You just made my list!

Goodbye, turds.

No, you are not turds. Well, some of you are. Wait, when I really think about it, I have dealt with an incredible amount of turds and turd-related activities on this website. To be honest though, it was those turds who got me out of bed each morning. I LOVE all the hate mail that continues to pour in every day, it truly does make my day. I salute you, turds!

But where does that leave you, the non-turd? Well, I love you even more. Yes, even I have the ability to love.

If I may be human for one brief moment, I really have loved hearing from all of you over the last few years but the reality is that I simply do not have the time or energy to continue writing. You may not be able to tell from my past writing, but I actually really put effort into this site and I don’t want to continue unless I feel I can give it my best effort.

“Fuck you Listy, how hard can it be to rant about Guy Fieri?!?”

What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea how much vomit I choked down over the past 3 years while writing about powerful enemies like Guy Fieri, Miracle Whip and corn? Holy shit, I just realized something, if Guy Fieri has a recipe that involves slathering corn on the cob with Miracle Whip I might have to kill myself.

Back to the point… Dedicating 5 nights a week to my genius opinions was taxing but I did it for you, the little people. And WOW, was I good at it! Not to mention, all the hilarious writing I did (and continue to do) in the comments. I really am great, just like you guys always tell me. I’m high-fiving myself. Now I’m taking off my shirt and karate kicking the air while singing a Kid Rock song. I don’t know if it’s a real Kid Rock song but when I sing about America, tits and eagles I just assume it’s probably one of his songs.

So, as much as I hate to say it, I think it’s time for me to close up shop. It feels weird to make it official but all moderately good things must eventually fizzle and die a slow, forgetful death. Like Aerosmith.

I’m trying to find just the right words to sign off with. Something sincere, poignant and heartfelt. Perhaps I will simply say this…

Everything is the worst.

Goodbye.

So, why haven’t I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.

I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today’s topic. It takes something insanely stupid to get me motivated enough to hop back on the computer, and today I found it at a Red Robin restaurant.

Has it really come to this? Are Americans actually so lazy that they can’t be bothered to raise their heads to watch TV? Do we need TVs in the floor? You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of Maury Povich while waiting to cram a Fiesta Southwestern Ranch Bacon Spicy Beef Jerky Slim Jim Burger with extra bacon crumble and a side of bacon juice down your fucking throat. Who’s the real father of the baby? I don’t know but there’s a good chance he’s in back “cooking” my “food.”

We deserve to have our economy collapse. We deserve Donald Trump as our President. We deserve Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. We are pathetic. It’s over.

I am fairly certain Dr. Ted Leon is getting a blowjob just off camera in this commercial because nobody should ever look that happy, ever. In fact, you really shouldn’t even be making that face while getting a blowjob! I prefer the angry look, the one where you look like you are pissed at the person servicing you. I sometimes even shake my head in disgust. It’s the same look I use while air-drumming to Rush songs. I used this facial expression once when I went to a store on a Sunday and it was closed. People still close up shop on Sundays (blowjob face)?

Give me the cranky antics and mispronunciations of Wilford Brimley any day over this grinning rube. Awwwwww, does it hurt your little finger to test your glucose levels? WHAM! Punch in the mouth from Wilford, you sissy! Mr. Brimley will literally stare at you until your “dia-beat-is” squeezes out your butt and runs away in tears. Wilford Brimley will reach down your throat with his big, elephant hoof hands, that smell like mustache and Scotch, and yank the diabetes right out through your mouth, you fucking Mary.

Obviously I have a great understanding of diabetes.

You know what I like even better than overly-complicated ice cream with tons of shit in it? Overly-complicated ice cream prepared on a dirty table. And if you could make the whole excruciating experience take about 20 minutes, that would be fantastic.

You know what, don’t even use the scoops. Seriously, just get your filthy hands right in there. I want to see my ice cream squeeze between your disgusting fingers like pus flowing from a boil. Fuck it, just throw the whole mess on the floor and stir it up with your penis.

I have been debating whether or not I want to give any more airtime to this woman and ultimately I decided FUCK YEAH, I want to talk more about my new friend, Charlene DeLoach over at charlenechronicles.com. Why bother, right? She has an insignificant blog that floats in a virtual toilet filled with literally millions of predictable, vapid, self-centered “mommy blogs.” Why waste my time? Because Charlene epitomizes something I deeply despise… hypocrisy.

Let’s get something straight… Charlene the big scary attorney, came to MY website and accused ME of stealing from her. She also used that opportunity to make a thinly-veiled threat that I might somehow be sued for embedding her fascinating video about FUCKING DEODORANT!

So, let’s give old Mrs. DeLoach the benefit of the doubt and once again explain section 6C of YouTube’s terms of service…

For clarity, you retain all of your ownership rights in your Content. However, by submitting Content to YouTube, you hereby grant YouTube a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free, sublicenseable and transferable license to use, reproduce, distribute, prepare derivative works of, display, and perform the Content in connection with the Service and YouTube’s (and its successors’ and affiliates’) business, including without limitation for promoting and redistributing part or all of the Service (and derivative works thereof) in any media formats and through any media channels. You also hereby grant each user of the Service a non-exclusive license to access your Content through the Service, and to use, reproduce, distribute, display and perform such Content as permitted through the functionality of the Service and under these Terms of Service. The above licenses granted by you in video Content you submit to the Service terminate within a commercially reasonable time after you remove or delete your videos from the Service. You understand and agree, however, that YouTube may retain, but not display, distribute, or perform, server copies of your videos that have been removed or deleted. The above licenses granted by you in user comments you submit are perpetual and irrevocable.

Great, that clears everything up! Obviously when presented with this fact Charlene, the accomplished attorney and “social media expert” will post a retraction and an apology for accusing me of copyright infringement. She goes back to blogging about how confusing daylight savings is and I go back to barely trying and still being the world’s greatest blogger. WRONG! Instead, this hypocrite turns her hypocrisy machine that spews hypocrisy turds all over the fucking room up to 11. She even went as far as contacting Degree (can you believe this all started over deodorant?) via a tweet seeking their assistance in a “legal matter” she was “dealing with.” All high-powered attorneys know the best way to contact a major corporation is a tweet.

Clearly now in survival mode, Charlene began controlling the flow of information that contradicted her obviously incorrect accusation of stolen content. She began removing any comment from her blog, no matter how non-confrontational, that pointed out the errors in her claim of theft. Charlene has even gone as far as blocking the I.P. address of any visitor who disagrees with her. She conveniently left up the comment that oddly states “It doesn’t matter what the YouTube rules are.” Really? Do all you mommies teach your children that rules do not apply to them? Do you teach your kids to hide from the truth and disguise the facts? Fucking white people! Wait, I’m white.

So, for those of you keeping score, we have 1) an attorney who believes laws somehow don’t apply to her… 2) a blogging and social media expert who doesn’t understand the basic rules of one of the largest websites on the internet… 3) a social media expert / attorney who thinks tweeting is the appropriate way to contact a company about a legal matter and who thinks this major corporation gives a shit about any of this… 4) a social media expert who believes censorship is the appropriate way to handle ideas that conflict with her own… and 5) a mommy expert who thinks any and all of the above is OK.

Charlene DeLoach sounds like the perfect person to speak at your next blogging conference! Perhaps a panel discussion called “How to Do Everything Wrong.”

Guess what idiots, deodorant is now so smart it knows when you are moving!

You’d think technology as advanced as this would be used by the military or NASA, but instead it’s used to keep your mom’s armpits dry every time she suddenly darts in any direction. What a world we live in!

Next time you see some random woman walking into Hobby Lobby, take a moment to appreciate the advanced number-crunching that’s taking place under her arms. She calmly walks in the store’s entrance like it’s no big deal, but her deodorant is busy calculating speed and velocity. It is at this moment that her magic armpit computer makes some important decisions: should it spring into action and release its sweat-defeating power, or hold tight and see how this whole scenario is going to play out? The Degree decides to wait and see, like a Navy Seal poking his head out of a swamp in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, without warning, Aunt Carol makes a mad dash for the last clearance sale foam pumpkin… alarms and buzzers start going off under her arms like a fucking WWII submarine! The Degree is like “Holy shit, holy shit, it’s really happening! OK we can do this. We trained for this a thousand times. ACTIVATE! ACTIVATE! ACTIVATE!”

I’m curious about one thing though, what happens when you are driving? Does the Degree get confused and start trying to dry you? Shit, what about on the delivery truck? How does the deodorant know when it’s the real thing? I kind of feel bad for the deodorant now, that’s a lot of pressure for a chunk of paste.

Even the Degree spokeswoman can’t believe the shit coming out of her mouth.
(watch at your own risk, you might get sued!)

Finally Chevy has figured out a way for you to NEVER escape the incessant, meaningless blathering barfed out by all of your “friends” on Facebook. You never said more than two words to these people when you sat next to them in algebra 20 years ago, but thanks to the magic of Facebook, you now have an up-to-the-minute update of every dumb thing their fat kids do and say.

Well, guess what? Your once peaceful drive home from the adult book store is now going to be filled with wacky anecdotes about microwaved Legos and pancakes found under rugs. Good luck getting a boner after that.

I invite you all to take a look at your Facebook “news feed” right now and imagine what it would sound like to have it read to you by your car. For example, if I was driving right now I would learn that “After shopping all afternoon with my kids, it’s safe to say I am NOT a ‘shop till you drop’ kind of person!!! LOL!”

Way to go society!

Yeah, you’re going to sit in that window and read a book.

In the history of window nooks there have been exactly 3 people who have used them to relax with a good book. I also saw a study on these so-called “sitting areas” that said, and I quote, “It is our finding that no evidence exists to support the claim that any bedroom sitting area has ever been used for actual sitting. We are only able to find examples of sitting areas being used for laundry storage, the putting on of socks and several incidents of kinky birthday sex.”

Give up the dream people, we are Americans and we don’t know how to read words on paper anymore. We don’t need to continue this silly charade! Nobody really wants to curl up with a book and a cup of tea in their window. Try a 2-liter of X-treme Nitro-Nacho Mountain Dew and 4 hours of Farmville on Facebook while sitting in front of the TV.

God bless us.