Drinking Beer Not That Exciting Anymore

The great thing about being a hoarder, and never throwing anything away, is that you are often nostalgically surprised when you pull something out of a box you’ve had stored in the attic for 20-years.

Take this Farfrompüken t-shirt I discovered this morning. This thing brings back memories. Memories such as waking-up under a freeway overpass in a shopping cart and wondering at what point during the previous night I agreed to wearing a “Picasso-deranged” version of clown makeup.

It’s funny how, when you’re in your early twenties, spending two hours in the imported beer section at Cork-n-Bottle was not only acceptable, but crucial!  Every label had to be read in order to guarantee you were getting the most alcohol content possible while still maintaining some sort of traditional, non-threatening ingredients. “Now With Extra Turpentine!” is probably a clue you should try something else.

Once you hit thirty, buying beer is much less exciting — oh, you’ll drink more — but spending more than 10-seconds choosing a beer is pretty much a thing of the past.  I spent most of my life living in the city of beer (well, it used to be, anyway): Cincinnati. If you live here, it’s a written law that you must drink a Cincinnati beer; otherwise, I’m pretty sure it is legal for citizens to dress you up in a Pittsburgh Steelers uniform and let you loose in a frozen, but moderately trafficked, section of the state (Cincinnatians will immediately recognize this as a fate much worse than death). The good news, though,  is that nearly every small town has it’s own brewery, so you can always find something you like.

My favorite personal favorite was Little Kings from the old Shoenling brewery, in those tiny, short green bottles. I’ve had many exciting adventures fueled by Little Kings — sometimes mixing such unrelated themes as lumberjacking and the abuse of fireworks.

By the time you get to be forty-years-old you drink almost the same amount of beer you did in your thirties, but the beer-induced adventures consist of you watching your drunk, thirty-something friends experience their alcohol-fueled adventures. When you’re forty, climbing trees in 10-below zero temperatures doesn’t sound like the greatest idea ever anymore — but, watching your inebriated buddies do it can be very entertaining.

Now that I’m almost fifty, I just don’t get that excited about beer anymore. I might have one or two if I go out to a pizza place or something, and you can’t even get Little Kings here anymore. If I do order a beer it’s usually Dos Equis — not because it tastes the best, but because that’s what the most interesting man in the world prefers. :)

Stay thirsty, my friends…

Little Kings

Little Kings (Photo credit: My Local Watering Hole)

Why Am I Still Single?

People keep asking me why I am still single. After all, I am:

  • A 78% attractive fellow
  • Confident
  • Socially savvy
  • Work consistently to improve myself
  • Highly educated
  • Have a number of beautiful women in my life
  • Safe and trustworthy
  • Usually the center of attention
  • A rescuer of orphaned sheep
  • Mysterious and deep
  • Ambitious and creative
  • Loved by dolphins and various woodland creatures
  • Successful
  • Pee your pants funny (but please don’t. that’s gross)
  • Artistic
  • Romantic
  • Loyal, Compassionate, Optimistic, etc. etc. etc., yada yada yada…

If you have some sort of overwhelming desire to know even more about me, then you really should check out my About Me page, but anyway…

The list goes on and on. Some of you may think I am being cocky right now, and that’s fair, because I often do have a tendency to be cocky, but always in a playful way. I do not take myself that seriously.

This time, however, I am simply stating things as I see them. I have worked hard to be the person I have become, and continue to be every day. I am committed to continually striving to become the absolute best I can be for both myself and for those I love.  So why am I still single?  A friend of mine sent me over an application and one of the questions was as follows:

Fill in the blank: I like a girl that __________

Here was my answer:

I like a girl that knows who she is, knows what she wants, is kind and compassionate but not weak, sassy and intelligent, knows when to say sorry and when to hold her ground, clever and sociable, outgoing with substance, secure with her body and sexuality, graceful and elegant, intuitive and curious, adventurous and dorky, beautiful beyond compare, crazy about me, knows how to please me in bed and always up for trying new things, a world class cuddler, supportive, has her own life and friends, picks up on subtle hints and comes up with great surprises, able to rough it, optimistic and devoid of complaint, flirty and flexible, knows how to prioritize her life, lets go of the past and moves forward, takes time to figure herself out so she stops making the same mistakes over and over, in touch with her emotions but not overly emotional, creative, able to agree to disagree and acknowledge both sides of an argument, takes naughty pictures and sends them to me when we are apart, generous, fierce, takes care of her body for her and for me, has a strong healthy sex drive, solid in her identity but always open to new ideas to continue growing as a person, makes erotic noises while having sex, has passion in her kisses, finds beauty in her surroundings no matter where she is, loves to travel, spontaneous, able to make her own decisions independently from what her friends and family think, takes risks, and overall is a kick-ass awesome person.

So, as you can see, I am still single because that kind of woman is harder to find than the proverbial needle in the haystack. Perhaps I have already met her, or maybe she is in ….Finland…. and I will meet her on my next voyage around the world? Maybe she is reading this right now?* Who knows?

But I do know that when she does find me, she will appreciate how picky I am, and all the work I’ve done in shaping the perfect man for her.

* If so, stop reading this right now and get over here!


Finland-8 (Photo credit: didkovskaya)

Racist Things For Children

Frito Boy
Hello, boys and girls, and welcome to “Racist Things For Children”, the feature that ventures into the nation’s pop culture past to find things that were made by people who didn’t know any better for people who still don’t know any better.

I don’t know if you’ve heard, kids, but minorities haven’t had it so easy in the pop culture pantheon. Some of our most beloved characters, like Speedy Gonzalez, for instance, are fairly offensive stereotypes of some of our most beloved minorities, like Hispanics. While minorities have been complaining about this the whole time, it wasn’t until relatively recently that people started being more politically correct about that kind of thing.

I’m here to show you what it was/can be like out there. Afterwards, you can pop in your “Crash” DVD and call all your minority friends and tell them how much you liked it to make yourself feel better.

But for now, allow me to introduce you to mi close, personal amigo,

“The Frito Bandito”:

Wanted Frito Bandito

He’s wanted because he’s a bad person. Ok, really look at that. Soak it up in all it’s glory.

Stop. Think for a moment. Where are your fritos? Where are your “cronchy” fritos? Are they in a safe place? Even if they are, there is a Hispanic in a silly hat that is known to be very clever and sneaky to get around whatever hair brained security device you have installed. He is so clever and sneaky, that he manages to leap small country borders in a single bound.


Oh, but don’t take it from me. Let’s let this man get a fair trial, shall we?

Dios mio. I was wrong before. He has TWO GUNS AND HE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FOR YOUR FRITOS.!

What is the Frito Bureau of Investigations doing with all of our tax dollars? I mean, I assume they only have this one criminal to catch, and they can’t still get their act together?!

In reality, this caballero kept up these shenanigans from 1967 to 1971, 4 years from fiesta to siesta. But oh, man, what a ride!

Created by the Foote, Cone and Belding Agency (which currently produces the “Oreo Double Stuff” commercials with the Mannings, Donald Trump, and Darrel Hammond, so the ads they make now are slightly less offensive than ones past), the Bandito commercials were animated by cartoon legend Tex Avery. But since he had to produce it in Mexico, he could not afford a background or color (first part real, second part joke).

If you think he sounds a lot like Speedy Gonzalez, that’s because he does. He was voiced by other animation legend Mel Blanc, the one responsible for voicing Speedy and others like Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Barney Rubble and JUST GO LOOK AT HIS WIKIPEDIA PAGE ALREADY!

Have you ever wondered what the man of a thousand voices looks like?

Mel Blanc Tombstone

Great, cuz now you do, so go tell all your friends.

So the commercials kept going and, naturally, the Hispanics did not care for them. He was eventually toned down by elminating his gold tooth and combing his hair to appease protesters. To make sure children still trusted him, he tried giving them free shit, presumably before murdering them for their corn cheeps:

Honestly, who wouldn’t feel better after accidentally eating a Chris Farley-shaped piece of rubber while trying to enjoy a salty snack:

Frito Bandito eraser

Thank god someone took a picture of that.

So eventually the Frito Bandito (who was a mascot for Fritos, by the way, in case you’re totally lost or something) was retired in 1971. Luckily, he made one giant leap for all minority-kind before his Dia De Los Muertos.

So, to recap, The Frito Bandito:

  • Likes Fritos and will trick/murder you to get to them
  • Can breathe in outer space
  • Has a donkey who can breathe in outer space
  • Has a donkey
  • Can possess your child’s soul

Ok, bye.  In case you’re wondering, btw, I’m pretty sure I’m AGAINST this kind of thing.

Remember the Good Old Days?

I was feeling nostalgic today, waxing philosophical about days gone by.

You see, I was lucky to grow up during that wonderful, magical era that existed once upon a time just after Mary Poppins and just before the plague of political correctness infected our minds and effectively castrated our culture:

It was a great time. The Frito Bandito was still on TV, we could make fun of other races openly, and women knew they still weren’t as good as men.

During those carefree days, one of my all time favorite games was CLUE!

Do you remember this guy, the VICTIM? Mr. Boddy?

It was a frigging awesome game, though. How I enjoyed sitting around the table in my PJ’s, hanging out with the family, killing time playing CLUE. We solved an untold number of incredibly violent crimes that were perpetrated by rich eccentrics, gold-digging sluts or overweight elderly matrons….remember these guys?

Oh, and how I loved and admired the way they bypassed the classier and mostly bloodless methods of murder! No cyanide poison in the grape juice, no strangling with a pair of silk pantyhose, no drownings in the claw-foot bathtub. Oh no, no, noooo….these homicidal maniac childhood heroes of mine knew how to do it right!! They always had the coolest weapons:

Yes, it was the good old days, for sure….Mr. Green in the Library with the lead pipe. Mrs. White in the kitchen with the candlestick. Colonel Mustard in the Ballroom with the revolver. Oh, the unending combinations of senseless mayhem!!

Blood and death every way, in every room and everyone was suspect. Damn, I miss it!

Well…I would except for the fact that my oldest brother was the type who always took games way too seriously and, of course, he usually won. (You probably had one of these in your family, too. I think we all did. Weren’t they just so frigging annoying??!)

It got to the point with my brother where no one would play Monopoly, Battleship or even checkers with him because not only did he usually win, but he was in-your-face-I-am-the-man for hours, and sometimes days, after a victory.

Fuck!!! I hated that.

So… we usually avoided playing most games with him, but he didn’t care as long as we still played CLUE. He REALLY loved CLUE…he’d play 12 or 15 times a day if he could bribe us into playing with him. I made a small fortune off of him from that time period.

It actually funded my fat retirement account!

Yet now that I look back…. I think maybe it was a mistake on my part that I indulged him so often, and maybe he was possibly just a little too much into CLUE. I realized it was a possibility today as I was looking through an old photo album and found this picture of him fingerpainting:

Yep, that’s him.

Scary, huh? I mean, the red flags were all there, but what the hell did we know back then??

My parents thought it was kinda cute when he finger painted that ^^ REDRUM/MURDER saying all over his wall…. with the cat’s blood. They simply patted him on the head, buried the cat and drove him down to the animal shelter to replace it. They were good parents, really, for that era.

Yes, I admit, they were a bit naive but come on, it’s not like we had Oprah or Dr. Phil back then….nor did we know about Jeffrey Dahmer and the whole “if they kill pets at age 8…” thing…

…but hey, despite a rough start…he eventually gave up CLUE and he grew up just fine! (Can’t really say the same for the 97 cats we went through, though.)

Anyhoo..I am proud to say that ever since my father’s unusual disappearance in 1975, he’s never been caught cooking OR selling meth out of my Mom’s basement in all this time! He never even blew up the house and let me tell ya, he had several close calls, but he’s pretty smart and all-in-all I’d say he grew up to be quite a success, really.

He’s even held several low-paying jobs off and on over the last 30+ years, like this one:

Yep, he rocks. A great role model for all of us.

Weeelllll, that is until recently….it’s quite sad actually, none of us could have predicted how far and how fast he would have fallen. I blame myself, really.

Things kinda took a bad turn for him after I sent him this CLUE CD-Rom game for Christmas last year:

I mean, how was I to know that it may have triggered something deep within his troubled psyche??

Who could have guessed that my mild-mannered, rarely seen in the daylight, meth-head brother would emerge through the door of my Mom’s musty basement as this raving lunatic???

OK, just between you and me, even if I did know, I can’t be held responsible for the murderous rampage that he went on following his 3 week CLUE/meth/case of Rockstar binge…..can I?!

I mean, somehow we had to get him out of that basement so we could bring in the exterminators and a cleaning crew….it was a fire hazard and I thought it was the only way.

Just in case, I think I’ll take an early retirement and head to Aruba. I’ll definitely be safe there if they ever want to try to make me an accessory or something…

I’ll keep the same e-mail, so hey, let’s keep in touch, k??

My Real About Me Page…

I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to convince everyone how cool I am?

Every single thing I say or do is for the sole purpose of having a funny or interesting story to tell later (this is why I love it when bad things happen to me). I was supposed to be a world-renowned actor, a post-modernistic artistè and a rock-n-roll guitar god with an endless fountain of beautiful, nubile young groupies salivating at my beck and call, but obviously the Gods screwed up in the creation process somehow. I don’t give a shit if you add me as a friend on social networking sites without sending me a message first, because I crave attention and acceptance so fucking badly.


My real name is Brad,
and I’m an ‘Average Joe’ (sort of).
I’m a risk-taker.
I’m laid back.
I’m bi-polar, but manic-excessive, rarely depressive.
I’m obsessive/compulsive.
I am definitely a bit neurotic.
I’m a movie addict.
I absolutely hate video games.
I’m an ‘apocaloptimist’.
That means I can see our world going to hell,
but I still think everything is going to turn out for the best.
baby oil lube old men dirty wrestling nipple twis – wha- -?!
Dammit! Gawd! This is  not Google Images!
I’m a goofball.
I am very honest (sometimes brutally).
I don’t give a fuck what you think.
I’m currently a plant psychic, but I was a child porn star for 22 years, as well.

I would define myself spiritually as an ‘Eclectic Pagan’, but I’ve learned
not to discuss religious matters with others, thank you very much.
I’m determined.
I’m creative.
I do things my own way.
I have my own style,
but I just can’t afford to dress that way.
I play guitar, but not very well.
I like to give back to society and improve my skills at
the same time by playing for deaf children everywhere.
I’m a constant work in progress.
I’m a sports retard.
I’m a graphic designer.
I’m a writer.
I’m a webmaster.
I’m very computer-savvy, but hardly a geek.
I’m romantic.
I’m 78% sexy and 85% eager.
I’m not a bad guy.
I’m not a good guy.
I’m a deviant.
I’m the real deal.
I’m the BBD.
That means ‘Bigger, Better Deal’, because I knew you
wouldn’t be cool enough to know what that meant. ;)
I’m something unexpected.
Curiousity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.


Learning new things.
Meeting new people.
Hanging with friends.
Tattooed women, especially.
Goth, Pin-up & Suicide Girls.
Magic and magick.
Frisbee golf.
Freshwater fishing.
Camping and hiking.
Cirque du Soleil.
Absinthe (I prefer the Fire ritual, thanks).
Making money from the internet.


Fake people.
Fake things.
Stuck-up people.
People who are obsessed with “looks.”
Shallow people.
People who use me.
(I’ll find out)
Drama starters.
Just drama. Period. Chill out already.
DRAMA = Dumb Retards Asking for More Attention.
To continue…
Things with no eyes.
Dancing (I suck. Badly. So don’t ask).
Singing (Ditto.).
Bigots and other haters.
Thugs and gangsta’s.
Cyberspace sluts.
Crooked politicians.
Things being blown out of proportion.
People who sign up at social networking sites, and then don’t socialize.
People who are famous, yet lack one ounce of real talent.


I do not brag, nor talk about, money. Okay, thanks.
Once I set a goal, I will not stop until I reach it.
I love to have fun and I like to party with friends.
I can get pretty wild at times.
I live in the moment.
I have very deep romantic and intellectual sides.
I love my Fed Ex guy cause he’s a drug dealer
and he doesn’t even know it.
And… he’s always on time.
I love deadlines.
I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.
I want to be filthy rich and live my Golden Years like Hugh Hefner.
I played a major role in the formation of the
internet underground.
I cut my own hair with a Flowbee.
No, that is not me in the picture.
That is Rick Hunter, inventor of the Flowbee.
He is a genius.
No, you cannot borrow mine.
Go buy your own from Rick at The Official Flowbee Website
If we are what we eat, then apparently I’m fast, cheap and easy.
I’m not very good at giving advice, but can I interest you
in a sarcastic comment?
As far I’m concerned, The Pity Train derailed a long time ago
at the corner of Suck It Up & Move On, then crashed hard into
We All Have Problems, before coming to a complete and abrupt
stop at Get The Hell Over It. Ya dig?
I used to think I was indecisive, but now I’m not so sure.
Sorry if I’m not very talkative sometimes.
Also sorry if I get too loud.
I’m very bi-polar, so if I say something rude in the spur of
the moment please don’t get too offended.
My life philosophy is “Yin-Yang”.
It takes a lot to piss me off, but I pity the fool that does.
I don’t see the glass as half empty or half full.
I see exactly what is in the glass, so I guess that makes me a realist.
Some people tell me I have a ‘short temper’,
but I prefer to call it:
‘A swift and assertive reaction to bullshit.’
I also like poetry (especially Rod McKuen), the novels of Hermann Hesse,
long walks in the woods, and poking dead things with sticks.


If I were to flip a coin, what would be my chances of getting head?


Carrying around a gun shaped like a penis.


Someone who will treat me badly and make me feel like shit about myself, preferably someone who won’t call me the next day. Already having a significant other is a big plus. If you fit this description, what are you doing later?


H.R. Giger; Richard Bach; Robert DeNiro; Al Pacino; Hugh Hefner; Amy Lee; Angelina Jolie; Larry Flynt; Ginger Lynn-Allen; Ron Jeremy; Bill Gates; Stephen Hawking; Johnny Depp; Tim Burton; and the beautiful bombshell Kendra Basset (nee Wilkinson).


Ghandi; Mother Theresa; Amy Winhouse (R.I.P.); Salvadore Dali; Leonardo di Vinci; John Lennon; Jesus (of Nazareth fame); Anton Zander LaVey; Aleister Crowley; Buddha; Gerald Gardner; Kurt Vonnegut; Robert Mitchum.


Sherlock Holmes; James Bond; Don Juan (the mystic, not the lover); Lolita (yes, that one) and I always thought that Alice chick from Wonderland was kinda cute, too. Hell, anyone who knows what magic mushrooms are has to be cool.

And last, but certainly not least, I have two sons I am very proud of named Erik and Jevin. I love you, guys. :)


I can’t believe you’re still here! But kudos if you actually read through all this. If so, you know more about me than 99% of the rest of the world, including my own family. :) – Brad a.k.a. BradArmpitt

So me in a nutshell: I like movies, music, computers, playing guitar, and poking dead things with sticks.