian Point power plant in NY. One day the ladies were working in the cafeteria of the power plants, there’s a melt down and before you know it their clitoris have mutitated into gigantic penis that shame even the largest horse cock. Maybe the mutated clitoris have a mind of their own, and they sing songs like “Baby Got Back” or “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”, or “I Am Woman”. Maybe these are the transgender/transsexual patients in Brazil or Thailand that are trying out their new equipment. Who knows, and that’s part of the beauty in some cases. See, it is true that a picture speaks a thousand worlds, the only problem is dose everybody need to hear those words? Think about it like this, the fucking Nazi proganda poster were in many instances amazingly effective pieces, but do we need a coffee table book about them? How about this, the serial murder John Wayne Gacy

 had done many sketches, paintings, and drawings while he was awaiting execution, after his death his paintings, and other art works were sold at auction.

 The first man to do this was an autograph dealer Steve Koschal. Apparently Steve had commissioned many of those “art pieces” from Gacy himself. The Paintings went for anywhere from $195 to $9500.
 One painting in particular depicted Disney style dwarfs playing baseball against the Chicago Cubs. Steve had gotten many hall of famers to sign the painting under the pretense that they had no idea who the artist was. There are exhibitions that apparently are still going on. While 25 paintings may have burned in 94 by 300 people including the families of Gacy’s victims in Naperville, Illinois. Still, some could say that it is extremely offensive to idolize the art from a murder. Here is a perfect example of that, in 2011 the Art Factory Gallery in Los Vegas had auctioned off one of Gacy’s paintings for 4,500 as well as other paintings, sketches, and audio recordings of Gacy’s to raise funds for several charities. In response to that the National Center for Victims of Crime asked that the gallery not include them in the sales.

So, I’ll ask you again, is that art? Is it okay to praise a sexual murderer for his artist abilities, as well as trying to make a profit? How about being so ballsy as to fucking sell a serial murders art work to raise money for the National Center for Victims of Crime? John Wayne Gacy, the man who enjoyed dressing up as a damn clown and then raping and murdering teen age boys, and yet despite the outrage,
 we still have no problem forgiving a little bit due to his artist ability, but we all have some form of fucking problem with homosexuality, or porn, or vulgar language. I really don’t know what else to say. I know that art takes many forms, from painting to sculptures, to live events, but still I think we got to figure out our boundaries, and fucking decide is it really artwork if it is a recreation of a trouble person’s last meal, or is it really right to decide to have an exhibition of a murders art work for the public to see. If I decide to start slaughtering dogs, to paint beautiful images with their blood; once it gets out that I knocked off Fido for the sake of the art work, would I be fucking forgiven? You tell me?  Oh yeah, by the way, I am not immune to this either.

Until Next Time

Lou Ford

FIN