Behold My Homemade Leather Wallet of Rancor

My Photo
The Angry Czeck
United States

I have no interests outside of subjecting my will upon others, reveling in your failure and bathing in your shame. I also enjoy Scrabble®.

My Twit, You Twit

    follow me on Twitter

    Fan the Fury on Facebook

    The Angry Czeck on Facebook

    Angry Czeck Plus & More

    Angry Czeck Plus & More
    Stuff your pants with official Angry Czeck™ brand merchandise. Piss off Grandma! Enrage your Dad! Make enemies out of close friends!

    Furious Stats

    Powered By Google Analytics

    The Fury Files

    Posted on 15 Apr 2005
    In: Uncategorized

    Superman is a Big Pussy

    I have a friend who enjoys Superman. I guess he doesn’t know that Superman is a pussy. If nothing could hurt me, I’d be sanctimonous like Superman. I’d stand around with my hands on my hips, too, like Lee Marvin picking up sailors. Mostly, I’d complain that Lois can’t generate enough super-suction to perform a half-decent super blow-job. Or I’d say, “Fuck this Lex Luthor shit,” and toss his bald butt into orbit. Wait, no I wouldn’t. I’d be Superman, and I’d be a pussy. So rather than frying Lex with my lazer eyes, I’ll just turn a super cheek while Lex Corp develops Kryptonite anal beads for my BSDM pleasure.

    Posted on 15 Apr 2005
    In: Uncategorized

    Cell Phones Are Fucking Wrecking Humanity

    The first response I get when I express my dim view of cell phones is a horrified expression of disbelief. The same look Moses probably endured when he busted the first copy of the Ten Commandments.

    “You’re stupid, Harper. Cell phones make things easy. You’re a caveman. You have no testicles.”

    Wrong. I don’t have a cell phone, so I still have my nuts. I know, because for six months, I had a cell phone. And very quickly, I felt it strip away my freedom of independant thought.

    If you have a cell phone, already you’re disregarding my message of rebellion. After all, your cell phone irradiates your brain with a steady dose of microwaves every day. You’re unable to conjure a negative thought about cell phones because all your independent synapsis have been surgically destroyed.

    Observe life around you. Watch the man at Blockbuster unable to decide between Shall We Dance and How to Deal without a phone conference with his wife. See the woman before the junk food display calling her husband to find out if he prefers chips with ranch flavor, or chips with a zesty Southwest flavor. Behold the businessman who can’t take a shit without bringing his phone to the can, for fear he’ll miss fresh instructions from his equally as brain-dead clients.

    It wasn’t always this way. As recently as the early 1990′s, a person could rent a movie by himself with confidence. How? Because he searched his memory thoroughly, analized the data, and came to the conclusion that his wife would prefer Shall We Dance over How to Deal because she’s always admired the blinky acting style of Richard Gere.

    Now, we don’t have to remember. There is no reason to access memory. We just have to speed-dial and ask if your friend wants mustard on his turkey sub. And have you ever seen a person who has forgotten their cell phone? They’re paralyzed!

    Once I saw a commercial on TV than began with this VO: “What if you are on the train to work, and you need to check your email?”

    Fuck, you wait until the train stops and then check your damn email! Why can’t it wait 15 minutes? Has humanity de-evolved so that we are incapable of bearing even a few moments of alone time? Must we be in constant contact?

    Mind control on this scale cannot be random or a coincidence. For years, we’ve heard news reports of suspected links between brain cancer and cell phones. Do you think, for an instant, that Motorolla is going to allow something as minor as fucking brain cancer distrupt their billion-dollar industry? Do you think the Bush administration (or any administration) would let brain tumors stand in the way of a billion dollar industry with campaign donations in its pocket? Fuck it. We got healthcare to pay for all those tumor removals. And if you’re too poor to afford brain tumor removal, fuck it. What are you doing with a cell phone anyway? Go get a job with good health care benifits, asshole.

    Meanwhile, Motorolla (beneath a cape of government protection) is silently eliminating the capacity for independent thought so that all decisions, mundane or otherwise, must go through committee. As we all know, a committee is society’s least likely conduit for enterprizing thinking.

    Individual spirit is the mother of protest.
    Motorolla offers inexpensive cell phones.
    Capacity for individual thought diminishes.
    Decisons are made by committee.
    Committee is “teamwork.”
    Teamwork is “The Army.”
    The Army obeys without question.
    The Army goes to Iraq.
    Iraq becomes a free market for Motorolla.

    Of course, I am implying that Motorolla and the United States government is involved in a clandestine plot to strip the nation of free will so that unpopular policies can be promoted without protest while the sale of cancer-causing cell phones continues unfettered.

    I’d ask you to think about this more deeply, but I doubt if you can. Get on your cell phone and ask somebody else what they think.

    Posted on 15 Apr 2005
    In: Uncategorized

    Fuck it. I’m moving to Knoxville.

    I am moving to Knoxville. Wish me well.