Get 2 Choppin

Oh dearie me! It has recently come to my attention that the closed-mindedness of the 50’s and McCarthy’s communist witch-hunts has seeped into our society today in regards to the bromance. Did you know that Civil War era poet Walt Whitman used the word “lover” and “friend” interchangeably but it is only recently that he has been labeled a flaming pile of homoerotic poetic poop? He should have penned the simple lines, “If you are gay, it’s okay”.

     Why is it that when two guys are good friends and have each other’s back in a semi-slightly kind of gay way that they are labeled as having a bromance? This is ridiculous people. We might as well just start burning books and witches again, hell maybe even get crazy and throw a warlock or two onto the barbeque, if we are going to have this viewpoint.

The double cheek kiss has been all but ruined by the homophobic zealots that populate this world of ours. People, what is next? Are you going to take the hug away from us? For the love of God, men have already had to come up with the “side hug” so as not to appear overly gay, so you might as well take away all physical contact. Hell the butt slap in sports has come under fire. One slap to hard or a lingering hand and WHAM you are the gay teammate no one wants to shower next to or have towel-snapping fights with. As guys we live for that sort of jovial camaraderie. No girlfriend or wife will ever be able to fill the locker room void no matter how many times they let you win when you shower wrestle. It’s just not the same.

     I refuse to drink these societal pressures that are spilling out of the conservative cup that is America.  I will proudly put my arm around my broski and belt out “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias or do a duet of Celine Dion’s “It’s all coming back to me” without feeling one ounce of compunction. I will free to remark on how his ass looks good in those Capri sweats or how he is looking buff from the gym and that if I were a girl I wouldn’t even kick him out of bed for eating white cheddar cheez-its. I will tell him that I get lost in his eyes sometimes and that I want to have his babies if men could do that. I will tell him that I spell out Mr. and Mr. (insert friend’s last name) over and over again in my journal just to see how it will look. Okay that last part, I’ll keep to myself but I’ll leave my journal out and hope he reads it (but I’ll silently pray, “Please read it”).

     If that’s how it’s going to be I might as well move to France so I can do a little dance in my underpants cause they’re more accepting of the bromance. Yo America, you got no chance.       

Recently I came across a story that has upset my equilbrium just a tad bit and I need to vent. A high school student who is straight as a nail but tends to be a little goofy in social situations was at a track meet. During this event, he jokingly said to a rival competitor from another school, “do you want to buy some narcotics?” No this little sniveling piece of I ain’t never getting laid cause I am a complete douche bag went and ran off and told his father (who happened to be a lawyer, go figure the kid is a douche bag).

The result was the cops were called and the honor roll student who up to this point had one detention in his high school career for spelling the word LOOSE on a calculator (it is a catholic school where obviously discipline is the way to God’s heart) was suspended from school for two days and kicked off the track team for the rest of the year thus ending this senior’s athletic career.  

Now there are a few things that upset me about this. First and don’t get your panties in a bunch and think I am condoning drug use (unless of course you stub your toe and it is necessary to pop a few vicodins and some beers for the pain wink wink nod nod) but seriously people who, when selling drugs, would ever use the words “narcotics” when trying to get some customers. That is like saying “hey buddy you want to alter your mental state with some tetrahydrocannabinol?” or even “Hey pal you want to get mellow with some C-17 H-17 NO(C-2 H-3 O-2) 2?”. Seriously you’ve got to be kidding me.  

Second when did American’s have a piece of coal inserted into their rectum. I know you want to teach kids to look both ways before crossing the street and to not take candy from a stranger, but can you teach them some common sense and maybe the ability to take a joke without shitting their pants. This kid should have said something like, “yeah can I get some viagra cause I think your mom broke my shit and i want to test it out before she comes over again”. Or he could say “no thanks the only crack I like is the one on your dad’s face when I kiss him, zing.” Come on people be creative and let’s have some witty repartee.

So let’s take that piece of coal out of our behinds America, I mean it has to be a diamond by now because our assholes have been puckered up tighter than a jewish person’s wallet and let’s loosen up like the standards for black kids to graduate in the inner cities. Just today I saw a report on the news about a teacher that got fired for having a picture on myspace or facebook of her dressed up as a pirate at a halloween costume drinking out of a plastic cup with the caption, “drunken pirate” . Another teacher got fired for working as a Bikini Boat Babe on a chartered fishing boat. Shit she was hot too, I feel ripped off becuase I never had teachers that looked like that. I am glad to know that she parties like a pirate, she would be walking the plank in my book if she didn’t.

They didn’t deserve to be fired. If the school board and parents are so holy righteous why don’t they patrol that shit at home. These are the same wackos that are probably getting high priced escorts and sniffing the bicycle seats at the local park. Don’t they realize that what is on TV is 100 percent worse than a college educated professional letting loose and having fun. You would think we lived in some communist country where big brother is watching us. Well if they are reading this I am giving them the BIG F U, you lousy sons a bitches.  

Gentleman starts your engines because it is race day. Nascar, you have to love it. Those rednecks sure no how to embrace and create a “sport”. I mean what is better than sitting drinking beer and watching cars go 170 plus mph with a chance of crashing. Even being a spectator is dangerous because there is always a chance you could be eating a tire along with your elephant ear, jumbo rib sandwich, free carton of smokes, and your Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. 

Think about this, we have all seen the basketball player come flying into the stands and spill the beer of some fan. The guy is all happy because some sweaty guy touched him and spilled his beer and maybe offers him a towel that he used to wipe his ass with (probably because no one likes excessive ass sweat while playing a sport). Now imagine getting your beer knocked over and being cut in half from a tire that is now a flying wheel of death. I would think it might not have the same reaction as at the basketball game, but if you did survive that tire would be a way cooler souvenir than say an arena football that got batted up into the stands.

I, John E. Bravo, would like to endorse Little E., Dale Jr. The number 88 car for President of the United States of America. He is obviously the best driver on the circuit. No one makes a left turn quite like Little E., and it is also obvious that in the past few years there has been some form of sabotaging upon this great driver’s car. There can be no other explanation for his lackluster results. This year is Dale Jr.’s year to shine so watch out fellow racing competitors because rubbing is racing and the intimidator’s son is on the warpath.

By the way if Tony Stewart isn’t the Babe Ruth of Nascar I don’t know who is. He is almost getting to fat for the car. I think that instead of gatorade or water in his car he has milkshakes. When he stops for a pitstop it is for four new tires and a pizza. There is a reason they have to take the steering wheel off to get out of the car and that reason is Tony Stewart’s belly.

Also if watching cars travel in an oval isn’t your gig, I suggest Fantasy Nascar. This will change the way you watch the “sport” and when you find out that Little E. is a B list driver I hope it pisses you off as much as it pissed me off. 

One thing that baffles me is the beer sponsorships of cars. First they tell us to drink and drive responsibly (I always wear my seat belt and my Little E. Replica helmet and drive with thumbs up at ten and two when I do it, just kidding but seriously) but then they put their logo on cars that have been reported to tailgate, cut people off, speed, don’t use turn signals, have no brake lights, occasionally bump into people without leaving any note or insurance information, and frequently get into accidents. It doesn’t make sense.   

Bingo, bango, bongo, Bellows needs to get lost in the Congo. The question I want to pose to choppin’ nation and to even the non-choppin’ people that read this site; do you have one friend or I should say person in your group who just ruins everything? Well in this small corner of the world, that person is Bellows.

First rule of thumb is that a legend cannot under any circumstance zing another legend by cohorting with a non-legend, understand. A legend can zing a legend, or two legends can zing one, or one can zing two. You get the point, but under no circumstances can a legend go into cahoots with a non-legend and try to zing a legend. Case closed. Put the paint brush down because the masterpiece is finished. Take the steak off the grill and ring the dinner bell because it is time for dinner. Enough said. Well not quite enough, Bellows was in direct violation of that rule and his punishment is a one year ban from being on the ballot for the upcoming 2008 class of choppin’ newbies.

Another instance of Bellows ruining everything was when we attempted to pull the age old zing called the tranny trick. This is where at a person’s birthday party you hire a stripper to jump out of a cake for the birthday boy, unbeknownst to him though you have switched the female stripper with the tranny one.  At first all you can see is the top half of the stripper and everything is setup. Then the birthday boy is blindfolded and the stripper gets out of the cake to perform a lap dance, at this point he gets another birthday package; only this time it smacks him upside the head. 

Well the zing was in place except for the fact that the tranny dropped the hammer and threw everything into reverse gear with the fluffer fake out trick. He/she convinced Bellows that he won the right to be his/her personal fluffer. Bellows bit bait line and sinker. When that tranny popped out his pecker was on fire from the warm hands of Bellows and everyone knew it. If he slapped the birthday boy with that thing he was likely to poke an eye out if you know what I mean.  

I just hope your Bellows doesn’t ruin every fun thing you attempt, but just know this; usually the good thing about the Bellows type of character is that they are zing magnets. They got fucking zing targets tattooed on their backs like gay guys got targets on their bums. 

My question is at what point do adults become complete non-fun loving assholes toward the youth of this nation. I understand there might be some underlying issues of bitterness and remorse over the fact that you were probably a big douche bag in high school and never had any fun but come on people lighten up.

I recently visited a high school basketball game. I won’t name names but it was held in Royal Joke and the Knights were playing against Wadison Whites Wishop Wolley High School. The Wenchers.  The game was a great game. It came down to the last play but the Wenchers couldn’t pull out the victory in overtime. The issue I have is censorship by the administration of the Wenchers. The age-old classic cheer of “nuts and bolts, nuts and bolts, we got screwed” was put on the shelf for the Wenchers but the Knights were allowed to use it in the heat of the game.

I should let the readers of get2choppin.com understand that the Wenchers are Catholic and may hold their students to a higher standard of decorum but oddly enough the Knights are also a Catholic school and their students were allowed to chant it. Interesting, very interesting.  What I am assuming is that the Knights did not get the Bible that said “thou shall not chant metaphorically at basketball games.” I could understand if they said, “He got nailed just like Jesus, now call a foul because that would please us” and the administration got upset. It was absolutely ridiculous. The fun police have struck again.

Don’t get me wrong I am not endorsing the youth of this nation to go out and drink massive amounts of booze, do copious quantities of drugs, get pregnant, or bring weapons to school. Consider that the Official Choppin’ Warning against stupidity. Oddly enough despite that warning it seems the youth do all those things anyway. I say to them read a book and be able to think for yourselves.  Start a business that will change the world, and change your future. Create a website and voice your opinion, it does matter. Just don’t fuck with get2choppin you lousy punks, just kidding but seriously. Don’t even think for one minute I am going all blabbering sappy idiot on you.

Next time you are at the game cheer something like this, “Bull poo, bull poo, you smell like doodoo” or “Hickory, dickory dock I wish you were dead like 2pac” or “Black Sheep, baa, baa…don’t choke like Benoit”. Feel free to use those or you can yell “The First Amendment is freedom of speech but that is not what they teach” and right after that last word teach put a brown paper bag over your head with a smiley face painted on it that makes you look like you are as happy as Hindu cows are their way to be sacrificed.

Even better let’s say they have a kid with big ears. You can call him Dumbo, or a short person you can chant, “oompa loompa oompity oom, you are the smallest player in the room”. Another probability is someone with a big nose because you can yell, “hey Barbara Streisand I thought you were on tour” and even though she is Jewish, it isn’t anti-Semitic because she has a big nose. The best is a black male athlete that has braids and beads in his hair and as Wham Dickham would say you could yell, “Hey Serena, Where is your sister Venus.”

Then have everybody yell, “you been chopped” and run out of the building screaming, “Whammmy”.