I resented the power my parents had over me. They had the house, the money, and the reputation. I was destined to be a disappointment. I decided long ago I would never see them again and spare us both the awkwardness.

This was the thought going through my head as I lay back in my bed, masturbating for the third time that morning. Even in my fantasies I was pathetic and disgusting. It was a mystery even to myself why I haven't blown the barrel of the revolver in my end table yet. Probably because in the list of my many negative qualities is total cowardice. I came, wiped my belly off, then got out of bed. A good start to any day.

I brushed my teeth but didn't take a shower, then got dressed. Not that I had anywhere to go. The television was showing nothing but sit-coms, which was making me feel sick. I hate comedies because enjoying them means pretending to be happy, which I hadn't been for some time now. It made me uncomfortable to buy liquor before noon, but fuck it. The booze store clerk knew what I was anyway. There was no hiding my addiction anymore. My nose was swollen and red, my breath was sweet with last night's drunkenness, and I was sickly pale. There were probably dozens of other men like me that rang the bell attached to his doorway.

"Jameson please", I said. Funny how you feel the need to be polite to the man selling you death in a bottle. It was like tipping your hangman, not that I wasn't grateful.

Once I had downed half of the bottle I had the nerve to face the world. I climbed into my car and turned on the radio to the nearest politically divisive channel I could find. They always told the truth I wanted to hear, that the world was bad enough to justify my constant attempts to avoid it. Compared to the sound of their angry rants my vomiting was poetry. I wiped my lips, spat twice, then drove through the city fast enough to deserve the attention of the cops and the disdain of the other drivers. When they pulled up next to me at the lights I stared back. They always looked away when they saw the dead eyes I had for them.

When I got to the park I sat alone on a bench and read some Chinaski. It was the only thing that kept me awake, kept me walking through the desert. I looked up only to evaluate the bodies of the passing women, deciding whether I would fuck them. But who was I kidding? I would fuck them all if they would let me, or if it was up to me alone. "Fucking pig!" the fat lady with the baby carriage said under her breath, noticing my gaze. I just looked back at her. I couldn't disagree. Better yet, her comments made me desire her more. I thought about fucking her in the bushes that lined the bike path while she screamed. It made me smile for the first time today. I walked back to my car, hungry for the rest of my bottle.

While leaving the parking lot I drove up and over the curb and cut off the guy merging with traffic from across the street. He honked but I honked longer. I turned the radio up. The drunker I got the louder it needed to be to get through. I shamelessly mouthed the bottle as I drove, unconcerned with the odds of collision or capture.

Seemingly in the next moment I became aware that I was again alone in my room. All around me was the evidence of a sloppily devoured fast food meal and an emptied bottle, telling the tale of the three or so hours I spent blacked-out before taking an involuntary nap. I checked my cell to make sure I hadn't made any embarrassing calls or texts while I was down, and satisfied, I changed out of my piss-soaked pants and went back to sleep. It was 4pm.

As regular readers will know, we at Popular Irony absolutely LOVE babies. In fact, we consider ourselves to be experts in the identification and classification of the various types of babies! So we decided to do a quick rundown of a few of the common types complete with definitions. Enjoy!

Sugar Babies:

This type of baby is desired by the "gold digger" category of mother, and is only produced after a lengthy and coercive courtship with a wealthy father. Although they are the result of an entirely consensual arrangement, they become a major drain on finances for 18 long years, regardless of the status of the marriage. Often referred to as "meal ticket babies", they represent financial security for the proud mother.

Anchor Babies:

These adorable bundles of joy are hastily produced by illegal immigrants to create conditions in their host country that gives the parents leverage to remain in their new home without threat of deportation. Despite their cute appearances, these babies are despised by politically conservative people, and are considered to be the only acceptable exception to their stance on abortion.

Landmine Babies:

Widely considered to be the product of devious motivations, this type of infant is the product of a trap-like scheme by the mother to force a commitment by the father. Common tactics include "forgetting" to take birth control pills, sabotaging condoms, or even promiscuous activity outside the relationship to achieve impregnation. The only defense to this tactic is a prompt paternity test, vasectomy, or an engineered miscarriage.

Magic Babies:

So called for their propensity to "disappear" from the womb at convenient times, the magic baby is most common among very young, single, non-religious mothers. The expectant mother usually takes a short "vacation" and returns to her friends and family baby-free! Also known as "mulligan embryos", they represent a significant opportunity to further the mother's personal and professional development without the implied responsibilities associated with parenthood.

Barter Babies:

The values of these babies is reduced from emotional and genetic bonds to sheer monetary value. They are most often involved in transactions for cash or drugs to human traffic organizations for the purposes of indentured slavery or the sex industry. Can be frequently found in coded craig's list advertisements or in tattered cardboard boxes in and around Walmart parking lots. When a parent's motivations for profit outweigh their desire to remain responsibility-free, the "magic baby" can quickly turn into a "barter baby".

The first day of information streaming from Mars by the rover "Curiosity" has delivered an unexpected result in the form of undeniable proof of the existence of a Christian God, NASA said in a press release hours ago. We spoke over the phone with Curiosity team member Gregory Galgana Villar III about the startling news.

"Curiosity appears to have stumbled upon the physical embodiment of God at around 11AM EST this morning. We have not released the video evidence, as there are concerns stemming from the Department of Homeland Security that when this now clearly undeniable proof of God's existence discredits all the worlds other religions there will be massive riots and uprisings from the members of those perspective denominations of faith."

We asked Mr. Villar to describe what he witnessed in the video, and he gave a somewhat vague description that included a bearded male figure "wrapped in the light of omnicient compassion", who imparted proof of his identity and details of his message to all who viewed the video by some supernatural means. Villar was reluctant to go into detail about the message from the creator, but did say that God was very clear that He "certainly hates fags", and revealed the truth to be "somewhere between catholic and protestant doctrine, although the message has been corrupted over the years".

"I don't know how to proceed from here. I mean, pretty much all of us here at NASA were sure He didn't exist, but now we are the first human beings in history to have documentation of a visual encounter with Him. Most of us are planning to use up our vacation time to do some serious spiritual introspection, and I can tell you that I will personally be taking the sabbath MUCH more seriously from here on. And I have a lot of forgiveness to seek in the upcoming days..."

Until now the atheist movement had been gaining global traction, particularly in europe, where as many as 60% of the population are now self-identified atheists. Assertions that religion serves too great a purpose of social cohesion to not have been invented for that purpose by those seeking to mould the poor, illiterate masses to do their bidding, or that any argument that offers proof in favor of a specific religious truth could have minor details altered to argue for a different, mutually-exclusive God, have now all been discredited. We have reached out to Dr. Richard Dawkins, biologist and notable atheist, for his statement regarding the situation, but he has not yet responded.

And in the United States, an overwhealmingly christian nation, there are fears about what impact the news will have on this year's presidential election, given that candidate Mitt Romney's belief in the mormon doctrine took a serious blow this morning, and many still believe Barack Obama to be an antichrist-in-waiting. Hopefully answers to these questions and countless others will be revealed when further details are made available.

"Ping pong aint a sport" - Dangle Hills; bus driver

"What's a water polo?" - Sam; architect

"If there isn't a goalie, how do they score?" - Dick Singleterry; youth minister, on gymnastics

"Them Chinese can't ride horses" - Lance Perry; bird feeder

"Allowing a cyborg in sprinting? Everyone knows the Nexus 6 models only have a four year life span!" - Andy Samerson; Pokemon trainer

"Honestly, his entry was amazing!" - Daryl Powers; bareback gay porn actor

"He's just so strong aggressive.  They couldn't stop him, but just had to sit back and accept what he was giving them." - Random bus passenger, on Kobe Bryant

"That ain't how you make a soup!" - Theresa Briggs; provocateur, on Ryan Lochte

"I really thought their last drummer was better.  But then again, I see them every year." - Random man who thought we were discussing the Grateful Dead

"A wink and a smile will only get you so far, girlfriend!" - Unknown drunken taxi driver, criticizing women's boxing

"He should be screened for Testosteroni!" - Bernie Waddles, on Michael Phelps

"I'm waiting for the bowling finals." - Unnamed barfly beggar

Barack "POTUS" Obama

Incredible poker face, keeps cool in the most heated battles. Seems to play the game as if he doesn't want to win, or rather, doesn't want anyone to lose. Believes all players should volunteer to pay a higher ante for each game, and if any one player falls behind he should be considered for a communal "buy in" at a higher interest rate, just to keep things fair and interesting. Although he is very personable and pleasant, all other players hate him.

Willard "Mittens" Romney

Is in favor of eliminating the ante, and indeed would rather forego the entire game if all players agree to preemptively pass along their winnings to him, as he believes he will make the wisest choices when spending the money and in the end it will be better for everyone anyway. Promises that if he is allowed to win he will pick up the bill at the end of the night, except for the beer because he didn't have any. He is generally disliked due to his habit of playing cards while wearing a $10,000 suit, and over-using the word "fortuitous".

Sarah "The Anchor" Palin

The most unpredictable player, she has a habit of going "all in" regardless of the hand dealt to her. Talks too loudly and generally annoys all other players, but is tolerated because she frequently loses and a few players think she might show her tits some time. She remains flattered by her given nickname "The Anchor", but doesn't understand it is a reference to her ability to sink a campaign in record time. But she keeps the mood light by spitting in Barack's drink whenever he goes to the bathroom.

Johnny "Two-Tone" Boehner

So named for the irregular color of his skin, Boehner insists on his invitation to poker night every time despite hating the game in general. He initiates discussions on tactics and is always the first to volunteer to deal the cards, but stalls the game and frequently declares that everyone is cheating. It is very difficult to complete a game when he is playing, earning constant claims of "obstructionist gambling" by Barack.

"No-No" Nancy Pelosi

Takes a seat at the table, but never plays. She prefers to watch the game progress from the outside and then criticize the winners. Shamelessly roots for Barack much to his embarrassment, and is always on hand with a handkerchief to blot the tears of Boehner when he breaks down, which happens frequently. She is tolerated because she is a cheap date, drinking only water and eating only bird seed.

"Lonely" Ronny Paul

Not allowed to play, Paul is present at every game venue pounding on the door and shouting. All poker players have a silent agreement that he is dangerous to the game, and fear that it would quickly degenerate into a fistfight if he was allowed in. "Mittens" Romney always calls the local nursing home to have him picked up outside, a joke that got a laugh one time so he repeats it ad nauseum.

I am one of your many coworkers.  I just wanted to express my thanks for your generosity and imagination.  Everyday there is a new booger smeared on the left hand side of one of the two urinals in the public restroom that we share.  It is quite an impressive collection of boogers and you are quite skilled at retrieving and displaying them.  I am glad that you feel the impulse to cram a filthy finger into the soft tissue of your sinuses while you relieve yourself of a generous bounty of urine. 

I am also dazzled by your choice of location to display your art.  We work in a very nice, clean office.  We are paid well and everyone presents themselves with a modicum of good hygiene and fashion.  I have seen others attempt your technique in dozens of Walmarts and truck stop bathrooms across the world.  But never have I seen it so well performed than in our small, clean, executive lavatory.

I'm sure the owners and vice presidents of our company get as much pleasure from your artistic displays as I do.  I have heard nothing but good things from my other male coworkers concerning your talent.  Whoever you are, we hold you in the highest regard.

I truly appreciate the fact that you don't attempt to flick your boogers into the urinal.  That would deprive you the pleasure of smearing and deny us the pleasure of getting to stare at your art whenever we urinate.

I hope one day to meet you so I can express my gratitude and admiration in person.  By wiping your boogers on the left hand side of the urinal, I have to assume that you are left handed.  That eliminates 90-93% of the population.  Unless you grip your penis with your dominant hand and pick with the other....  Hmmm.  Which requires more dexterity, the nose picking or the dick aiming?  Personally, I am right handed and pick with my right hand.  You won't find any boogers on the right side of our urinals though... I am not an artist like you.

I know that it must bring our custodian, Francisco, to tears whenever he is forced to remove such beauty from the wall.  He must dread it. He probably experiences the same level of remorse that he would feel if he was forced to suffocate a kitten.  Either way, I know he loves seeing new boogers of his freshly cleaned wall.  It gives him a sense of purpose and inspiration.

Again, my sincere thanks.  You truly are a gifted and generous person, whoever you are.  Keep up the good work!

God Bless You - Terlet

One of the mystery artists most recent exhibitions.

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These magic digits have been inside athletes, movie stars, and even presidents!  And the best part is that even if I am unable to resolve your minor discomforts, you will be treated to a stress-free procedure that includes mood music and lighting, engaging small talk, and a pleasant, welcoming smile throughout.  And all in the relaxing comfort of my well-furnished living room!

And although several of my patients would gladly pay top-dollar for my intimate colon treatments, I generously offer my services COMPLETELY FREE OF CHARGE!  That's right, you can receive a cutting-edge medical procedure from one of the nation's foremost recognized authorities on anal fondling for just the cost of a little of your time and dignity.

And before you jump to any conclusions about my motivations, let me assure you that my only interest in your backside is entirely for the analysis and documentation of the full range of human colorectal health.  Naturally this will require a thorough photographic assessment of the area in and around your anus, so you may want to bring some sunglasses to minimize discomfort from the rather excessive lighting required to properly document each patient.

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Well, I promised at least one more cop-out vacation post, so here it is. A short collection of tourist photos taken on my italian trip over the last two weeks. Enjoy it, because I certainly did.

I took this one in... I'm not totally sure. I think it's venice.

This is the beautiful church in sienna. Quite a monument to man's ability to devote themselves entirely to an imaginary god. I would like to pat myself on the back for a beautiful picture, but I think it has more to do with the incredible subject matter.

This is ponte vecchio bridge in florence. A great place to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty germans and buy gold. It's literally THE ONLY THING on the bridge. Gold shops.

I took this picture while standing in the ruins of pompei. That is the (still active) volcano vesuvius. One day it will kill everyone there and in nearby naples. Someday.

And this is the view from the city walls of the very defensible hill city of volterra. It was built on the ancient greek-etruscan city from antiquity, but is more famous now for being the filming site for one of the shitty twilight movies. I fucking hate humanity.

Every two years the world's greatest athletes meet up to determine who is the best in their respective sports, but the top-level competition always boils down to a few industrialized nations that have all the advantages. And with the exception of the John Candy film Cool Runnings, there are relatively few surprises. Well, since we face another summer olympics this week I decided to give some much-deserved recognition to those olympic hopefuls that fight against all odds by awarding some participation medals.

First I would like to recognize the Japanese high jumpers, who have valiantly attended every summer olympics just to be beaten soundly by all other countires. This year's star jumper is Keiko Matsuo, the most decorated female high jumper in japanese history and standing at an incredible 5'2" tall, a full 3" taller than the next tallest Japanese competitor. She is expected to make it through to the preliminary round where she will be embarrassed by the rest of the field immedietly. For her efforts we award her the medal of participation.

Next on our list of participation medal recipients is the Israeli beach volleyball team. They continue to show astounding resolve and courage to report to every match despite their genetically-inherited habit of becoming grossly disoriented when they come in contact with sand. One is quickly reminded of Moses leading the jews through the desert for fourty long years when viewing the confused Israeli team, hunched over and bumping into the net the moment they enter the sandy volleyball pit. But they continue to proudly compete in the face of insurmountable opposition. We tip our hats, Israel!

And finally we want to recognize Iraq's womens swimming team, who routinely finish several minutes behind their olympic rivals in every event, sometimes even paying the ultimate price and drowning before reaching their goal. But every spectator must respect their cultural commitment to remain wrapped in their traditional burqa despite the obvious danger and disadvantage. Perhaps one day the Iraqi team will have their requests granted by the olympic committee and they will be able to perform their races in poorly lit rooms watched only by their husbands, allowing them to be clad in only a respectful all-encompassing onesie. Until that day, they will have to do with just this participation medal.

I am back from my two-week italian getaway and now report back to the Popular Irony readers with some of my observations of the experience. I visited Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples, Pompei, Ponsacco, San Gimignano, Sienna, Lucca, Voltarra, Pontedera, and Pisa. And I found a few consistencies that held true in all these places.

Firstly, the women. Italian women did not disappoint, although I had to enjoy them at a distance to avoid any international incidents. But something mysterious happens to them when they age, and they seem to go through a strange metamorphosis cycle following puberty. Teenage italian women are almost entirely made up of gorgeous dark-haired and olive-skinned fashion model godesses, and that remains true throughout their twenties, but after their 35th birthday they take a dramatic change. They seem to gain 60 pounds overnight, sprout facial hair and warts, and adopt a shrimp-like posture that they accentuate with layer after layer of home-knit clothing and at least two scarves. But this change comes with one clear advantage: they transform into master chefs. So if dating an italian woman, beware.

It also appears that Italy makes no effort to pander to the needs of their handicapped population. Nowhere did I encounter wheelchair ramps, braile notices, or hook-shaped door handles. It is as if they are trying to pretend the less fortunate citizens of their country do not exist, and it seems to be working. You see disabled people nowhere on the streets, except the unfortunate ones that clog the tourist areas as beggars. I have a suspicion that some of the lazier people there purposly chop of limbs and gouge out eyes as a career move. Then again, maybe they are just collecting funds to help their defunct government install a fucking ramp or two at the train station.

And they speak loudly. And with comically exaggerated hand gestures. A perfectly silent bus ride would frequently be interrupted by a local who screamed into the phone as if it owed them money and inadvertantly pummeled the stranger seated next to them with a uniquely italian version of karate. I swear that if you hancuffed an italian they would be rendered mute. And while I am ranting on the subject I would like to point out that the vast majority of italians haven't taken the common courtesy of learning english, so no civilized people can understand a word. No wonder they are drowning the EU in debt, circling with Spain and Greece around the economic drain.

And while the food is wonderful, and the coffee and wine is sublime, the drinking water is complete shit. "Aqua minerale, naturale or frizzante". No thanks. Your water tastes like it came from the tap and it isn't even properly chilled, making it useful only for pissing or shitting into. And don't get me started on carbonated water. With the exception of my esteemed blog partner Terlet it is consumed only by douchebags and date rapists.

I'm sure there are many more stereotypes I am leaving out, including the copious body odor resulting from too much hair and too little personal hygiene, but I wouldn't want to accidentally offend anyone. So I will end my observations here, but don't think for one second this is my last vacation-related post. I took too many pictures and am far too lazy not to take full advantage of them, so there is more coming.