Archive for Humor


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 4, 2013 by deviant11b

The man lay in the bed he had occupied now for the last 2 years. He pushed the button controlling the morphine drip until it shut off automatically, and laid back letting the numbness wash over his body starting in his chest where it was so desperately needed and moving outwards towards his hands and feet. He looked up at the TV and saw a burning bus play across the screen, he didn’t pay much attention to the news anymore it was all the same these days. He wandered what the point was to living, but only for a brief moment.

He found himself in his old age becoming more reminiscent of the memories he could still hold on to. His son, he could still remember his face, and the faces of his kids. He considered this an accomplishment. His wife too, although she had left him some time ago after he had been ill for a few years. He couldn’t blame her; in fact he had purposely driven a wedge between himself and her. But even though they he hadn’t seen her since his sons last birthday he could still remember how she looked the day they had married. He could still remember one or two of his Army buddies as well, unfortunately he could still remember the memories he had made on the beaches of Normandy and the Ardennes forest. He had been a medic in the war, and of all the memories his disease had taken from him a cruel twist of fate had let him hold on to the faces of many of the men he couldn’t save.

Soon though he wouldn’t care, very soon in fact. He could feel it coming over him. Starting at his feet, which were just seconds ago numb, an eerie coldness crept up his legs until it consumed his body. He could feel his heart slow, and his breathing grow shallow. His eye lids felt heavy and finally he couldn’t keep them open. His hearing was the last to go, but he could hear a tone faintly and the bustling of feet the last thing he heard before he went was a loud.

“Clear.” He yelled as he walked through the bunker door, he stepped over the two dead Germans and looked out over the expansive beach head that was now littered with bodies both dead and dying. He turned around to move to the next bunker but it was just a long trench. He looked back towards the beach but there was now nothing. He walked down the trench now having traded his Army fatigues for a hospital gown. His knees wobbled under the stress of his age and his sight wasn’t what it was just moments before, but he could see a light. He kept walking passing images of his life that ten minutes ago he couldn’t remember. No matter how long he walked he couldn’t reach the light though. He finally stopped and fell to his knees to rest. He could hear a noise behind him, footsteps. He looked back and saw a tall man dressed impeccably from head to toe. More pale than anyone he had ever seen before, even more so than the prisoners he had encountered in those terrible camps his unit had found while moving west across Germany.

“This doesn’t have to be it old friend.” The voice said.

The man looked up at the voice but his face was obscured by shadows.

“This doesn’t have to be it. Until now you’ve done everything right. You’ve served your country, your wife, and your children. But this doesn’t have to be it. I can grant you an extension. Unfortunately only one day but those 24 hours will see you in good health physically and mentally. All those things you can remember now can be remembered in life.”

“What’s the catch?” The man asked.

“Oh you’re not that stupid are you? I’m sure you know. Just when you’re done with your day you come serve me. I require only your hand.”

            The man looked up with a sorrowful look and slowly raised his hand. A hand belonging to the voice met the mans and instantly he was back in his hospital bed, he looked around and decided it had been a dream, but then he started remembering things. Like the woman who was looking through the window at him was his nurse and her name was Sarah, he remembered the things him and Sarah had talked about last week. He remembered what day it was and that Sarah was about to walk in the door and give him his pills. She did just that and smiled before she left the room. He put the pills under his pillow, still unsure of what was going on.

            “What the hell” he said to himself.

            He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sprung to his feet as if he was 21 again. He got down and did a pushup, and then another one, and another. He stopped at 50 only because he didn’t want to waste his time doing pushups. He got up and peeked out the door, it was late and the nurses would assume he had taken the pills and gone to sleep. He wasted no time in getting out of the hospital. He took a right on Dowley Street and kept walking, but he stood out in his hospital gown. He passed a tailor and saw a sharp looking suit in the window. He stopped and admired it for a moment. The voice had told him 24 hours, and even if that was a dream and this was somehow a fluke what would they do? Send him back to the hospital? He decided right then and there to throw a brick threw the window, he snagged not just the suit but the mannequin that was wearing the fine black three piece with the golden tie and matching pocket square. He ran faster than he could remember running in quite some time, he ran until he came upon a dark alley hidden away behind a bar. He ducked into the alley and emerged wearing the suit. He stopped to look at himself in the bars window and decided that he looked good. He saw the people in the bar laughing and drinking and decided to join them.

            He walked in and stepped up to the bar, he was out of place, the dress of the clientele and the look given to him by the bartender told him so.

            “Scotch on ice and a beer, domestic, any will do.” The man said to the bar tender. It was a few seconds before the drinks were in front of him.

            He took a long sip from the scotch and swallowed enjoying the warm feeling that finally settled in his stomach. He took a sip from his beer and enjoyed the equally satisfying yet less harsh feeling that settled on top of the scotch already in his stomach. It didn’t take him long to finish of the drinks and feel a slight buzz. It was then he remembered he had no money. He sat there for a moment staring at the bar tender as he walked over.

            “Uh can I help you sir?” The bartender asked.

            “Where am I?” the man asked acting afraid. “I… I was at my wedding I think, yes, yes I was. Who are you? Billy? You grew up son, so fast.”

            “Sir you’re at a bar you had a drink.” The bartender now looking just as worried as the old man.

            “No I’m not a drinker, 20 years sober now. I have a coin in my pocket here.” The man made a show of searching every pocket he had.

            “You need a cab sir?”

            “My-my wallets gone, where is it?” I think I left it in my car I’ll be right back.

            “Hey man I’m callin a cab for ya.” The bartender called out as the man walked out of the bar.

            The man stepped outside acting as if he was still confused then took off running when he knew he was out of sight. He was laughing now as he was running, he hadn’t had this much fun since him and his friend Walt had gotten into a fist fight with some British soldiers, they too had ran from the MPs having left the Brits with a pair of bloody noses. Walt, yes he remembered him even when his mind was not what it was currently. He lived nearby if he recalled. Yes just a few blocks from here. He remembered the last time he had seen Walt it was after he had been moved to the hospital, Walt’s wife had died and they had been talking about catching up after he got better and was able to leave the hospital. He remembered Walt’s look as he left the hospital room, it was as if the last person he cared for was about to leave him. The man found himself walking until he was outside Walt’s door. He knocked at first than pounded on the door.

            “Walt you old bastard open the door, it’s me.” He stopped knocking when he heard the sound of a shell being racked into the chamber of a shotgun. The door slung open and it was leveled at his chest. Walt looked at him with no sense of surprise crossing his face. The man stood frozen on the step.

            “The fuck are you wearing?” Walt asked finally letting a smirk cross his face.

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” The man said between laughs.

            “Ya I’m sure. Come on in I got some beers in the fridge.” Walt let the man in and had him sit in a chair as he walked to the fridge. “You know what time it is? Man pounds on a door in the middle of the night like you did hes liable to get his head blown clear off.”

            The man picked up the shot gun and racked it back, no shell ejected. “I suppose it would have to be loaded huh?” He said laughing.

            “Ya Mags never did like that thing, she said ‘you can have your gun or your shells but not both.” He said waving his hands around that were now holding bottles of beer. “I guess I just got so used to not having em that I never bought any after she died.” They sat silently sipping on their drinks. Silently mourning Walt’s wife and the best friend of the man’s ex-wife.

            “So I’m guessing the hospital doesn’t know you’re gone?”

            “I’m planning on keeping it that way too” the man said with a smile that bordered on mischievous.

            “Hey you know what, I’ve got glaucoma.” Walt said.

            “Well I’m sorry Walt I had no idea.”

            “No I mean I have glaucoma…” Walt reached into his wallet that was lying on the table and pulled out a piece of paper.

            “Ha Walt you bastard this is a prescription for weed?”

            “Damn straight brother.” Walt got up and walked into his room and reappeared with two joints. The two men sat there in silence until Walt broke it.

            “Thank you.” The man looked at Walt whose eyes were now growing moist.

            “Walt, what?”

            “I never did thank you, for that day.”

            Walt didn’t have to say another word for the man to know what he was talking about. The weed made the recollection even more vivid. It had been a rough night the snow had been falling since the week before and it wasn’t looking like it would let up. The man had been shivering in his foxhole when he heard the first shell fly overhead and land with a deafening impact not 50 feet away. Yells of take cover, and incoming were passed down the line, but the calls were just out of reflex, everyman knew what they had to do. They had to wait, just sit and fucking wait. Calls for a medic rang out. The man sat there he couldn’t go out of his hole until it was over and everyone knew that but it didn’t make it any easier to sit there and wait to die or tend to the dying. Then another call for medic but this one was familiar, the northeastern accent that made medic sound more like madic. The man jumped out of his hole and ran towards the call. His lieutenant yelled at him to get down but he kept moving. He could see Walt lying in the snow, he had been caught in the open and was bleeding from his stomach. Before he could reach him a shell knocked him off his feet. He staggered back up and got to Walt’s side.

            “Hey bud hang in there man I’ll get ya fixed up.” Another explosion rattled the two men as the man threw his body over Walt’s as the debris fell around them. He reached into his bag and pulled a bandage out which he used to cover the wound in Walt’s stomach.

            “Ah fuck this hurts man this fuckin hurts, god dammit.” Walt yelled out more curses but the man couldn’t remember exactly what at the moment. He reached to tear off the bandage but couldn’t grip it. He looked down at his hand and saw for the first time that his left index finger was missing. A piece of shrapnel had ripped it off. He used his teeth instead and then hoisted Walt onto his back and carried him back to his hole. Walt had survived but was sent back to England and would never see the war again.

            “I just wanted to say thank you.” Walt said one more time as the man’s gaze went from the stub on his hand to Walt’s face. “Mag and the years we had we owed them all to you.”

            “Walt come on” The man said tentatively. Walt just took another drink of his beer and nodded. The two men sat there drinking and smoking in silence each remembering what they wished they could forget.

            In the morning the man woke and said his goodbyes to Walt, he never told him the story about the man who offered him 24 hours, but somehow they both knew this would be the last time they would see each other.

            The man stepped out onto the street and walked towards his next destination. He walked slowly taking in the sights. He hadn’t been outside in almost a year now, and this morning was beautiful. He stopped at a park and watched a group of kids playing baseball, he remembered teaching his son how to throw a curve ball. Fingers split just so, two on the seam, and a perfect flick of the wrist. He kept walking until he reached another door, and again knocked. He could hear it being unlocked on the other side.


            “Mike how are you doing?”

            “Dad, what are you doin here?” Mike stuck his head out and looked around. “I mean come in please.” The two men walked to the kitchen the smell of eggs and bacon filled the room. “Karen’s on a business trip out west, Steve’s upstairs getting ready for school. You- you remember-.”

            “Son I woke up today with a clarity I’ve not had in some time, I remember everything. I decided to play hooky from that hospital, the food there is awful.” The man eyed the bacon on the stove as he said this.

            “Ha yea I got some more in the fridge hold on.” As Mike put more bacon on Steve came down the steps.

            “Grandpa!” The boy ran up to the old man and jumped up into his lap. “Are you better now?”

            “I am today. You were a lot shorter last time I saw you. You must have grown what, six feet?” The man said ruffling the boy’s hair as he laughed.

            “How long are you staying for?” the boy asked.

            “Oh only for a couple of hours, I think the hospital will notice I’m gone before too long. Say what do you say you miss school today, at least just for the morning?” The man looked up at his own son as he asked letting a glimmer of youthful hope escape his eyes.

            “Okay but just the morning and don’t tell your mom or she’ll kill all three of us.” Mike said.

            “She’ll do no such thing.” The man said to his grandchild playfully jabbing him on the chin. “Now where’s your mit? I’m going to teach you how to throw a curveball today.”

            “Awesome” the boy yelled as he leapt off the old man’s lap and ran upstairs to retrieve it.

            “You see mom yet?” Mike asked.

            “I’ll see her last”


            “You know before I go back to the hospital.” The man said covering up what he said.

            “You were always a shitty liar dad.”

            “Just let me enjoy this one day of clarity please Mike.”

            “She’s not going to be happy.”

            “That’s why she’s last, you think being bed ridden killed off my brain cells?”

            “No but that weed I can smell on your clothes and the liquor on your breath might have. Speaking of which what are you wearing and since when do you smoke?”

            “Son if you’re ever lucky enough to live twice take advantage of it.” The old man got up from his seat grabbed a piece of bacon and walked out to where his grandson was waiting. “I’ve got three hours to turn my grandson into the next CY Young, and I intend on not wasting a minute of it.” Mike watched from the window as the man showed his grandson the same technique he had once been taught.

            The hours came and went and soon the old man said his goodbyes to his son and grandson.

            “Tell Karen when she comes back I’m sorry I missed her, take care son and take care of your boy there. I love you both.” Something about his goodbye made Mike uneasy.

            “Dad,” Mike yelled out running down the stairs catching up to the man at the sidewalk. “Dad Karen’s pregnant again it’s gonna be a girl, you’ll have a granddaughter dad.”

            The man stopped and looked down at his feet and back up.

            “A granddaughter… Ha a granddaughter. Let her know I love her too.” The man walked away without looking back with a giant smile and a tear on his cheek.

            The man walked around until he found himself in his old neighborhood. He stood in front of his old house and looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. It was just as he remembered it. He waited until he had the courage to make this last stop. He walked to the door and knocked. The door opened and a stranger stood in the door way. A young man with a baby in his arms.

            “Can I help you?” The stranger asked.

            “Uh yes is Susan here?” The man asked worried that he had gotten the wrong house, perhaps it was a dream and he was still losing his mind, standing here in strange clothes at a strange house.

            “No I’m sorry, I think that was the name of the woman who lived here before, we just moved in last month. I’m sorry you need me to call someone for you?”

            The man just shook his head and turned around. He walked at first than ran, he ran and ran. He ran until he found himself at the doors of the church him and Susan had married in. He hesitated before he opened the door. He had never been a religious person and stepping inside a church made him feel odd. He sat down in a pew furthest from the alter, sat down and cried.

            “Sir are you alright?” He turned and saw a young man wearing the collar standing behind him. “Would you like to talk?” He noticed how pale the man was, the dark collar in contrast to his skin that blended with the white surrounding the collar.

            “I’m not that religious I’m sorry.”

            “It’s alright we’re here to help everyone sir.”

            “Everyone except the Jews and the gays, the Methodists and the Arabs, aren’t you a bit young to be a ‘father’ anyway.” The man shot back still upset at the disappearance of Susan. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that.”

            “Ha yes you did, and it’s okay. I understand your distrust. God is difficult to understand.” The man laughed out loud at this.

            “Science is hard to understand, math too. Why I’m alive and some of my friends never made it out of Germany. That’s hard to understand. God would have to be real to be misunderstood.” The father sat there and took the man’s words. “Why my mind was fading and I had to make a deal just for one last day of clarity, that’s fucking hard to understand.”

            “A deal sir?”

            The man hung his head. “I’m afraid I’ve done a bad thing.” The preacher put his hand on the old man’s back and sat next to him as he continued to weep. “The only reason I did it and she’s gone.”

            The two sat there in silence until the preacher spoke. “Go back sir, I’m sure they’re looking for you. Go back and be in peace for your last hours.” The old man just nodded, stood up and left.

            He traced his steps back, back to where he had stashed his gown. He slid it back on after removing the suit. He placed the suit at the door steps of the tailor, he had never stolen in his life, and did not intend to start tonight. He simply considered it borrowing. He walked back to the hospital and stood in front of the doors before walking back in. He climbed the stairs, he didn’t want to use an elevator while he still had the strength. He remembered to make a left turn not a right out of the stairwell to his room. Sarah saw him and ran toward him helping him to his room, asking where he had been. He simply stayed quiet wishing the time would run out on his day, but then he heard her say-

            “Did you hear me? You have a visitor.” He nodded earnestly and brushed her aside as he walked to his room.

            “Susan?” he called out as he stepped inside the room he had been so eager to leave this morning. “Susan?”

            “I’m right here.” He heard the soft voice breaking behind him. He turned and saw her sitting in the chair opposite his bed.

            “Susan baby.” He grabbed her and held her, then held on to her as his knees began to give to old age. She helped him get into bed. “How did you know?”

            “I got a call from Walt, then Mike a few hours later. Mike said he forgot to tell you I had moved.” She said holding his hand.

            “I’ve missed you Susan.” Susan began to speak but the man stopped her. “I’m sorry Susan I thought I was helping you by driving you away.” The man could feel his age catching up quickly now. “I love you Susan.”

            The nurse came in and gave the man some pills. “Susan this is- this is- my nurse.” The man said remembering that he couldn’t remember her name. “I can’t…”

            “Shhhh honey relax. I love you too you know?

            “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you when I was better today.”

            “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’ve always remembered me you just don’t know it. You know I’ve visited you once a week for the last two years, and every time you see me you light up. You’ve never forgotten me.”

            “That’s good-good-that’s good. I tried to see you today but you weren’t home. So I went to the church where we were married. You know how young that damn preacher was.” He said with a quick laugh.

            “Honey you know they tore that church down years ago, it’s a baseball field now.”

            “Yes, yes of course years ago.”

“Now you take your pills and I’ll see you next week.” Susan leaned over and kissed him on the forehead than the lips. He remembered how sweet she tasted. He remembered that for some reason he wouldn’t see her again but he couldn’t remember exactly why.

            He watched her leave, then he remembered he had to take his pills. He took a sip of water and swallowed them, drifting off to sleep.

            He found himself again in the trench facing the light. He started off slowly not wanting to finally reach it. Again he found himself on his knees and again he heard the voice.

            “Turn around.” The voice told him. “Turn around.”

            The man turned around and the face of the voice leaned down until the shadow obscured his face no more. It was the same face that belonged to the preacher in the church.

            “Now follow me.”

            The man nodded, got to his feet, and followed the voice into the light.


Travel Advisory: Dos and Dont’s

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , on October 13, 2011 by deviant11b

We are entering the second largest travel season of the year, we’ve already gone on Spring Break and lowered our inhibitions for a week, so now its time to travel for the sheer pleasure of traveling rather than the strange people who wake up next to you after a night of doing shots and yelling “This is to my dog sparkyyy!!!!”. There are several things you need to remember when traveling and I hope to help everyone out in this post. What to pack, how to pack it, where to go, where not to go, there are several key ingredients to a successful vacay and I know at least 10% of the recipe.

What to pack: Not always as easy as you’d think it is. Take this scenario you live in Alaska, its snowing outside, dark all the time, and the polar bears are trying to break down your door to eat your young. In a panic you through a parka, snow pants, snow shoes, and a shotgun into your carry on luggage. You drive to the airport and pick up your ticket to Florida. “Fuck” you think, “What am I going to do with this parka?”. That’s not the biggest of your worries though, you forget the shotgun in your back pack that was thrown in due to an instinctual urge to protect your Eskimo tykes. You move to the security check point and wait in line until its your turn to be scanned, you toss your baggage onto the x-ray belt and move through the body scanner. The next thing you know your being tackled to the ground and hit with billy clubs as everyone else runs in terror at the sight of a shot-gun. Now if you don’t want that happening to you pay attention to what I’m about to tell you. Pack for where your going, not where your coming from. Pack shorts for Florida, jeans for chicago, and a bikini for Africa. Leave your guns at home, unless your planning on selling drugs on vacation. If that’s the case follow the rules and put them in your checked luggage.

How to pack it: Preferably in a suitcase, but a duffel bag will do in a pinch. Socks and unmentionables go in the top slots of the suit case, slacks on the bottom, and shirts go on top. Sex toys always go in dark non-see through bags, you don’t want a TSA agent holding something up asking “Whose giant 12 inch black dildo is this?” You will turn more red quicker than the tiny rabbit he missed that was in the same bag. Just don’t bring liquids at all, when you get there, buy tiny week-long hygiene supplies, 12 bucks wont kill you.

Dressing for the airport: Theres one rule for each gender. Women dress down, and men dress up. Women should wear sweats at all times in the airport because the one thing on every mans mind while in the air and sipping on their seven dollar beer is how awesome it would be to join the mile high club with the woman sitting next to him on the plane. Sweats will help you ward off those pesky fellas. Men need to dress up so they can claim they are on their way to an important business meeting in France, or Germany, or where ever sounds good at the moment. You will never see your plane neighbor again so lie your ass off about what you do. If you’re a janitor on the way to a different state because you couldn’t quite clean up to Arizona’s standards than tell them your being relocated to headquarters in New York, and that you gave up your first class ticket to a soldier that is flying home. Sure fire approach all the time.

Where to go: Well its cold outside so fly somewhere warm, California and Florida have beaches that are open all year round so go there and act like you’ve never seen the ocean before. Stare in awe at the bronzed beauties littering the beach. Women again wear sweats to the beach, especially if it’s a nude beach. It will tell men your different and that you want no part in their hotel party, which is really them raiding the mini bar and ordering pay-per-view movies from the hotel. Go somewhere where there is a good night life. Austin has a nice nightlife, but when you wake up you have to deal with the fact that you’re in the middle of fucking Texas. Vegas and Miami are good bets. Vegas is always a party, and Miami has the beaches at day and bars/clubs at nights. Guys break out your awesome dance moves, even if you suck at dancing the fact that you don’t care about making an ass out of yourselve will net you more drunk women than the thug standing at the bar with his arms crossed. He may be hard… but you party hard.

Where not to go: Be careful when booking flights to warm climates. Florida is good, Spain is nice, Southern California is beautiful, Iraq is not… If there has been a war in your country of visitation in the last 15 years just say no. Uganda, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and now Libya. These are all horrible choices. You may see nothing but sand when looking at pictures, but that’s because there is nothing but sand there. Also if the camera turned the other way you would see nothing but bodies on the ground and police beating people in handcuffs. Would you travel to South Central LA in the early 90s? If you answered no to that question than stay away from… well the whole middle east. Your visas wont mean shit if someone shoots you.

There you go my travel tips, they should help keep you from being embarrassed or arrested at a security checkpoint, and should keep you out of danger when abroad.

Beer, and Tattoos.

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Writing with tags , , , on September 28, 2011 by deviant11b

So I guess I haven’t written anything in a while. I suppose I could say its because Ive been doing other things but that would be a lie. I certainly have more than enough time to sit down and crank out a thousand words. I guess I could say that since I’m back in the states I just don’t have anything to bitch about any more, but any one that knows me would be able to see right through that one. The reason, I suppose, that I don’t write much now that I’m back is I’m just out of ideas. The first month I had this blog I was writing as often as I could because I couldn’t stop thinking of things to write about. However, now it seems that I couldn’t come up with ideas if my life depended on it. So Ive waited, for weeks. Waiting for an idea to strike me like a blow from Ike Turner. Well today was the day I woke up with a metaphorical black eye… Beer.

If youre reading this than Im sure youve had at least one beer, and Id be willing to bet more than one of you has drank more than enough beer at once to get fairly intoxicated. Thus, Im sure I dont have to tell you each time you get drunk, you behave differently. Not just differently from your sober self, but your saturday night drunken self may act different than your friday night drunken self. In one four day weekend I experienced the full range of emotions when it comes to drinking.

Thurday night-About 11 of us went out to a bar together and took up position in the middle of the floor. This was a good night, and a good place. The music was outstanding and the drinks were cheap. That night it seemed like I was in a sports movie montage, nothing could go wrong, and nothing did. We party rocked because it was indeed in the house that night. Everybody just had a good time.

Friday night- 180 degree turn around. I might never have felt so low in the last 7 months. I was at the stage of inebriation where I decided everyone in the bar wanted to hear about the woes of my life. I basically had a sign on my chest that said if your a female looking for a good time STAY AWAY. This is the drunk I hate the most becuase its just not fun for anybody, and without a doubt you always make your self sound like a jack ass to somebody.

Saturday night-Sober, received a thank you note from my liver.

The other thing Ive been thinking about is what kind of tattoo I’m going to get next. Ive decided its not a matter or if, but rather an issue of when and of what. I don’t know what it is, but I love tattoos, most of them I see are pretty cool, and even the ones I don’t like mean something to the people that mean them. Its gone from belonging solely to war vets, and biker gangs to something that is acceptable across the board. Of course there are groups that get more tattoos than others. Soldiers will always get more tattoos than Sunday School teachers, and the lower backs of 18 year old women asserting their sexual independence will always have more ink than the Sunday edition of the NY Times. The point remains though that more and more people are getting tattoos than ever before. As it becomes  less and less taboo to open up emotionally it also becomes less taboo to wear your feelings on your sleeve… literally. As of right now I have two tattoos one on my left arm, and one of my right. I’m planning on getting a tree on my right arm to go along with the snake holding an apple in his mouth. The piece started with a simple cross, then turned into a cross with a shield, I added the snake about a year and a half ago. It just kind of turned into a garden of Eden thing. Some people ask why I got it, and some of the people I explain it to still don’t get it, but I got it because I wanted it and it has meaning to me. That’s what  love about tattoos the most, people don’t have to understand what it means as long as it means something to the person that had it done.

Books For Bullets, A 23 Year Old Freshman

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, School with tags , , , , , , on August 17, 2011 by deviant11b

        I graduated highschool in 2007, I graduated with a fairly low GPA and without taking the SATs. Why did I do this? Because the Army didn’t care what grades I made, or if I took the SATs. All they cared about was the fact that I graduated, and had a clean criminal record. Almost five years later this is coming back to bite me in the ass. As of today I’m three months away from getting out of the Army and beginning my new life.

      This may sound odd, but I’m more nervous about getting out of the Army than I ever was about joining, or even deploying. I’ll be on my own for real now, with bills I’ll need to pay, and jobs that can actually fire me for whatever reason they want. I’ll have to start watching my mouth lest I bring a harassment suit against me. I’ll have to mature even more, and stop farting whenever I feel like it. Right now short of drinking and driving my decisions don’t really have any real consequences. Yes, the real world is a daunting place to live in, and I can’t help but feel like I’m stuck in the starting block watching the other runners get a couple of laps head start.

     When I begin school this Spring I will be a 23-year-old freshman, now since I’ll be going to a community school for the first semester I wont feel so out-of-place, but when I go to the university I’m planning on going to I’ll feel like an old man. I cant help but feel like I wont be too far off from Luke Wilson in Old School living by a college partaking in its pleasures as an old man. Now if I happen to fall into bed with Elisha Cuthbert I wont ever complain again, but since that’s about as likely to happen as Israel and Pakistan giving each other a slap and tickle, I shall continue to gripe.

      Its been four years since I last used my brain for anything other than figuring out if I had enough in my bank account for a case of beer. Sine and cosine are something used for signatures and joint business ventures to me. Obtuse simply describes a leadership style, while acute is the type of anxiety I get when thinking of school, rather than describing triangles. I consider alge-bra to be just another of Victorias Secrets(how lame was that?) All the young whiper snappers I’ll be going to school with are fresh off 12 years of continuous schooling. There is an upside though, I’ll have a leg up on them on everything other than academics. I can buy beer. I have many more life experiences. My maturity level is higher than most people my age, although my sense of humor would beg otherwise. I can talk to women rather than stare at their chest, knowing that eye contact leads to skin contact later. unfortunately no schools in America have classes that grade on any of my advantages. I’ll have to relearn most of the things I never learned in the first place. Tests now will be more complicated than running for two miles or shooting off 40 rounds of 5.56. Now I’m sure I’ll succeed, if for nothing else then to never have to join the Army again, but I’m still incredibly apprehensive.

        Most of the people I graduated with are now finished with college and are off to careers not jobs. Some are doing advanced schooling to become doctors, and lawyers, and such. When it comes time to finally look for a career I’ll be 27 maybe 28 meaning I might be able to retire at 70. That’s assuming I find a job out of the gate, really though I have no idea what Id like to do. Id like to write for a living, but magazines, and newspapers are going the way of Sarah Palin’s career. Id like to have a cool job like a US marshal, or FBI but my experience in the Army has told me nothing is ever as exciting as Hollywood makes it out to be. I might like to teach, but If I come across a student that acts like I did I would be fired for beating up a kid. Id like to play a sport as a job, but I have a whole shit load of work to do for that one. Basically I’m drifting down a creek of feces with no out board motor… or something like that.

       Ahh college kids, while I don’t have a lot of experience with them, I’ve had some. Now most are alright and I’ve gotten along with them well, but others are horrible, nasty creatures that think they know everything. I once sat in on a class where a kid said all infantrymen were stoopid folk, I took offense to that one but behaved myself because I didn’t want to embarrass the girl I was with. When I’m off on my own though I’ll have no second thoughts about embarrassing myself with retaliation. I cant stand some of the kids that go to college. I’m sure you know some of them. They think they need to force their opinions on everyone. They think they are right, and everyone else is wrong. They think the government is out to conquer the world, and therefore all soldiers are evil little minions. I will not do anything to sway their beliefs, instead I will probably just act like an evil minion and give them a wedgie or hang them by their shoes and laugh. In all seriousness though, Im a grown man who has done two deployments, and should someone feel the need to insult me I wont take kindly to it.

     Dating should be fun, I know that it might be OK for Seniors to go out with Freshman, but I might be one of the older people in some classes. Everytime I would look at another Freshman girl Id feel like a guy on to catch a predator, slowly eating his cookies before being tackled and tazed by the local PD.

     When you do one thing for four straight years, you get very comfortable in the pattern you set. In a few short months I’ll have no pattern, and no safety net. I’ll be tossed to the wolves with fresh meat dangling from my appendages. While I am most certainly nervous about getting out and going to college, I am also very excited. I’ll finally get to experience college. The parties, the football games, the endless hitting on women, oh and the whole learning thing will be fun too. I know I’ll do alright though, because I know what its like on the other side. I know what its like to spend years away from family and friends. I know what its like to be 22 and have someone come into your room and tell you it’s not clean enough. I know what its like to sweat my ass off for six hours, only to have to sweat for six more. Most importantly I know that after December, I never want to do those things again. So I know I’ll do alright when it comes time for school.

What To Write When Nothing Seems Right

Posted in Humor, Life, Writing with tags , , on August 16, 2011 by deviant11b

           Just like any good magazine, radio show, or TV show this blog needs people s input to be awesome. Sometimes even a person so smart as myself gets writers block, and has a tough time coming up with ideas for what to write about. If you have an idea you’d like me to tackle with little to no seriousness, but with a great amount of humor and sarcasm let me know. Shoot me an email at, or comment on here and let me know what you’d like to hear about.

Dear Deviant, My Experiment.

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Dating, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , on August 10, 2011 by deviant11b

    I’ve decided to try a little experiment on here. Today I had  hit 500 reads so that means I have a lot of regular readers, or one stalker. Now I believe that some of you may be having some problems in your life, maybe in a relationship, maybe at work, or maybe just want to ask a random question. Serious or not, send your questions to and I will answer them in a series I will call Dear Deviant. All posts will be anonymous or as whatever nickname you choose to give yourself, hopefully this will turn out to be interesting.

Dating Follies Of A Fatter More Nervous Deviant.

Posted in Comedy, Dating, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2011 by deviant11b

     When I was in high school I had a number of things working against me when it came to dating. I was out of shape, which the picture above clearly shows. I was awkward around girls I thought were out of my league, which includes all the girls in the photo, based solely on their beautiful faces. Finally my confidence around the fairer sex was lower than Osama’s rotting body.

            When I joined the Army I shed about 40 pounds which left my body looking like a greek god, which you can clearly see in the picture below.

    But this post isn’t to brag about my new body, rather its to look back on my amazing follies of the past.

    In junior high I had this crush on a girl I had known for a while, I knew she was out of my league, but that never stops crushes. Anyway I thought the way to her heart was to be a fucking white knight with no spine. No favor was too small, if she needed five bucks I probably would have robbed the 7/11 on the corner and given her the $350 and five cartons of smokes I made off with. Needless to say this tactic did not work at all. All of that was also assuming she would have asked me for a favor, but because I spent most of the time staring at her from a far she didn’t approach me for the time of day. Now you might think this would be the end of the story but fast forward ten years to my first time home from the Army. I had a couple of weeks at home before I had to deploy to Iraq, and a buddy of mine was having a party at his apartment. I went to the party, and got severely obliterated. Nature called and I was in a rush to answer, but the bathroom was occupado. Being an inconsiderate prick, and having been in the field for the last month or so I walked outside and began relieving myself on his front lawn. While I’m standing there with my penis in one hand and a beer bottle in the other who should walk up to the door but the girl I had a crush on ten years ago. As I tucked myself back into my pants, I asked her how she was doing. I’ll give her this, she was polite and just smiled rather than run away screaming, or jabbing a sharp object into my eye. I shamelessly walked back into the party, and by the end of the night I was doing push ups with her on my back like a tool.

      At the end of junior high I had landed my first girlfriend, she was hot, really hot. The fact that she was hot is probably what doomed it in the first place. I was so nervous that I would say or do something to fuck it up that I just never said or did anything. I hadn’t blown up like a blimp yet, but that didn’t keep me from being awkward around her. When I was dropped off at her place to watch a movie (yes dropped off I was only 14 at the time so fuck off) I always sat inches away from her, thinking that if I made a move she would freak out. I did not realize that the fact that I made no moves freaked her out even more. The relationship did not last long, but I’m sure you already knew that.

    At the beginning of highschool my waistline expanded, and my jeans lowered a considerable amount. I walked around like a member of G-unit, and talked like one to. In one of my classes I had this pretty good-looking girl who sat in front of me. We started talking one day and she asked if I liked to smoke pot. I took one look at her cleavage and nodded an excited yes, nevermind the fact that I had never smoked it before. She asked if I had any, and I again nodded my head. I told her I had a lot, and when she asked how much I told her I had a pound or so. Now I knew nothing about weed, but when I answered that I had a pound or so, I pretty much told her I was a dealer. We made a plan to hang out later that week. I went around high school asking people if they knew where I could get a pound of weed, and now I understand why I got the looks I got. When we finally did hang out I had some ‘splainin to do. Thankfully she saved me the trouble and walked away from my befuddled ass.

      Mid way through highschool I went on a something called a workcamp, which is usually a church sponsored trip to a downtrodden town. While there you work on people’s homes and help them out. People from all over the place go there, and in my group I had this girl from PA. She probably wore a little too much make-up, but I didn’t care I thought she was hot, er-go I acted like a fool. When she said she wanted to be a model, I sputtered out that she would be a “really really good model”. If she was painting, I was painting. I did everything in my power to ensure that she never talked to me. Later on when I got home I sent her a MySpace request, remember MySpace? Anyway she rejected me, and now I forget her name.

     Finally in my senior year I came into my own. I was still tipping the scales at an outstanding 225 pounds, but I had charisma, which was the only thing that saved my ass. My nerves were calmer, and my words were smoother, my gut may have been bigger, but my tongue was quicker and that enabled me to act with a tad bit more normalcy than I had previously demonstrated.

     Now a days my confidence is at an all time high. Most likely due to my past experiences. I’ve lost those LBs that kept me grounded all those years ago. I can actually talk to women now instead of just staring. Now I’m not saying I’m a stud, but I’m light years ahead of where I used to be, and that’s always a good place to be.