El Gammy’s Blog of Death

First of all, I would just like to point out the fact that Benoit should rhyme with “Detroit,” but since the French are a bunch of French Fried Faggots, instead “Benoit” rhymes with “Wichita.” How the hell does that happen? Well, ask a Frenchie (but make sure to keep your distance, they smell like ass).

Anyways, I was speculating today on how fucking crazy Chris Benoit needed to be to do what he did, and as I was relaying my thoughts to a hypocrite vegan, I figured I might as well just post them on the ole’ blog. So here it goes:

[14:01] ElGammyofDeath: killing your wife is understandable
[14:01] ElGammyofDeath: sometimes its even expected
[14:01] ElGammyofDeath: but killing your son?
[14:01] ElGammyofDeath: and not just that… it’s one thing if you go on a psycho roid rage and you black out for a minute and end up shooting your kid in the head…
[14:02] ElGammyofDeath: giving him a quick death
[14:02] ElGammyofDeath: but Benoit actually smothered his 7 year old
[14:02] ElGammyofDeath: this means he held him down while his limbs mercilessly flailed all about…
[14:02] ElGammyofDeath: he held him under until he stopped moving
[14:03] ElGammyofDeath: being able to do that to your own son… that requires real rage and 100% insanity
[14:03] ElGammyofDeath: he could’ve opted to kill his wife, then hang himself
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: but instead, he decided he would kill his son too
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: how demented do you have to be?
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: don’t get me wrong, it was a good way to go
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: strangle your wife, hang yourself….
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: but smothering your son?
[14:04] ElGammyofDeath: THAT’S what makes this story fucked up
[14:05] ElGammyofDeath: i just don’t see why he had to go there
[14:05] ElGammyofDeath: unless the little bastard was a real rat dick, there was no way he deserved this

I also mentioned to some coworkers of how this incident was probably the wife’s fault anyway, but I won’t go into that here. I just wanted to get this point across to all the crazy people out there (whom I hope never actually read this blog, but just in case…): if you’re gonna kill your wife and then off yourself, leave your kids out of it okay? They will probably be in therapy for the rest of their lives, the least you could do is give them a fighting chance to be somewhat normal. And it wouldn’t hurt to take out a good life insurance policy either. Thanks.

UPDATE: I just found out today that Benoit’s son was mentally retarded. Apparently the couple have had a lot of problems arguing over his care and well-being. I also read that Benoit laid a bible next to each of the corpses after he did his thing, leading investigators to suspect the murders/suicide were premeditated. In light of this new evidence, I can sadly begin to understand (at least a little) Benoit’s reasoning for wanting to end his entire family’s misery in one night.

And for the record, it turns out he DID use his patented Crippler Crossface to choke his son to death. So for those of you out there who still think wrestling isn’t real, as Ali G would say: “you is wrong. So shut up…. or whateva.”

When I read this article from Editor & Publisher I laughed about as hard as I did after I saw this little kid getting served. Basically, it proved a long-standing contention of mine that the ignorant and poorly educated are more susceptible to believe in nonsense like the bible and the mystical teachings of god.

Here’s the some of the highlights from the article:

There is also a strong relationship between education and belief in a literal Bible, Gallup explains, with such belief becoming much less prevalent as schooling continues.

Those who believe in the literal Bible amount to 31% of adult Americans. This is a decline of about 7% compared with Gallup polls taken in the 1970s and 1980s. It is strongest in the South.

Believe in the literal word of the Bible is strongest among those whose schooling stopped with high school and declines steadily with educational level, with only 20% of college graduates holding that view and 11% of those with an advanced degree.

Did you notice the “It is the strongest in the South” part? Well, apparently this correlation between stupidity and gullibility also holds true for the sport of Nascar – the dumber you are the more likely you’ll enjoy watching cars endlessly go in circles.

A big thanks to Matt Industries for the link. Matt Industries: Producing Quality Links Since Last September

I’ve been on record saying I hate the Phoenix Suns for being a bunch of whiney pussies who would rather complain about the refs than take matters into their own hands and show some fucking balls, but GODDAMN did we get fucked by the refs tonight.

I just got home from playing a league basketball game against a taller, stronger more physical team. They started whooping our ass down low, killing us in the paint and on the boards, and ultimately jumping out to a 12 point lead within the first 5 minutes of the game. To our credit, we used our quickness, superior shooting and time outs to climb back in it and get the lead right before half time (only to give up a lay up with seconds left to go back down by one).

In the second half we went back and forth, although we did find ourselves down by two without the ball with two minutes left. In a cowardly yet smart move, the other team decided to hold the ball for the entire two minutes, since there is no shot clock. Recognizing they were pussies who feared what we might be able to do with the ball, we decided to foul them after failing to get a steal. Being the morons that they are, they threw the ball away and gave us the ball back with approximately 40 seconds left. Our best shooter then sank a 3, putting us up by one.

On the other side of the floor, we grabbed the defensive rebound off their missed jumper. They fouled our big man, who made the first of two free throws and put us up two with 26 seconds left. Unfortunately, we fouled them on their shot, and their guy made two clutch free throws with 9 seconds left to tie the game. After our timeout, we inbounded the ball and took the ball down court before I ended up with it on the wing. I made my move to the basket, got double-teamed, kicked it out to one of our worst shooters and he hesitated before putting up the shot. He missed and they got the ball and called time out with 1.5 seconds left.

Inbounding from behind their own basket, they heaved it cross-court only to have everyone miss it. This gave us the ball back right underneath their basket, for one last shot before regulation. Being the best passer on the team, I inbounded it and got it to our big man on a sweet move to the basket. Open layup at point-blank range. HUGE and OBVIOUS push in the back. No call. Miss. 100% pure bullshit.

I managed to hold back my anger enough to calmly go up to the ref who was right next to me and had a perfect angle to make the call. I asked him, “Come on man, you’re gonna tell me there was no push in the back?”

“Not with 1.5 seconds left,” he said.

“But you saw him push. He was beat and rode him all the way through the cut.”

“I saw it, but I can’t make that call with 1.5 seconds left.”

Ain’t that a bitch? A fucking Tempe basketball league referee with personal reservations about making a call in the final seconds of the game. As I walked to the bench for the breather before overtime, he came over to me and said “Hey man, this has been the best game by far this season,” to which I replied “Is that supposed to make me feel better about you not making that call?” He laughed and got back to his stupid position.

In overtime the other team came out hot, making their first 3 shots (one of which was a three). Eventually, we were down 6 with less than a minute left. On a missed shot, our big man tipped in the miss as he got hacked so hard the asshole who fouled him fell to the floor and injured his ankle. There was no whistle for the foul, but the asshole ref finally had to whistle because the idiot couldn’t get up. Again I found myself next to the same douchebag ref who “couldn’t make that call with 1.5 seconds left” and I asked him, “what about that one? Can’t make that one either?”

“See I would’ve given you that one,” he said “but that’s my partner’s call. I can’t make that call from here. I’m gonna have to make my partner look bad on this one” (we were behind the half court line).

Realizing our chances were quickly fading, I told him “Look man, I’m gonna have to pull a Phoenix Sun on you and just complain to you right now about not giving us that call at the end of regulation.” He laughed. “You know… you could’ve given us this one to at least try to make it a one-point game.”

“Sorry man” he said, “that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Real comforting words, I know. Now it’s fucking midnight and still can’t get over this fucking loss. Ultimately we got outplayed in overtime, so it’s our own goddamn fault, but it never would’ve gotten there had we gotten that obvious fucking call. We showed some heart, used our balls and played a tough, grinded-out game against a bigger, tougher team.

I’ve even already done my workout, and I still can’t get enough steam out of my system. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

I was lucky enough to have an incredible metabolism growing up, so I could pig out at every sitting and never gain a single pound while retaining my six pack. Even when I was gorging myself with protein, creatin and testosterone during my high school years, I still managed to add muscle and mass without losing the old’ washboard.

With that said, it’s damn near impossible to get a six pack if you’re Mexican. It’s one thing to maintain it if you’re just naturally skinny, but once you settle down and stop being active every day, you’ve got about as much chance as a white girl trapped in a random hotel room with Kobe Bryant to get it back.

You see, the Mexican culture – more so than maybe every other culture besides Italians – is centered around food. There isn’t a single social gathering in which some illegally delicious dish isn’t readily available. Be it weddings and quinceaneras or just a simple gathering on any given Sunday during the NFL season, some form of beans and tortillas are surely lurking around the corner.

This is not entirely a bad thing, since we do get to splurge on beantastically awesome food… but it’s a slippery slope. For starters, there are very few Mexican women who make it past their mid-twenties in any decent shape, and Satan help you if you’re a man trying to put up with their shit while staying in shape yourself. Sure they make good food, but their drama and bullshit is hardly ever worth killing yourself in the gym for.

And even when you do find some alternative motivation to get your six pack back, you’re forced to do so while constantly resisting the temptation of all the delicious meals by your woman, your mom and all 37 of your aunts, grandmas and friends of the family. Unless you cut yourself off completely from your family (impossible even for the whitest of beaners), you’re pretty much fucked.

By the way, this is all assuming you’ve managed to somehow give up on Corona, Dos Equis, Pacifico and all the other rapidly mind-numbing liquor produced in the motherland.

I tell ya’… reclaiming a six pack as a Beaner is one of the most exhausting activities a human can possibly engage in… outside of soccer.