Wednesday, December 31, 2008

It is almost a New Year

It is the end of another year. End. Over. Fineto. I have to say I think this has been a shining year for your old pal Burt. I didn’t have any serious lawsuits to deal with, my portfolio remained strong and I had no serious brushes with any STD’s. All in all, it was a pretty good year.
Around this time of the year many different types of mediums will compile their best-of lists. This is a tremendous idea because who wants to work around the holidays? Not me. These lists are an easy way to get something done around this time with a marginal amount of effort. The problem is that I am even lazier than that. Therefore, I thought I would just share some of my New Year’s resolutions. And yes, I have more than one. I like to challenge myself.

Burt’s Resolutions

Get a little more sensitive about the environment. No more getting high on aerosol.

Try to work on remembering peoples names. I don’t care if you are the president.

Stop being so damned sexy all the time.

Finally write my opus. It’s a porno dealing with the rise and fall of the Ottoman empire set in an alternate universe where everyone has multiple genitals.

Eat more vegetables.

Stop blaming natural disasters on people. You have to admit there are some easy targets out there.

Stop calling people Jerkoff.

I know that list isn’t much to anyone else but it is something I am really want to strive for in 2009. I bet you think you have better resolutions than I do. Well what are they, Jerkoff?

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Cup of Joe

I love coffee. I love it almost as much as I love whiskey. That’s why I really wanted some whiskey in my coffee this morning. That can pose a problem when you have to work. It can also prove to be a problem if you are not allowed to drink when you work. Surprisingly, most places that I work have a policy that restricts this type of behavior. For some reason they don’t want you to operate heavy machinery or interface with customers while under the influence. Does that make any sense?

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

T'was the night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (because mice hate Santa Cats);

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Santa Cat soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of a cat with a bow tie danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap (kerchief = negligee),

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap (Santa Cat does not sleep…EVER),

When out on the lawn there arose such a meow,

I sprang from the bed to see what was this sound,

Away to the window I stumbled quite slow,

Tore open the shutters to see what was below,

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

What that describes I don’t even know,

When, what to my wondering eyes should spat,

But eight tiny reindeer and one Santa Cat,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. (or maybe Dom Deluise)

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now get Santa Cat all the presents in his paws!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

I saw a slight twinkle in Santa Cat’s eye,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and Santa Cat too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing of each little paw and hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Santa Cat came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur (duh), from his head to his paw,

And his bow tie and hat were all that I saw;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his tail,

And he looked like a peddler just opened his pail.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his whiskers how merry!

His cheeks were like regular cats, his nose like a cherry!

His awesome bow tie drawn up in a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he purred like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old cat,

And I laughed when I saw him, because I too am fat;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread (yet);

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his paw aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a meow,

And away they all flew like KAPOW!

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,


Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The Legend of Santa Cat

Santa Cat was born in Santa’s workshop to a three legged cat named Florence. When he came out of the womb it was clear that he was special because his ears had been fused together to look like a little Santa hat. A Christmas miracle some would say. Santa, not one to ignore a sign, took a keen interest in the tiniest of the litter and like the great George Foreman he named this new child after himself. He also gave him a small little Santa cap of his own to cover his ears and a green bow tie made from elf clothes. It made him look really cute, nay adorable. Over time Santa Cat became the favorite of all of Santa’s cats and he was the only one ever allowed to ride with Santa in the sleigh. This pissed off the reindeer for some time. Especially Prancer, but he was kind of a jerk off anyways. Over time he made the reindeer see how valuable he was. For like Rudolph, Santa Cat proved extremely valuable in helping Santa deliver presents to all the boys and girls. If Santa was tired from all the cookies and milk Santa Cat would take over the deliveries. Another thing to note is that Santa Cat gains magical powers from drinking the tears of naughty children who Santa gives coal to. It is the secret to his everlasting life.

So kids, when you get tucked into bed at the end of the night make sure you keep those ears open. If you are lucky you may just hear Santa Cat purring as he helps Santa deliver your presents. If you aren’t lucky, you more than likely will feel the scratch of his tongue as he licks away the tears from your face because you just got a sack of coal.

Monday, December 22, 2008

The IM discussion

The weekend I had the pleasure of hanging with Ronnie the Greek and the Great Russini. As we were discussing the variety of things that keeps us distracted from our real jobs the subject of instant message conversations came up. The Great Russini likened instant messaging with RTG to having sex with a fat woman. Essentially, he made the connection that when you do something like that you may think it is a good idea, but then you look back and realize you just wasted a good amount of time that you will never get back. Basically, having an IM conversation with these two guys is like having sex with a fat woman, minus the heavy breathing.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

They won’t make the cake?!?

These two inbred yokels inbred yokels named their child Adolf Hitler Campbell. That’s little Adolf in the picture above. They are now upset that a certain bakery will not put his name on his birthday cake. Here are some other things that I imagine also are upsetting these people this week;

Black people

The three R’s: Reading Riting and Rithmotic


Not being able to marry your cousin

Jimmy Johnson winning in NASCAR (faggot Californians)



People who talk all fancy and think they is better cause they are book learned past grade 8

Jewish people

Rubix cubes

The Trans-Ams transmission

Indoor bathrooms

I think that they just need to take a little time and work on their anger management. Maybe even a new hobby or meditation could be the trick into leading a healthier happier existence.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Well of course he resisted

The other day my buddy Al Onion missed work to perform his civic duty of trying to avoid jury duty. Luckily, he was able to get out of it. Or was he? It turns out that the case in question was a police brutality incident that involved a 75 year old man. More specifically, it involved a 75 year old man that resisted arrest after his wife called the cops on him because he was watching a porno. The SF Chronicle has the article here . Some of the highlights from the article;

“The unusual case began when Raymond J. Miller, a retired city employee who served as a Municipal Railway superintendent and worked at the port, was sitting in an easy chair in the living room of his home on Texas Street, drinking and watching the movie the night of Jan. 7, 2006, according to witness testimony.”

“Four officers soon arrived at the Millers' home. Raymond Miller, wearing only shorts, continued to watch the movie and ignored the officers as they walked past him and spoke to his wife, who said she feared he would kill her at any time, authorities said.”

“Miller testified that his wife's accusations mystified him. He said he had simply invited her to watch a "sexually explicit" movie, but that "she decided she didn't like it."

"All of a sudden, she decided to call 911," he told the jury. "She had no reason to call police - I told her, 'If you don't want to watch it, it's up to you.' "

So the cops eventually have to subdue this guy with force which resulted in a broken arm. Fuck yeah they had to subdue him with force. This guy is at home trying to get a little wristy and his wife decides to bring the cops in to it. Lady, he asked you if you wanted to watch it with him. What is your problem? If someone is going to try and get in my way when I want to have a nice leisurely jerk they better come with a small army. They better be armed with the most sophisticated weaponry available on the planet to subdue me if I am catching a little time with Rosy Palms and her five sisters. This man should be awarded the full amount that he seeks, a new pair of shorts and an apology from the police department and governor.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

That’s not how you rob a bank

Recently four young women tried to rob a bank using a tongue and cheek instruction manual off of the internet. You can read about these bright young pillars of the community here . Let’s just say that they weren’t that successful. However, it did give me some time to think about robbing banks and what I think makes a successful bank robber. You have to have a gimmick.

I started thinking about was how a gimmick is rarely used these days when one robs a bank. Sure, the movie Point Break inspired a generation of bank robbers into using costumes in order to pull off a heist but I think we have seen the creativity of that decline in recent time. The most recent person that I can think of that had an interesting calling card was either the guy who dressed up as an old lady or the guy who came to banks in bicycle gear (I think he was called the 10 speed bandit or something stupid like that). All that makes me think that it might be the time for someone with a new and even wackier plan to take this bank robbing business to the next level.

I want to rob banks in gigantic fruit costumes. Think about how sweet that would be. When you come into the bank people probably think that you work for some mattress place or the farmers market and then BAM! You pull out the gun and tell them to hand it all over. Those costumes are so big that you can just dump the money inside. Of course, running is going to be a problem but at that point you will probably have arranged for some sort of ride by now. The best part is that you could use different fruit for every job.

I bet the news would give you some name like the Fruit of the Loom gang or the Fruit Basket Bandit. Of course, sooner or later this is going to end because you get caught, feel you have made enough to justify retirement or you run out of gigantic fruit costumes. Even if you do get caught you could probably write a book about it between random rapings and knife fights. Any other ideas?

Monday, December 15, 2008

Oh soooooo sorry Stephanie

Inevitably in life we all deal with people who don’t associate with us in ways that we would appreciate. I learned long ago that people are going to deal with things differently and that one must remain calm. Take my neighbor Stephanie and her spandex wearing boyfriend that live below me. I don’t know his name but let’s go with douchebag. Anyways, Stephanie and Douchebag live on the floor below me in an apartment complex (my mansion is under renovation right now and I won’t move in until the fountains are finished). About a month ago I invited a couple of gentleman over to watch the Monday night football game at my place. I had been in the apartment for about three weeks and this was the first time that I had guests over to the house. At about seven pm I hear what sounds like some very angry buzzer ringing and door pounding outside my door. When I opened the door this is what I saw;

The conversation we had went like this;

ME: Oh hi, I am sorry are we being loud?


Me: Oh I am so very so….


ME: I’m sorry. Listen my name is Burt and I just moved in here. I am sorry we had to meet on these terms. What’s your name?

Megabitch: STEPHAAAANIE!!! (tapping feet)

ME: Okay Stephanie..well it was nice to meet you and I will make sure to try and keep it down.


Me: Okay Stephanie I will make sure that this doesn’t happen again.

Megabitch: WELL GOOD. (gives some sort of glare and walks back down the stairs)

So megabitch waddles her unhappy ass down stairs and I legitimately feel bad about getting off to such a rough start with my new neighbor. Then after a few more tall cans (Joe Montana’s = 16 oz cans) I started to think about the whole situation and I realized that there is no fucking way I should have apologized. It was 7 o’clock at night. If there was any stomping it wasn’t going to be consistent and she knew there was a football game on. Basically, I have boiled it down to the fact that she thinks she is in charge of how things run in this building and she likes things a certain way. Well Steph, if I can call you Steph, I have a feeling that if you want to come by and try to tell me how it is again it won’t be the same type of cordial situation. So you can take your high and mighty, passive aggressive note writing, spandex wearing emasculated boyfriend having, no fun tight ass attitude and save it for the lady who lives above me playing bongos at 8am in the morning on a Sunday. BIATCH.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Greatest Cube Ever

At one of my various places of employ I sit across from this wondorous workstation. It makes House Party 1 look like House Party 2.

My brother the zoologist

The other day I was sent an email with a picture that informed me of my brother’s current occupation. Yes, I have a brother. His name is Bernard Destruction (we call him Bernie). I am not saying that we aren’t close. We are very close. I just don’t really ask him about his job because I would assume that he is doing something that I wouldn’t want to hear about, like being a stripper or cleaning out the peep booths at adult video stores. Well it turns out that our friend the Real Magician found out that Bernie is working for an aquarium. This is my brother’s response to having his secret occupation revealed;

It was supposed to be a surprise asshole. I feel relieved that my darkest secret is out in the open now. When I say that I have to work on the weekends this is what im doing. It all started when I was listening to a Lynyrd Skynyrd album and drinking some Old Crow. I thought to myself, "I haven’t done anything exciting with my life." At that point I contacted an old friend of mine who specializes in artificial insemination of reptiles. He set me up with an alligator wrestler named John Saint Claire. If you’ve never met John before than let me tell you that you shouldn’t. John has killed over 97 species of animals, some so secret that he cant talk about them. John taught me that gators are sensitive creatures and that they just need compassion and a tender touch....That’s when he fisted the fucking thing and made it tap out. John has taught me so much and that is why I have decided to live on the edge every sat. and fist me some gator. If you guys want to fly down to lawsiana and see me in my prime contact me at or at 1800 428-3478 (Gat Fist). Gators are pussies btw.


I am proud of you no matter what it is you do Bernster. Just remember to never tell me if you start hooking, because hooking takes your soul.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Wednesday sleeps with the fishes

You aren't going find Nemo down there asshole.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Had to post this picture

I performed a google image search for myself to see if anyone had painted an oil painting of me. What I found instead, besides the picture of a jockey riding a dolphin, was this amazing picture. It looks like the Indian version of Burt Reynolds. There is really no point I am trying to make other than to say it arouses me.

I want to be a giant Douche

The best part is that it is not as hard as one would think. Here are a few tips.

1) Switch from deodorant to Musk
2) Only buy Affliction shirts and pre torn jeans
3) Tons of pointy shoes
4) Grow hair then gel it….a lot.
5) Start listening to a lot of Kanye
6) Lease a car way out of my price range
7) Get rid of all casual clothes
8) Fancy gym membership
9) Tribal tattoo or, even better, a barbed wire tribal tattoo
10) Fancy silk underwear

If you have any other tips I would greatly appreciate them.

Thursday, December 04, 2008

No words

My friend Al Onion sent this website over to me. There really is no way to explain it. Do me a favor. Take some time to go through the site and see what you think. The legend of Santa Cat is coming but in the meantime please treat yourself to this site.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

All up in the club

I think that is how you refer to the act of going to a club. This past Friday I was lucky enough to be invited to a party at a club downtown for Skinny Stewart’s birthday bash. I would rather not give you the name of the place but it had two stories and DJ’s on both levels!!! I know, sooooo awesome. So there are a few observations that I think are worth noting because I am not very familiar with clubs and I think that these things could help you understand whether or not you would like to go to them.

This is probably the first thing you are going to notice about the place because you can hear it before you even get inside. If you like your music loud with a lot of base then you will be pleasantly surprised. It takes a while to get used to being deaf but if having conversations in sign language and having your ears bleed is your thing, then by all means check a club out.

I am not going to lie. Your best bet would be to pound a flask of whiskey and then bank on stealing people’s drinks when they aren’t looking, these places are expensive. If you get caught you will get thrown out, and if you don’t get caught you will have free drinks. However, if you really do want to get kicked out try vomiting in a trash can.

Ambiance and D├ęcor
This place looked like something out of that movie with Yennifer Lopez, The Cell. It looked like someone threw old blankets in the ceiling with track lighting. Another nice touch was the very modern furniture although you can’t sit on it unless you are paying for bottle service. I really wanted to sit on one of those circular couches. Frowny face.

Dance floor
Seriously, watch the fuck out. Do not try to cross the dance floor with any type of drink in hand. Dance Floors are like battle fields where full drinks go to die. You will be in a trance from looking at all the funny faces people make when they boogie and then BAM, ass hits your cocktail hand and there goes that mixed drink you worked so hard on stealing is gone forever.

Cool people
There are so many cool people at these places that if you are somewhat of a regular Joe like me you might be ashamed of how awesome these people are. When I walked by those guys with the polo shirts and ties on I knew I had made a mistake. I did not come with my jewelry and toolery in check. Also, I don’t own a pair of pointy dress shoes and the lack of gel in my hair was noticeable. I could feel the burning stares from the cool guys’ eyes.

I don’t know if any of this is helpful. I just thought that I would add a view from my perspective. Which is, if someone invites you to a club the best thing to do is to show up in a tshirt, shorts and flip flops, incredibly drunk with glowsticks in your hands, and no wallet. That way they won’t let you in and you can instead go to the strip club across the street.

Monday, December 01, 2008


Expect to hear a lot from this little guy in the coming weeks.