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(w/ comments by my invisible 7' wookie)

Over the course of my harrowing (Pull-up! Pull-up! Will he make it? I don't think so. Eject! Eject! Aw, fuck he's dead!) life, I've managed  to generate (stumbled black out drunk on) some remarkably (mediocre) creative (and asinine) ideas (from time-wasters to premeditated hazards). I'm not reluctant (regrettably) to acknowledge genius (psychosis), even when it's my own. (prurient horseshit comedy).

And now for my next trick (God, help us)…

For the ladies (no end in sight)…

What do you think?

(Yawn! I'm leaving.)

Strike at the Root...

Our repressed issue with authority figures.

They will call this "The Trolley Coup"

Bum Best Practices Module 001

Shoplifting Your Local 24-Hour Grocer

Step 1

Enter your local up all fucking night food retailer through the front door at exactly 11:20 PM.

CAUTION!
Wait for the door to automatically open! If you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass and bleeding profusely, return to step one after being released from the emergency room.

Step 2

Casually meander about the store for three to five minutes whilst spasmodically jerking and berating yourself for forgetting your backpack.

Step 3

Exit the store mumbling unintelligibly to any store employee, incoming customer, or shopping cart about urine pooling in the nonexistent automotive section of this shitty grocery store. Neither imply or express any responsibility for said urine pooling!

Step 4

Get your fucking backpack you idiot. I can't believe how fucking stupid you are!

QUICK TIP

If you don't have a backpack see: Bum Best Practices 002 “How to steal a backpack, you idiot”

(Yes, I know, after I write it.)

Step 5

Now that you have your backpack, turn your grease stained formerly white t-shirt inside out so they won't recognize you and reenter the grocery store incognito. Try to project that you're not the same spun-out shoplifter who exited minutes ago and that you are not too fucked up to remember what you came here to shoplift.

Step 6

Fail.

Step 7

Panic and casually dive headlong for the men's restroom. Flailing wildly, slam the door way too hard behind you. Relax. You're in your safe place.

Step 8

Now, freak the fuck out. Placing your ear against the door and slow your breathing to less than zero respirations per minute, listen for anyone attempting to breach your safety zone. They're out there speaking in nearly imperceptible vibrations and using creaking sounds as signals. Bastards!

Step 9

Reassure yourself, that you're okay and that no one can touch you in your safety zone. Breathe. Yes, breathe. Breathe. Wonder how long you just held your fucking breath and contemplate why is there a tampon dispenser in here. Fucking breathe. Okay, easy on the breathing, you're hyperventilating and sweating from your eyeballs.

Step 10

Look in the mirror. Realize exactly how bad an idea looking in the mirror was right about…wait for it… now. Damn! You are so obviously fucked up and everyone knows it. They're out there creaking to each other about how fucking high the shoplifter in the restroom is and laying in wait. Bastards!

Step 11

Collapse onto the toilet. Begin to  contemplate that you may, in fact, be way too high to pull this off. Abort! Abort! Abort that thought because I didn't say,  ”Simon Says”.

Step 12

Do a bellringer of a shot to calm your nerves. Now, in a minute, focus on the task at hand and consider a whole new strategy. You will, in a minute.

Step 12b

Fail.

Step 12c

Internalize that there are a shitload more steps than you thought when you initially failed to plan for this little shoplifting extravaganza. Panic!

.

Step 13

Eject! Eject! Eject! Yourself from the bathroom and run your ass off towards the door. Run! Fucking run! You're almost  there, man, almost there. Look back to make sure those creaking bastards aren't in pursuit.

Step 14

Remember that the Step 1 Caution applies while exiting the store too… fucking late.

Step 15

Have your personal injury attorney handle the lawsuit and collect $3,500 for automatic doors which do not meet Olympic sprinter safety requirements.

You got something for nothing… Mission Accomplished!

You're a real fucking bum.

Go get loaded!

Fuck yeah!

Step 15fuck

Remember that you can't cash a check without a bank account.

(Wail!)

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Fuck the fucking fuckers!

Fuck!

Go pick at the scabs off your hard earned lacerations instead.

Idiot! You lost your backpack!

Now Hear This... On the Baffling Beauty of Women

I have come to the conclusion that women were never meant to be comprehensible. That's where men have always run afoul of the fairer sex, by trying to divide the line between black and white. Many times we are looking for the substance of the ether, we are reaching for the solid in the mist.

Or maybe that's just me.

Somehow I don't feel that I'm alone in this perplexing experience. I'd be willing to bet that a high percentage of  men occupying this planet would nod their heads in agreement with my thoughts on the beauty and bewilderment provided by women if I were allowed to broadcast them over the planetary address system after we built one.

Many times it is exactly this quality of the stuff that comprises women that infatuates, mesmerizes, and captivates us to some point on the spectrum between attraction and distraction.

Or maybe their looks have something to do with it.

I can recall many a time when the avant garde poetry which passed for conversation with the ladies has had  my brain rung out like a dirty dish rag and felt that it was just fine as long as I could just look at her for a while longer.

On less romantic occasions, I would just stare into the air looking twice as stupid as usual, mystified, and being completely incapable of divining what word salad I was currently digesting.

Our relationships with women weren't always thus as I recall. Back in kindergarten and through the earliest years of elementary school, girls were just as easily understood as we were (still addressing men on the planetary PA system) and remain today.

Since those simple and easily understood days something went puzzling with women along the way, and I am certain that it was a slow and imperceptible thing. A gradual process which has thus far been undocumented and overlooked.

As the girls we ran the playground with became more attractive their ability to be understood by us of the XY persuasion diminished inversely. Furthermore, that we made a subconscious decision to allow their waxing beauty to compensate for our deepening confusion.

That’s my working theory, at least for the time being 11:08 PM.

It's not that all women are perplexing at all times, that would be predictable, which generally speaking, they are not, for the most part. Then, there are  those times when suddenly every word they utter is crystal clear, which coincides with the times you have just accomplished being a complete asshole. It's their superpower, like Donny Osmand's teeth, except theirs are easily twice as sharp. Asshole!

Under “normal” circumstances we would never tolerate having our faults being laid bare like this, we’re way too fragile in the ego department for that kind of thing. However, she is quite beautiful, and that goes a long way with us. It's practically the coin of the realm and we'd be willing to deal with the wounds for a chance to spend those riches if we could just look at her for a while longer.

Call it an investment. Maybe for a lifetime, but definitely for a little while longer.

Maybe more.

America: Let's Get Her Done!

HAROLD the BUM

for President 2016

HTB's Economic Advisor reveals the Five Point Plan.

HTB the Grate White Hope

IBEW Endorsement for HTB

National Academy of Sciences endorsement

Undocumented Immigrants endorse HTB, Yap.

HTB secures the Youth Vote

Veterinarian Suppliers love HTB,
but loses Spielberg's support

It's the only exercise you'll get this November

Fictional Characters overwhelmingly Pro-HTB

The only Campaign Ad to pass
"Truth in Advertising" regulations

Or reduce the number by one

The only mark you may leave in the world

Accounting for inflation

What do you want? We were still loaded.

Owen's Mobile Artillery Vehicle (OMAV)

This is fucking genius...

The MQ–9A Reaper Predator Drone costs about $15 million dollars a pop and the AGM-114 Hellfire missile it fires is about $110,000 a BOOM!

Obviously, launching two bedroom condos from a county hospital bond issue isn't keeping the world safe for democracy, homosexuality, or coffee drinkers in Bangladesh.

So, what's the answer? 

The OMAV!

Total OMAV Cost: $400.00

Projectile (per round): $0.15
Reagan (Labrador Retriever): Not Included 

DOD THE MATH!

He's Qualified

Yes, that's the best we could do.
Now, pay us!

When an election campaign comes down to choosing between the neighbor woman who ran over your dog or that guy down the block who puked on your Persian rug, (Yes, I was really reaching there) it's time to consider an outsider. Someone who lives outside, like out of doors, like no more doors, like they all shut and God wasn't playing doorman this time, and someone who doesn't drive. Anymore. Nope, not for a really long time. That's the kind of qualifications America needs or is willing to settle for. (Circle one)

Let's consider the facts… (Hold on a second. I have to cough.)

• This is politics, there are no facts. It's just one asshole’s opinion against (or over) another asshole’s opinion. Harold has one of both! An asshole and an opinion. Plenty to go around for everyone... Qualified! 

• Harold is an outsider, but he's knows the inside in increments of six to twelve months at a time, too. Harold has a nearly (e.g. - sort of) unblemished record of public service as a correctional facility trustee. The key word here  is "outdate" "trust"... Qualified! 

• While most politicians tax and spend your money into oblivion or worse (I don't know. Use your imagination. Mine is busy.) Harold will steal, scam, hussle, shoplift, or otherwise game nearly (e.g. - not even close) everything we need to run the government. All we HAFTA do is give him our votes and 50 cents on the dollar in dope! That's right, that's illegal, and… Qualified! 

• Harold has a promise that if you are not happy with his performance, job, work, stuff you won't have to impeach him, just trespass him from the White House. He won't actually leave, but he'll stop doing nearly (e.g. - not nearly) everything and become very elusive. Where did that $20 dollar bill go? Can you see the light? What light?  That's right… Qualified! 

No Nude Taxes!

Scratch-off Double Food Card Money!

Free Health Care!*

365 Unpaid Holidays!

No to the Mexico Wall!

Yes to the Quebec Wall!^

Money for nothing & Chicks for Free!

Feel the Burnm!

* - Trip to Canada required.


^ - Trip to Canada and some assembly required.




My name is Harold the Bum and I approved this sandwich.

More HTB 2016 Stuff