Dr. Faustroll Writes the Wrongs

You have arrived at your imaginary one stop shopping destination for cures, solutions, and remedies to your everyday ailments, problems, and pestilences. Here at the Portland Pataphysical Outpatient Clinic, Lounge, and Laundromat the patients and staff are committed to giving you exactly what you need without fuss or bother.

If you have been wronged, let us write about it in a manner belittling the needle and the damage done. In the spirit of the Sonya That Racist Latina Whore Sotomayor (no relation to John Gravity Mayer) Supreme Court nomination hearings, let me interject more inappropriate levity into the ether by suggesting that two Wongs don't make a White.

Carry on, my natal sons and daughters of the devalued devolution. We are only crust when we spin. 

Yesterday, 8:50:55 AM PDT

Looking out the window

The reason we have a seven foot high fence around the garden is the deer and the elk. The reason we have raised beds is the weather and the mountain beavers. The reason we garden is we like fresh vegetables. So do the deer and the elk and the…

It's time to consider a career

I know I'm a little late coming to this, but as my guidance counsellor at William Cullen Bryant High School repeatedly told me for reasons that totally escape me: "Better late than never."

My own take is that if you're late, you might as well phone…

What did health care ever do to you?

I ask you, seriously. Health care has never done anything for me. Why does it need to be reformed? Has it committed crimes against nature, against nurture, against nabobs of negativism? Has it allowed war criminals to slip through the cracks and…

Road trip

Looking for a new job and working on getting full use of my leg back, we needed to get away and start looking at kitties. Mrs. Faustroll still wakes me weeping for Ocean, and even my curmudgeonly eyes sometimes cloud in the morning when I imagine I…

Come on and nuke me, little baby. Nuke me all night long...

I may not be posting as frequently for the next couple of weeks because I need to beat off and it takes time and effort to do it correctly, unlike blogging, which anyone can do. Look around, if you don't believe me.

I'm done with physical therapy…

I was born an antisocialist

Actually, that's bullshit. I was born with God's umbilical cord wrapped around my throat. I was a term plus two month shit-ass doomsayer sucked into the world by a morality I don't have much truck for even today, sixty-three years later. My thoughts…

Bullet points for idiots...

I know I should calm down and start taking more blood pressure medication (for me that's crystal meth — without it, I'd have no pulse at all), but there is just much NOMF™ lunacy going on that someone needs to fire off a few imaginary rounds, and…

The idiocy vein

You can get me wrong if you want. It won't matter. People have got me wrong before, and I'm still here, deep in the belly of the beast, living amongst the teabaggers who are too chickenshit to come up the hill and see what I got for them. 

Cops? Cops…

Convenient non-truths and injustice...

Previously on Doctor Faustroll Writes the Wrongs: The 9/11 challenge, Second amendment daily body count, poopadoodle, Tuesday after lunch, Randiness, insanity, repetition, autism, wake up calls, change, the human condition, staying on point, being…

Spare change points...

It's that cosmic time in the universe again, boys and girls, ladies and gentleman, Tuesday after lunch, and your mission, should you choose to ignore other less important tasks in your meaningless lives, is to leave a comment here or at Internation…

Doctor Faustroll sets shorts afire!

On occasion, I receive constructively critical e-mails from perfected American idiots who ask why I don't propose positive solutions for the problems I ridicule, as if my commitment to bringing on the bomb is not one of the most positive initiatives…

Kiss my Entrecard goodbye

In three or four days, the last of the ads I accepted through this Mongoloid Sairhead Downs Syndrome Clusterfuck will be gone, and I will nuke the widget and wait for Cindy and her trannie gang of dumb cunts to finally kick my antisocial ass out of…

Tiger's woody comes clean in morning debriefing at Sawgrass clubhouse

In his first public appearance since wrecking his SUV last Thanksgiving when his hyperactive penis got tangled in his snakeskin steering wheel, a flaccid and chastened Tiger Woods apologized for having brought shame to America by going with a sand…

Holy Yahweh Zahweh, batman...

I have been remiss again in my duties as a co-blogger at Internation Musings, where it is my job to explain to roughly 95% of the idiots on this planet why the less than 5% of which I am an integral part by an accident of birth are still number one.…

Another Entrepoot post

This morning I logged on to Entrefart using my insignificant penis to drop gonorrhea on the ghost dribblers that have turned another waste of time into a waste of energy that can no longer be transformed into energy for either good or evil.

I went…

I'm number two! Come step in this shit, assholes!

Call me Avis. My father did, or nearly did. He called me Akis.

What the fuck is wrong with the people on this planet? I have a list of NOMF™ forces capturing the number two leader of this or that imaginary enemy of freedomocracy going back to when…

Another for the road

There is absolutely no reason to get behind the wheel of a modern automobile without having consumed at least a fifth of something 80 proof or better. Anyone with a fundamental grasp of pataphysics knows that God hates water and sent his only…

NATO missiles kill civilians; miss opportunity to claim eliminating another number two

These fucking assholes couldn't nail a real terrorist if I posted my IP and GPS coordinates and burned an EEPROM with the same information and stapled it oto the back of your skull. Seriously, people, how times in the past two years have the…

Penicio el Gordo

I'm in a dark place. Which is a good thing. If you ever encounter me in a bright place, you should probably say prayers and kiss your fat ass goodbye, fair witness, because I have finally figured out how to bring on the bomb big time.

I have finally…

A turd by any other name...

Disorders! Disorders! I can't be blamed for all these damned disorders!

That's a paraphrase of something Ezra Pound told an interviewer shortly before he died when asked about the state of contemporary America in general and American literature in…

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