Sad Bastards Social Club

For what is a man, what has he got...

2010-02-06T14:59:00.002-05:00

Sorry being MIA for so long, my fellow Sad Bastards. 2010 has started off as year of ending all of the bullshit in my life and standing up for myself. Being a MAN in every sense of the word. No more being sensitive and walking on eggshells for anyone or anything. You don't like me, go away. This goes for women, employers, friends, neighbors, etc...

I just don't care anymore if people like me. Going through the ringer of bullshit in my first 31 years of existence has made me do a lot of thinking about who I am and what I stand for. Pretty sure at this juncture of my life that I will not be changing too much. So if you don't like me or you want me to change, tough fucking shit. No more holding my tongue and dancing around uncomfortable shit, I am going head on. I leave you with a man who put up with minimal bullshit and lived the dream:

My Body Is A Cage

2010-01-13T20:51:00.005-05:00

There was an hour last week - a golden hour - where everything was going my way. I shit you not! I'd come into some money, I'd convinced this girl that I dig to pay me a visit at the lair, and work was shockingly less retarded than normal. Of course, true to form, things fell apart just as quickly as they'd come together. Yep, whilst preparing for my visitor I ended up getting paint on my favourite wool coat. So there went the little bit of cash that I'd lucked into; straight to the dry cleaning bill. The visit itself was mired in awkwardness from the onset. So much so, in fact, that I'm pretty sure I can't ever call her again. Well, I could call her...if I wanted to get labeled as a creep or stalker. And work, not to be outdone, ratcheted up the level of retardation to a point that, prior to this week, was (almost) completely unheard of.

But you know what? Being a sad bastard, I could handle all of that. Hell, by now I'm more than used to losing money and women. And work? Sheeeit, by its very definition work is supposed to suck. No, the real kick in the balls came when I was lifting weights this past weekend, trying to forget about the shit show from the days before, when some way, somehow, I managed to wrench my back. So now, not only am I unable to retreat into exercise as a means of escaping my failures and foibles, but I can't sleep, walk, drive, wank, or even breathe, without being in discomfort. Best of all, this thing seems to be taking its sweet time to heal. I know that in my younger days I would have bounced back like it was nothing. But not now. Oh no, my body is giving up the ghost all over the place. I can't eat or drink like I used to (well, I could...if I wanted to become morbidly obese and die shortly thereafter) and now I, apparently, can't exercise like I used to in the past either. How fucking sad is that? I've said it before and I'll say it again; getting old is a drag.

So, if you bastards don't see me for a couple of weeks, it's because I'm sprawled out on the floor of my place with a heat pad on my back, popping oxycodone tablets and crying.

This Heartbreak Shall...Not Endure?

2010-01-07T20:55:00.000-05:00

I've learned over the years (granted, for me those years have been relatively limited) that when one holds onto a certain feeling, a certain animosity, a certain misery, one can't help but identify with that feeling, eventually one even comes to identify one's self in/as that feeling, that animosity, that misery. It almost becomes a comfort, a place you can always crawl into because it's always there for you. After all, isn't that what we're all about?

But what if one day, with little or no warning, that place that you run to, that feeling in which you normally find solace, that animosity, no longer seems appropriate? What if you're left exposed to that piece of information or that grapevine whisper you've always dreaded, ready to steel yourself against it with that trusted and familiar barricade, only to find that that feeling, that animosity, that misery has absconded in the night? It no longer holds true. It no longer sends you into the tailspin that you always prepared yourself for? Suddenly that dreaded moment, once realized, no longer fills you with the need to crawl into the depths of sadness that we all, at least at times, inhabit? That cold wall against which we normally rail in a withering fury has been taken down, brick by brick.

Oh sweet relief?

One would think so. But for some reason I'm feeling like it's kinda weak-sauce. Almost as if to say, "Well, now what?"

For What It's Worth

2009-12-31T14:14:00.002-05:00

Have a Happy New Year and don't get too fucked up tonight, sad bastards.

I've Changed My Role To Villain

2009-12-30T10:59:00.014-05:00

"Sweeping legs is our business...and business is good."

So, after an impossibly long stint as a Nice Guy, I've finally decided to call it quits. In hindsight, the move from Protagonist to Antagonist has been a long time coming. Truth be told, I was a pretty shitty Nice Guy; honesty, generosity, selflessness, were never my strong suits. Deceit, guile, avarice, spitefulness, and selfishness, on the other hand, have always been brewing just below the surface. That said, it should come as no surprise that I've now set my sights on villainy.

I think I've got a lot of natural potential as a villain, but I'm still going to need to study and train in order to get up to snuff. Cos there's really no such thing as an overnight success, right?

Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Month To Stop Banging Prostitutes

2009-12-17T20:25:00.007-05:00

"so thirsty...so very thirsty."
Talk about dry spells, it's like Death Valley here at SBSC HQ as of late. What's more, every time the skies look as if they might bring forth rain, the clouds suddenly dissipate and the sun seems to burn twice as hot as before. No bullshit. I am dying out here. Of course, if there are any lessons to be learned from all of this, it's that tough times are no excuse for weak game. You gotta figure that if you can keep your wits about you when the world is coming down around your ears, then things should be a cakewalk when everything comes back online.

That said, take some time to familiarize yourself with the D.E.N.N.I.S. System; you'll be glad that you did.

An Unforgivable Sin

2009-12-07T14:58:00.004-05:00

We may be sad, my fellow bastards, but may we never be so sad that we stoop to the level of those wretched men who practice the most vile and petty of evils; cockblockery.

Together Alone

2009-12-01T16:13:00.006-05:00

Researchers say that loneliness spreads like a virus.

If It Wasn't For Bad Luck...

2009-11-29T19:59:00.005-05:00

Keep it sad my fellow bastards.

Things That I Like: #131 The Monday Morning Podcast

2009-11-28T18:00:00.002-05:00

Bill Burr is the man.

I've Got a Lot To Be Thankful For

2009-11-26T12:37:00.002-05:00

First and foremost? Not getting pulled over last night.

The Air Up There

2009-11-25T13:11:00.002-05:00

Congratulations! Women's basketball is still boring!

Things That I Like: #127 Chicks With Glasses

2009-10-27T19:12:00.005-04:00

the better to see you with, my dear.

It Hasn't Happened Yet

2009-10-24T18:44:00.005-04:00

My successes are few and far between these days, but I think my ability to piss away my saturdays by sleeping off friday night's excesses has to count for something. There are those times, once the bars have closed, when I wander into the 7-11 on my way home and grab something certifiably terrible to eat before collapsing into unconsciousness where I wonder when I'm going to get tired of all of "this." Invariably, I tell myself that I will make changes, that there will be something in my refrigerator besides leftover pizza, breakfast cereals, and vodka, that I'll develop relationships - genuine relationships - that aren't of the "client and provider" nature, that my apartment will be more than a flophouse crammed with comics, pornography, and random, useless items, that I'm going to make a change, that I'm going to be the man I was meant to be, that I will finally achieve something.

I swear to myself that all of this will come to pass.

It hasn't happened yet.

Represent: Cheyenne, WY

2009-10-06T01:05:00.003-04:00

Despite a near-miss opportunity for a Western States Summit, the SBSC continues to press into new territories. I hope my untimely departure will not detract from general debauchery and/or misery. My brothers, I remain in spirit!

Titty Bar Tricks.

2009-09-12T21:10:00.003-04:00

It's been a while, I just have not found my muse for a while. During a recent Sad Bastards gathering at Camelot it came to me. Over the past couple of years I have been refining my approach, get the most bang for the buck. Here are a few of my personal rules of engagement.

1.) If the dancer is up on stage, I will not make my approach until she is completely naked. I have seen many a man, make the premature move. If I am going to give the bird and extra buck or two, I will have bare breast, ass and snatch in my face.

2.) When the dancer is done and comes to the table, I have devised a move that guarantees contact 99% of the time. I fold the dollar, no more than a dollar, long wise. When she pulls her garter belt open I make an backhanded approach from below. I also stutter with the money, to give me dirty contact with her upper thigh. The only way they can avoid this is to have their money evenly distributed all the way around. Most of those broads are either too stupid or too big of sluts to bother with this.

3.) If the dancer is to earn more than one dollar per dance, she better work for it. Don't go up and start nodding off and doing the heroin stare. Woman, you better work that pole and do some gymastics type shit. Also, when you come to my table, rub my back.

4.) If I see some 40 year broad who should of hung up the g-string 10 years ago, wait until she is about half way through her dance and go to the resteroom. Save your money for those who deserve it. As a consumer that is the only way for my voice to be heard.

So in summary, I am a sad man. So fucking what. I have my own kids to support, those broads can find another man to support their own. I need to make my $25 go a long way (I also just milk the same drink the whole night, fuck paying $8 for a Diet Coke). I assume that most of those reading this post already adhere to at least a couple of my rules and I hope that a few others can be of use in the future.

We Still Got Shirts

2009-08-30T12:27:00.003-04:00

For the bargain price of fifteen US dollars. Give me a shout if you're trying to cop.

They Don't Blog No More

2009-08-22T20:23:00.004-04:00

I realise the posts here have been lacking as of late. Shit, seems we all took the summer off.

I don't even know.

A lot has happened over the last couple of weeks, months, etc. SBMF has embarked upon a personal journey of re-invention, self-improvement, and so forth, I got a dog, and word around town is that SBKW joined the foreign legion or some such outfit.

In any case, I've just renewed the domain name registration for another two years so no matter how rarely we post, you all can sleep soundly knowing we're still out there somewhere. That said, I fully intend to resume posting here. Shit, the money's been spent so why not?

I'll end on that bit of good news and this clip of DC's premier sad sack songwriter and SBSC favourite, John Bustine.

The City of Lost Porn

2009-07-19T19:53:00.005-04:00

It's like jerking off in a time machine.

You can thank SBMM for this miraculous find.

Where We're Going We Don't Need Roads

2009-07-06T07:22:00.003-04:00

I. Must. Have. This.

A Lesson In Human Relations

2009-06-20T02:08:00.004-04:00

An interesting conundrum, posed this evening by a good friend, after a night on the town:

Say you're enjoying a few beverages at your local watering hole, and they've begun to make their way through your system. You make your way to the gentleman's lavatory to evacuate the rented suds, and you find yourself posted up next to a fellow drinker. Let's say this establishment has decided in it's wisdom as a purveyor of sorrow-drowning (and decidedly not funtional interior design) to install the type of urinal that terminates at the floor. Now, while the urinals are themselves self-contained, the extended travel from slightly-below-belt-level to floor exacerbates the existing issue of splatter. Let's also say that there's no courtesy barrier between said evacuation stations.

Now, the gentleman next to you commences his relief, and as you do the same, you suddenly feel a dappling of liquid on your bare lower leg (it's June, the friend in question was wearing short-pants.) How do you react to such a situation? I see three distinct scenarios:

1. You go with what I would imagine would be most people's first instinct, and confront the guy: "Hey arsehole, quit pissing on my leg!" This could of course lead to an ugly interaction, possibly even fisticuffs, depending on the relative levels of inebriation, the tempraments of the involved parites, etc. Generally, bad news bears.

2. You ask the gentleman to kindly redirect his business to the other side of the conference room. This could lead to either a sincere apology and repositioning, a sarcastic "Excuse me" and general awkwardness, or an threats of an unmitigated biological assault upon the speaker's current position.

3. You take the "shock and awe" approach, and respond in kind. You're not exactly winning hearts and minds, but with some luck, "Mission Accomplished." Of course, now you're likely mired in a protracted pissing contest (literally, in this case.) You spend an inordinate amount of time attempting to extract yourself, and no one ends up winning.

4. You say/do nothing. You head back to the bar with pee on your leg.

What say you, sad bastards?

Sad Bastards Concert Series: Sunset Rubdown

2009-06-15T22:47:00.004-04:00

my girl wants to party all the time, party all the time, party all the tiiiiiiiiime...

Didn't get to see the Lakers win the NBA finals last night because I was at the Black Cat watching Sunset Rubdown.

It was all good though; I enjoyed the music and their keyboardist could catch it like Carlton Fisk. Seriously, she's like a younger, hotter version of Melissa Auf der Maur.

Anyhow, besides the keyboardist, the best part of the show were these hecklers standing near me. At one point they asked Spencer to play "Party All The Time" by Eddie Murphy. I don't think he saw the humour in it. I think that he should probably talk to Brandon Butler about how to deal with hecklers with style. Now that guy has serious stage banter skills.

Sad Bastards Concert Series: TV On The Radio

2009-06-15T22:34:00.003-04:00

Wolf Like Me

Drove down south last week to see TV On The Radio at the National. Good show and a nice venue; I couldn't believe I was in downtown Richmond. Well, I could after the show when I was driving down Broad Street and wondering if a part of my car might actually break off due to the preponderance of potholes and generally shitty paving.

Afterwards, I crashed on SBDN's couch for two hours before driving back north to DC and going to work.

Allow myself to introduce.....myself

2009-06-01T21:45:00.003-04:00

Greetings, Bastards, SBMF here. Our fearless leader has bestowed upon me the privilege of contributing to this humble corner of the interwebs. Or, he's lazy and doesn't want to have to contribute as often as he already doesn't. For those who don't know (i.e., everyone other than SBs -N1, UK, AP, and CS), I'm the first legacy member of the SBSC (as SBUK has the honor of being my brother), aka Youngblood, as well as the Ambassador-at-Large. I'll try to post some thoughts whenever I have any worth sharing, or if I'm just drunk and bored (can't promise which will be more frequent). I have strong proclivities towards sonic brutality, tasty and delicious brewed/distilled beverages, feats of impressive athleticism, and soul-crushing misery. Hope you enjoy.

Peace and misery.

Sad Bastards Concert Series: Bonnie Prince Billy

2009-05-24T21:56:00.004-04:00

He's the greatest...

SBKW, SBAP, and I saw Bonnie Prince Billy at the Birchmere last night.

Fantastic show.

His violinist was smoking hot.

No one got thrown out from what I can recall.