..:S...P...I...D...E...R...B...I...T...E...S:..

Monday, January 08, 2007

"He came from an island, and he died on the street.
But he never said nothing to me...so say hello to heaven..."
- "Say Hello To Heaven," Temple of the Dog


Special Installment! A Heartfelt Tribute to D.O.G. The Bounty Hunter!

"D.O.G." the Bounty Hunter has got to be, without a doubt, the biggest candy ass i’ve ever seen in my life. i almost punched my TV tonight i was so annoyed with his posing and his hilarious white-trash family trying to act tough. i can’t begin to cover everything that makes Dog one of the biggest pussies in history. but i’ll try. first of all, this silly asshole prays on camera before he arrests some crackhead or weak female bond jumper. way to pick the tough targets, dude. and to face these monsters, he does this whole self-righteous prayer psyche-up that’s supposed to impress the viewers. okay, the only praying i’ve ever done in my life (and i’ve had my share of darkness, heartache, and soul-searching moments) the absolute ONLY time i’ve ever actually gotten down on my knees and asked God for something...was for Dog the Bounty Hunter to please get a shotgun blast to the fucking face. either that or have him try to arrest me. and i’m not even trying to be a tough guy here. i’m just saying that it would be so easy to disrupt his weak-ass tactics. first off, he’s only armed with mace. so i would answer the door in one of those World War II gas masks. i would say, "What? What are you going to do, now? Oh, nothing, huh? No Plan B in your bag of tricks, pussy?" then maybe his douchebag son would try to threaten me with his carefully styled ponytail braids and pretty tattoos. but i would simply not open the door. hmm. that throws a monkey wrench into the whole pursuit through the trailer park if i don’t let them in, don’t it? now, my lawyer friends will correct me if i’m wrong, but i think the law treats bounty hunters kind of like vampires. they can’t come in unless you invite them, dude! and if his shitbag son did set foot inside? trespassing! oops! shotgun blast to the face. his stupid ponytail would flutter spectacularly to the ground. or maybe the other guy in his sorry-ass crew would step forward, maybe that wizened, drunk-uncle-looking one, and he’d threaten me with his scrawny arms and beer gut. i might even lift up my gas mask and just take that giant stupid-looking mace gun away from him and brain him with it. and what’s up with their mace guns? that’s threatening? i can see that they did try to make them scary as they could with their intimidating color scheme. However, the "weapons" still resemble a sorority girl’s bubble gun. you know, the ones with the bottle of soapy water hanging off the bottom? that’s exactly what it looks like. seriously. and what is this leathal weapon's magazine that gets dramatically slapped into place if they run out of ammo in a shoot out? a fucking bottle. come on. my nephews’ supersoakers are ten times scarier than that. okay, let’s say i don’t have a gas mask. you know what i’d do? i’d sit in my car and lock the doors. what are they going to do? smash the windows? that’s illegal, jack! you know what happens when you do that? shotgun blast to the face! praise Jesus. but they won’t do that. they’ll just yell at me to get out of the car in their best intimidating, made-for-TV voice. i would begin to listen to music and read a book. and they would have to stop filming because it would make for bad TV. they would probably turn off the cameras and plead with me to come out and make them look less stupid. i would then shit on the dashboard and draw pictures on the windshield with my own waste. i would attempt to draw shit pictures of Dog and his waterhead family. and then that fat bitch with the fried blonde hair would probably start squawking at me. hey, has anyone ever taken a long, hard at her? better yet, has she ever taken a long, hard look at herself? that shiny fat fuck looks like someone tried to cram a Thanksgiving ham into a 3 year old’s mitten. and she just smugly wobbles and totters around on those spiked heels barking orders all day. does that sorry, fat piece of shit honestly think she’s hot? does she honestly think she’s intimidating? when there’s a situation where there’s a chance for her to act like an authority figure, like, say, someone actually NOT wanting that preening circus sideshow of idiots on their fucking porch and deciding to express their annoyance, she immediately starts shrieking profanity and threats at them like the tiresome, white-trash moron she is. wow. what a professional. i would love for the nearest spectator to crack her in the head with a beer bottle while she’s saying something smug and sassy for the cameras. then, as she wipes the blood and beer from her ugly mug and her vision clears, she looks up to see half of her beloved Dog’s face, and that carefully sprayed, girly-ass hairdo of his, fly across the sky riding a wave of gunfire. then she’d turn to watch her halfwit son take a crowbar in the teeth because i've somehow managed to sneak up behind him covered in shit and laughing uncontrollably while he was babbling into the camera about his killer instincts and heightened senses not allows anyone to EVER get the drop on him. then the old one with the skinny arms would puke on himself and start running for the hills to find himself a half-empty beer someone forgot about. oh, please, God, let them arrest me. how do i go about doing that? i need to commit a crime in Hawaii right? isn’t that where they practice their unique brand of justice? or is it Candyland? no! it’s the game board from Chutes and Ladders! that’s where they rule with an iron fist. how do i do it though? i’d have to not show up for a speeding ticket...wait, that’s too serious of a crime. they’d never risk the arrest. i have to not show up for a parking ticket hearing and get a judge to issue a bench warrant. and then i’d have to maliciously forget about it for a year, and maybe, just maybe, while i’m playing video games and watching "Midnight Run," (the bounty hunters' Holy Grail) there’s the knock on my door. i think i would give up a life of freedom for a chance to beat the fuck out of Dog and/or his crew. and guess what...they can’t fight for shit! i watched this video clip titled "Dog Beatdown" hoping, sorry, i mean praying, he was getting the "beatdown" in question. but it was supposed to be his dipshit son kicking someone’s ass. however, if you analyze the tape with the attention it deserves like i did (frame by frame, with a feverish intensity that lasted about 72 hours) you’ll see that the old man that the kid does punch in the face is not getting fazed by anyone of those punches. he only falls because he slips, and then he quickly puts the kid on the back like the harmless, flailing turtle he is, and is getting ready to rain down death from above when the entire moron patrol intervenes and pulls him off. if there really was a God, He would not have intervened in this situation. he would have allowed this old man to beat on Dog’s only begotten Son for days upon days. you know how people travel hundreds of miles to pay tribute to the Virgin Mary image’s on some fuckhead’s waffles? well, i would swim to Hawaii to kneel in front of this man who would hopefully still be punching that kid in the head. he would be tired by then, of course, and would be eating a large sandwich with one hand while the other kept up the pummeling, but it would still be worth seeing and honoring. and how about Dawg’s stern talking-to that he gives the bail jumpers? with the camera rolling, he tries to come up with something wise to say and sounds like every drunk i’ve ever known that felt the end of the evening coming and attention slipping away and decided to pontificate on self-inflating bullshit disguised as advice. he talks about how he used to be "a bad guy" himself, and how he now walks the straight-and-narrow. bad guy, my ass. with those fucking beads he puts on his arms? with that bizarre spray-tan he slathers on himself? with that mind-boggling hair? with his tight-fitting jeans and boots that even homosexuals frown at their television and mutter, "whoa, that’s really gay"? yeah, i’m sure he was real bad news back in the day. what possible crime did he commit besides crimes against masculinity? oh, do i dream about that shotgun blast often. i actually have several reoccurring dreams. i get the dream where i’m naked and late for class to take an exam, i get the dream when the basketball game is ending and i’m trying to run and my feet are stuck to the court, i get the dream where i’m straddling the gun turret on a tank that’s actually a combination of "tank" and "my cock" and i’m singing songs from the "Grease" soundtrack...yes, all very common dreams. AND i get the dream where Dog the Bounty Hunter is looking through a peephole and trying to sound like a badass for the cameras over his shoulder when you know who answers the door?! me in a World War II gas mask. just kidding. shotgun blast to the face. then i wake up, realize it’s just a dream, and i don’t believe in God anymore, thank Christ.

::: david - 1:56 AM [+] :::
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