Click the popularity link on the LOLgame page to view the best-rated images.

We all did a good job making fun of ourselves, but now it’s time to aim our artillery on American women. After finding a picture that I think best represents their attitude and figure, I went ahead and created 22 images to get you started. Here are my top 5:

Click here to view all the Typical American Woman images.

New Contest: I will give the electronic editions of all my books to the one man who creates what I think is the best image by Monday at noon (EST). Like before, the winner will be announced on my Twitter feed next week. Good luck.

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To make light of those responses that can happen to players, I created a game image macro. I’ve always been a fan, first with lolcats and most recently with Socially Awkward Penguin and Advice God. I noticed there wasn’t one for game so I grabbed this famous picture of Mystery wearing heavy eyeliner to use as the background:

Then I made eighteen lolgame images that you can judge using the smiley face rating system. Here are my favorites:

Click here for the other thirteen. What’s cool about the QuickMeme site I put them on is that you can easily add your own caption.

LOLGAME CONTEST: I will be giving the electronic editions of all my books to the one man who creates what I deem the best caption by Monday at noon (EST). Click here to add your caption (submit as many as you like). I’ll announce my favorite image on my Twitter feed and the winner can email me to claim his prize. I’ll be using the hashtag #lolgame over the weekend to evaluate noteworthy submissions. Good luck.

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I was conflicted after watching it. On one hand I agree that police overstep their boundaries, letting their ego make decisions on who they arrest and how, but on the other hand girls like the one above need to understand that the world doesn’t exist to serve their unreasonable demands.

I’ve seen a lot of police brutality videos on the internet, and 90% of the time they get me riled up. Fucking police state! Who do those cops think they are! Yet my encounters with policemen in America have been uneventful affairs. The reason is because I act respectfully around police: I don’t curse, I’m not sarcastic or condescending, and I obey instructions. Plus I’m white. I’m going to defer to an officer’s authority because he has a significant amount of power over me, and angering him would make my life more difficult than it needs to be. While I agree with standing up for your constitutional rights, you can do it respectfully in the courtroom instead of getting tazed in the anus. If you’re white and get rough-housed by the police, you did some seriously stupid shit, and I’m afraid to say that most likely you deserved it, whether you’re a man or woman.

That said, the girl above made two grievous errors:

1. Mouthed off to a cop she already angered (the video depicts only their second encounter, well after the cop told her to leave the station).

2. Snatched her arm away when he decided to arrest her, and then further resisted when he tried to handcuff her. I know cops say “stop resisting” just to cover their ass, but she did seem to be resisting. If that was me I’d shut the fuck up and put my hands behind my back.

Even when viewing this video from my anti-authority lens, I can’t conjure up much sympathy for the girl. She did something I’d never do, and had to pay the consequences of her actions. Welcome to the real world.

Since I’m familiar with the area this happened in, allow me to fill in the details. The girl is 23 or 24 years old and a graduate of George Washington or American University. Her rating on the attractiveness scale is a 4 at most (see 3:45 in the video for a view of her rotund size—a likely explanation at why it took so long for the cop to completely restrain her). She drank herself stupid nearby at either The Green Turtle or McFaddens, two cheesy bars that are like the McDonalds of the DC nightlife scene for recent college graduates. She got hit on all night by a predominantly frat boy clientele, boosting her already unreasonably high ego to stratospheric levels. With the alcohol in her system I’m sure she felt like the queen of the ball, but did not take home a guy that night because her stumpy lady friend executed the vicious cockblock right after last call.

Still on a high, she got rowdy when entering the metro system, forgetting that the Gallery Place stop is heavily patrolled by policemen because of regular fighting by bored urban youth. Treating the cop like one of the dweebs she turned down in the bar, she decided to give him the same cuntish treatment, even performing a practiced backturn that I’m sure has incurred feelings of rejection on dozens of men before. Some guys have been persistent, though, and tried to regain her favor after such a rejection, but her white knight in the shorts is always on the scene, lingering in the background, ready to soothe things over like he tried to do in the video when he begged the cop to “just let her go.” Even with his display of bravery, he still did not receive the pity fuck once mommy and daddy bailed her out the next morning.

Did she learn her lesson? Let me phrase it this way: do you have any doubt that every time she interacts with a policeman in the future her heart beat and blood pressure will increase, her skin pores will produce more sweat, and she’ll ultimately think twice before acting like a spoiled little princess to someone with authority? I have zero doubt. The irony of all this is if she was properly put in her place beforehand by real men, she wouldn’t have the courage to go hard on a policeman. When I watch a video like this all I can do is shake my head at the kind of woman society is producing.

And then I laugh. What an dumb bitch.

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Hey I’m Ed I would like to share a little story of how I got out of the just friends zone. I met this chick at a pool hall. Let’s just say her name is Meg. It turned out she was the sister of my brother’s girlfriend. So it was easy to get a conversation going. The problem was Meg’s boy friend owned the pool hall. I figured I would leaf it alone, but as they say forbidden fruit taste sweeter. I ended up going to her house and we talked all night. I did the gay thing. But I brushed her hair and rubbed her back even baked cookies I got myself as far into the friend zone as I could get.

So then I disappeared for three months, left town went to Washington dc had fun there. In the meantime back home my brother told the sisters that I got into a crazy car crash and died. Note this was not my idea. Well after three months in dc I return home. The sisters came to my house to pickup my brother, that’s when he told me that the girls think I’m dead. After a WTF moment I figured I would use this to my advantage. I had a little fun walking out of the woods as a ghost. They where so glad to see that I was alive, that in less than a week I slept with both the sisters and even the mother.

I’ve instructed my surrogates back home to inform everyone of my untimely yet thrilling death in a jet ski accident. This may be the biggest technological advance I’ve seen in game since the use of glow sticks in trance clubs.

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Cockblocking is a good example. There are guys who don’t do anything when they get disrespected by the rude girlfriends, only ensuring that the behavior continues. Because of how I’ve handled these situations, I’m confident that I’ve stopped many cockblocks for guys in D.C. who I don’t even know.

Along this theme I want to commend Joe Francis, the owner of Girls Gone Wild, for teaching a lesson that has changed the life of a girl who made a grave mistake. If you aren’t already familiar with Joe Francis he’s known for being a dick. Check out this article from a couple years back.

Francis told the cameraman to leave and pushed her back on the bed, undid his jeans and climbed on top of her. “I told him it hurt, and he kept doing it. And I keep telling him it hurts. I said, ‘No’ twice in the beginning, and during I started saying, ‘Oh, my god, it hurts.’ I kept telling him it hurt, but he kept going, and he said he was sorry but kissed me so I wouldn’t keep talking.”

Rape or just proper bedroom technique? Scientific surveys says that 90% of rape accusations are fake, used by women to get attention or to annul slutty behavior. You should be even more skeptical of rape claims against a notorious celebrity.

Actually has a male celebrity ever been successfully charged with rape? With fame-obsessed women throwing their vaginas on them the last thing they need to do is coerce themselves on a groupie. For example if I ever get accused of rape then you know it’s bullshit.

Alright back to the lesson. Joe Francis was at a club recently talking to a random girl. That girl’s friend was model Jayde Nicole, who for whatever reason didn’t like what Joe said or did. Later while he was walking through the club alone, Jayde poured a shot on Joe’s shoulder. He then turned around, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled as hard as he could, dragging her on the floor. Click here to watch the video of this incident.

And here’s a picture of the model:

Let’s do a little blow-by-blow:

0:07: Joe is walking through the club. Jayde sees him and outstretches her arm to get ready for the pour.

0:11: The shot is dumped on Joe’s shoulder.

0:13: Stunned, Joe looks around to see who grievously insulted him while Jayde retreats back to the bar trying to play off her involvement.

0:15: With a face full of fury, Joe grabs Jayde’s hair and pulls with all his might.

0:19: Joe gets jumped by men trying to defend the attacker’s honor.

0:30: Jayde stands stunned by the bar and needs to be consoled by friends. I have a feeling she didn’t expect his reaction.

1:02: Jayde is boo-hoo-hooing uncontrollably at the bar. Her friends are stroking her now-mangled coif.

Here’s what I think of the situation:

Bitch deserved it..

You can argue whether or not the punishment fit the crime, but as he did no permanent damage to her I think his response was more reasonable than not. It’s not like he pulled a Mark Wahlberg and blinded a man in an unprovoked racist attack.

If you don’t agree then I’m afraid you’re still drinking the feminist koolaid that teaches men that it’s always “wrong to hit a women.” Well it’s not always wrong to hit a woman. As a man who’s been pushed to the edge, I’m stunned at how deft women are at inciting violence, even when you’re warned them repeatedly to simmer down. I believe some women want you to hit them because they want to see you care, especially if you have an aloof, hard-to-read nature.

Do think Jayde would have attacked a man like that in a Middle Eastern country? Hell no because she knows she’d be murdered. I’m definitely not saying that’s what we need, but our culture has taught women that they can disrespect men without repercussion, and has taught men to accept that disrespect like little punks. Well there are men who haven’t bought that view and are making the world a better place by teaching women like Jayde that you can’t go around attacking men. I guarantee you she will never pour a shot on a man again in her life.

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I think the chance of getting HIV from a prostitute is low… unless you go raw and get your dick gashed up in the vagina. Idiot.

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The most damaged and insane girls I’ve met have considered themselves budding poets.

Eight days after I wrote that I went on a first date with a young girl who was half-Asian. As you know I don’t have an Asian fetish (I’ve only been with two), but when I asked her what the Asian half was she got defensive and accused me of having the yellow fever. In her dreams. Anyway she told me that not only does she write poetry, but she organizes “slam recitals” as well. She also said she was going through a feminist stage, saying, “If you really think hard about it, every man has violated a woman not just by rape but by going too fast or too deep during sex.” I wonder much longer it will take for feminists to say the act of consensual sex is actually brutal rape.

Immediately after the date she googled me and found out about the blog (a gigantic headache compared to a girl knowing about it beforehand). Surprisingly, she didn’t take it well. She left a scathing speech on my voicemail where she sarcastically referred to Bang as a “bestseller” and in so many words telling me to have a nice life on my way to the fiery pits of hell. I saved her message and have since played it for a handful of my students during workshop downtime.

The blog giveth and the blog taketh away. She’ll never find out that my fuck style is fast and deep (I learned that if I make a girl’s vagina sore, it’s a guarantee I’ll get a callback for more of that pounding). On a side note, I keep meeting girls who actively write poetry which means I’m doing something to attract the drama queens. I don’t know what it is but please someone make it stop.

CONTINUED: Open Letter To Poetry Girl

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“You know how I don’t let any guy try to get with me right? I get their number and then throw it away. So I was about to get on the Metro and this guy starts talking to me. He seemed okay. He asks me if I’m hungry and want to grab something to eat, his treat. I figure why not, so I said yes.

“We go to a Mexican place and eat dinner. I’m a little nervous because I would hate if Chris found out I’m hanging out with some other guy like this. I just wanted the meal. The check comes, and get this shit: his card was declined. He leaves to the ATM across the street and comes up apologizing, saying he can’t pay the bill. I’m sooooo angry at this point. So I pay the whole thing—$26 and $2 tip. He tells me he wants to take me out again to make up for not having money. I tell him no and to consider this an early Christmas gift. This sucks because I can’t afford anything right now. I’m so upset.”

I looked the other way and put my hand over my face until I was done laughing. It’s bad enough she had a boyfriend and went out on a date with a guy she wanted to use for tacos con carne (yes, she was obese, morbidly), but why insult the help with a pathetic 7.7% tip? Two more dollars wouldn’t have killed her at that point. Yet sitting on my comfortable orange seat I was extremely proud to be the same gender of the man who gave this girl what she deserved. You know she’ll be stewing for weeks, maybe months. He changed her for the better of all men everywhere.

I got to wondering if he ran “declined card” game on purpose. After the massive social faux-pas of showing up on a date with $0, he knows that any girl who makes it to date two wants to get banged and doesn’t care about his (in)ability to pay. His cost per notch must be admirable. I may have to steal this technique if I ever get in dire straits, but instead of a date two I’ll just try to drag the girl back to my refrigerator box.

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The girl put the photos up on her Myspace in an album called “Bikini Modeling.” She’s aware the internet is making fun of her right now.

Hm…so I’ve recently been the topic of several internet message boards conversation. I have a few bikini photos on there from a friend of mine. I never said I looked great in a bikini and wasn’t going for high-quality photos. It was fun, purely for entertainment, and it was a beautiful day. Some people think I look great in the bikni, others (obviously) think the exact opposite…..

Obviously.

In case you’re hungry for more…

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“I won a hundred gold medals and all I got was this 7.”

Thank god for game.

Postscript: It has come to my attention that the second picture is not Michael Phelps’ girlfriend. My bad.

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I’m pro-women’s magazines because it makes girls so insecure and wrapped up in their own world of perceived flaws and lacks that they never notice my flowing ear hair, which I let shed naturally.

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Futurama’s take on mermaid mating…

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Second video, and one that strikes closer to home, is what happens when the internet goes out.

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I also did a joke on Virgle Kent. On Sunday night a “cute brunette” made a post on Craigslist missed connections about our night out on Saturday:

This was upstairs in the patio. I was watching you hoping you’d come talk to me.

You=black man, very built, with beige jacket. You were hanging out with a very hairy man with long hair.

Me=cute brunette with black dress. My friends were being anti-social. I’d love to touch those muscles!

I thought I’d have to enlist the help of a confederate to help spread the word but Roissy and Arjewtino both found it within a day and emailed him.

Part of VK’s email to his missed connection:

I’m betting that this is probably a hoax from one of my other friends or a group of spinsters I know that don’t like me. I’ve got money riding on it being a set up. But yeah, I was the bald black guy with the hairy friend.

:laugh:

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Then the bearded one in the middle busts out with this: “Do you like anal sex?” I squint. I’m confused. “Do you do anal?” he repeats, head bobbing with excitement. The litany continues. Do I want to take it in the ass? Have I ever taken it in the ass? My silence is taken as an affirmative and he announces that this interview will go no further unless he receives a hand job.

I bet you these guys thought it was the funniest thing in the world to ask a reporter for anal, high-fiving each other and laughing it up for being such badasses—until she published names. Now members mentioned in the article are crying libel in the comments like little bitches.

Code words like “turbo” and “turbette” help posters maintain the site’s exclusivity. The lingo ranges from abstruse to obvious. In addition to “takedowns” and “going to poundtown” or “PT” (getting laid), there’s “big timing” (snubbing someone, often a member of the opposite sex, at a bar), “smoke” (an attractive LNS member), and “RBV” (a Red Bull with vodka, the preferred drink of many LNSers).

I guess they have to come up with new code words now that everyone knows what the cryptic “poundtown” means. Another LNS member showcases his superior game:

He says he knows people talk behind his back, but he doesn’t care. He’s rich, and that’s all that matters. “My brother and I, we do all right,” he says. “Guys with money can do whatever they want.” He grabs me again and says, “You’re kind of cute.”

He failed. Overall I found the article to be fair and balanced.

A part of me feels sorry for LNSers, especially the guys. They are just going through college withdrawal and want to be a part of a community where they can get laid with look-at-my-business-card game. As long as they keep their stripped collars and funny boat shoes in the tourist hell that is Georgetown, let them think they are special and high-brow, where nothing says class like a Red Bull and vodka.

Average Late Night Shot member → ← City Paper reporter

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Here are pictures (my favorite)

One of the stores is in Bladensburg, Maryland. Its address should be updated here. I want to buy a Squishee.

Postscript: Picture from the Bladensburg store…

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I’m having one of those days where I feel I lost everything I wanted before I even mounted a battle for them. I’m not going to be a young mother. I’m not going to marry my college sweetheart. I’m not going to be a teen sensation.

Today, I feel like I’m too old to do anything I wanted or hoped to do. I can’t find a job I like. I can’t find a boy to kiss.

Women feel sorry for themselves in order to get sympathy and validation from other women who know what it’s like to feel sorry for themselves. Their goal is to get a superficial injection of happy feelings that stops the tears long enough to leave the house and purchase brand-name clothing products.

I never thought I’d be 34, unmarried, unemployed and childless. Not having a warm body to lie next to in September is nothing to think about. In December it’s reason enough to cry. I never thought, I never considered that I’d still have to be looking. I blithely assumed that my snatch would be snatched up! I mean really. I switched high schools at the start of my sophomore year. I nabbed myself a boyfriend the first damn day. We were together for three years and then intermittently throughout college. In college there were others, I never lacked for a date. Cute, eligible guys were never hard to come by until I actually wanted one. And yes, I know, you’ll never find anyone while you’re looking but I’m 34, I really can’t play coy anymore.

Who would have thought the attention she received when she was 18 would decrease to nothing almost two decades later? There has to be a high school course for teenage girls that brings out spinster speakers (with their beautiful cats) to scare them from trying to be players like men. If they can show pictures of diseased cocks and vaginas in school I see no reason why they can’t offer this reality as well.

And so, as my mom would say; I’m in a mood today. I have a date tomorrow night and I’m not all that moody by nature though so this feeling, it’s got to be fleeting, right?

Of course she’s still dating, since it has worked so well for her in the past. Because even at her age she deserves no less than a quality man who is over six feet tall, charming, a good listener, witty, in excellent shape, fashionable but not too metrosexual, not a game player, well-mannered, chivalrous, making six figures, funny but not a clown, a passionate lover, emotionally secure, drug-free, ambitious, nice but not too nice, not self-absorbed, athletic, and friendly to defenseless little animals.

Ten bucks this woman dies alone.

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I’m a 46-year-old unmarried Caucasian woman. I live alone with my three cats, whom I love dearly. My friends always pick on me because I love cats but haven’t managed to find a man who shares this love with me. Sometimes I feel very alone, although I have my cats. I feel like my friends are talking about me behind my back all the time! I’m very content with my current lack of love, but I sometimes worry that my friends aren’t. They are all happily married with children. I feel as though I’m left out of everything since I haven’t gotten married and had kids. Because of this, I’m thinking of adopting an African baby. Although I feel that I would love this child as much as I love my cats, sometimes I wonder if the only reason I’m considering adopting is to fit in with my friends. What should I do?

—Alone and Unsure

Alright which one of you guys sent that in?

If you feel so out of sync with your married friends, instead of embarking on an ill-conceived adoption quest, seek out friendships with other middle-aged cat ladies.

Credit to Ribald for the find.

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1. Never trust a woman, especially an American woman.
2. Never blast inside a woman even if she is supposedly on the pill. Girls are human too and they forget to take it every day.

The only pleasure in life I deprive myself of is not letting my creamy delicious sperm come into contact with vaginal tissue. But I dream about it every day. It’s unfortunate that the only way I’ll be able to continue my unprotected stroke to the very end is by sleeping with an old woman who has been through menopause.

Vasectomy: $400. Speechless look on her face: priceless.

I’ll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:

I got a vasectomy.

I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.

I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.

We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her – as I was to find out – it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.

Four months into dating, I get the “I’m pregnant” talk. She’s going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married “for the baby”. She’s positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she’s gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.

At this point, I’m just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse “oops” on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can’t think beyond their own uteri.

So I wait a couple of days to “think about all this.” I meet her again. I say I don’t want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.

Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I’m laughing hysterically.

It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a “negative test result for sperm” to show I’m sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I’m ready.

I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.

She’s all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly – or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. “Are you sure that this baby is mine?”

Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she’s really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she’s a slut. I’m just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities… blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I’m not really mad. I’m kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won’t shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.

I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.

I tell her simply, “You’re screwed”.

Her look doesn’t change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.

I continue. “I am sterile”

Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women’s logic. “You’re full of shit. You’re trapped and you know it.”

I hold up the letter and the test results. “Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine.”

This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. “Bullshit, those are fakes.”

I was ready for that. “No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It’s a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine.”

I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It’s a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.

I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.

Epilogue -

I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.

The Moral of the Story -

Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.

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Consumer Reports has deemed McDonalds coffee better than Starbucks.

The magazine reportedly says McDonald’s Premium Roast Coffee has “no flaws,” labeling it “decent and moderately strong.” The java from Starbucks, meanwhile, was determined to be “strong, but burnt and bitter enough to make your eyes water instead of open.”

Starbucks is good for espresso and pretending you have a life outside the house. 7-11 has the best coffee.

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