December 28, 2012
To: Matt Damon
Location: OZ, perhaps Shangri-La or the land of Nod, definitely past the Horizon and heading to warp speed, with the main fuel for his journey being the gasps of drowning polar bears providing propulsion in an environmentally sensitive and renewable manner.
Subject: Watch as a half-assed narcissist becomes a full blown modern American Liberal solipsist. And since we have survived the Mayan Day of Death and may be able to muddle through I pray to God that his children are adopted. Shallow end gene pool DNA must be exterminated with extreme prejudice.!
“The game is rigged. I’m through with politics.”
Dopey Bastard or Horse’s Ass? You’ve earned both but my rules preclude bestowing both. Usually.

Stop the presses!

You say that Howard Zinn is a serious Historian, a true son of Clio. Next you’ll tell me it’s about time for a Nobel Prize for Rod McKuen or Paul Ehrlich or Phil Donahue or Lard Kennedy or Lysenko or Che or Lady GaGa.. Jeezus Haitch Keerist but you couldn’t find sand at the beach. You would have to get a Pell Grant to learn how to pick your nose or scratch your ass.

Surprise me, you boob, and tell me that plaid is not your favorite color. I bet you think that Manual Labor is the guy who mows your lawn. See if I have to count past 3 before you can find your ass using both your hands.

People in the real world, people who know that “stones are hard and water is wet” know, know, both instinctively and from real life experience, that the game is always rigged. Always. For the overwhelming majority of people – an exception being the exponentially expanding Kennedy family and where is Atreus now that we really need him – life is 6 to 5 AGAINST. It’s what you do after you find out that betting against the house is like asking the little fat man who owns the casino why he has such a large diamond on each of his pinkies. It’s what you do after you find out that proves what another poet said….”Man will not only endure, he will prevail”.

Wee Matty is upset because his vision of the good life is not shared by everyone else. What a bummer!

Wee Matty wants to take down all the scoreboards so, at the end of the game, there are no hard feelings and everybody feels good about themselves and the voice of the turtle is heard once again in the land and that lambs are fighting to volunteer to spend the night with the now irenic lion. Honest Injun, the dumb MoFo really does.

Matty just stamped his feet and said he’s going home with his ball, his bat, and his head up his ass view of things.

Matty is really pissed off because he is suffering from Stage 4 “non-malodorous fecal matter syndrome” and doesn’t know it. That is the only benefit of not being able to smell your own shit. He can’t understand why people who sometimes bring their lunch to work hold their noses when they sprint past him.

Matty will soon be taking his kids to the really fine schools in Boston. Don’t even think about asking. It’s a chalk bet that Matty’s bairns will be attending the really fine public schools in Boston. Not.

If we change and take up his vision of the good life he will buy each of us a pair of silk underwear, the better to fart in.

Enough of this idle chit-chat!

I declare Matty a Grand slam winner!


HORSE’S ASS OF THE WEEK

POMPOUS FART OF THE MONTH

SMARMY BASTARD OF THE YEAR

DOPEY BASTARD OF THE DECADE

These awards are not given lightly. Wear them proudly. You got them the old fashioned way. YOU EARNED THEM!



Your last true friend and only honest pal,






Kevin Smith