Talking shit about your “friends” on the internet should be endorsed by the American Psychological Association — it’s a great sanity test.

After 300 rants, sane people are just a little more careful about what they say and do in front of me.  When they do something stupid or embarrassing, they make eye contact and say “please don’t write about this.”

Kate and Andy and their friends constantly shaming me at the Third World Club is a great example of “the sane”.  They are slightly more careful, but still let their petty and hateful nature pop through.

The insane fall into two categories:

• Little bitches who whine and cry about any of my accurate descriptions (hyperbolic insults)
  • Or
• Attention whores who will do anything to get mentioned in the next rant

The little bitches rarely tell me about it.  They just get all butt-hurt and disappear for a while. I usually hear through rumors and innuendo how “upset” they are.

“It’s really interesting how different people react,” Jesus told me in yet another cryptic religious-like message that could be interpreted in any of a million ways.

Jesus (not his real name) has been a prominent character with his failed romantic encounters, and fake religious context.  He grins that shit eating grin and continues to bear it.

But that’s about all I hear about the Little Bitches.  Kind of a good riddance.  If you don’t like this shit, don’t read it.  If you don’t like me, put on some comfortable shoes and get ready to get your 10,000 steps in for the day — it’s a long walk to the back of that line.

Attention Whores are My People

Attention whores are more complicated.  Clearly these are my people.  They fill up the stat sheet for the “most popular” blogs.

Any rant that mentions the douchebag millennial, Pussy Joe or Goat-Fucking Geno is going to get a steady drumbeat of traffic from the East Side of Tucson, the foothills or Reno.

But then you have to wonder if they are doing shit just to get a mention.  Pussy Joe hasn’t finished a cookie or a beer since 2017. After a while, it stops being behavior and starts being shtick.

Did I mention he’s a farter and pees on people in the ocean? Now he’s wandering the bars of Tucson and pooting all over whoever will stand there and take it.

But the worst is Goat-Fucking Geno.  Every fiber of my being didn’t want to tell the story of the What would Geno do?  Not only because it was the lowest form of bathroom humor, but I knew it was going to feed the ego of the original shitter.

The blowback came in the form of text messages and phone calls with little notes for improvement or embellisment.  Shit.

Within a week, Geno was telling me more way personal stories of shit and blood that were clearly designed to end up on the pages of this Bullshit.

One was “Geno and the electric razor.”

He took several text messages and two phone calls to tell me the story of trimming his pubic hairs.

I’ll spare you the details — and just say — the hard part was ripping off the bandaid.

See what I mean, sanity check. If you actually injure your pubic area with an electric trimmer, a sane person would keep that shit to themselves.  But the goat fucker will tell it to everyone he knows and hope someone will publish it…

Attention whores should show up schizo on any sanity test — but begging for a Bullshit blog is the ultimate tell.

Update:  It has come to my attention that “Little Bitches” and “Attention Whores” might be offensive terms for women.  Let me assure you, everyone who has exhibited that behavior about this blog is male.

If a female ever acts that way, I will find an appropriate non-sexist term like “Pain-in-the-ass complainer” or “Narcissitic Asshole”.  But until that time, remember these terms only apply to the men I know, such as they are…