What is love?

What is love? What is this longing in our hearts for togetherness? Is it not the sweetest flower? Does not this flower of love have the fragrant aroma of fine, fine diamonds? Does not the wind love the dirt? Is not love not unlike the unlikely not it is unlikened to? Are you with someone tonight? Do not question your love. Take your lover by the hand. Release the power within yourself. Your heard me, release the power. Tame the wild cosmos with a whisper. Conquer heaven with one intimate caress. That's right don't be shy. Whip out everything you got and do it in the butt. By Leon Phelps

Everybody plays the fool

Let’s be friends Wednesday, for serious. I feel really bad about how I have treated you. I am going to try and enjoy your company more and not make so many disparaging remarks. I will also promise to stop that whole jihad that I said I was going to deliver to you.

Love,
Burt

PS Hearts and Hugs

Ya turkey

I just wanted to write a column of thanks to Doctor Steve Brule. His knowledge of medicine and his sophistication are unparalleled. There have been many times where Dr. Steve has taught me to go away from convention to get better results. His segments for living on your lonesome are fantastic, and I never knew that rubbing vinegar on yourself could decrease body odor. Thank you Dr. Steve and I hope to one day share a glass of SWEET BERRY WINE with you.

Open wide you son of a bitch

Roy Scheider has passed away at the age of 75. I got to know Roy when I was working on the set of Jaws. This was early in my career and I was doing some free lance stunt work for a few different studios. After a few days on the set I was elected to be the person who peddled the bike inside the beast known as Jaws. All of those scenes when shark is moving through the water at a tremendous speed is actually me peddling a ten speed at about 70 miles per hour. The hardest part was taking those barrels filled with air under the water with me. Actually, that was the second hardest part. The hardest part was making sure that the machine had enough speed right before Roy shot the compressed air tank inside. I jumped out of the back just in time, and the rest is cinematic history. Even up until recently we would phone one another and laugh about how many times that thing sank with me inside. You will be missed Roy, and you were one hell of a shot. RIP

I stepped in a bear trap last night

I was taking a hike through a mountain range by my house last night and I stepped in a bear trap. I had never had this happen to me before and believe me it really hurts. My first feeling was owwwwww this fucking hurts reeeeeal bad. Then I started to think, “Who the fuck is still using bear traps?” I mean are we still in the olden days. I thought man killed bears with semi-automatic weapons and plastic explosives these days. Well, I guess I was wrong. This bear trap was in good shape and wasn’t rusty at all. I had to chew through my own foot to get out, but I finally made it. I just wanted to write and say to whomever it may concern that I made it out okay, but what about all of the small woodland critters that could step in that trap? It sometimes makes me teary eyed to think of thumper and bambi getting caught in the contraption that took my right foot. I think that whoever set this trap needs to think about that too. I would also like you to pay for my new robotic foot that I am paying for and making myself.

Not impressed

Super Tuesday has come and gone. What have I learned from it? All of the candidates have shitty commercials and I could care less about all of them. Not one person thought it would be a good idea to have a commercial of them in space fighting aliens on a foreign planet? Come on! Whether you like it or not, fighting off hordes of alien invaders is going to be something that this president deals with. Sooner or later we are going to deplete our resources or the aliens are going to do the same with theirs, leading to an inevitable hostile takeover by one over the other. I think that our next President should be aware of this type of problem and face it head on. I also noticed that none of the candidates has “giant laser” listed on their platform. We are going to need this laser. Maybe not now, maybe not five years from now, but by golly we are going to need it.
This laser could allow us the time to properly prepare for the looming invasion. It just bothers me that candidates still ignore the big issues and won’t take a stand for things that we will inevitably deal with. That is why I have decided to once again enter the presidential race as an independent. My platform includes the following;

• Free Healthcare
• Legalize Marijuana
• Giant Laser
• Better spaceships
• More holidays (I have some I made up)
• Free cable TV

I am getting to work on a commercial that can put into perspective the issues that I think so clearly define my first four years in office. Good day my fellow Americans.

Plan: Acquire, then liquidate Yahoo Inc's soul

The associated press has been grossly misinformed regarding a potential Yahoo acquisition. Popular sources have revealed that small internet start up, Microsoft Corp who operates out of a strip mall in northern Washington state, has attempted to purchase the internet giant Yahoo. When, in actuality, I had been negotiating on behalf of the Carmichael Corporation with Yahoo for over a year. I am not a man of convention or common practices - so you can imagine everyone's shock when I addressed the board of directors at Yahoo thusly:

“Gentleman, Yahoo has totally sharted the bed here. Clearly your users are starving for more pornography. There is too much useless content on your website that mires people down in the daily doses of the news, email, movie times, and phone book listings."

When you can walk into the room with stones like that people pay attention, or call security. In this case they paid attention. Now the only thing left to do was cross the t’s and dot the i’s. There was also the matter of money but I hoped we could make the deal without it. The final transaction between Yahoo and the Carmichael Corporation was sealed over a handshake and the ritualistic and brutal sacrifice of the nearest mailroom employee. I ate his heart, literally swallowed it while it was still beating, right there in the board room while the most powerful men in business watched me. Then I grabbed the chairman's tie and wiped some blood from the corner of my mouth and said “we'll be in touch.” Looks like the old rainmaker closed another deal. - DF

Awwwwww Yeah

TGIF! You know what I mean. I think that this monkey above feels the same way. I can't talk to animals but I think that we understand eachother. Kind of a don't mess with my shit I won't mess with your shit type of deal. Anyways, I plan on accomplish some big things on this Glutton Bowl weekend, and I hope your prayers are with me and this monkey who I have affectionately named Prince Bananahead.

Journey to the center of the Earth my ass

My friend Conor sent me this movie poster a week ago and I am still trying to figure it out. Unlike many of you I have actually been to the center of the earth, and it looks nothing like this. Now I understand that Hollywood has to make movies that are interesting and visually appealing, but you don’t have to make it look this stupid. The center of the earth is a lot dirtier than what this poster implies, and it is also hot as fuck down there. It’s the kind of heat that makes you feel like your wearing a wet swimsuit for underwear. What I am trying to say is that going to the center of the earth is not easy. I had to make a large drilling machine out of the remnants of a tank and a 1976 Ford Pinto. What most people ask me about my trip to the center of the earth is, ‘did you go all the way to china?’ Yes I did. It wasn’t my first choice, but I just seemed to end up there. Do you want to know something? People in China are not very happy when an American made earth tunneling Pinto ends up breaching the grounds of Tiananmen Square. Not happy at all.

I have you in my sights

That's right you son of a bitch. For too long you have made my weeks horrible. It was only a matter of time until I had to dispose of you. My hate for you burns with the power of a thousand suns. I would keep your head on a swivel from now on if I were you. That or you just disappear forever. Your call asshole.

I am not buying it Brady

Nice try Thomas. You thought that you could trick me but you forgot that I am smart (insert New England spelling for smart, e.g. smaaat). This past week Tom Brady has been seen in many photos wearing a walking cast and has been absent from team workouts. Meanwhile, Bill Belichick has been noticeably tight lipped about his quarterback’s condition. The sports writing and broadcasting pundits from across America have all weighed in on what they think this means to the Patriots chances and the affect it will have on Brady’s game. Well I would like to weigh in what I think is going on. Nothing is wrong with Tom Brady, nothing at all. He probably doesn’t even have a high ankle sprain, that cast probably has liquor in it. You see Belichick comes from the Bill Parcell’s school of football, and this classic panzer strike move is something we have seen before. A time ago when the Tuna was coaching the Giants he faced a very successful Buffalo Bills team in the Super Bowl. In the weeks leading up to the game he praised the Bills and all the things that they could do as a football team. At the same time he was giving his players time to prepare, and letting LT smoke all the crack he could, while allowing the Bills organization to become full of itself. The Giants came into the game and punched the Bills in the mouth. The game was close but in the end the Giants prevailed. There is a little difference in the type of smoke being used by Belichick, but this is the same kind of situation. He has allowed everyone to focus on Tom Brady and his mystery leg injury while letting the rest of the team focus on the task at hand. I bet the second that Tom walks in the door of his house that boot is off and he is dancing around like Fred Astaire while his girlfriend makes him waffles in the nude. This is one of the most prepared quarterbacks in the game. I don’t think he is going to miss a few practices and lose his hold on the offense. If anyone thinks that Tom Brady is not going to be one hundred percent ready for this game this weekend you might be in for quite a letdown.

Fuck you Applebee's

Applebee’s has gone too far this time. Those assholes sent me a cease a desist order saying that I was no longer welcome in their restaurants. Every single restaurant that they own, even the ones in Mexico. I think that they should have just heard me out instead of getting the law involved. Is it too much for me to ask for my own shrine or wall of fame? I noticed in many of your commercials that you honor the local coach or teacher with a piece of history honoring their legacy and accomplishment. This usually means some sort of crappy picture or memento that symbolizes their contribution to the community. Why then will you not honor your local shark slaying, unicorn enthusiast? I understand that I may have been a little bit short with the staff in the past. That time that I passed out at the bar was an unfortunate event, and that hostess’s ass ran into my hand not the other way around. I guess the straw that broke the camels back though was my request for a shrine. Yes, I went to the bathroom on my table when I was informed of the decision to not put me on the wall of fame and no, I did not mean to make all the other patrons sick. Listen, I am over this whole wall of fame thing. I say let bygones be bygones and allow me to once again frequent your restaurants. I promise that I will never defecate on a table in anger again. Please? I am lost without your appetizer sampler, and Chili’s gives me number 3.

It's all over Tom

I expect that by now most of you have seen the videos of Tom Cruise getting all mushy about being a Scientologist. If you haven’t you’re probably one of those hippie types that doesn’t believe in electricity, have a compost pile in your kitchen, and wash your clothes in a bath tub. Anyways, in the videos Tom explains the differences between scientologists and regular people. I was ashamed to find out that people who aren’t Scientologists don’t have the capacity to do as much. Well guess what Tom? I have a little something to tell you. Your career is over. That’s right pal. A few months from now you are going to be making Time Cop 2 because Van Damme passed on it. Straight to DVD my man.

Carmichael Corporation is coming out of the shadows

Long ago a few business men (not to be named) put together a small company that was to be known and not known, to be here and there at the same time, a shadow company. Carmichael Corporation first started as the world’s foremost supplier and developer of beatdowns in America. Business was good and continues to be good, but with any great company expansion is inevitable. Carmichael has started to put our hands into other types of business, and both profits and beatdowns are skyrocketing. I should know because I have held many titles within the company, and have watched its growth up close. Most recently, I have been named the Executive Vice President of Taking Over. My other titles have included Senior Team Lead of Body Bag Sales, Lead Analyst on Punching Power, and Janitor. Now I am not saying to go out and start purchasing Carmichael stock right now, you can’t. We haven’t gone public and we won’t until the time is right. Rather, I would like to issue a warning that has been approved by the people here at Carmichael;

GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY! WE ARE THE STEALTH BOMBERS OF BEATDOWNS AND BUSINESS DEALS. YOU DON’T WANT TO BE IN OUR WAKE WHEN WE COME THROUGH. OUR ADVICE TO YOU IS DROP ALL OF YOUR HOLDINGS AND SIGN THEM OVER TO US. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN BANKRUPTCY AND PERHAPS EVEN PHYSICAL PAIN, AND BY “PERHAPS” I MEAN “DEFINITELY.”

Sincerely,




Burt Destruction
Executive V.P. of T.0.
http://www.carmichaelcorp.com/_.html

Bobby Fisher also died

But he was an anti-semetic bed wetting chess player. He gets no Burt love.

Wham-O R.I.P.

My friend Chris just passed this sad information on to me. Richard Knerr, a co-founder of the company that turned the Hula Hoop and Frisbee into beloved toys, has died. He also was the reason why we have the slip n slide and super frisbee. This man deserves a moment of science for helping children, hippies, and drunk college students with inventions that have stayed relevant for decades. You sir, are a true American hero.

Bootie Trap Docka Jones

After the rousing success that was last weeks roundhouse discussion, I have decided to raise another intellectual debate. Namely, if you had to use any type of booby trap to protect yourself what would you use and why? I always find myself drawn to the swinging spike log, as evidenced by my crude artistic depiction above. It has worked on many occasions, and it usually makes people shit themselves on impact. Please let me know your opinion below.

I have a plan to stop Britney Spears

This needs to stop. Someone has to put an end to this. People around the world are suffering and the biggest news most often seems to be Britney Spears and her impending mental breakdown/suicide/mountain dew commercial. Obviously, some of you people can’t get enough of her. Want to know something? I have had enough. So you can imagine my glee when I saw on the news that she had been taken from her home by police and placed in a mental hospital for evaluation. Thank god. They are going to have to keep her in there for a while. WRONG. They released her a day or two later and now she is back on the streets causing havoc. It is obvious that she craves attention and will go to any lengths to see that she is noticed. She can break the law and get away with it by paying her way out of it or spinning the truth with press releases. Basically, she can not be stopped, at least not by conventional standards. That is why I would like to apply a new tactic in getting Britney out of the public eye.

Remember that part in Jurassic Park 2 when they come back to the island to hunt and capture the dinosaurs. Well that stuff really happens. I have hunted and trapped many dinosaurs during my day using that type of machinery. I don’t know if it will work, but it is worth a try. I figure we can set a trap in downtown LA for her that she cannot avoid, something along the lines of free French fries or a baby giveaway. Once she has gotten to the target zone we will sound the hunt. She is prone to quick and aggressive movements so we will have to be quick and not make any mistakes. My guess is that she isn’t in the best cardio shape so if we take her car out of the equation and force her to run, the odds would be in our favor. I am pretty sure that we will be able to take her down with a high dosage of horse tranquilizers and a steel net gun. The only problem I see is all the ridiculous paparazzi around her. I figure we can just shoot them or run them over with the trucks, because nobody really cares about those people. They are like hookers. They have no souls. Once we have Britney in custody I would recommend the same Raptor enclosure that they used in the movie. It will be nice for her and us. She gets to eat a live cow everyday and lives in a pretty electric house. We don’t have to watch a self-absorbed, bipolar, attention whore make a fool of herself. Sounds like a win-win to me.

Visited the Snook’s beach house this weekend

I decided to get out of town this past weekend and head to my dear friend Benjamin Snook’s beach house. Bengie and I have been close for quite some time. We both attended Yardale were we had 4.0 grade point averages. It was as joint president of the student body were we became such close chums. After graduation Benjamin went into the world of finance while I moved into a world of adventure and death defiance. Yet, we still managed to keep our friendship by summering each year in Nantucket. So you can imagine my surprise when Benjamin called to invite me to the beach. I thought that he was calling about some IPO’s that we had discussed a few weeks prior. Instead it was an invitation to relax at his beach chalet for a few days. Needless to say I accepted. What a wonderful weekend. We dined on many fancy cheeses such as Kraft single slices and mozzarella sticks. The wine was delicious as well. If you haven’t already, please try Carlo Rossi and his bevy of delicious wines. We sat around the fire while Benjamin’s wife Linda played her harp for us. I barely had to lift a finger due to the Snook’s illegal alien wait staff. I don’t know how they do it, but Linda and Benjamin really have those people trained. I would imagine it is from severe beatings after mistakes have been made, or death threats. Anyhoo, I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier time. The only regret of the weekend is that the shark fishing wasn’t really up to par. Regardless, I would like to thank the Snooks for their generosity and taste for the finer things in life. Bravo!

So Mavericks is this weekend

Easy Warchild, seriously! We have once again come to that time of the year when one of surfings most talked about contests has gotten the green light. A long time ago I wrote about how I had surfed Mavericks before. It is definitely not as easy as it looks. However, I should mention that I surfed it during the fourty year storm and I was riding a taco bell tray. The thing that I don’t get is how surfing has not progressed in a long time. “But Burt,” you ask “aren’t people getting gnarlier all the time?” Of course they are. They are getting way gnarly broski. The thing is I am not talking about bigger waves, longer barrels and tons of fresh nugs. I am talking about competitions and their lack of pushing the limits. They are getting less gnarly, very less gnarly. Therefore, I thought I would put out some new ideas out there to “spice up” the competition;

• Transport Great Whites into the area and chum the surrounding water
• Put mines in the water at different locations
• Everyone has to surf in the nude
• Have people drop nets from helicopters above the waves
• Everyone has to ride Taco Bell trays while eating a 7 layer crunch rap

This is just me workshopping some ideas. I am open to suggestions but they had best be extreme, intense, and of course, gnarly.

Greatest roundhouse ever

I am a huge fan of the roundhouse kick. I have used it so many times in my lifetime that I received a lifetime achievement award from Roundhouse Monthly. My question to you is what is the greatest roundhouse of all time in cinema? For my money, it doesn't get any better than JCVD in bloodsport taking out Chong Lee. Please share your opinions, or don't.

I invented that

I was watching a college football game the other day and something caught my eye, then I got pissed off. It just so happens that the University of Tulsa’s team mascot is the Golden Hurricanes. I for one would like to call shenanigans on that. You see, back in the early seventies I was part of a crowd of people who, how do I say this tastefully? People who enjoyed to attend wild fuck parties where there were no inhibitions and pretty much anything went. This is why I am having a problem with Tulsa’s choice of a mascot. It just so happens that their mascot is a sex move that I patented on one of those fateful evenings long ago. Basically, it involves me in a room with about six girls in a circle around me. I don’t think you need to be Alfred Einstein to figure out what happens next. In case you are that stupid, it involves a lot of body fluids and spinning around in circles. It’s a lot like being in the first few rows of a killer whale show at Sea World.
I don’t have a problem with Tulsa using the name Golden Hurricane. If anything it puts a smile on my face when I am feeling down. I just want people to be aware of the other, and only true meaning, for this term. They can try to make it into some cutesy little mascot that shows up at halftime and shoots t-shirts from an air cannon. Yet, we all know the true version originated in the upstairs den of Dave McClusky’s house in the summer of 73’. I still owe him money for dry cleaning.

Guess who shit the bed?

NBC. I have been reading the periodicals this morning and the resounding review of the new American Gladiators. Basically, everyone thinks it licks balls. Like huge sweaty fly infested donkey balls dipped in bile, and that’s being nice about it. As I have stated before I have a personal problem with the American Gladiator show in general, but I won’t let it interfere with my honest opinion of the show. First thing that needs to be changed are the hosts. The Hulkster and Layla Ali are just not the men for the job. I think you need to bring a silver voiced pimp like Bob Barker out of retirement or just have a announcer over the PA system (like the guy from movie previews that starts every thing with “In a time/ land/ world…”). Next up, they need to have more consequences for when people fail an event. If you lose in joust you fall into water. Oh, how embarrassing! How about filling that water with piranhas and alligators? I am sure as shit you are going to get a lot more effort out of people that way. Essentially, I am saying add something to each event that makes it life threatening. Finally, please stop making the gladiators dance, howl, or all wear mascara. I know that the guys that play the female gladiators have to use it to make them look feminine but I think it is okay if the other guys don’t wear it. It helps me to differentiate. Anyways, all I can say is that I would have been a much better contestant or gladiator had I been given a chance. Although, I would have made a request to wear my old sweatsuit instead of those tight fancy lad outfits.

Murp! Tsk Tsk

You did it again you son of a bitch. That is the last time I let you house sit for me. Who in their right mind would do that on the living room carpet? I don’t care if that is the only way that you can “get off.” I think that it is time you learned some manners my friend. I have worked with you through many tough times in the past, but I think you may have taken it a bit too far this time. I have no idea why you have to involve so many fluids into a sex act, but all I can say is that my carpet looks like an early Pollack right now. The thing is that I like you Murp. You brighten up my day, and your knowledge of the world knows no bounds, but when you bring home three homeless prostitutes and redecorate my carpet, I have to draw the line.

P.S. The cleaning bill is in the mail.

Happy New Year

As we usher in a new year I feel that I have taken enough time to reflect and look back at the year that was 2007. It was a year of ups and downs and I feel like I was able to come out smelling like roses as always. Around this time of year people seem to send it in and compile lists of what they found to be the best and worst that happened. I am no different and my laziness knows no boundaries. So I would like to share my best and worst of 07.

BEST

• Peanut butter
• Boobs
• Big Buck Hunter
• Drinking the souls of the non believers
• AC Slatering
• Jack Daniels
• Time Machines
• Unicorns
• Steak
• Cage fighting
• Golden State Warriors
• Jebus

WORST

• Pirate Ninjas
• Handjobs
• Rehab (it is for quitters)


That’s just a way for me to summarize what I think about this year and what made it so special for me. The only thing that I have to do now is decide on my resolution and right now it is a tie. Should I quit smoking or stop trying to search for the fountain of youth? That question has haunted me for weeks.

I farted and poo went everywhere

I own a few log cabins in different regions of the world. I usually go to these cabins by myself. One reason is that I can really just allow myself to enjoy nature in its most primitive form. Another reason is that I freak the fuck out when I do a lot of peyote and it is best that people aren’t around me. Last night I was enjoying a Elk steak dinner at one of these cabins (I would tell you where if it wasn’t for the Pirate Ninjas) when I felt a little butt bubble brewing down below. As I have already said I was alone. So I executed the half cheek tilt maneuver and let out what I was planning on being an award winning fart. How wrong I was. The second that the fart started to happen I knew I was in trouble. There was an overwhelming feeling that a fart should not feel like that. It felt a lot like something else. It felt like I had shat myself. Low and behold I had guessed correctly. There is an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness when something like that happens to you. Even if the bathroom is five feet from you the irreparable psychological damage has already been done. It made me think a lot about my mortality and getting older. Once I reach the age when it has become a daily occurrence that this could happen to me, I need to pull the plug. I will probably kill myself in some heroic fashion. Perhaps, a Viking funeral while I am still alive. Either that, or I could try to make a better effort to bring an extra pair of undies and stop doing massive amounts of peyote.

Merry Christmas Assholes

There I said it.

I did it again

I just hate it when I do this. I woke up this morning and was in a bit of a hurry to get to the terror dome. So tired in fact, that I had no idea I had put my underwear on backwards. Well, once I got out of my car I was quite positive I did. The first indicator is a general uncomfortable feeling that is on par with a wedgie. The underwear just doesn’t seem to be acting right. The second indicator is the unwelcome draft in the area of your butthole. All of a sudden you feel naked, almost vulnerable. For a man like me to feel vulnerable takes a lot, and having your underoos on backwards does that. I just need to be better equipped at handling this type of matter and I think I have found the answer. From now on I am only going to wear bicycle shorts for underwear. Think about the simplicity of this. Never again will the mistake be made of putting them on the wrong way. The front and the back are the same! I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this earlier. There is going to be a cost involved in purchasing said bike shorts but I think that the results down the road will more than pay for them. I am sure that many of you may laugh at my ingenuity, but who is going to be laughing when I can break into a dead sprint at any time, with little wind resistance? Yeah, that’s right, me. Good luck when the aliens or pirate ninjas invade.

Look whose back

I hate you Wednesday.

Do you ever get the feeling

That there is a merciless band of Pirate Ninjas chasing you, hellbent on destroying the lives of you and your loved ones by any means neccessary, thirsty for blood and willing to sacrafice their lives to take yours. I feel that way all the time.

What do I want

I never know what I want for lunch. I always feel hungry at lunch time but I never really have anything jump out and say “eat me you large female sexual reproductive organ.” I wish food did that, because I would eat that food specifically for its assertiveness. Maybe it’s because I have eaten food that is so exotic everyday normal food seems boring. You try comparing seared griffin meat to a lunchable. There is no comparison. I guess what I am saying is that I would like my own cook. If somebody was making stuff before I had a chance to pick something I am going to eat it. It would also be nice to bring home my kills and have them prepared by a trained professional. I would love to swap recipes for preparing Brontosaurus. Yes, I hunt, kill, and eat dinosaurs. What I really want is to not have to sit here and use up my precious thinking juice (jack daniels) on matters such as this. With my looming presidential campaign and avoiding female rapists daily, I don’t have time for matters such as cooking. Would someone please just help me decide what I want everyday for lunch? I’ll be your best friend.

Read my lips…More new taxes

If I am elected President that is exactly what is going to happen. I know that many people in the past have made that completely unattainable promise to the American public in the hopes of receiving more votes. Well I would like to follow in the footsteps of Abraham Lincoln in that I will not tell a lie, not for the creepy beard part. I don’t think that I have to emulate the man that much. The thing is that I have to be honest, because once I am in office things are going to change drastically. First things first, I am going to bring all the troops home. I will need to bring them home in order to surround the White House and Camp David with enough security during both work and play. Why would I need the entire fighting forces of America to protect me? That’s because I am sure some of my choices will not be taken very well both at home and abroad. I plan on raising the taxes for all Americans in order to fund the remodel of the White House. Let’s face it, it has grown outdated and tacky. I propose a 100 level mega White House with turret guns and a moat filled with great white sharks and porcupines. Nothing says America like animal abuse and guns. The next step is to build a telescope on the moon. Sooner or later Aliens are going to attack us. We need to be able to prepare for an attack in any way that we can, and I think that this telescope idea is a real winner. I bet those aliens think twice about trying to come down and drop a sneak attack on us. Trust me people. Aliens are secretive and shady when it comes to relations with humans. Finally, I am going to change the length of term from 4 years to life, so that I can safely see that all my ideas come to fruition. This will use plenty of taxpayer money for bribes and other types of dealing to make this a reality. Oh yeah, and if we have some time we are going use some of those taxes to help the environment or something like that. Can I let you in on something? That is going to cost money, a whooooole bunch of money.

BURT 08’

This lady owes me money

ohhhhh......MURP!

I am ashamed of you Murp. When somebody says that the cab is out front and "I'll wait for you", it usualy means that you wait. SHAME on you MURP ....SHAME.....what happened? Did you find true love? It pains me that our friendship has gotten to this point. Remeber when you broke up with that whore Wendy? Who was there for you? Me MURP......ME. It's hard for me to get mad at you, because i know that I you know the illegal kung-fu shit that i did back in NAM.....ooooopssss. Anyhoo, just worried about you.

PS Wendy's preggers! ;)

Vote for Burt

After careful thought and consideration I have decided to run for President of the United States. It will be a hard fought campaign that will go to any length to destroy the competition. I will discuss my platform and opponents weaknesses as we head to the election. Please let me know about your concerns and how much money you are willing to pay me to see that those concerns get addressed.

You guys are a bunch of sissies

For those of you who follow sports this is a momentous day. In a few hours the Mitchell report will be delivered. Senator George Mitchell will present his findings on his 2 year investigation of steroid use in Major League Baseball. The part of this report that has received the most attention is that some 50-70 players are to be named as steroid users. Many have speculated as to the type of big names that could be mentioned in this report. You know what I think? That anybody who used steroids is a gigantic vagina.

What ever happened to the days of old? When did we start to eschew the typical training techniques that worked for years? I’ll tell you what happened. People got soft. I remember when people used to chop down trees with their bare hands in order to get a better upper body workout. Did you need some more power and stamina in those legs? Well the old way used to be to strap that tree that you chopped down on to your back and run up a snow covered mountain. Yes, I came up with that well before Stallone used it in Rocky 4. No, I did not have a fake beard or listen to “Hearts on Fire” as I did it. Now all these pro athletes have all these fancy smancy diets that go along with their illegal supplements. When I was younger, my diet before a workout included the following;

A dozen eggs
One raw steak
A pint of Jack Daniels
1 apple

I would take those ingredients and put them into a blender to make a smoothie, but back then we didn’t call them smoothies. We called them death shakes. After that I would actually go out and train. It didn’t really matter what type of exercise was involved. Whether it was deep sea whale hunting, or pulling train cars up a steep hill without the tracks, I was doing work. This is not what I can say for these bums.

This report will have a major effect on the history of these players’ careers, a stain on the statistics and records that have been accomplished over the years. Regular blue collar guys like myself, will have their records taken by cheaters. It is sad to know that many careers will be tarnished over the use of these “wonder drugs.” It is even sadder to imagine the tiny testes of these men, while mine continue to have the problem of dipping into the toilet water when I crap.

Wednesdays are horrible

I don't know what it is about Wednesdays that kills me. I just seem to wake up every Wednesday morning and I want to kill someone. This could also have a lot to do with my rampant thirst for blood. Whatever the case may be I am usually not in the best of moods. Nothing seems to cheer me up. Just last week I thought that maybe a relaxing walk through the back alleys of chinatown to find cock fighting tournaments would make the day a little more bearable. I was sadly mistaken. Just once, I would like to be able to have something fun happen on a Wednesday. Like a hostile takeover by a group of Eastern bloc terrorists at a school for supermodels in the french alps. Only one man would be able to pull off their rescue without leaving one of those commie bastards alive. It would be a lot like Die Hard. Except, there would be a lot more knife fights and a lot less one liners. Yet, it isn't meant to be, because it is Wednesday. The single most life draining day of the week.

Had a nice little Saturday

When I woke up on Saturday I was not feeling good. I am not going to lie. It was one of those mornings when you take loud noises very personal and your mouth feels like an ashtray. I mustered the strength to climb out of my hammock and I headed into the living room. I grabbed one of those large Alhambra bottles from my neighbors garage, because fuck him. I made myself two packets of bacon, a dozen hardboiled eggs, and a pitcher of bloody marys. I sat down to find something worthy of my Saturday morning starter. Did I ever! Inexplicably, both the USA and TNT networks had decided to create heaven on earth for me by running duel Steven Segal movie marathons. This means an entire days worth of action on two different channels. Segal’s body of work is so large that they could have both of these marathons on the same day without repeating one movie…. AMAZING. What this day helped me realize is two things. That Segal is a master of Zen, and that he is incredible at knife fights and breaking limbs. What I noticed about all of the movies I watched during the day is that Steven pays little attention to emotion in his acting. It takes a great performer to remain the same calm, wise, and impassionate character. When he walks into that pool hall to fight fifteen guys does he even bat an eyelid? No, he calmly takes care of all those jerkoffs. Blinking is for the WEAK! The thing you notice about his fight sequences is that he operates at an incredible limb breaking, neck stabbing rate. I am sure that we could get some nerd at MIT to run the figures to determine his neck stab to limb break ratio. Without going into much of a study of my own, I can safely assume that this is an incredibly large figure. Although, I am a huge fan of Mr. Segal I must offer some words of criticism as well. For the love of God Steven, please never run in a movie again. Multiple times during the orgasm that is a Segal marathon the poor choice was made to show him running after a suspect, running away from a bomb, or just running in general. Just stop it. I don’t care what you have to do Stevey. If I have to have another cop revenge movie ruined by you flailing your arms like a drunk peacock while you make that diarrhea face, I will no longer support your films. Basically, if you could make that simple request a reality I will anoint you as the greatest movie star of all time.

Overall Marathon Grade = A-

Points were deducted for Mr. Segal running and using his own band on soundtracks.

Thoughts for the weekend

Well I for one am not sure. I seem to always get this way before the weekend rolls around. It’s not that I don’t have things to do, because I do. The problem is to make the choice and live with it. For instance, last weekend I decided that going down a ski jump on a Segway with a parachute was going to be fun. Turns out that the Segway just doesn’t have enough speed to get down the jump and provide the rider with any type of launch trajectory. I felt bad because I could have gone to an all day bungee jumping competition. I won the contest a few years back and felt like I had stayed away long enough to let some other people win. I thought why not give those wieners another year and try this Segway thing. Boy was I wrong. That’s why this weekend I am going to do something that I know will be an adventure.

I am going to get shit-faced drunk.

As you are reading this, I am having my first drink of the weekend. I like to start with an Irish coffee to get me started. The mix of whiskey and caffeine sends a message to the entire body that today is going to be a test of heroes. I will probably have two of those before I get into my early morning calisthenics (give myself and HJ in the shower / play a perfect game of darts). Next up, I think it will be time to leave the house and head out to greener pastures.

I like to head to a bar where you can spit on the floor and people don’t mind a little foul language at 11 in the morning. I will start with a shot of whiskey and a pint of their strongest ale. If they don’t serve beer I will have two shots of whiskey. After playing pool or getting into a bar fight I think I will head to the local liquor store and pick up some 40oz’s, kool aid, and night train. After I mix up the blood juice I think I will walk to a local park. I like to mix it up with the locals by commentating on their choice of dogs or asking them why they aren’t at work at this time of the day. People always seem to answer that question with the same question, to which I reply “BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAH BLAA BLAHHHHHHHHHH!” Once I have finished my “park” drinks I think it is time to head to the local sports bar.

I don’t care what game is playing. I just want two fingers of whiskey and a six pack of Pabste. Usually, when I watch the games at the bar I find the team that most people are rooting for and root for the other team. This leads to more bar fights or perhaps an intelligent conversation regarding the merits of both teams systems, most of the time it is bar fights. By this time I will have worked up quite an appetite for dinner. Notice how I didn’t eat lunch. If you don’t eat lunch you are going to be a lot drunker by the time dinner rolls around.

I will probably go to a fancy steak house and have a bottle of white before dinner. Before dessert I will have finished my post steak bottle of red, and after dessert I will have a glass of port, or something fancy like that. After all that drinking I think it is safe to say it is time to go to the strip clubs. I like to be extremely drunk and broke by the time I get into the strip club. That way I sober up a bit while these single moms work for my attention. After a few songs it is finally time to head home for the night. If I am lucky I will be taken home by one of the strippers or a limo driver. Its more likely that I will fall asleep in an alley and walk home the next morning. That is just part of the adventure of drinking on the weekend. If I make it out alive I will tell you all about it on Monday.

I think its time for a change

A timeless classic. By now I think it is safe to say that most people have seen some variation of the above photograph. The image of a kitten barely holding on to a string or rope with the encouraging words "Hang in There!" at the bottom. I get it. It's to help those of us who have a tough day at work from time to time. Maybe you are having a down day and need to be cheered up by some small animals plight. The thing that the picture wants you to think is that this cat is gonna be fine, and so are you. All you have to do is "Hang in There!" The cat is going to be fine even if it lets go of that rope. Why you ask? Because cats have nine lives silly. But that is besides the point. What bothers me is that there isn't a poster out there that takes other people into consideration, like myself. I mean, the phrase "Hang in There!" is fine in and of itself. My problem is that the image does not accurately reflect everyones level of stress for when you really need to "Hang in There!" Have you ever been in a 48 hour game of Russian Roulette in the basement of a bar in Bangkok? So high on methanphetamines that you see in hypercolor and have lost all control of your bowels? That is a time when the phrase "Hang in There!" might be a little more appropriate. I sure could have used a more timely poster when I was hunting bigfoot in the high sierras using only a swiss army knife and my bare hands. Therefore, I have decided to make my own version of the poster. I hope that it can provide inspiration for those who have tougher moments when they need to....

Top that geniuses.

Majestical

It's not everyday that you come upon art this beautiful. I was lucky enough to find this work of art on the world wide interweb this morning. I was searching for things to read while I take my first dump of the day, and I was lucky enough to notice this startling peice. As I disposed of the 5 pound t-bone steak I ate for dinner the night before I had ample time to examine the work. The first thing that strikes you is the complex purple hue of the skyline. It is as if the color beckons you to feel the cold of the night, yet at the same time providing you with the warmth of daylight on the horizon. I think that the next thing that I took into account was the fact that the artist chose to leave the moon in a crescent form. This shows me that the artist is contemplative. A person who is not sure whether or not they want the full power of the moonlite on their subject. It also could be that this painting was taking place during an eclipse. That makes sense because unicorns usually only come out of their mountain caves during eclipses or when they must sacrafice humans that have seen them. Anyways, the real focus of the peice is the unicorn itself. Notice the attention to detail on the tail, no wisp of hair was left unnoticed. The precise moment captured in time is the perfect apex of the majestic creature rearing back its head. And what can be said about the artists attention to making sure the homing beacon on the horn was at the perfect glow. Unicorns have those beacons in their horns to locate other unicorns, leprechauns, fairies, and midgets. I must say that I am thoroughly impressed and moved by the power of this painting. If I could offer any criticism I would have given the unicorn a bigger dong, and had fireworks in the sky. That's just me nitpicking though.

What happened to us?

What has become of us? How have we lost sight of what it means to be a real man. A man like myself. Not afraid to mix it up and wrestle anacondas in order to have more sculpted abs. We have a problem in our popular culture. That problem is that it is okay to be a sensitive pussbag like our friend Zach here. A new type of star has emerged in Hollywood and it is a far departure from the days of old.

I remember when I was just getting into the film industry as a personal trainer/stunt coordinator/fight specialist/cateror/hunk. I had been on the set of Sands of Iwo Jima for two weeks with none other than the Duke himself, John Wayne. We hadn't had much conversation over the few weeks I had worked there. When the film was wrapping, the company threw a party at one of local taverns, and I had a chance to meet John. Actually, what happened was that I noticed JW had insulted a few people in the bar and started a fist fight. As the Duke kindly mopped the floor with three of these pieces of cow shit (his words) I noticed someone trying to take a cheap shot with a pool que on the Duke. So I stepped in and hit him with a Burt special. After the hearse came to pick those gentleman up, I had a chance to sit down and talk with JW. We became close friends until his death, but the lessons he taught me have lasted far beyond that time.

Which brings me back to my point. People like olde sissypants up there are disgracing the legend that is JW. Do you think that the Duke would have been some kind of sheepish mooper when the girl he likes is around? No fucking way. JW would have walked right up to that broad and planted one right on her kisser. That also would be a binding contract of marriage as well, so that lucky lady would now be the Duke's wife. Would the Duke make a movie about how he is depressed and that the relationship with his father is desolving in an intense character study? Are you fucking kidding me? Of course not. He would have replaced Natalie Portman with Japanese gorilla fighting forces and he would have killed his parents in the first ten minutes. He also would have surrounded himself with a top flight military team to help take care of the rest of those exstacy eating butthounds. Finally, do you think that John would have even wanted to hang out with Mr. Braff? Maybe .....when hell freezes over and my dick jumps off my body and runs into an enchanted forest in my back yard. So no...he wouldn't. Even if they did, what would they do? I am sure that Zach would be asleep by the time JW was receiving his tenth finger of whisky and second raw porterhouse steak.

Basically, what I am saying is that the leading man of today has lost a step. I am sick of this sensitive stuff. It is beginning to overflow into all forms of pop culture and I for one am not having it. And a quick note to Zach; I am gonna find you one of these days , and it isn't going to be for a cup of tea.

It's Monday and I want to party

I hate Mondays. So sometimes I like to think about the next great party I will be having. What am I thinking right now? Well, first things first. We have to buy a yacht. I am talking about a yacht that is the size of one of those shiek's from Dubai. I want the yacht to be so big that there are three helipads on it. I want it to also have an indoor pool just in case the weather isn’t too nice on our way to the Bahamas. It will be filled with only three things; Cold beer, Jack Daniels, and fireworks. The ship will be manned by the Hawaiian tropic bikini team and the on ship chef will be decided by an iron chef type contest. The contest will be to the death, and we will throw the losers overboard. The winner gets to cook whatever they would like, and they get to live.

The theme for this party definitely has to be nautical. I would welcome people to try and find the finest blazers and cocktail dresses for this occasion. One thing though…Nobody gets to wear the captains hat. Only I am allowed to do this, and I think that is pretty fair considering that I put this whole thing together. I would advise that people try to wear darker colors because sea sickness can really stain.

Once on board, I will have a brief introduction to the crew and how the day will work. Everyone will be placed into groups and sent below deck. In the many staterooms below will be a series of different rooms. Each room will have an assortment of drinking games or physical/ mental challenges for the guests to participate in. This may seem a bit standard in that people always play drinking games at parties. Well, that is not the case here. I will be having my big breasted crew monitoring the successes and failures of each person in every room. Why all the monitoring? That’s because the guests score will reflect directly on their assignment for the ship. Think of it as the asshole higherarchy system. You want to be first mate so that you can tell all the assholes in the Galley what to do. Anyways, this leads to more drinking as we head to the culmination of the festivities.

As the yacht gets into the Bahamas we will enjoy a meal prepared by the last living chef. One last meal for everyone to enjoy on the boat, before stepping on land. I will probably spring for some fire dancers or something to keep my guests busy as I wait to spring the last twist of this party on them. As dinner is coming to a close I would like to walk to the middle of the dining room and politely clink my glass to start a toast. I will say some nice things about the day and how I enjoyed the company of everyone on the ship ….blah blah blah. At this point I would have my lovely crew bring out life jackets for everyone. Why the life jackets? Everyone will ask.

“The life jackets are here for the final event of the evening. You see my fellow guests I have grown tired of my mega yacht and the pains of its upkeep. I have planted charges on the bottom of the boat and have set them to expire five minutes from when I hit this button.” (Take out device and press button) “Now I know that there aren’t to many life boats but at least the water is warm. I think we are only about a mile from the shore, and there are plenty of life vests for all. So I thank you for your attendance at this party and I wish you luck on making it to shore. GOOD NIGHT”

Now I am sure that some of my drunken guest will think that I am bluffing. But I think it will be pretty obvious that I am not, when immediately after giving my speech I head to one of the helipads with my most big breasted…errrr…trusted employee. As the chopper takes off I am sure that people will try to make an effort to head for shore. As well they should. I would make sure that the blast was not two intense that the explosions will harm anyone. Just enough for the people who still thought I was joking realized that in fact, I was not. As for myself, I plan to sit on the beach at a large bonfire and have coolers of champagne for people as they make their way from the charred remains of my once glorious yacht. I am sure there will be some hard feelings, but isn’t facing challenges what life is made of.

1938 - 2007

Rest in Peace.

That is it!

If you have not heard about it already American Gladiators will be returning to television during the summer of 2008. I for one am extremely pissed off. You may think that this was a show that was meant for a man of my talents. A swashbuckling sex god from outer space would seem to love a show like this. Perhaps even want to make sweet love to it if the opportunity presented itself. Yet, I have been slighted by the people who produce this show not once, but twice. The story is a heartbreaking tale of a dream snatched from my very hands.

It all started in the late 80's. I had just finished winning my third consecutive Iron Man competition in Hawaii. I challenged myself the third year by wearing leg and arm weights the entire time. I still found the strength to win, but that is beside the point. The point is, that as I was having my celebratory Mai Tai, I noticed that the television was broadcasting a sport I had seen before. Many years before I had been trapped in Canada by a group of wealthy landowners who made their prisoners fight in matches that are similar to what I was now watching on TV. The only exception was that these games were not till death, and the "gladiators" all had tans and long hair. In the Canadian prisons you couldn't grow hair because of the lice, and its hard to get a tan when you are allowed one hour a week out in the snow. Once again, I am getting off the subject. From the little I caught of the show I knew that this could be a viable profession for myself. So, I dusted off my resume and I sent it in to their offices.

Well it didn't take long for me to get word from the show. Turns out that it is the same Canadian bastards that are running this show. I guess they realized that they could make a lot more if the "gladiators" weren't DYING. Anyhoo, they get back to me and explain that due to my past record up in Canada I was not deemed a good fit for this show. I asked them if I could be a contestant instead and once again I was denied. They explained that my brutality and thirst for blood were just a little to much for the networks to handle. I thanked them for the consideration and asked that they keep me in mind for future hirings. A few years later the show was cancelled, ending my chance once and for all. Or so I thought.

Now I hear that they have a new version and have I heard anything from these assholes? Nope! They don't even call to ask me to do a screen test. I think that it is based on one of three things;

• My forementioned brutality and lust for blood.
• My incredible sex appeal and chisled pecs.
• And most likely, the fact that I would not change my name from Burt into something really stupid, like blazer.

So now I have come to a realization. FUCK YOU AMERICAN GLADIATORS!!! Fuck you in your stupid faces. Let me just say that without my help this show is gonna go the way of the Dodo bird. Burn in hell you goddamned Canucks. You couldn't even let me host?

Burt get frustrated

From time to time I like to challenge myself. I don't think that I would have been the first man to hanglide in space if that wasn't the case. A rite of passage that I like to participate in daily is to use mass transit rather than one of my many expensive and fancy vehicles. I like to take in the sites and sounds. On the bus I think that you really learn to keep your head on a swivel, great for the reflexes. In the course of the bus ride there are many things that one may deal with. I have been shocked by many things that happen on the bus. There is the schitzofrenic gentleman that is always in a canadian tuxedo. He kindly reminds me of where things are in the city...at least I think he is talking to me. When we go through china town it is not surprising to see an old person shoving match to get in position for the bus. And how could I forget the lovely homeless lady who shat herself right before she exited the bus, leaving an aroma to ponder as it headed downtown. I have learned to deal with these things. Yes, I have even learn to deal with Old Lady Shitpants. However, there is one thing that I cannot take.

People on their goddamed cell phones!

More and more, I have come to realize that these assholes could give a shit where they are on their cell phones. Now I wouldn't mind if these stories were half way interesting, like the time I saved five polar bears from global warming. The problem is that they never are. I have listened to a grown man have a debate on his cell phone about the most choice rides at disneyland, a young girl break-up, make-up, and break-up with her boyfriend all on one ride, and I have listened to some lady try to find her stolen car from the methhead that she "trusted" with it. Guess what? I don't give a fuck why you are on the phone. I think that we can all try to find another time to make those calls. So please, if you are gonna talk about lame stuff keep it to yourself, but if you are going to talk it better be some interesting shit. Like the time that you held your breath under water for a whole day just to prove a point to those stupid fucking dolphins. Wait...that was me.

God Dammit!

It takes a lot to change me from my normal Zen-Like state into a raging monster, but thankfully Dancing with the (Washed up nobodies) Stars has rekindled that flame. Get used to it my fellow adventurers because this is the shit that TV has become. How many fucking rumbas am I going to have to see before things get violent? And why the fuck are British people the authority on who can do all these fruity things like dancing and singing the best? Don't get me wrong. I was salsa dance champion three years running when I was back in the service. Problem was that these contests were in a prison camp, and if you missed a step they killed you. If we could make this show just like POW camp, I would watch every week. I guarantee you that Marie Osmond would have gotten it ear to ear for falling on her chunky ass. There would be no judges. Just an electric floor monitor that would judge each crucial step. All I am trying to say is think about it. With this strike in place we are going to have to get much more creative with our reality programming. I am not asking for networks to go Running Man all over us right away, but at least make sure there are consequences for these no talent ass clowns signing on to do these shows. Therefore, I am making a commitment to the networks that I will gladly cross the picket line in order to provide people with what I want. Think about it. I am open to ideas.

Real know Real

As the great poet Floydd Meriwhether Junior said "Real know Real." He was talking about his relationship with his close friend Curtis Jackson. I believe what he was trying to say is that both he and Fiddy are the best at what they do. Perhaps, making them the realest? In that vain, I would like to say that I feel the same way towards Steven Jackson. I feel that we know eachother, even though we have never met. Friends, yet we haven't even enjoyed a scotch together. It is because Mr. Jackson and myself share a common bond of greatness. When he is bringing down rebounds, I take down grizzly bears. He can shoot the three with ease, while I can surf 100 foot waves on Taco Bell trays. Quite simply, we are both the best at what we do. Although, I must say that the death glare Steven uses on refs and opposing players alike was taken from a self portrait that I carved into the side of a mountain. But I digress. Congratulations Steven on being so real, Real know Real.

I cook my turkey in SPACE...

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and you know what that means.....alcohol fueled comas. That, and for many, a turkey.... or if you really have some stones, some of you assholes are going to buy a Turducken and let the rest of us wallow in self pity. My focus is on the preparation of that delicious bird, not whether or not there are more birds stuffed in it. Many of you will fall into the same pathetic groups that we see year in year out, while I have found the new and only way to do it. Do you like to cook the Turkey in the oven and let it bake for a few hours? Please don't bore me with your hopelessness. Why don't you just get an easy bake oven and make dessert for us in that afterwards? Do you think that deep frying is the way to go? Wrong! Although this option takes a bit more skill and affinity for grease burns, you are mistaken. Are you a vegitarian? STOP reading this right now. There is only one true way to cook a turkey....

IN SPACE!!!

Every year I do two things during the summer. I get a list of all the people that are coming over for dinner on thanksgiving. This is in order to allocate the appropriate amount of meat for each guest. If Chuck Norris is coming, I add another turkey. Once I have the weight down I begin step two, building the turkey shuttle. I have a blueprint for the shuttle that I can adjust depending on how many turkeys are to be stacked in it. The hardest part is making the fuel for the shuttle. Without giving away too many trade secrets I can say the fuel is a mixture of bathtub gin, yaegermeister, and peach schnapps. Coincidentally, that is the same thing I drink before I head out for more drinks. Anyways, the shuttle gets launched from my backyard on the fourth of July. I find that people are far to intoxicated or distracted by fireworks to notice the shuttle leave our atmosphere, or the brush fires it creates. As my homemade shuttle rips through space towards the Sun I focus on other matters through the months. Mostly push-ups and counting my enormous amounts of money. The shuttle goes all the way to the Sun, and just before it makes impact I turn it around using the RC remote attached to it. I find that turning the shuttle around at the Sun cooks the turkey best. As the turkey heads back to earth it cools to a manageable heat and forms a deliciously golden skin. Space skin. The touchdown date is on the day before Thanksgiving to allow for prep time. Which reminds me that I have to go, because I have not filled up the kiddie pool for landing, and I see a burning object entering our atmosphere.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Thats right.....I'm back