Tag Archives: steroids

Super Spooky Halloween Post

I went on a run the other day, and passed a house all decorated for Halloween: black cat cut outs, pumpkins, ghosts strung from a clothesline—classic shit, but not scary at all. The whole notion of Halloween is becoming too traditional; it’s lost its horrifying luster. I understand that at one point (in like the 50’s) the idea of a man who turns into a wolf might have scared the pants off people; literally, they’re scared so bad that they must remove their pants, because the pants have been shat-filled (off subject, but did you know “scared the pants off” is a direct descendent of “scared the shit out”? More on origins of sayings in another post.) Honestly though, ghouls, goblins, and monsters have never been scary in my lifetime. We need to get back to the roots of this spook festival, which is becoming too much of a happy-go-lucky holiday, and strike fear into the soul of people: especially children.

As mentioned, folklore and commerciality are not scary: not the Headless Horseman; not cotton spider webs; and surely not a damn vampire, or (worse) a bloody zombie. No, what’s scary are herpes; rape; Mormons; terrorists; nuclear war; cancer; a guy with a mustache, glasses, and pants pulled up to his chest, handing out candy (not from his doorstep, but) from inside his house; finally, a muscular man in a pretty pink dress. That shit is real. That shit is horrifying. That shit is disturbing, but it’s the shit that Halloween should be all about…shit!

What happened to scaring the hell out of people, namely children? Is it politically incorrect? Is it immoral? Will it hurt their feelings? Good. Good. Great. This time of year has become too much fun for kids, and I want to take away those precious moments; bring them into the real world, where candy and super heroes won’t solve problems. Leave them with non-repairable mental scars, rather than a fictitious happiness that they’ll never find in the real world. Here’s how I picture it going:

A child approaches the doorstep, and I’m dressed as I am above (the sexiest slut at the bar, which was so true, bitches). Gazing up my hairy legs, he looks at my menacing smile. Fear slowly sinks in, yet he’ll fight the piss running down his leg for that sweet treat. Little does he know, I don’t have any candy…I have steroids. That’s right, the intravenous type. I also have crack, but I’m keeping that for now. I drop a syringe, and vile into his stupid pumpkin container; the handle of which looks about ready to snap from the cheap Chinese plastic. (I hope it does, too; I always had to use a damn pillowcase, or grocery bag: neither of which were ever without large holes.) The child is lost in utter confusion. Sensing this, I say in my deepest voice, “Trick, or treat…” laughing ever so creepily as I shut the door, and get the hell out of my neighbor’s house. I leave the crack, and wait for the cops to roll up.

Now tell me, is that not the scariest shit you’ve ever heard? Well, I’m sure it’s at least close. With this country losing it’s ethics day by day, we need someone who will stand up, and make things right. This person would be me, except Dan Ray Sucks; so, if you don’t take it into your own hands to uphold the Halloween tradition by getting rid of those terrible scarecrows, rubber bats, and cans of spring worms, and (instead) re-introduce the idea of scaring the shit out of people by any means possible, then you suck, too.

Tips to suck less:
-Leave a comment.
-fb/tweet/just tell your friends, friends’ friends, random bums–I don’t care, just do it.
-Finally, smash some pumpkins, and TP some houses.


Grind On Me, Bro



I’ve been here and there, up and down, all around, etc. and have come to find that people are not really much different anywhere, especially bros. A bro is a bro is a bro… But, what I’ve also found is that there are several different classifications of “the bro”. For some odd reason, I had the burning inclination to further investigate this intriguing species; so, I did some pushups, grabbed my tightest shirt and hit the dance club–with a half chub. In my studies, I documented that, although these modern primitives share many similar characteristics, they’re a diverse breed.

You can’t really spot the different types of bros in a normal setting; you need to step into their natural environment: the club. This is where we can see beyond their shared attributes, and differentiate between the categories within a larger Bro Phylum. To show you my findings, I should first describe the Bro Phylum. Each bro, no matter his fraternity, or color (even though most bros are white), will hold these traits/beliefs:

-Live and die by the saying “Bitches come and bitches go, but a bro is a bro, no matter what hoe!”
-You can never have too many bros.
-You can never have enough hoes.
-Pregaming is a sacred ritual.
-Believe that liquor before beer, your muscles show clear; but beer before liquor, you’re even thicker (not in a good way).
-They shroud a low level of self-worth by increasing their bench, wearing “flashy”/form-fitting clothing, and a high level of intoxication.
-Mirrors aren’t only for looking at yourself; you can also look at girls, looking at you.
-Lifting is the only form of exercise, hence–
-Their weight room, and/or shirtless profile pic.
-Workout supps are the subject of nearly every conversation.
-Deciding on an outfit is a group decision, and a decision cannot be made until all options are thoroughly, and thoughtfully weighed.
fratmusic.com is their homepage.
-Dancing with another guy before going out is not gay: it’s practice.
-Arrogance is bliss.
-Finally, all ends justify their means…as long as you get laid.

Now that we have an understanding of our subjects, we can look more closely at the whole Bro Phylum, and subcategorize it:

He is the top dog of all the bros. Others respect his dominance, and look to him for guidance. His self-devotion, ability to have no care for anything but himself, and overall view of women make his existence just a little less than acceptable. If there’s a way to show himself off, he will. He sleeps in a tanning bed, and jumps on any chance to pop that shirt off; not only for the pleasure of being seen, but also because he simply couldn’t live with himself for having an uneven tan. Younger girls can’t help but be drawn to his outer-glowing confidence, and the older ones couldn’t be more turned away; but, who cares? They’re skanks.

BBF: Best Bro Forever
This is a bro’s closest bro: they share everything…including girls. He’s a little easier to be around in public, as long he’s not with his man, essentially, sucking face all night. If you can get him away from this bromance, then he’s actually a cool guy, but just like every relationship, jealousy plays a big factor; so, if he’s not with his dude, he’s texting him all night.

The Classic Jersey Bro
Not necessarily from Jersey, but wishes he were, just as I wish he would go back…and stay. He mimics the actions of his idols from that hit TV show Hannah Montana, or something like that. Stay out of this guy’s way though, because he’ll throw down quicker than he’ll smoosh on a grenade.

Wanna-Be Bro
Multiple pictures were required for this douche who tries too hard. I honestly have more respect for the Bro-Bro, because he can’t control who he is; the Wanna-Be can, and chooses to be a bro. You’ll see him dancing hard core with all his boys in hopes that a chick will approach this cluster of flopping dicks, and not feel like she’ll get raped. Would he actually dance with a girl if the opportunity were to present itself? Yes, but would be followed by an immediate shut down, since most girls can sense his Aura of Patheticness (refer to #1).

Dubstep Bro
Similar to the Wanna-Be: he’s typically strutting his stuff on the dance floor with his homies, except he’s actually decent at dancing. Girls grind all over this guy (I’m talking dirty), but he’s much more into his moves than the girls who come and go; so, you can’t tell if he’s gay, or just has an untamable passion for dancing…probably both.

One-Step Hoe
I had to throw her in the mix; she shares all the (anti)qualities of a bro, and lives to party. It’s the girl dancing in one place, all night; she’s so drunk that she’ll face plant the dance floor if she takes one step in any direction.

Now, it’s honestly unfair to categorize all of these douche bags without admitting the fact that I share some of these horrific traits: I’m obsessed with my image, I like to dress for sex, and when you pump me with enough low-carb, high-proof alcohol, I’ll be busting more moves on the dance floor than any other brochismo in the joint. I guess I’m just a Me Bro; I still have a mind/conscience, but I sometimes find myself in envy of those bros who don’t. This is why Dan Ray Sucks, and if you show signs of being a bro (or broette), then you suck too, bro.

Tips to suck less:
-Leave a comment.
-Tell your friends, friends’ friends, random bums, etc.
-Finally, just don’t be a bro.