God From The Machine

Maybe it’s the dread of the White Death that is coming to Bagwine, Ohio and the 8-12 inches of snow we’re supposed to get from it but man…

I had one helluva crazy dream Sunday night/Monday morning.

I was at picnic fundraiser for Sarah Palin. It was a warm summer day, and the fundraiser was being held at a park.

True to her folksy, homespun carnival act personality, there were all sorts of activities that one might find at a small town America cookout.

I signed up for the three-legged race. I’ve always kinda dug that. We all threw our names in a hat and Sarah drew names to see who would partner with whom.

I was excited because I knew that if I had a decent partner I had a good shot at winning. My excitement soon became despair when Sarah named who would be tied up with me…

Stephen Fucking Hawking!!

“What a disadvantage that puts me at.” I muttered to myself.

While other pairs are running the race with three good legs, I’m going to be draggin’ Hawking down Lane 4 for 50 yards.

I was thinking to myself, “Holy Shit…Having Heather Mills as my partner would be a step up.”

Anyhoo…Hawking comes rolling up to me, and in his creepy McDonald’s Drive-Thru speaker voice, said…

“Let’s kick some ass, Matt-Man.”

So I dump his ass out of his wheelchair, and he’s laying there in all his palsied and Parkinsonian glory flippin’ and a-flappin’ around like a washed up walleye contorting on a hot rock, and I tied him to my right leg with a bungee cord and duct tape.

I dragged him and his useless body over to the starting line. There were six teams in the race, but one team in particular was giving me and The Hawk-Man the stink eye.

It was the team of Bill O’Reilly and Glenn Beck.

After we stared them down (well, after I stared them down, Hawking’s face was in the dirt, mumbling some incoherent bullshit about supernovas and their effect on the space/time continuum), I turned my eyes to the prize and the finish line that was 50 yards away.

Palin with bullhorn in hand, shouted, “Ready, Set…” and then several rounds from her AK-47 set each team into motion.

Despite the dead weight attached to me, I was bolting like lightning down the course…
Hawking beside me and behind me all the way, his face being bloodied by the ground as he drooled and continuously muttered, for whatever reason, “Deus ex Machina!!”

O’Reilly and Beck were leading, but as we neared the finish line lagging behind those two nut jobs, they abruptly stopped in order to deeply kiss and fondle each other’s dick.

As they engaged in their ego and cock stroking man love, I sped passed them hauling Hawking’s bouncing, crippled body beside me.

As we crossed the finish line in triumphant fashion, I realized the brilliance of Hawking. O’Reilly and Beck’s public display of depravity had been our Deus ex Machina.

I cut Hawking loose from me, gave him a bottle of Gatorade, and proceeded to have obligatory winner’s sex with Bristol Palin.

Hawking? Unable to put himself into his wheelchair, he lay there calculating exactly how long it would take him to die from over-exposure to the hot summer sun. And you know what?

That brilliant bastard predicted his sunstroke induced demise right to the nano-second.

Cheers!!

Mundane Monday

Mondays are always blah, but wow, this Monday has nothing.

It’s the last Monday of the butt ass crack dismal month of February.

Cold, gray, and as exciting and captivating as listening to an audio tape recording of the Bible being read by Stephen Hawking.

Although, I guess that would be kinda funny.

I mean, can you imagine listening to the story of Lot having sex with his daughters as told through the tone and quality of a McDonald’s Drive-Thru speaker?

Ha. I may need to revisit that, but that’s not my point. My point is…Monday February 23rd is like a non-day.

If I could put time in a bottle, this day would be the backwash.

But rejoice my friends…all is not lost. Tomorrow will usher in better times, more excitement, and move us 24 hours closer to the weekend.

And…

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras!! Better known in Bagwine, as Matty Gras or Mat Tuesday. Boo Yah, bitches; we’ll be celebrating it right here.

E-mail me a picture of your boobs today or tomorrow and by golly I’ll e-mail you a picture of some beads for your effort. Ya can’t top that deal.

Of course Wednesday is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. For me as you know, it means not eating meat for 46 days, but that’s not all…

Jay, the Cynical Bastard himself, has entered the Sweepstakes of Salvation.

The man is giving up all forms of junk food for Lent.

Is that big or what? Damn right it is. He’s eschewing cakes, cookies, chips, pizza etc. until Jeebus arises in April.

After our sacrifice is complete, Jay and I will be securely held within the bosom of the Lord.

I think three things when I envision that menage a trois of Messianic matriculation…

Sweet, ironic, and pretty damn creepy.

And to get you through this most mundane Monday of the year, I leave you with that vision.

A vision of me, Jay, and Jeebus sitting in a land of milk and honey eating cheeseburgers, tossing back burritos, and drinking heavily.

And of course, we’ll all be naked and taking turns going down on Mary Magdalene.

Here’s to the end of Monday.

Cheers!!

Your Last Half of August 2008 Bagwine Whore-O-Scope

Today marks the beginning of a new monthly installment on Bagwine Ruminations...Your Monthly Bagwine Whore-O-Scope ™.

I will once a month, decode the backwash of a bottle of various potables to render your monthly fortune; be it good or bad.

The potable that I read for you, depends on your sign, because each sign has a ruling Bagwine or one of its ugly cousins, such as a cheap Malt Liquor.

On this initial installment, you will not only get your Whore-O-Scope for the last half of August, you will also see what your ruling beverage is. Enjoy!!


Aries
March 21 -April 19

Your ruling drink is Thunderbird. A tongue discoloring wine with 17.5% alcohol, you get the New Year of the Zodiac, and life itself, kicked off with a battering and a hurl.

The soothing inner voices of your conscience become increasingly annoying when they start quoting lines from the movie, Titanic, in the voice of Stephen Hawking...I-i-i-i am-mmm Kin-in-in-ing of da Wor-or-orld-orld.



Taurus
April 20 -May 20

Your ruling drink is JOOSE. Full of Taurine, Caffeine, and 9.9% alcohol. You are a bull full of drunken energy. Much like JOOSE itself, you have an unpleasant smell.

Your family has a major problem that you refuse to deal with. The days of ignoring this 800 pound Gorilla in the room come to an end when the Gorilla kills you, rapes your spouse, and eats your kids.



Gemini
May 21 -June 20

Your ruling drink is Night Train Express. A “special” ingredient combined with 17.5% alcohol makes you a twin blend of frivolity and memory loss.

Although you will lose your car keys, you will find them in the FIRST place that you look, which is unfortunate because it will lead to a charge of drunk driving.



Cancer
June 21 -July 22

Your ruling drink is Sterno. While the alcohol content effect is unknown, drinking “Canned Heat” can often lead to death, much like your sign’s namesake.

You will win a lottery prize of 87.5 Million dollars, unfortunately the pay out will be in the form of pennies, nickels, and dimes.



Leo
July 23 -August 22

Your ruling drink is Hurricane High Gravity produced by Anheuser-Busch. At 8.1% alcohol, you can still remain coherent enough to lead the pride, while still roaring proudly…and obnoxiously.

After trying 16 brand new light bulbs in the living room lamp without success, you will finally realize that the problem lies within the lamp itself.



Virgo
August 23-September 22

Your ruling drink is Boone’s Farm. With types at 7.5% alcohol or less, you are a pussy, but hardly virginal. On the upside, the marginal alcohol content assures that you won’t sleep with the incredibly ugly people that other signs will.

Your intentions were good, but giving a Snickers Bar to the homeless guy with a peanut allergy will result in scandal and massive legal fees.



Libra
September 23 -October 22

Your ruling drink is Mogen-David (Mad Dog) 20/20. With flavors averaging 13%, you are justifiably at the middle of the scale. Combining MD 20/20 with your sense of compassion, leads you to have sex with anyone who is even slightly unhappy.

Lather, rinse, repeat, and meticulously blow dry…for you will surely have sex with John Edwards.




Scorpio
October 23 -November 21

Your ruling drink is Cisco. Distributed by the same folks as Wild Irish Rose, and with identical 18% alcohol, you give and receive painful verbal stings. You and the Aquarian (see below) are not a good social mix.

Calling a spade a spade is fine, but you shouldn’t have done it to Al Sharpton.




Sagittarius
November 22 -December 21

Your ruling drink is Steel Reserve 211. A malt liquor with 8.1% alcohol, this medieval beverage helps your to hone your skills as the archer. Your thoughts always hit the bull’s-eye when drinking this…at least in your mind.

Upon reaching ultimate self-awareness, you realize that people around you are correct; you are indeed, a complete asshole.




Capricorn
December 22 -January 19

Your ruling drink is well…anything. You are after all, some type of goat. Rude, stubborn, and personally boorish, you’ll drink anything put in front of you, provided you don’t have to pay for it.

You will discover that calling the waitress at Denny’s, “a stupid bitch” does in fact lead to food poisoning.




Aquarius
January 20 -February 18

Your ruling drink is Wild Irish Rose. People admire your sarcasm and love your introspection. And at 18% alcohol, you are more than happy to love them back (except Scorpios)…provided you don’t pass out first.

You have mixed emotions when you find out that the growth on your chest is not cancerous, but rather, a benign growth resembling the face and head of Carrot-Top.



Pisces
February 19 -March 20

Your ruling drink is King Cobra Malt Liquor. This “Snake in a Bottle” is only 6% alcohol, but what you lack in punch you make up for in volume, because you drink like a fish.

Dick Cheney shows up at your house wearing a black evening gown and hi-heels. Your guilt overwhelms you when you find yourself highly aroused.



I hope that my Bagstrological findings help you out through the last half of this month.

Have a great day, and as always...

Cheers!!