Nine Reasons Why You Need To Be Reading Kevolution Theory (You Won't Believe #6!)

Look, I’m not good at self promotion. I like to fancy myself as a true Auteur. And one of the toughest things for artists to do is have the self-confidence to promote themselves. In the internet age, it’s easy to write any dreck and post it for the world to see. The two problems here are 1) just how do you get people on the internet to read your stuff and, most importantly 2) HOW DO I EVER MAKE ANY FUCKING MONEY DOING THIS?

The truth is, in the entire existence of Kevolution Theory, I’ve promoted it very little, and still racked up a ridiculous number of hits (almost 23,000) for never really doing anything for it. In my last writing gig, I was encouraged to write what we in the internet writing business as the “listicle.” Listicles, for you untalented writers, are essentially the Net’s take on Letterman’s Top Ten List. Establish a premise/set up, then deliver as many punch lines as you can. We all have those asshole friends on FB who constantly share such garbage as “15 Ways You Know You’re a Millennial!” or “10 Ways Your Dog Owns You” or “20 Ways To Seduce Hot Sober Women!”

Sound familiar? Most of the above headlines are usually followed by such verbiage as “You won’t believe #4!” or “You’ll love #7!” Ringing a bell now? And don’t you wanna just smack those dunces that constantly post this shit? I’ve been meaning to write a reply piece called “The 1 Fuck I Don’t Give About This Shit.” Next time, Kev.

Honestly, I hated writing most of the listicle posts. It’s great if you have a solid set up, and funny punch lines, but it is seriously tough to write 20 solid jokes for one set up. And that is essentially what the articles above do; establish a premise and beat it to the ground like it’s Cam Newton. (Too soon?) 

"Naw, It's OK, Kev."

Yet it seems my FB feed is spammed with this horse shit every day. So, somebody must be reading these. And what better way to expand my writing chops and drive traffic to this here kick ass blog by doing a listicle? Yay!

1) I rarely use big words. Really who has time? I’m just lucky you’re not checking out school girl porn or puppy videos. I mean, that’s pretty much all I do on the internet these days. Look, time is precious, and I’m not gonna try to come across any dumberer than I already am.

2) I’m funny. OK, so maybe that’s a judgement call. But I am willing to bet you’re all here for a quick (if not guilty) laugh. I’m not gonna get all heavy and pontificate about the deep meaning of life. I’m pretty sure you’re meant to laugh during life anyway, Frances.

Just read the above, lazy ass.

3) I have excellent use of pictures. Most of the pictures I use either have a semi hidden internet meme meaning or a funny caption. That’s when Maxim magazine jumped the shark BTW. As soon as they stopped using witty captions for the pictures, they lost it. In fact, picking out the pictures usually takes longer than writing the post itself. Usually because I end up GIS-ing things like “hot (insert any word here) girls” and suddenly it’s Thursday morning. Very addictive.

4) I am not very political. In the old days-you know, pre social media-you let the world know your candidate of choice by putting a tacky sign on your lawn. Now people let the world know their political choice by constantly fucking harping on it on your social media. E-fucking-nough all ready. We get it. We get it. You love Trump. You mock Bernie. You’re voting for Cruz. You’re voting for Hillary. We get it. Now I will let you in on a little secret. NO ONE FUCKING CARES WHO YOU ARE VOTING FOR! Why can’t the election be like The Force Awakens? Everyone was very aware to not talk about the spoilers. So let’s treat the election the same way, hmmmkay?

5) I don’t post all the time. There are some people who post like 20 different things a day on FB; pictures, quotes, games, who their best friends are, pictures of their lunch, a witless quip about the weather, song lyrics, kid/pet pictures, restaurant reviews, on and on and on. Do these people have jobs? Who dafuq has time to sit on their FB all day and post inanities? There was a time I traveled with no less than 4 web enabled devices and a hot spot, and I barely had time to ogle half naked college girls on Instagram, and these dipshits all up in FBs grill. I’ll only post something when I feel I have something to say. I will only post something after I’ve edited it, made sure it was “funny enough." Believe it or not, it can be a lengthy process. (To wit, I originally had 78 reasons why you should read this blog.) For example, this post has already taken me like 50 minutes to type just the first draft with my two good typing fingers. And that’s not even counting the inevitable time I will waste staring at half naked college girls on Instagram. Art takes time people! Quality over quantity.

Must..come up....with.....ten reasons....

6) Nah, you really wouldn’t believe it anyway.

7) I, for one, am NOT controlled by the coconut oil contingent. I mean, really, when did these guys get so much power? I suspect the coconut oil people are just an offshoot of the Illuminati. It seems not a day goes by that I don’t see a story on the news or in my feed where coconut oil cures every disease under the sun. Just this week alone, I’ve read stories where coconut oil cures the following; chapped lips, dandruff, halitosis, Hulkamania, dry skin, paranoia, bruises, boogie woogie flu, Zika virus, fear of spiders, the plague (both Black and Bubonic), fever, PMS, eye boogers, shyness, anti-Semitism, split ends, resting bitch face, insomnia, melancholy, swamp ass, muscle soreness and the heebie jeebies. Hell, I’ve heard coconut oil

"Are...are you SURE that's actually coconut oil?"

applied directly to the penis can make it bigger. Although, this hasn’t been my experience. Yet…

8) I am not afraid to use the word “fuck.” Really, it is a sorely underused word in everyday use. Yes, there are still some prudes who get their granny panties all in a bunch over a word. Get over it. Um, sorry, I meant get the fuck over it. Fuck is a fantastically flexible word. You can be cold as fuck or hot as fuck. You can have a fuck, but certainly not give a fuck. Fuck is a noun, verb, adjective, compliment, insult, expletive- it’s like the coconut oil of words. And it just feels really good to say. “Fuck.” Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

9) OK, there are far more than just 9 reasons to read K Theory. But the rest would just be bragging.

So, what’s your favorite reason to read this blog? Whatever it is, I thank you for reading it. Be back soon, hopefully not with another listicle.

The Intermittent Fasting Challenge; Results Show

I realize now I should have paid closer attention in math class. As I prepped to do this Thursday night, I realized I stacked the numbers against me. Damn it so much. Remember how I said you don’t eat anything the night before, skip breakfast, then get to an 8 hours feeding period? Well, shit on me, I almost ended up doing two IFs without really trying. Here’s how I fucked up.

So I eat the night before, at 10 PM. In order to get the 8 hour feeding period I want so I can gorge at noon on Saturday, on Friday I can eat from 12PM to 8PM. (I think I paid enough attention to say that is the eight hours I need to properly fast for the following sixteen hours.) So, not eating from 10 PM Thursday night to 12PM Friday is fourteen hours fasting. Shit, that’s almost the whole damn IF fast right there!

Now, I am not under any assumption whatsoever that just by essentially starving myself for 16 hours that I will suddenly have wash board abs and a Rock-like chest. It’s just one in method in a seemingly endless toolbox to get in the best shape of your life! There are apparently many people who do this a few times a month to a few times a week. These people are probably the same people you see running in the snow and ice. These are people you probably don’t want to hang out too much with if you have body fat over 4% and didn’t run two marathons that morning.

"Look at me! I'm as asshole!"

Helloooo Friday morning! Gooooodbyye Friday breakfast. In order to properly prepare myself for an IF, I have to limit myself to an eight hour feeding window beforehand. To properly do this, I have to skip breakfast, which does not bode well for anyone I come in contact with the first few hours of my job. Skipping breakfast before the gym isn’t a big deal because I generally get lost in heavy music and not so heavy weights. But when I work, I have to deal with these annoyances called people and these people generally come with their own sets of problems and issues. (I realize that I want to become a writer so I can work by myself.) Oh, and my job is fairly physical, so I’ll be burning a lot of calories the first few hours.

One of the theories I have come across in my cursory research says there is basically no difference between spreading 2000 calories throughout the day in many meals, or in a shorter period. The take away here is I can essentially cram in what I would normally eat all day in an eight hour window. At least I am pretty sure I read that; there were also a lot of big words with no pictures. I won’t be doing my normal 7-8 grazings, so the meals I do eat can be bigger.

As I head to my noon feeding, I feel I get brief hunger pains, but all in all, not too bad. I feel my focus and energy are normal. In a respect, I find this is easier because I have an active job. I travel to 5-8 accounts per day, and expend a decent amount of energy. I suppose IF is tougher if you’re chained to a desk and people are walking by with coffee, doughnuts and that damn Delores with her bagels.

Noon finally comes, and it’s time to crack into my cooler o’ food. I feel the key here is to eat filling foods. So a NutriBullet (with protein) followed by a protein bar (protein included) plus some granola. The rest of my work day is filled with bouts of working (boo) followed by bouts of eating (yay.) I find I don’t have any adverse effects eating after starving for 12 hours. My stomach is fine and I’m not gassy. Well, any gassier than I usually am.

Come home and chow down on more chicken, green tea and fruit. Before I go to the gym, a scoop of protein and some grapes. Back from the gym and a Bullet with more protein. I am pretty sure I am more powder than man at this point.

God, I hope I don't get this shit on my nose.

I turn down a night at the bar, and putz around the house, all the time eyeing the evil clock. 8PM will be here quicker than I care.

I have previously experimented with what I wanted my precious last meal to be. I hit on something so bulky and filling, it should get me through the night. I pour some organic Cheerio like cereal in a bowl, 40 grams of chocolate protein and whole milk. It is good, but, GD, after I finish it I feel full. But this is my last meal, so the experience it not unlike a death row convict eating his last meal. You know, minus all the capital offenses stuff.

The rest of the evening, I am actually a productive little citizen, which is pretty odd for me on a Friday night. I do some wash, brush out the dog, vacuum (Life hack; always brush out the dog first, then vacuum.) I start writing, all the while drinking water.

And a funny thing happens after the first two hours……..I’m hungry again. Son. Of. A. Bitch. This did not happen in ‘rehearsal.’ This is a kick in the nuts. But I am rapidly approaching bedtime. I continue to drink water because it apparently blunts hunger. Early, real time feedback tells me that theory is utter bullshit.

The Next Eight Hours: I won’t lie, I don’t get great sleep. I actually don’t feel very hungry past those initial few hours. This is good news. However, I’m up peeing every damn hour because I drank so much damn water. I’m really starting to think IF is just a scam made up by those water people.

As on most Saturday mornings, the sun fills the room and I wonder just what the hell I did to myself Friday night. Honestly, I don’t feel very hungry. I feel a little bit hungry as I’m lying in bed, but it’s the sort of thing that once you start moving, the sensation pretty much goes away.  I feel focused, sharp and not-too-tired; all foreign sensations to me on a Saturday morning. I fill up the water bottle-again-and head to the gym, brother.

I weigh myself. And it is kinda odd, I do actually feel skinnier. But it’s probably just my stomach feeding on my internal organs. Two pounds lighter, which is no big deal. Two pounds is not enough to say “ZOMG! I am losing weight!! IF 4ever11”

I’ve trained on an empty stomach many times, so I am not too worried about that. I can see the finish line (and fried chicken, and pizza, and mac and cheese and…), all I need to do here is bust it. Two hours here, home, shower and GORGE. My energy level feels good, my workout is going great, I don’t drop any heavy objects on my body, and that skinny Asian girl is only squatting 10 pounds more than me. So far, so good.

As I get closer to the magical 16 hour mark, something starts to happen. I get hungry. Like, suddenly, violently hungry. How can this be happening? I am sooo close. It’s probably happening because I am soo close. I refocus. I will NOT let this deter me. I will use this as further fuel. I take a deep breath, and continue to lift Paulie, Adrian and my trainer in a cart. No wait a minute, that’s from Rocky IV.

"Yo Adrian....it feels like you've put on some weight..."

 Which also just happens to be a great album to work out to. Fuck you, Drago.

The hunger is not going away. I look again at the clock-big mistake. 90 minutes. Time has taken on some sort of crawling process where it now seems to be going slower when it should be going faster. I know I need to tough it out a bit more here. If I can push myself this last half hour at the gym, I can hit my goal. Plus, the bouts of light-headedness between strenuous sets are fairly enjoyable. Another deep breath in. And now I run like hell so those crazy Russians can’t follow me. Nope, no, still Rocky IV.  No one told me about these delusions at the end of IF. I quickly dial up “Baby, Hit Me One More Time” (AKA her good years.)

The drive home, which now totally feels like this:

I do feel hungry, but I don’t feel “gorge-hungry”, more like normal “NutriBullet” hungry. I find this very odd, but eating my face off has been my reward all along, and I sure ain’t gonna give that up now.

Not to brag, but I’m now at sixteen and a half hours. Maybe that extra half hour doesn’t impress you, but try starving yourself for sixteen hours, and it’s a whole different story.

Cruise into the all you can eat buffet. The staff must know I mean business, because we’re seated right away. I proceed to put all kinds of meat (or at least what passes for meat at an AYCE these days) on plate number one. I also heap on a whole lot of satisfaction.

Plate number one doesn’t hang around very long. Plate two differs with a lot more in the fried category; chicken, calamari, shrimp whatever else they can drop in a batter and make even more unhealthy. Plate three is like a greatest hits of the first two, with a special appearance by pizza. After the third plate, I am actually feeling full, and disappointed that it only takes three plates to fill me up after a 16 (and a half) hour fast. But I am sure with all the fried stuff and sauce and stuff on the meat, I’ve probably taken in a great deal of calories. I am full enough, that I don’t even feel the need to hit the dessert table.

So I’m loading up at the dessert table; chocolate chip cookies, banana pudding (I’ve always imagined that pudding is the only food in the world that looks exactly like fat. But even that doesn’t stop me) some sort of graham cracker pie. Man, this is living. I pretty much spend the rest of Saturday eating what I normally would. Plus some celebratory rum. I go to the gym in the morning and I am just two pounds heavier. That’s right, all told, my weight stayed the same. Kinda ironic, dodn’t cha think? ‘Cause yea, I really do think.

So now that I’ve done it, would I do it again? Maybe. I don’t know that this will be a regular thing for me. Now that I know I can do it, maybe. But 16 hours is a long time to go, and temptation is all around us. Like, I couldn’t commit to doing an IF, then hang out with my buddies and NOT eat and drink.

Guys: “So, uh, Kev, we notice you’re not eating or drinking tonight. Everything all right, big fella?”

Me: “Well, guys, I’m happy you brought that up! I’m doing this thing called an intermittent fast…”

Guys: “FAG!”

So, now that I’ve done one IF, I have proclaimed myself an expert, and am ready to answer all your pressing IF questions.

“Is IF right for me?” Sure. Like I wouldn’t even bother checking with your doctor. I didn’t and I’m fine.

And if you are going to do it, here’s some advice. Stay away from clocks. Especially as you get close to that 16 hour mark. Time will somehow slow to a crawl and your hunger will just get worse. Go do something. Walk the dog. Walk my dog. Go do something. Just don’t write a blog about it, because it won’t be funnier than mine.

Sleep as much as you can. I mean, why make it any harder on yourself? I’ve supposedly had some great times while I’ve been unconscious.

Avoid temptation. Duh. I had to give up a night at the bar, because I just don’t trust myself. Plan ahead. You might be surprised if you can skip eating the hours before you go to bed and the hours you’re awake, 16 hours could sneak up on you.

Eat well during that feeding period. Eat as healthy as you can during that time. Save the shit for the gorge afterward.  Really, the toughest times for me were the first two hours and the last two hours. As long as you can keep your mind and body busy, it’s somewhat easy.

Now I'm hungry,,,

The Intermittent Fasting Challenge

When last I left you, it was with a list of my New Year’s resolutions. One of them was to commit to something I call “Adventure Saturday.” For those of you shitheads –which is most of you-who didn’t read my resolutions, you can make yourself cool to the world by clicking here. The concept of Adventure Saturday is to simply do something I’ve never done before. It might be a trip to a museum, an experience of some sort, dinner and drinks at a place I’ve never been, etc.

So I came up with something I’ve never done and actually counts as Adventure Friday into Adventure Saturday. Whilst reading that stack of magazines from 2015 (another resolution I am keeping up with, slackers) I came across a concept that interested me, plus I could get 2 posts out of it (thereby satisfying yet another resolution to write more. You guys should be ashamed with all your slacking already.)

So here is the idea; intermittent fasting.

Like who isn't sold?

“Whoa, Kev, just what is that all about?”  I already imagine you asking. (I also imagine some of you are naked while reading this, but that stays with me.)

Intermittent fasting (IF) is when one goes up to 16 hours without eating. Sounds like a party, right? Now, right away, I again imagine you asking, “But WHY would you do that?”  Well, it’s simple, really. One, just for the experience and to have something to write about. Two, just to see if I can do it. And most importantly, people love reading about other people in pain. Especially you sick freaks. More especially, when it’s my pain.

So in my very brief research on the topic, the end result is supposed to boost growth hormone and actually promote fat loss. Not so stupid now, eh, fatty?

Of course, an undertaking of this nature does not come without it’s peril, much like Evel Knievel jumping the fountain in Vegas. I have briefly thought this out, so I feel pretty on point to do this.

Here is my plan. Early Friday evening, go to the gym for a typical workout, just no cardio. Come home, do a NutriBullet with protein, a little while later one last big meal, then hunker in for the night. In a perfect world, I envision my fast starting around 7PM. I’ll clear out my Netflix cue, because I know if I watch regular TV, it will just be wall to wall commercials like these:

 Go to bed the same time old people do on a Friday night, 10PM. Sleep. Wake up. (Hopefully.) Go to the gym again…

“Whoa, slow down here, Schwarzenegger! What’s up with that?”

There’s a few reasons for this. I don’t have a scale here. Just a mirror that tells me I’m awesome daily, and occasionally tells me I am “not mildly unattractive today.” The gym does, so I am anxious to see if there is any drastic weight fluctuation. Also, I have discovered working out on an empty stomach actually blunts my hunger for a period of time. My initial research says working out in the fasted state is actually beneficial as far as gaining muscle and burning fat. By the time I come home, shower and put on my fat jeans in preparation for the all you can eat buffet, I should be past the magical 16 hour mark. Gorge, then to continue to eat what I would typically eat. Weigh myself again Sunday morning.

Sounds easy, right? No, shithead, of course it doesn’t sound easy. I have grown hungry in merely the time it’s taken me to start writing this. There are a lot of challenges for sure.

I am a believer in eating small meals throughout the day. Every 3-4 hours I am eating. I am generally a pretty clean eater. Protein powder and bars, fruit, NutriBullets, chicken, healthy granola. I am pretty sure there are squirrels eating a similar diet.. I have found that if I don’t eat every few hours, I get very “hangry.” (Hungry + angry.) Like Incredible Hulk level hangry. So the mere thought of not eating for
 sixteen whole hours is quite daunting for me and those near to me. Hopefully, by sleeping for a lot of that time will negate me hulking out and downing an entire box of Lucky Charms.

"Where am my protien bars?"

Some provisos. My brief research tells me drinking liquid –the rule of thumb here appears to be anything under 50 calories- is fine, so I will have a handle of Jack handy. Just kidding, a shot of Jack is 65 calories, and yes, I did look that up. But I will be doing a lot of water, possibly green tea. For Saturday AMs workout, I reserve the right to an Advocare Fruit Punch Spark (15 calories) while I am working out. Also, since I have trouble sleeping anyway, I won’t turn down the offer of an Ambien (why do you think I'm putting this post up early?), should one come my way. I am pretty sure there are no calories in the pill, just blissful, restful sleep.

Doing a bit more research, I now find out to do this properly, before I start the fast, apparently I have to observe a romantically named ‘feeding period’ of only 8 hours before I start the fast. OK, so that’s basically skipping breakfast (which is pretty much my only time with Count Chocula.) So I can eat regularly during 8 hours on Friday afternoon. Not a fan of skipping breakfast on a work morning, and I pity the people that have to deal with me before my 'feeding period.'

In doing more research, I can’t seem to actually find the proper meal to end the IF with. The original one sentence blurb in Muscle & Fitness said to gorge, so I’m just gonna go ahead with that concept. I assume in the spirit of the thing, it should be a sensible meal. But fuck that, I’m the one putting my health and sanity on the line for your entertainment, so I call the shots here. I suppose my trip to the all you can eat buffet will also possibly skew my weight on Sunday AM, but again this is my first attempt and I am not a freaking scientist.

Also not a scientist, but blinded by science nonetheless.

I should also note I am currently eating as I write this. This is not gonna be easy. So wish me luck and health. Mostly health. Yea, mostly health.

My Totally Attainable 2016 New Year's Resolutions

I am not a big believer in New Year’s Resolutions. I really don’t think there’s a damn of difference if you make a ‘resolution’ on January 1 or March 7 or July 29. In fact, I am pretty sure there’s enough research out there that NYRs are easier to break. But in the spirit of “getting my shit together,” I have decided to make a few. And at the end of the year, we’ll come back and revisit just how I did. Boom, two posts already for 2016! Now, I don’t know how to add to perfection, but if I had to make just a few guesses, here’s what I’d do. (Please note, the number following the resolution is the probability of making the resolution happen on a scale of one to ten, with 10 being 100% definitely happening to 1 being no chance in hell.)

Write more (10)

I should just stop here.

Read more. Starting with that stack of magazines over there. From 2015. (8)

Get 7 Day Abs!  Big arms! Broad back! My #1 best money move right now! (5. Actually these are the cover blurbs of the Men’s Fitness November issue.)

Spend more time with dogs. (9)

Get a tattoo that has a deep and personal meaning. Then refuse to tell anyone exactly just what that meaning is. (1)

Be more positive; just not in the Charlie Sheen way. (7)

Buy more (preferably physical) music. Yea, I said it, buy it not steal it. I want to support the artists who mean something to me. All these shit heads that steal music, then wonder why they’re stuck listening to something called “I heart radio.” Seriously, what the hell is that? What guy over the age of 20 feels confident saying, “I listen to I heart radio.” Sometimes I force myself to listen to the Top Ten and then openly weep about how bad it is. People actually think it’s music. It’s all soulless, mass produced, auto tuned, temporary horse shit. (9)

Develop better time management skills. There are apparently grown people who are married and have children, and still have time to binge watch TV.

Now THIS is time management.

And I’m over here turning my underwear inside out because I don’t have time to do the wash. (6 ½)

Less time on social media, more time on actually being social. (6)

Learn how to properly fold a fitted sheet. (1)

Drink less. Looking at you, green tea, with all your free radicals and healthy anti-oxidants. Hit the road! (6)

2016 is the year I finally get abs. Or learn PhotoShop. One or the other. (2)

"Every day is ab day, brah."

Better plan for the future. With that in mind, Happy 2017 everybody!! (6)

Travel more, blab about it less. (7)

Finally buy into the hype of coconut oil, and use it for the following: tooth paste, mouth wash, shampoo, soap, motor oil, ear wax remover, dish detergent, screen cleaner, sunscreen, contact lens conditioner, deodorant, tobacco, topical pain reliever, aspirin, turn signal fluid, bear repellent (working so far!) toilet bowl cleaner, shaving cream, fertilizer, caulk, paint remover, adhesive, hallucinogen, fat burner and car wax. (4)

Watch less TV. (5)

Finally use a selfie stick. (0.0)

Train my bladder to not wake me up twice a night (at least) to pee. (2)

Commit to “Adventure Saturday.” At least once a week, go somewhere we’ve never gone (restaurant, non nerdy museum, “that place we always wanted to check out”) or do something we’ve never done. (7)

Not kill someone during my seemingly daily fits of road rage. (8 ½ to 1, depending on mood)

Learn at least one chord on guitar that is not actually the cord I use to plug it in. (4)

Finally see the new Star Wars before it gets spoiled for me. (5)

Lumberjack beard! (5)

Find a picture of myself where I’m actually confident to use the hash tag “SexyBeast.” (2)

No lie. This actually came up in a GIS for sexy beast. You're welcome, ladies.

Stretch more. (7)

Finally feel comfortable enough to read Playboy just for the articles now. In public. (6)

Vote. (10)

Only have 98 problems, but the bitch still ain’t one. (8)

Continue to be everybody’s funniest friend on Facebook. (17)

Watch less news. I know, this might make me ignorant and all, but I have found the world to be a much better place when I’m not constantly barraged with all it’s bad news. (9)

I left the caption in so anyone under 40 can kinda get the reference.

Take more pictures with my real camera. (8)

God Is Not Your Homie and The Devil Never Gets His Due

You know who has it easy on the internet these days? God. Think about it, anytime something good or fortuitous (thank you, SpellCheck) happens, he’s the first to get credit. Nice days, strokes of luck, etc. But, goddamn (see what I did there) whenever an event of equal negative consequence happens, God ain’t around. You never see a losing fighter say, “Well, I guess God just liked the other guy better tonight.” Nope, God gets off scot-free for anything bad. You never hear anyone say, “Why did God let all those innocent people get killed?” or “Why did God let that guy crash that plane?” Nope, no one says it.

Look, God ain’t just a one deity business, there are many flavors of god. There’s the Jewish one, the Christian one, the chubby Buddha god, Clapton, whoever is repping the Hindus these days, and on. While I certainly think you should freely follow the god of your choosing, the problem I have is when all these high and mighty nudniks put off “god” as their own personal god.

Here’s the impetus (look it up) behind today’s post. Through the ever changing feed on my FB, I saw the following post. I will certainly protect the innocent and ignorant here, and the post is edited to keep things anonymous, but went along the lines of:

                I have some bittersweet news. My new job couldn’t have come at a better time. I just found out that the job I just gave notice to is letting 50 people in my dep’t go. I would have been included in this layoff but PRAISE BE TO GOD. He opened a door for me to avoid the layoff and lead me to a much better position making more money. GOD IS SO GOOD AND TRUE TO HIS WORD.

                Just like God provided for the Israelites during the plagues, He provides for His people even today. Despite our sins, He provides for our needs. Praise be to Jesus and glory to God.

                Please take a second to pray for my colleagues who don’t even know they will be losing their jobs in 2 weeks.

                I thank GOD for putting me in in places to get extra info so I could see we were being lied to.

Wow! Just ….wow!

There are just so many things out and out wrong about this statement, least of all the people actually liking it. When it comes to social media, I think you should be able to freely post whatever you want. My own personal stance is to not post anything about religion or politics because they are both deeply personal issues.  And quite frankly, while I agree with the sentiment that you can express your thoughts on religion, the fact of the matter is most of the time it offends me. I do my best to just let it go, but the above really fired me up. Fired me up so much, I arose from my couch, shaking off a blanket of empty beer cans, disappointment and Dorito dust, and marched up two whole flights of stairs to voice my dismay. And put on my “writing pants.”

So let’s explore the many flaws in statements like this.  Above all, the thing that angers me the most is this is not “our God.” This is not “my god” or “your god.” No, it’s “his God.” How fucking dare you push your concept of “god” on me. Know why this isn’t “our God?” Because just look at what this knucklehead is saying; ”the same God who just majorly disrupted 49 other suckers lives spared me!” How condescending. What do those other 49 people think about “god” now? The same flawed logic this guy uses (“God is good, look at what he has provided for me!”) simply doesn’t fit the bill of the exact same god who just willingly left the other 49 shitheads unemployed. That is most certainly not the “god” of the 49 others, so how can it be the same “god” to him? Because it’s his notion of “god” the one who provides for him at the cost of others. Now, tell me, just what kind of “god” is that? Definitely not my “god.”

Then what follows is the typical “pray for the others” rigmarole. Probably just as bad is to listen to this elitist moron. “I know so much more than them, God gave me extra info, those poor saps don’t even know they are losing their jobs! But look at what god did for me because we’re besties!!!” (I almost wrote ‘God’ to start this next sentence, but I am not sure that would help or hurt my case.)  The statement about him knowing others are losing their jobs is just so unwarranted, it really is totally unnecessary. Hope the Heathen 49 aren’t friends with him on FB or tomorrow could be aawwwwkward.

How does this dipshit go into work tomorrow with a straight face? I sincerely doubt he has the grape fruits to go to the Sinful 49 and say, “The same God that spared me is the same one that just smited…smoten…whatever the past tense of smite is-you. Tough break, but it’s OK, I’m praying for you. Chin up, sport.”

I see posts like this all the time. But, man, it doesn’t matter, because every time something good happens, God is there to take all the credit. Where’s “God” for the 49 others? Where does God go when tragedies happen? You never see people wailing, “Why did God do this to me?” Nope. No, God is always there to take the credit but never the blame. (Which is also how many of my previous bosses operated.)

And while we’re at it, can we PLEASE stop with all the “Share this post and God will bless you” nonsense? Can someone please point where in the Bible it says, “God will shine down many fortunes to those who forward his statuses?” It doesn’t. In fact, I am pretty sure God is busy with other

God-like duties such as continuing to curse the Cubs and Maple Leafs than to monitor social media for those “spreading the Good Word.”

To be fair, I don't remember this passage in the Bible, either.

You know what, how come people never even blame Satan for tragedies? You never hear reporters saying, “Well, Tom, I am on the scene of the tragic train full of deaf orphans and blind kittens that caught fire, and was knocked over a cliff by an avalanche. Eyewitnesses tell me they don’t know what kind of “god” could allow this, but are pretty sure it’s the work of Satan.” Think about it, even the devil doesn’t get his due. Man, he must be pissed. At least the devil can look forward to all the married gays he will be getting in soon.

While on the topic, can I interview Russell Wilson and ask him what “God” sounds like? Does he have a gravelly voice, a European accent, sound suspiciously like Pete Caroll, etc? Yep, Russ claims “God” talked to him. The reason this isn’t front page news everywhere (ATHLETE ACTUALLY SPEAKS TO GOD!) is proof that everyone thinks this is a goof. You don’t see the Pope lighting up Wilson’s Twitter to ask questions about the Guy Upstairs. Because we all know this is a load of baloney. And if “God” really did talk to Wilson, I am sure the first thing he would say is, “Why did you throw the ball, shithead?” I guess “God” must be a Patriots fan, right?

Look, believe whatever you want. Hell, there was a time I was convinced Mick Foley was god, until he confessed that he was merely just “good.” Just use your head, and be aware “god” shouldn’t be a personal concept that only works when you find it convenient. That doesn’t make you religious; it makes you an asshole.

Heal Thyself

So, as I’ve been doing a lot these days, I’ve been wondering just what the fuck my problem is. I mean, I have many problems like you do, but maybe it’s time I take control and figure some shit out. Now, I’m no doctor, but I do have Wifi access. And who needs doctors when we have WebMD? Take that, insurance plan I barely use because I am otherwise healthy. Who says insomnia is a symptom? Let’s see just what might be plaguing me.

While I am probably one of the most open and honest people you would ever have the pleasure of meeting, it’s in my best interest to not fully disclose all my “symptoms.” Suffice it to say, nothing is life threatening, very little of it is physical and most of my “symptoms” I would just generally attribute to being “a little fucked up in the head.” But the brain surgeons at WebMD don’t list that as a symptom, so I have to elaborate.

I have listed 6 –yes, just 6-symptoms. One is physical, the rest clearly are mental. Which is probably not a great sign anyway. Whatever. I occasionally watch General Hospital in the afternoon, so I can practically perform surgery on anybody. With my 6 listed symptoms come a whopping 38 possible conditions! Geez, hopefully overachieving is one of them. While 38 “possible conditions” is far too many to go over here, scanning the list does reveal a few interesting conditions that might be plaguing the Temple Kev. But, whatever, this is the internet, so I am sure they are all correct.

Depression I am pretty sure everybody gets this answer. Like who isn’t depressed these days? While I may not be the happiest clown in the circus (and, yes, I did just make that up, so no stealing it,

Literally, the first picture that came up when I googled "depression."

motards), I will confess to be bummed about a few things. Still not gainfully employed. Still not a lottery winner. Hallowmas is not a nationally recognized party. Avs didn’t win the Cup. OK, so I might be a little down.

Viral syndrome I don’t even know what that is, but I have been watching a lot of viral videos lately, so I guess that might be a possibility.

Caffeine withdrawal immediately followed by Excessive caffeine use Quacks. How can I have both ends of the caffeine spectrum as symptoms? Shouldn’t it just be one or the other? Who’s the doctor here, NickRiviera? For the record, I believe I don’t even take in that much caffeine. I’ve only had 4 cups of coffee in my life and generally limit the caff intake. Occasionally, I will pop a pill for an early morning workout, but that’s it. So maybe I need to take in more? Sounds like a great idea, excuse me as I bang a Red Bull with black coffee chaser.

Exercise or physical activity Umm, so is this a bad thing? No, no it isn’t. In fact, one of the few things I enjoy with the extra time is spending more time in the gym and getting some running in ahead of Warrior Dash. The gym has been levelling me out. So, WebMD, brah, I’m just gonna bang down some pre workout and go all BEAST MODE IN IRON CITY!

Schizophrenia Oh, good one, WebMD. None of the voices in my head agree with this notion. Nice try. Next!

Attention deficit hyperac Oh fuck, I can’t even spell that shit. WHAT IS MY DOG BARKING AT?? Next.

Cocaine abuse Are you fucking kidding me?! How do I have any money for cocaine? JC, next thing it’s gonna tell me is I’m on meth.

Methamphetamine use What?! Are you fucking kidding me?! How can I be unemployed and still have money for not only coke now, but meth, too? I haven’t even watched the last season of Breaking Bad yet! This is ridiculous.

Coxsackie virus infection 

Coxsackie.

Obsessive compulsive personality disorder Idonothaveit. Idonothaveit. Idonothaveit. Idonothave it. Idonothaveit.

Mad cow disease This is still a thing? Didn’t we cure this when we cured SARS? Whatever, you fucking leave my steak alone, bucko.

Cat scratch disease Nope, haven’t been around cats. But I might have the cat scratch fever, if ya know what I mean. ROWR!

Wang dang sweet poontang.

They say knowing is half the battle. But sometimes I don’t even know what I don’t even know. Like how to end this post.

Jobs I Made Up That I Would Totally Kick Ass At

Lately, I have been reading a lot of articles about “finding your dream job” and “making your work your passion” and “love what you do.” While being unemployed is certainly not the best of things to be these days, it's also kind of exciting in that I can now look at a bunch of options without being tied down; a true blank page. It got me to thinking, what if my “dream job” isn't out there just because it isn't a real job? What's to stop me from fulfilling a need that may not be clearly defined? I can create jobs, damn it!

After much internal soul searching, I have created a list of jobs that don't exist (yet, at least), but I would clearly kick ass at. Now, who's hiring?

Male View Audience Member Assassinator

Now that I go to the gym in the morning and do this thing called “cardio”, I have found myself forced to watch this abortion called The View. When the show opens, the camera pans overt the crowd. The crowd is made up of 90% overly enthusiastic women and 10% men. (and no, I didn't need a

Just shoot me.

calculator to figure that out.) Those poor guys. They are all dressed with a jacket. Over a sweater. Over a collared shirt. They are henpecked, broken men with black, dead eyes. I propose my job be to provide these poor guys with the Sweet Release instead of them living in fear of Whoopi Goldberg venturing out in the audience to eat them.

Rum Taster

Like, “duh?” right? Or as we call it around the house, “Sunday through Saturday morning.” But I would be a pro. Rate different rums on taste, mix-ability, some disgusting beer term called “mouth feel”, drink-ability, euphoric feelings and finally, a little something I like to call “blackout ability.” Rum; it's the quickest way to get to tomorrow.

Handicap Parking Enforcer/Enabler

I can't tell you how many times I have seen this disgusting practice. Car pulls right into a handicapped parking spot, and the driver effortlessly springs out of the car. They may have the HC plate, or they may have the HC tag they hang from the rearview mirror. And, yes, I know the plate/tag might not be for the driver as much as their passenger. Which almost makes it worse if it's a driver stealing a spot for a legit need. Why, just this week, I saw this girl with HC plate swerve right into a HC spot, spring out and go into the store where she works! It almost enrages me enough to hope there really is a heaven just because I want there to be a hell for these fucktards to go to. So, what I propose my job to be is to monitor these spots. If someone with the HC designation parks, and they clearly have no handicap when they emerge, then I am trusted by the State to beat them about the spine until their need for that precious HC spot is warranted.

Registration Snitch

"Why, yes, I Am an Orgasm Donor on the weekends!"

Much like above, when I drive around I see a ton of expired tags, some by over 5 years. How do these clowns get away with it for that long? Are they not getting their car inspected? Or insured? Again, I hate the idea that some people just don't care and they seem to get away with it. My job here is just to drive around and use a dash cam to take pictures of such scoff laws. Kinda like a bounty hunter, just not as cool as, say, Boba Fett.

Female Body Inspector

For as long as I've been going to the shore, I have seen this shirt in all those cheesy boardwalk t-shirt stores. So, that alone tells me this job has longevity. Plus every bro I see wearing one appears ugly and surly, which is also right up my alley. Line forms to the right, ladies.

D + (fence) Confiscator

OK, everyone who is sick of watching an NFL game when the camera flashes to the crowd and sees two chuckleheads holding the D plus “fence” signs, raise your hands. Hmm, that is everyone I see. Good job class, put your hands down and go back to staring at your phones. Like, seriously, this was

kind of creative 40 years ago. Now it just shows a total lack of originality. It would be my task to navigate the crowd to remove these signs, much like the WWE removing CM Punk signs. It would also be within my authority to remove the also just-as-annoying O + “fence” signs. Yes, some of you may argue these signs are the only source of joy for, say, Cleveland and Jacksonville fans. But this also allows some more hands to be freed up to hold $18 beers. NFL revenue would go up dramatically if they hire me.

Boston Creme Pie Evaluator

Actually, this would have to be a part time job.

Smoking Police.

How are people still smoking? Isn't this, like, 2014 or '15 now? Aren't all the risks well known? For the life of me, I don't get people who still smoke. It's not healthy, it costs a ton of money (both in the actual packs of cigs, and also the resultant medical costs) and it smells worse than my dog's farts. I swear, it feels like I am seeing more people smoking these days. I'll be honest here, I smoked for three months when I was a freshman in high school. I never got why it was cool, and stopped so I could concentrate more on my drinking habits.

And don't get me started on these fucking “vapers.” Don't give me that bullshit that it's far healthier than “actually smoking.” What, so you only get like 80% of the cancer? True story; just type 'dangers' into Google and the first thing that comes up is 'dangers of vaping.' God, I hate these self important assholes. Every one of them, with a smug look on their face like, “Look at me, I am such a bad ass, vaping in this bar where you other wise can't smoke. I am a rebel.” No, you're not. You're a fucktard

Ha! Get me now, cancer."

who can't get cancer and die quick enough. I have seen these vapers sucking their cancer dicks in Best Buys. Really? Are you really that fucking addicted that you can't even shop for like 45 minutes without smoking an electronic butt? You come across as starved for attention almost as much as your lungs are starved for clean air. You're fucking pathetic. Also, smokers are the biggest litterbugs on the planet. Don't believe me? Just go to any designated smoking areas, hold your breath, and see how many butts are on the ground.

My job here would be to confiscate their e/cigs and scare them straight via Saw like contraptions. To save them, of course.

Bed Tester

Little known fact about me; in my dreams, I am black.

I know, I know. You're all thinking, “He's really just looking for the laziest job possible.” While I certainly can't argue that point, what I can tell you is that I am uniquely qualified for such a (prone) position. Most of my life I have had some sort of sleep issue. While I have worked to make it better recently, I certainly don't have it figured out. I have tried every nonperscription pill/powder/liquid on the market, I have also tried a bunch of other options. White/nature noise machine, sleep monitors, even memory foam. I tried one of those alarm clock that projects the time in a soft blue light on the ceiling. What kind of torture device is this for insomniacs? “Gee, I can't fall asleep,

so let me just lie here, staring at a big, huge clock to slowly watch the night go by?”

Fucking 5:37

And forget it whenever I have to sleep in a hotel. All of marginal help.

So who better than me to try new beds, foams, TempurPedics, hammocks, cots, futons, etc?

Fantasy Football Team Name Originator

My knack for coming up with witty and offensive team names is far better than my knack at winning actual Championships. You'd be surprised how many times I've worked the word 'vagina' into team names. Go Vagina State!