Wednesday, November 16, 2016

I Hope the Great Barrier Reef Dies

I hope the Great Barrier Reef dies, its supposed majestic beauty strangled by the unintended consequence of industry. Let it be bleached out of existence. Of all underwater treasures and tourist spots it’s the most insidious. It calls forth an air of conceit unrivaled.

The “Great” Reef? One would have to ask, “By what standard?” Of all the Great Wonders of the World this particular coral reef has never been listed, let alone considered. It’s better judged in comparison to its 3rd rate cousin, the lackluster Christmas reef. Even the marijuana reefer I’m not fond of.

Arguments against this ecological abomination:


You cannot even visit the reef without dying. Meanwhile, people have traveled up to Mt. Everest, the highest point on earth’s surface, without the use of oxygen tanks. Poor planning for something intended for admiration.


The reef could not stand even the slightest demand brought on by the industrial revolution. It’s existed for so long and a few chemicals and fishing techniques completely upset its balance? Go die already, you whimpering, sobbing, heaving, hysterical reef.


Absolutely nothing.


Even during its heyday almost anything is more pleasing to the eyes than these underwater dirt-flowers.

If I had my way, I’d pay seamen a hundred dollars a day to pull out these abhorrent seaweeds just to personally stomp them to pieces. They are disgusting. People who would choose to defend these weeds are as toxic as they are, and need to be stamped out in similar fashion. I wish I could be there as it dies, its brittle bones whisked away by the ocean current; its tears disguised and dispersed in the undertow.

In 1972 John Lennon wrote, “Woman is the [n-word] of the world.” Good guess, Johnny, but real answer was this underwater plague soon to be eradicated. Where humanity lacked the courage to systemically eradicate these revolting, green sea sponges, industry has brought them to heel. There’s a reason reefs have went from their rainbow-esque appearance to the dull, venal, expired fungus they resemble today: they’re final showing their true colors.

Monday, November 14, 2016

A Christian’s View on Sex With Dolphins Erotica

Guest columnist "Square" Andy
Andy Answers

I’ve been inundated with emails this week. Everyone’s asking me the same thing: What is the Christian position, and perspective, on erotic literature involving dolphins?

Sadly, as is often the case with Christianity... there is no easy answer. There are several passages in the bible against eating seafood. I personally don’t eat seafood. Heaven, I don’t even call it “seafood,” because you’re not supposed to eat it. They’re sea CREATURES. But what is God’s position on sea sexual relations? That’s where the topic gets tricky.

Obviously, a homosexual coupling is immoral. Some take a hardline stance and say gays should be murdered with rocks, thrown at them with disdain and intense velocity, but as a progressive person I disagree. I advocate stoning humans to death only once our scientists figure out how to do it in a humane way with minimal suffering.

Eroticizing dolphins is a whole other story. Now, there’s a reason we don’t eat dolphins. Dolphins are intelligent. Any sex with sea-life such as a seahorse, a clownfish, or a mackerel is for all intents and purposes rape. A dolphin and even some whales, however, possess uncanny thinking and communicative capacity. It is completely the norm for people who spend a lot of time with dolphins to develop very natural, intuitive, stimulating relationships with such creatures. It’s perfectly normal to go swimming with a dolphin you’ve taken a liking to, canoodling through the sea, cuddled safely under a fin. It is a beacon of sound mind to want eventually consummate an inter-species, human-dophin relationship, with rubbed bellies that lead to pink organs, and drifting in water while staring up at the stars in post-coital bliss. There is not one scintilla of evidence otherwise in the bible or even any other spiritual teaching that this is in direct conflict with the will of any God.

A young woman reads to her partner
Yet let me be clear: this is NOT a conversation about inter-species sex with dolphins, only inter-species sex with dolphins erotica. Even if you were comb through the bible and find a suggestive passage involving dolphins, that’s not to say there’s any correlation between very real sexual relationships and literature merely depicting those relationships. Dolphin erotic literature is at worst, a tiny microcosm of dolphin inter-species sexual activities, and no man should be looked down upon for it regardless of his religious affiliations or lack thereof.

Now, I’m not going to sit around all day and type this out because this topic holds little interest for me, I’m not going to sit here playing apologist, I’m not going to be the contrarian or play the “Devil’s advocate,” even if I were to use such a vulgar expression. But if you were to find yourself with a lack of girlfriend and secure a job at say, SeaWorld, or secured a dolphin for your private use, in an industrial-sized tank, simply to explore your own affinity for a dolphin or dolphins, no one on EARTH or ABOVE has an reasonable right to judge your actions. But WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT INTER-SPECIES SEXUAL RELATIONS BETWEEN HUMAN AND DOLPHIN, WE ARE MERELY TALKING ABOUT THE EROTIC DEPICTION OF THE UNLIKELY YET FULLY CONSENSUAL COUPLING OF A HUMAN AND A DOLPHIN THROUGH THE WRITTEN WORD. FANTASY. NOT REAL LIFE. WORDS. THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH WORDS.

Not that I have any dog in this fight either way.

I am merely concerned with helping people who sometimes lack the foresight and perspective of the Christian faith and pursue guidance via the internet and forms of social media.

So, I would say, in closing, if this sort of thing rocks your tugboat, tug away! There’s still time for Sundays, strawberries will still tastes delicious, spending time with your family is still the pinnacle, and sunny days bring sun rays that last for days. And remember, the Holy Word is sacrosanct, it's God’s law... anything else is an attempt to subvert your freedom.

-Square Andy
Christian, journalist, 3rd shift manager @Target

Friday, November 11, 2016

Buy the Gun, Shoot the Gun

“Square” Andy, guest contributor
I want a gun. I don’t know why I want a gun, but I feel like I need one. I want to buy the gun and shoot the gun. I don’t know much about guns, but I need one. I want to grab the gun and squeeze her trigger. I want to cock the hammer back. I want to feel it pump and spring and recoil. It’s going to fire off out of my hand like intense ejaculate.

Guns aren’t for masturbation, but liberty is. Freedom isn’t free. Freedom is erotic. Like the Flags of Our Fathers photo my bridge rises to attention. Justice is my Cialis. Want the gun, need the gun, the gun is fun. Must shoot the gun. The gun is hip at my hip, concealed carry, I’ll take it everywhere I will, even Taco Bell. I’ll have Nachos Bell Grande and no snark, wage slaver. Give me your hottest sauce or I’ll draw, punk. My weapon’s on the counter.

When people see me and my big gun their mouths will drop in fear and confusion. The fight or flight response will cause their watering mouths to lubricate ready for a sweet love-making from my gun, should they question its virility, its tenacity, its self-righteous authority. I clean my gun, delicately. I stroke my gun with a micro fiber cloth. I keep her oiled and ready. My gun, my gun, what have ye done? I take her out on dates to the range. My gun is like my son. I’ll use my gun to protect my son if I ever have one, but first my gun will protect itself because she IS my son.

When Romeo said, “Juliet, you are the sun!” he should’ve said, “Gun, you are the sun!” Stroke the gun like a purring kitten in your lap, that’s where I keep it. It’s by my side at all times. It fires. Gun powder smoke smells like Mother’s cooking. It’s enticing. It draws a crowd to its smoke cloud. I don’t like drugs. But if I did, of gun powder smoke I would take hits. I inhale the gun smoke like it’s life force, like it’s the coal dust that made America grand. I would do lines of black gun powder. “What’s that on your nose?” Where it takes me, anyone knows.

I paint myself in blackface with gun powder, war paint, and the excrement of feral animals. I cologne myself with the piss of rodents and scream, “Come at me!” in an empty forest. Well, the animals are there, but they don’t dare come near. They can smell fear, and they for once smell their own body odor. I will kill the rodents and the skunk that come near me. I will skin their limp carcasses and wear horse skin on my person like a tarp. Feral animal testicles as my earrings. Severed yak ears on my necklace. My gun kills, my gun thrills.

I love the smoked barbecue of an open flesh wound. I’m ready to eat deer. I go raw. No time to cook or get hot sauce, this bloody wound is well-done. Like when I’m eating out my wife like a cannibal, providing her cunnilingus most magnificent. It causes me to spurt, pulsate, with the wisdom of God’s divinity. Eating stomach and liver and shoulder, this game animal, I may as well be making love to her. Like the first time you get your redwings, eating dead things is the sacrament of human dominion. Body of Christ, leg of lamb, this is God’s divine plan.

We’re all part of the beautiful circle of life and the herd. We’re sheep or at least in their clothing. We are beautiful red sheep with semi-automatic weapons and turgid erections waiting for someone to touch us. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Charles Bronson uses me for protection. Hang animals upsidedown. Sport the 2nd amendment and your erections proud. Stroke your gun in the face of the nearest nun. Eat bald eagle breakfast cereal. Even if you shoot me, and wound me, and I’m bleeding profusely, these colors don’t run.

Man of God.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Finally, Justice Be Done

"Square" Andy
Everyone, it’s that time again with your favorite knock-about guy, Square Andy. Finally a man with a Christian plan has found his way into the White House. Finally, as I say, a “square” man is in the Oval Office. We waited, breath baited, for this day, we prayed for this day, during sing-along hymns at church we swayed for this day. The Power of Christ compels us.

What people don’t know about us Christians, is that we really, really like to get high. We don’t get medical tubing and tap the vein and inject dangerous street level black tar heroin into our veins and close our eyes and sink into a deep bliss of coma for a few hours. Our fix is Lord. Our Lord is paramount. His righteousness is morphine pristine... medical grade. Whenever I need a pick-me-up, my fix is a line of scripture, and yes, like junkies, I often take my high in a dirty urinal. What’s higher than God and the angels in the clouds in heaven above, after all? Not a Satan-damn thing.

Donald J. Trump is a man who straight-ticket votes for God’s divine plan. Every action he makes echoes what Jesus as a young carpenter would’ve done. He is friendly to all aspects of life, he enriches the rich, employs the poor, and respects drunks and whores.

What Trump wants to do is in line with my values as a Christian man. Yeah, he said some remarks, like when he spoke of grabbing women by their crotches, but he did the most important thing in asking forgiveness. So we can let bygones be gone. Answer me the following things, heretics:

Is killing an unborn baby not the same as killing a baby?

Answer: it is. And we’re allowing a baby-genocide to take place and the numbers keep going up like a tornado death count.

Does Roe v. Wade not need to be overturned?

Answer: I mean, it’s the Baby Genocide bill.

Does gay marriage hurt the sanctity of marriage?

Answer: Well, yes. What’s next, a man marrying his dolphin? Are we to sit back and watch the Superbowl, knowing that men somewhere out there in rural lands are tickling the bellies of highly intelligent dolphin-folk? Is that “square” with you? But then we watch a demonic display by Beyonce and then we look in the stands and we see a man with his arm around a female dolphin and he takes off his sea captain hat and puts it on her. Is that what we want? Trump is a man who has respected marriage in each one of his marriages.

Is the respect of the police under-represented?

Answer: the police are not respected at all. We grab the police by their public image and we backhand them left to right, and right to left, until the sun is coming down on the Western coast and nobody says a thing. It’s always about what they do WRONG, never about the countless hours and years of service they do RIGHT.

Is racism real?

Answer: no.

This is a battle for the domain of God. I don’t want to hear this non-sense. A new dawn for America has risen, like He is Risen, from the ashes of despair and the old day. Don’t try to side-track me.

Trump may have kissed girls without permission, but Hillary does the same with drones. She kisses would-be immigrants on the mouth with drones, by driving into them. She's playing Call of Duty 100, against real life players.

“May the man who follows God’s moral law rule.” - God

-Square Andy

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Plan B

Seb shares the most horrific and romantic story ever told. This episode ends abruptly.

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Monday, March 7, 2016

New Precedents

Alcohol, Donald Trump, and the 2016 presidential election are discussed with Seb.

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Thursday, February 11, 2016

Repeated Nihilists

If you can get past the 30 minute part about James Deen's rape allegations there's some interesting dialogue feat. General Depravity regular Jed.

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Thursday, February 4, 2016

About a Message Board

The intimate details, shady characters and drama of a certain, once-relevant heavy metal message board community are dissected with Jed.

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Wednesday, January 6, 2016

99 Suicide Facts

I came across an article about little known suicide facts. Here I read and add thoughts about the world's greatest pastime.

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Sunday, November 22, 2015

Paris and Refugee Shit

A discussion about Islam and the middle east with Jed is interrupted by an hour long tangent about Ben Affleck.

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Saturday, November 14, 2015


College students were supposed to read '1984 and take it as a warning, not as an instruction manual.' Now it's all groupthink, petition, hashtag activism and false outrage to give people the illusion they're part of something. After the hippie movement dismantled, those free thinkers became educators and started spreading their socialist hocus pocus that turned helping hands into crutches; that turned victimhood into a way of life, not something to be overcome; that made third wave feminism more about self-interest than equality.

It seems some people now operate under the presumption they have a right not to be offended. If someone has ignorant, bigoted opinions, there's literally no way of relaying that information to them without causing offense. The many should not have to cater to the sensibilities of a few. Why? To do so is narcissism gone mad. Furthermore, to hide yourself from truth and opinion is willful delusion from reality. Schizophrenics should be shamans, in South American, drug tourist jungle villages only. Anything else is the blind leading the blind. Choosing to not see something doesn't mean it's not there. And a trigger warning is a hypnotic trick to keep you asleep from feeling. Whenever I hear the term, my already high blood pressure goes up 20 points. Where's my warning?

I doubt I believe anything I said. I just want the illusion of being relevant. But it's odd we live in a world with so many real issues so overcooked and ready to be solved. Did a great man not once say, "People should not be killed over the color of their skin, but the content of their character"? Racism is the equivalent to hating someone because you don't like the color teal on their San Jose Sharks uniform. Which is admittedly a corny jersey but. I don't believe in gay or straight marriage. Deal it out with wills and contract law. If marriage is between a man and a woman it's weird people readily allow the government into their bedroom. If we're all equal, I don't see why marriage gets you tax benefits.

War, homelessness, homicide, violence, suicide, for-profit prison systems, corrupt business practices and a disregard for our finite natural resources almost seem to be taking a backseat to... cat calling. The barbaric genital mutilation of infants still legal and overwhelmingly practiced in this country gets less attention than whatever adult Caitlin Jenner is doing with her dick. And government spying isn't a big deal because I'm not doing anything wrong. Anyone who says that, post your address. I just want to watch you sleep a while like a vampire in Twilight.

I know just as nothing as the next man. But I do know rapper Common did not get in a time machine and travel back to walk the streets of Selma with Martin Luther King so we could live in such a racially, socially, and sexually segregated society. Now get in the pit and try to love someone.

Monday, November 9, 2015

Why I Won't Be Buying Fallout 4

Andy P.
Hey guys. Square Andy, here. Real person, not another stupid internet persona. Check the pho-to. That reminds me to pick up some And a darn steam bun. What's up with those anyway? They look like an old sack you'd put gold coins in the past.

Speaking of which, all my hard earned gold coins from my dual employment will NOT be going to Bethesda Software, LLC. now and forevermore into the future.

I'm a Christian man but I swear it has little influence on my choice of entertainment with the exception of OBVIOUS displays of amorality, sin, morbidity and evil.

Listen, I'm not here to lecture you, but DON'T BUY THIS GAME. This is a game for bloodthirsty bloodhounds and there's even an option to play as a BAD PERSON in these games, I'm told. You have "KARMA," but even as a good person you BLOW THE HEADS OFF OF ALIENS and EVILDOERS at an alarming rate, no council, no trail.

WHEN will a game come, that the masses seek? When will video games see Mass Appeal? When will they reach Critical Mass and Critical Reception? There's a reason they don't win Academy Awards. I'm tired of these shoot-'em-up games for future spree-killers to gain ideas. What about games of Discovery? What about the Beauty of Building, not Destruction?

I do NOT wish to use my agency to DESTROY.

I DO wish to use my agency to do GOOD.


Don't answer me. There is no answer. Grandmas don't play video games. Moms don't. Sisters don't. Past the Age of Maturity real men play with Work Ethic, Power Tools, their Wives, and rarely video games. I'm tired of these games called Fighting. They present deformations of a woman's personhood with NO PERSONALITY and skimpy costumes with ENGORGED BREASTS. The solution to all video games is VIOLENCE. Even kids movies these days like The Lego Movie, the entire legacy we send to children is SOLVE PROBLEMS WITH VIOLENCE.

Like ISIS we indoctrinate children with violence
The Lego Movie encourages all youth to solve all problems with violence, not team work and parents beware: there's Lego video games where you KILL opponent Legos and HARVEST THEIR BODY PARTS to make other things. Sound like serial killer ED GEIN much? I don't want my kids touching that crap.

For every Grand Theft HAGGARD-EXAMPLE-FOR-OUR-CHILDREN V game release, when will we have a counter-balancing Ambulance Serviceperson Simulator? How about working as a check-in handling agent at an airport and learning about different countries? Or do children of today even want to see other countries... Think about it.

We are so privileged we spend our recreational time being hunted in a post-apocalyptic wasteland! That's how bored we are. Whatever happened to providing fairtrade coffee to the impoverished young of Ecuador? Sending ham to the desolate and remote villages in Northern Japan where ham is rare? What about sending air to the people of the Swiss Alps where breathable air is a commodity?

We live in complete commodity, our lives... birth, until judgement. 

Graphics aren't even very "Dope"

It's not an original concept. This game has hundreds of hours of content and it ALL revolves around BLOWING THE HEADS OFF SENTIENT BEINGS. All games called FPS (frames per second shooters) games revolve around shooting the heads off of people. You shoot things in the face, that's your prerogative. Is that the sum of human accomplishment? To put a destructive hole in each other's Center of Intelligence?

BILLIONS of dollars, per year, we spend to neglect our kids in front of a flatscreen so they can STAB, KILL and HUMILIATE THE CORPSES of their online friends. FPS should stand for Future Person-Shooter. We are training kids for war, not declarative statements about the virtues of peace.

What happened to holding hands?

What happened to going steady?

What happened to a swell-time without a realistic and ritualistic recreation of murder?

Sons around the country eat Lunchables with a controller. On any given weekend, Little Timmy has a sandwich in one hand, a knife as they stab an enemy in the back with the other. What can we do? Me, as a person, as a hypothetical parent, to save ourselves?


This is what real gameplay looks like
The Greatest game I've ever played was a Sony Computer Entertainment title, a 2009 video game masterpiece called simply, "Flower."

This game is a breath of fresh air, because you don't play as a shooter, you play as the wind. You don't lose, or die, or get reborn like only Christ can do, you simply are... wind. You collect rose petals through vast landscapes, and thus further beautify the land. Any screen capture of this game is an indelible delight and artistic achievement. And the game takes a dark turn toward the end as you navigate the nature God haseth let mankind destroy. Smog and broken streets, and it's your place to restore.

Let us rejoice in beauty mankind can sometimes so seldom seem to offer, and rejoice tradition and beauty... not shooting big POW-y blasting plasma rifles that obliterate the image of a person's face into supernova of blood with bone fragments as a backdrop of stars. Because those beautiful, unshootable faces, belong to our sons and daughters, aunts and uncles, and our mothers.