Michael Kindt's Blog, page 129

"Over 250 businesses, the majority of which were minority-owned, were destroyed, burned, or looted."

“Over 250 businesses, the majority of which were minority-owned, were destroyed, burned, or looted.”

- Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, today, after rescinding the state of emergency in Baltimore

Have you ever thought about the first horse ever to be put on a...

Have you ever thought about the first horse ever to be put on a horse trailer? I bet he was like, “What the fuck? Are you sure?”

It’s been over a hundred years since we invented the automobile and look at his descendant up there. He’s still not convinced.

I tweaked my hammy.

I’m lying. I didn’t tweak my hammy. I’ve just always wanted to say that.

If I had bad taste in states and was in Florida, I probably would’ve tweaked Miami.

25 signs you might be a dipshit

1. You refer to your place of residence as a “crib”
2. You wear a head-hugging, cold weather cap in the summer
3. You wear a baseball cap sideways or backwards
4. The rear pockets of your jeans are still behind your knees even though it’s 2015
5. You refer to your wife or girlfriend as “the old lady”
6. You’ve mixed up your conservative Republican faith with your Christian politics
7. Fox News (see no. 6)
8.  You think Europe is an advanced place, where Bernie Sanders is president forever and everyone gets free pot rations and a guaranteed associate degree in design
9. You think only racism is at play in these cop killings
10. You smell like patchouli
11. Or Axe
12. You shave off your neck and under-chin hair so that your beard looks like some sort of weird chin strap
13. You wear sweats anywhere other than the gym
14. You’ve read Karl Marx and didn’t laugh
15. You’ve read Ayn Rand and didn’t scream
16. You think America is a free country
17. You think Canada and the countries in Europe are free
18. You’re a guy who watches lots and lots of porn and can’t understand why you are unhappy in your IRL relationship. That is, if you can form and maintain an IRL relationship of any length longer than a week
19. You play golf
20. You live in a mansion and fly around the world in private jets making fun of people who have doubts about climate change
21. You think science is a preponderance of opinion (see no. 20)
22. You’re constantly looking at your phone, even when you’re “with” someone
23. Your eye glasses are cosmetic
24. You don’t like dogs.
25. Or cats.
I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?

The guy on the radio just said it was "Melanoma Monday", even though it's actually "Tuberculosis Tuesday".

Fraternities get a bad rap these days because of all the racial slurs and hazing and trumped-up rape charges, but the fraternity I was in, Wry Mega Strap-on, was different.

When you joined, they didn’t clamp jumper cables on your nipples or make you eat turds or stick jalapenos up your butt like the classier frats. You just had to prove you could play backgammon rather than chess, and had to cite at least three examples of culture that weren’t pop.

That last one was why so few made it into our hallowed ranks.

We were real nerds, holding root beer keggers, not fake gamer or comic book nerds. We lost interest in Star Trek early on because of how stupid a show it is.

The needs of the one are equal to the needs of the few or the many because anything else is totalitarianism.

Saying you’re street smart, not book smart is like saying you’re pretend smart, not real smart.

And other random zingers….

My time at Wry Mega Strap-on was good. I have fond memories of waking up in the morning without a hangover, looking at the Chore Chart, and doing my housework for the day. Then off to class, where I sought knowledge rather than a career.

I graduated, all smart and shit, near the top of my class. I have debt, sure, but it doesn’t bother me because I’m not going to pay it. Being non-materialistic, I will just intentionally earn very little money and defer, defer, DEFER, until I die.

Boom, free education.

Don’t let the bastards keep you down. Lie low and they will already think you are, but you’ll know. You’ll know the truth.

I often wonder what became of the boys in Wry Mega Strap-on. We aren’t in touch and I don’t remember any of their names because I ignored them all while I was there.

Kyle. I think one was called Kyle.

You know you’re one serious son of a bitch when you come home from the store and immediately throw the lid to the half-gallon ice cream tub away.

GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY!

So my state, South Dakota, is bragging about how it’s not...

So my state, South Dakota, is bragging about how it’s not Mars.

“Hey, at least we’re not Mars!”

Kind of a strange thing to brag about, but oh well.

The people who do the advertising for this state have been smoking some fine Colorado bud of late. First there was the “Don’t Jerk And Drive” campaign that made it all the way to “The Daily Show”, which I guess is a show on tv that makes fun of Republicans or something. The “Don’t Jerk And Drive” campaign focused on South Dakota men who, like me, masturbate while driving on icy roads. Apparently, this is dangerous, even if you’re good at multi-tasking, like me. (Just plan ahead and make sure the Kleenex are right there handy on the dash.)

Then there was the “Party Santa” campaign, which warned us SoDakans that drinking and driving around Christmas was a bad idea. The rest of the year, go for it, but not at Christmas. Why, the roads are packed with people going to malls in a nationwide fit of orgiastic consumerism inspired by Jesus. The “Party Santa” campaign even had a little poem:

“‘Twas the night before Christmas,
and inside the jail,
Randy the Party Santa
sat drunken and pale.

Earlier that night,
after drinking whiskey & rye,
Randy tried to drive home
and got a D.U.I.”

Now we’re bragging about how we’re not a barren space rock: video.

It always cracks me up when people try to be “hip” and “edgy” because it always ends in a big failure. Simply TRYING to be hip and edgy proves you are not at all, even remotely, hip or edgy. It proves you are a dork.

South Dakota is many things–beautiful, clean, virtually crime-free–but hip and edgy it ain’t.

Why do you think we live here?

Jerry Lee ripping way back in 1957, when you could play hardcore...

Jerry Lee ripping way back in 1957, when you could play hardcore on the piano.

“Soon I discovered that this Rock Thing was true. Jerry Lee Lewis was the devil. Jesus was an architect previous to his career as a prophet. All of a sudden I found myself in love with the world, so there was only one thing that I could do: DING A DING DANG MY DANG A LONG LING LONG.
“

I got a boner for pineapples.I love them. Big, beautiful, brutal...

I got a boner for pineapples.

I love them. Big, beautiful, brutal fruit. If you throw one hard enough at someone, you’re liable to kill them. Try that with one of your pussy bananas, you damn dirty apes. Pineapples got fucking spikes on them and a tough, woody exterior. They’re the Chuck Norris of fruit.

A good way to eat them is like this: First, slice off the spikes, then slice off the ass. It should be able to sit upright perfectly now and not be all wobbly and unstable like a little baby. Now, being careful not to cut in too deep, take your knife and slice off the skin in slabs, rotating as you go.

At this point, you’ll have a completely naked pineapple sitting on your cutting board in all its glory. There will be delectable pineapple blood all over the place - on your hands, on your knife, all over the counter, everywhere. Your kitchen will smell like a mixture of Hawaii and Heaven, which is very likely a redundant analogy.

Tip your naked pineapple over so it is laying supine in its own blood. Depending on its size, you’ll cut it in half or in thirds. What you want after you dice it up is about two cups, so estimate. When you have the approximate chunk sliced off, wrap the remaining pineapple in plastic and stick it in the fridge. Uneaten pineapples will turn a ghastly brown-gray and get all mushy in retaliation for being ignored, so eat the rest tomorrow or at the very least, the day after that.

Now, dice up your chunk of pineapple except for the tough core. Cut around that and throw it in the trash or the compost heap. You’ll want your diced pineapple to be about the size of, well, dice. Little cubes.

You’re ready to get down to business. Take out a sauce pan or medium-size frying pan and throw in your pineapple dice. Next, pour white wine over them until they are just submerged. Put the heat on high and let them boil in the wine for, say, 5 minutes, stirring more or less constantly. Then pour in half a cup, maybe a little more, of heavy organic cream - enough so that the pineapple is submerged again, plus maybe a quarter of an inch more. Throw in a teaspoon of salt, a teaspoon of pepper, and a tablespoon of dried parsley. Allow to boil for another 5 minutes, stirring more or less constantly. What you want is for it to reduce and thicken. It may take a little longer than 5 minutes.

Now you’re ready for the finishing touch. Throw in about 3 or 4 tablespoons of blue cheese. Stir until it is melted and fully incorporated into the sauce. The sauce should be nice and thick and totally clinging to the pineapple.

Dump it on a plate and eat it with a spoon, collecting some of the sauce with each chunk of pineapple.

You can thank me later.

By the way, I call this Creamed Pineapple of Blue Cheese, and if you have the means, I recommend Maytag Blue Cheese from Iowa. It’s the best stuff in the Cosmos and makes Europe’s best offerings seem amateurish. Any blue cheese will do fine though.

(And, yes, once upon a time, Maytag Farms used to make the washing machines.)