Get 2 Choppin

It isn’t Good Friday yet, but it sure feels like it. There is nothing better than helping people. Today was one of those days that end up at the top of the list when you are handing out your resume to St. Peter at the pearly gates. Wham and I did our choppin’ duty and saved the life of fellow human being from the shame and embarrassment she would have incurred from wearing (dare I say it) sunglasses at night.

This heinous act was almost perpetrated but our fast acting stopped this illegal behavior before it crossed over the border into bad decision land. I tried my best to solve the problem myself with a strong warning, “Do you want to get your ass kicked today? Totally bush league there you Guido, only a Richie Rich who is used to getting her way would blatantly flaunt her betterness like that”. I did not want to bring Wham into the fray but things started to get testy when she questioned my beauty and proposed a fight.

I responded, “Obviously you can hire somebody so you don’t get your manicured hands dirty. Not fair, but let’s do this. It is for your own good.” It was time for an intervention.

This is when Wham stepped, “It sounds like a bit of jealousy, ease up tough girl and if I ever see you wearing sunglasses at night someone’s getting an ass-kicking. Jeez oh Pete…seriously?”

After referring her to the “We Are So Fighting” post regarding the topic of wearing sunglasses at night we can honestly say that she saw the light (that’s what happens when you take off the shades of stupidity) and recanted her slanderous status.

     Now I don’t like to toot my own horn but the thing ain’t gonna play itself. I bet my bottom dollar that this person (she will remain nameless to protect her family and friends from any harassment) is glad that she knows people like Wham and I, who are chalked full of integrity. Most people, probably even some of her closest friends, would’ve let that flaw slide, but not us. All I can say is you are welcome and Wham another life has been saved. Mark it.

     Wham’s response was also one of genuine heartfelt welcome-ness. He replied, “I often get asked, ‘Wham, how do you do it?’ or ‘Wham, why do you take the time to help these people?’ and the answer is, it’s a gift and I’m glad I can make a difference. Chalk this one up in the good deeds column, John E. Bravo. Beeyahhh!”

     The man is indeed a selfless human being and after having a conference call we came up with this simple blueprint for your house of life for our readers to follow. It starts with a solid foundation of integrity, some strong columns of good deeds for supports, rooms for improvement, and a roof of responsibility to keep out the storms of stupidity and selfishness that plague us all, well besides Wham and I. You can just call us storm chasers, cause we don’t hide from the choppy seas of life. We get right up in that hurricane and say, “Girl, gimme that, ugh!”

You know what you don’t know shit about John E. Bravo so let me fill you in on the type of person I am. So pin back your ears cause it’s gonna get real up in this joint. I don’t give a shit what you think about me, I’m gonna do my thang and by thang I mean thing but I’m so badass I’m going to spell it thang which ain’t even a fucking word. You need to work in Vegas and deal with it. I’m about put by badass thang all up in your grill, and we ain’t bbq-ing like it is the fourth of July if you know what I mean but trust me there will be some fireworks.

I’m the type of guy that likes to whip open my shades, get buck ass naked, throw on some Pearl Jam and put on a show for the Paul Mitchell School of Beauty, Boobs, and No Brains on the other side of the parking lot. Yeah I will grab my ukulele and harmonica and rock out with my cock out, literally at 10, 12, and 2 daily. I’ll be working that harmonica like it is a fucking clit; yeah I said clit. Get over it you clit-licker, clitasaurus, clitty-clitty bang bang, What Clit got your tongue? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That shit is funny; fuck you. Just don’t go all Clit Eastwood on me and be Dirty Harry. I mean we’ve all seen Clit’s film The Good, The Bad, The Ugly. I’m sorry, no I’m not, I just can’t clit; I mean quit the clit, hell have you seen Million Dollar Baby where he says, “No Vagggggg, just clit! Hit that clit with your tongue like it’s a fucking speed bag”.

Yeah I get it, I’m as smart as hell and dumb as fuck, we call that a paradox. That reminds me of a joke, “What is one thing you will never see in a clinic in Detroit?” A paradox. I just thought of that; yeah I’m witty to boot. Speaking of boot, I will put my foot so far up your ass you’ll be having my toe jam for breakfast. I fight; get over it. I fight my fucking bathroom door everyday. I kick the shit out of that motherfucker. He doesn’t have a chance, left, right, left, right. Work the body, John E. Work the body, John E. You take out the body and the head will fall, John E. I like to think of the voices in my head as my corner guys. They are always there but they never get in the ring those fuckers.

I like to rap to, if you gotta problem with that speak up. Sit the fuck down, I was being rhetorical, I don’t want to hear a fucking word you got to say, you lily livered piece of rotten Gorgonzola, cause you cheesy get it.

Here is the chorus to my latest rap:

I like them dirty ho’s

Who take off their clothes.

I’m gonna take my nose

And put it where the shit flows

So gather up the bros

It’s time to find the hidden rose.

Cause I like them dirty ho’s

Where anything goes.

That’s me in a fucking nutshell, so if you are allergic to nuts you better get out of here fast because you are about to have some all over your face.

The latest trend in photography, the unsuspecting posterization of people, hasn’t quite taken a firm hold in the mainstream media but here at get2choppin.com where it really counts it is spreading faster than the herpes virus at a college beer pong tournament. It may seem like it is all fun and games when it comes to posterizing somebody, but I must advise you that this is not an easy maneuver to pull off and you must be agile, mobile, and tactile. It is really all about timing and knowing your surroundings. Be warned that when things go wrong they go wrong in a bad way. Take a long hard look at the following photograph and I will explain the apparent dangers and pitfalls to an ill-advised attempt at posterizing somebody.

If you take a quick glimpse, you might assume that Johnny Blue has pulled off an amazing posterization of Wham Dickham. Au contraire, mon frere! Look closer.

First let’s start with the lower body support. Johnny Blue is like the combination of Daryl Dawkins and Robert “Tractor” Traylor of posterizing, for him it is all about power and getting the most out of that power. There should be no attempt at finesse. The one legged support is strictly a finesse move and typically pulled off by people that, um, I don’t know how to say this tactfully but are at their in season playing weight. Let’s just say Johnny’s year round training sessions involve a pitcher and not the kind throwing batting practice if you know what I mean.

Second, follow the thumb of Wham Dickham and take a look at Johnny Blues’ expression of terror. If that isn’t an “oh shit, what’ve I got myself into now” look then I don’t know what is. The photographer nailed the exact moment of no return on this one for Johnny Blues. Here is a rule of thumb, Johnny, from my days back in sniper school, “if it ain’t in your scope, don’t pull the trigger”. This move was above and beyond your skill set. The risk obviously outweighed the reward, which brings me to my final point.

Third, on the right hand side above Wham’s shoulder is the unsuspecting guy that is about to get crushed. Like the little Japanese guy trying to drive away in his one cylinder piece of foreign crap as Godzilla recklessly stumbles through the town destroying everything in his path, this guy was in for a rude awakening. Johnny ain’t the twinkle toes he use to be when he was chasing down forwards and knocking down threes back in the day, and we love him for it but this guy wasn’t the happiest camper in the KOA campgrounds if you are picking up the broken glass that I’m putting down.

It was a valiant attempt Johnny Blue, but you aren’t quite ready to take off the training wheels or in this case make sure you put on the safety harness before you try to fly on the trapeze son cause there’s never a safety net when you go for the gusto in the hot new world of posterization. 

Recently in complete jest I posted this statement on one of the social networking sites: John E. Bravo wants to get married so he can say, “Yo baby girl make me some waffles, puh-lease”. To my chagrin I received quite a few comments about this status and thought everyone would be interested to see how the concept of marriage has been radically altered. June Cleaver cover your ears because you are in for a shock. (Names have been changed to protect the identity of the people, but all women are underlined for emphasis). Here is the first comment:

Scottie the Computer John Gotti: You can also say “Bitch, get in the kitchen and make me some pie!”

John E. Bravo: Thank you sir. If they can’t make waffles right, how the hell they gonna make whoopee right? Good point on the “B” word but I feel baby girl is more endearing but if they get on my bad side by burning my waffles then the “B” word comes out and possibly the “C” word if I’m really hungry.

Stay and See What I Got: LOL you can say whatever you want but a Real women is gonna tell you to “fuck off, get it yourself!”

Scottie the Computer John Gotti: The sad, sad truth is revealed.

John E. Bravo: Stacy if I gave you my sad “I’ve been working hard all week and I’d love some waffles look”, you are telling me when I drop the baby girl and puh-lease line you wouldn’t make me some waffles? That’s just plain wrong. I will even add the come from behind, rub the shoulders, and whisper it into your ear method of delivery. How about now? Oh yeah and you will get the slap on the bum if you say yes. With maybe a pinch to grow an inch.

Stay and See What I Got: LMAO, oh no one told you…when you get married NONE of that works anymore. Sorry to ruin the wet dream of the “little women” in the kitchen just waiting to serve you.

P.S. The economy sucks, she has probably been working hard all week too.

John E. Bravo: Well apparently marriage isn’t give or take anymore. I guess my antiquated ideas will have to be put on the shelf next to my “Little House on the Prairie” DVDs. I mean if she can’t make me waffles (when I ask nicely) then she will have to find someone else to carry the heavy bags of groceries or kill spiders. Hell that strange noise at night she hears, well, she is getting her ass out of bed to check for burglars or ghosts.

Monique Come Take A Peek: Do Eggo waffles count?

John E. Bravo: Hell no, Eggo waffles don’t count. They need to be homemade in the shape of hearts with whip cream and strawberries or blueberries. Now that is love. I don’t understand why I’m getting picked on by you ladies but now I see why the garage is such a refuge for men. I better learn how to fix engines I guess.

Monique Come Take A Peek: Not picking on you, simply a question. Relax, B.

John E. Bravo: I’m all wound up. I just found out I ain’t getting no waffles when I get married

Brandy Will Make It Dandy: Make sure to register for a waffle iron for your wedding and this could possibly happen for you. You can make awesome waffles in a matter of minutes with one of these; you just need to work on finding your perfect soul mate now.

Monique Come Take a Peek: Genius idea, all about the registry. And then you have more time for ‘other things’.

John E. Bravo: Like what, holding the yarn while she knits a fifteen foot scarf for aging giraffes? Well FML! I guess it is the SFL club (SINGLE FOR LIFE) for me and a lifetime membership at IHOP.

Adam No Eve: The secrets of love have been revealed, one dimpled flatcake at a time. You gotta admit – life is better with syrup…

April Baby Showers Brings Dads with Shotguns and Flowers: Dude, you have no idea how much I love to cook waffles; and I make them from scratch!!! This topic makes me horny! I love to cook!

John E. Bravo: People, the waffle grid is symbolic of so much more than just a waffle. On one level, that repeated criss cross is the constant union of the married couples soul. It is about an inter-connectedness that makes us turn from single ingredients to mushy batter to one whole solid waffle of love. You can find everything in the waffle. Religion and the cross. Life itself. The peaks and valleys that contain the sweet syrup of life that binds us together. Oh sweet waffle you are sustenance to the soul.

Jenny Looking for the Rock: Damn John E. Bravo  you get deep with your statuses now a days…but I love, love, love the metaphor of the waffles…NICELY DONE.

John E. Bravo: Or I could just be like, “Damn girl you know the only kinda iron I work with on the weekend is my seven iron which is about to be upside your head if I don’t get me some waffles soon, girl gimme that.”

Mary Me Please: VERY stimulating thread. While I really empathize with you, and when I started to feel sorry for you something clicked that is all too familiar!!!!! You don’t want marriage to get some ‘baby girl’ that will cook you waffles.  Pick a weekend, and I will be MORE than glad to come on down some Sunday morning after church with my waffle iron, and make your waffles for you. What you are looking for is someone to take care of YOU! And honey, that isn’t a wife. That’s a mother. And, in regards to the shape of the waffles…remember…they also symbolize a chain link fence! HA!

John E. Bravo: Isn’t there a saying if little boys had their druthers they’d marry their mothers. So a substitute is not a bad thing, I suppose. The waffle could be symbolic of a shoe tread and how woman try to run our lives. And I’m for sure looking forward to saying, “You’re looking good this morning baby gurl. I’m so blessed to have swam in the ocean of life and found such a rare pearl.”

Mary Me Please: You could also relate the waffle pattern to : flyswatter, snowshoe, tire tread…and for the druthers, well I find it rather sexy when a man cooks his own waffles of his own accord…that in turn endears him to no end, and flourishes my want to take care of him. Perhaps, all of us women are mothers at heart! Don’t fret, John E. Bravo, I LOVE “Little House on the Prairie”, the right one is waiting somewhere for you! (Depending on if you want her for her, and not for her waffle making ability!)

John E. Bravo: A man make his own waffles? I scoff at your naiveté. The mere thought is preposterous, the batter would seep thru the grill, which is the true place where a manly man can treat his lady to a choice cut of his flame broiled love.

Mary Me Please: Ok you are not allowed to even cook waffles after that comment…you don’t cook waffles on a GRILL! LOL! HA HA! And flame broiled love huh? Do you read romance novels? (Hee hee)

John E. Bravo: I know you don’t cook waffles on a grill that is why it is impossible for a man to make his own waffles. Duh. I don’t read romance novels but I bet I could sure write one, and bet your bottom dollar the lead male character will be getting a shit ton of waffles made for him.

Mary Me Please: LMFAO! HA HA HA!!! Here is our give and take relationship…you grill the steak and she makes your waffles…sounds like a plan?? OH and you wash up dishes together!!!

John E. Bravo: Well thanks everybody for chiming in but I think I’m starting to waffle on this whole subject. I’ll just take two eggs sunny side up with some bacon in the shape of a smiley face. As for washing dishes, the only washing I’m going to be doing will involve a Tim “The Toolman” Taylor souped up power scrubber that could clean the top floor windows of the Empire State building from the Bronx.

Wham Dickham: Waffles are for suckers, so is marriage. Give me a flapjack and a glass of good old 2 percent. Mmmm girl, make it talk to me. Speaking of Tim Taylor, what was his greatest Home Improvement? Getting his wife outta the house by sending her back to work, bout time she earned her keep. Come on Jill.

The clocks have been turned forward and all the little birdies are starting to go tweet, tweet, tweet. Spring is in the air, literally the other other day I was driving down a road here in Southeast Michigan when wham some guy next to me bottoms out on a monsterous pothole and there goes one of the front springs of his car down the road, boy-oy-oing, boy-oy-oing.

Speaking of spring, I saw my first red-breasted Robin the other day. Just don’t ask me why she painted ‘em red, cause blue is her color. I mean I ain’t complaining cause those tantalizing twins had more bounce than a pogo factory on test day. Bada-bing, Bada-boom.

Speaking of boom, seems like were in a boom economy since Obama took over and by boom I mean the thing has exploded in his face like a cheap gag cigar at a bachelor party but don’t worry no one from AIG got hurt.

Speaking of hurt, did you hear the one about the ginsu salesman who lost his job so he decided to chase after his dream of playing for the Tigers? Probably not cause he didn’t make the cut. I’m on fire. I got more one-liners than an Ohio State football player’s basketweaving term paper.

Did you hear the one about the Easter Bunny, Judas, and Jesus? Well the Easter Bunny, Judas, and Jesus walk into a bar looking to have a good friday. After quite a few rounds, Jesus is whipped and dead to the world. At the end of night, it is just Judas and a passed out Jesus. The Easter bunny has obviously hopped out on the tab. When the waitress brings the bill, Judas says, “Sorry but I haven’t got paid yet, but don’t worry my brother will be back to pay for our sins”.

Relax, no need to get cross with me. I know I crossed the line and sorry if that leaves a bad taste in your mouth like a rotten deviled egg at an Easter Sunday brunch.

By the way what is Jesus’ favorite flower? The reincarnation. Okay now I’m done.