Phishr Chronicles

This will be the new post for the stupidest most vile person of the week. It was a tough one this week as I read more and more of Josef Fritzl (The Austrian man who locked his daughter in a basement for 24 years and fathered 7 children with her). But that really happened April 29th. When he is convicted, he’ll get his turn on here.

TYLER, Texas - A jury again needed just four minutes Thursday to convict an organizer of an East Texas swinger’s club where prosecutors say young children were forced to perform sexual acts for an audience.

Shauntel Mayo, 29, faces life in prison after being found guilty on charges that she forced three siblings, ages 7 through 10, to have sex with each other or perform sexual acts for club members who paid to watch.

In March, Mayo’s 36-year-old boyfriend, Jamie Pittman, was also found guilty in four minutes. He was sentenced to life in prison after jurors deliberated for just two minutes.

Some jurors cried during testimony in Mayo’s three-day trial, the Tyler Morning-Telegraph reported.

Mayo was convicted of engaging in organized criminal activity and two counts of sexual performance of a child. The punishment phase was to begin later Thursday.

During the trial, the children testified how Mayo and other defendants began teaching them at age 5 how to dance and perform sex acts. They were also given drugs, which the adults called “silly pills,” to help them perform.

Four other defendants in the case are awaiting trial.

Sonic “Americas Drive-Thru”  Broken Arrow, OK 74011

I really enjoyed this Sonic for the span that it was open. To bad I have to do this.

I visit one evening with my simple order of “2 corny dogs and a tate tot”

They brought it out rather “sonic” like which really impressed me. It was around 8:30 p.m.  When I returned home, I learned why this food was brought to me in such a “sonic matter”.

 My corny dogs were rotten.

Abso-freaking-lutely cold rotten.  The outer cornmeal was hard, crunchy, and when I finally broke it open, it was dark brown in color. Then I gazed upon my hot dog.

 It looked like my hotdog suffered from leprosy and had long been decomposed.  It resembled a monkey finger left in the sun.

I have never been so pissed about the quality of something that is relatively so simple to produce.

Like fucking up a glass of water. 

I bit the bullet (figuratively) and enjoyed my tate-tots in frustration.

Fast forward 2 weeks.

Stink and I left a local pub and on the way back to his house we decided to pull into the Sonic.

Stink ordered the usual fast food crap and I once again ordered my 2 corny dogs and a tate-tot trying to repress the memory in the back of my head that the last time I did this I ordered a Maserati and got a Huffy.

We get back to Stinks house, not forgetting to mention that the whole way back to his house I’m bitching about my last Sonic experience.  We go into his kitchen and sit down. I unsheath my meal on a popsicle stick.  I bite into it. It immediately feels like I was punched in the mouth by Ivan Drago off of Rocky 4.  I tear back the cornmeal coating.

 Once again, hot dog looked like sundried ape finger.

Stink begins laughing hysterically.

THESE MOTHERF……

The next few minutes I didn’t remember a thing. It was continuous lines of profanity and threats.

I composed myself and prepared for the phonecall.

When I called them I talked with an employee first off that spoke like he was a supporting actor in a Cheech and Chong movie.

He passed the phone to the manager like it was a blunt.

Sonic night manager, “This is *so and so not important* what can I do for you?”

Hi, I cannot seem to get an adequate corny dog without it looking like a turd. I know they are only 99 cents but I invest in these quite frequently, and lately, well sir, your corny dogs have been significantly below par.

(I like talking like an asshole to these guys while remaining respectful)

Sonic manager, “Yeah sir, see during the winter, we found that we can precook the food in the early afternoon then just reheat it when people order it later.”

Note: I can tell they are all laughing at my terminology for corn dogs. I should have called them “cornbattered pig/dog/rat anus blessed by a fryer containing a fair abundant mixture of human saliva and other unmentionables” but he probably would have directed me towards NASA.

“WAIT! YOU KNEW OF THIS TECHNIQUE!?”

I for one am completely for streamlining production, but NEVER when it compromises the quality of a product or service. This includes corny dogs.

He says, “well yeah, I mean, we do it during the summer when it’s busy cause the food really doesn’t have time to go bad, I guess they just carried that little trick over to winter time?”

I am beside myself. I mean his honesty is impressive but wow… You seriously just spilled to a customer your disgusting habits. I can only imagine the filth that goes on in there.

He “credited” my Visa with the amount that was owed at time of purchase. I never looked on my bank statement because.. well it was like 3 dollars. I don’t care that much.

I get more pleasure in writing about it.

A few months later I’m sitting at a bar when a guy comes through cussing up a storm. He said he ordered a burger from there, they screwed it up in ways unimaginable.  They took the burger back, then served it to him again; this time cold and unchanged. He proceeded to get up and smear it all over the window before getting in his car and driving off. That was good enough for me.

I’ll just pretend I had an imaginary part in the payback he “claims” he had.

I have this grudge with this character. I didn’t like him on my favorite show in middle sch…errr…. now. He has always been a curly haired schmuck, but after my first run in with him, I have now determined that this is more than a grudge. It’s a reckoning.

Evertime I see his face my eyes get squinty, a grit my teeth and my fists ball up as I say “Lopez….”

I met this cute little brunette at a bar while I was playing video poker. She was funny, sexy, and 21 that day. I could have lost all my money and still hit the jackpot. Her rich parents paid for her to have a blowout party and had her name on lists all over Vegas. After shooting the stuff with her I got her number and planned to meet her at Rain in The Palms later that night. We ended up going back to the hotel where I knocked down some drinks and got ready. 

That night we showed up about 2 hours late…. And tore up.  When we arrived we were standing in line because I didn’t know any better. Stevo reminded me that we were VIP and we could move to the front.  I stumbled up to the door guy and told him my name. He waved some bouncers over and they escorted us into the club. The inside of this place was massive. A fire machine was shooting fireballs above everyones head. Unfortunately, there were guidos everywhere.  The music was deafening and the drunken girls were flowing like the Mississippi. I immediately knock out four or five drinks and try to find my brunette princess.

I order another shot and walk around the whole club.

I cannot find her so I order another shot.

 By now I’m starting to use other people as a method of balance. Image a 5 year old at a bowling alley who is using the bumpers, how the ball makes 12 cross lane trips before it knocks out the back 7 pin, that was my style at the moment.  I was knocking people over falling into them. I looked like a frosted piece of materialistic shit.  It was great.

 I finally bump into her, she is with a table of girls. She starts demanding shots from me. Being that it was late and I was torn up drunk, i agree. By this point I still have a chance for redemption. I go up to order shots.

“I’ll have 2 vodBLUFFFFFFF!!”

Have you ever seen the clip of Chris Webber losing the 1993 NCAA championship game by calling a timeout that Michigan didn’t have? I blew it on a scale that rivaled that. Why?

I have just yummied all over the top of the bar.

In my mind, I’m the only one that noticed. In reality, I’m sure 400 people saw this. I threw up the whole weekends worth of a liquid diet.  It was awful. I quickly grab Stevo and tell him that it would be in our best interest that we leave now on our own two feet rather than be thrown out on all fours. We get out to the main floor and I explained to him how I just projectile vomited all over the bar. He laughs hard as I try to score a hand full of breath mints from him.

We wander over to GhostBar. Once again, front of line, escort up. I thought about the situation briefly. This girl put us on her VIP birthday list and I completely blew her off, never bought her a single drink, hit on her friends and went about using this little VIP pass as much as possible. Yes, I felt a little guilty, I mean I completely took advantage of this cute girl on her 21st birthday.

Screw it, at this point I’m 55 floors up on a glass platform overlooking Vegas at night and the skirts were short and the vodka was flowing. For that brief moment, we were unstoppable. We leave and go check out the Playboy Club. We pass “all the peasants” as we stroll up to the rope. I think in my mind, “all we gotta do is drop the name and he will let us continue to the final stretch of paradise.”

The bouncer says, “Sorry guys, No VIP please, step aside for a moment then I will get to you”.

I get extremely mad. Maybe i should let this guy know who he is talking too!

I blurt out, “ARTCHOOGOIUNTOOLETMEEIN?!”

He smiles and says, “please step aside.”

Just as I smell a jerry curl people start going crazy in line.

The eyes got squinty.

 I turned around, and he was standing behind me. 

“LOPEZ…”

They were making me step aside so “Pet tricks” Lopez can cruise right in front me. I am mad. He is taking pictures and moving along at his own slow ass pace. The sooner he gets through that rope, the sooner I can be pounding vodka, staring at bunnies and pickin’ fights with people named Lopez.

“Come On Lopez! Hurry Up!”

I assume this angers people.

By now Stevo is cracking up because I am now saying pretty mean stuff. I cannot get over this. Stevo decides he wants some of Lopez too, so he grabs ahold of me like he is restraining me and yells over to Lopez,

“DON’T FUCK WITH HIM DUDE, I HEAR HE WRESTLED FOR BAYSIDE HIGH!!!”

Everyone erupts in laughter. I think that what we have done was what would inevitably be the reason that the bouncer chose not to let us in.  The night ended as usual when Stevo and I are trashed around each other, we disrespected hookers, trashed a hotel room, and ordered $50 worth of pizza and greasy buffalo wings just to tell the order lady that I was going to marry her. She asked if I wanted bleu cheese. My response?
“I want a disturbing amount of bleu cheese, seriously honey, If bleu cheese was a hooker, i’d totally get nasty with her”

What? It was 6 A.M. Sunday morning. Why not.

And yes, you can tell she hooked the bleu cheese up…

My favorite is the Crown lid in the pizza box.