bombcat

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it has come to my attention that many cats i used to interact with on this archaic social media platform had purged their journals. what a bunch of unorganised grabasstic pieces of shit. i mean i can't really talk, because i don't update this shit regularly anymore either. but at least i didn't purge all this embarrassing shit, like so many other fickle fucks. plus, Count Bombcat is fuckin BACK once again up in this cockcunt, and i'm gonna start writing some shit. you best put your cumsock on your left nut and be ready for some noise.

so i was making some hippity beats the other day, and putting some lyrics to said beats. i was never one to write silly gangsta-influenced material; in fact, my shit always tended to be contemplative and reflective. while fuckin with the track, i was also reading a self-defence blog (hello, fellow RBSD nerds). i then started thinking about all the times i've been bullied and gotten into fights, as well as some occasions when i've been rolled and shit like that. after a trip down that particular memory lane, i'd realised that every time i'd been picked on or rolled by some knuckle-headed fuckwit, it just so happened that that fuckwit was a hippity hoppity-loving fuckbag.

my personal experiences aside, just look at the situation here in my old town today - i'm willing to bet that most of the assaults, carjackings, robberies, and other naughty things are being committed by rap dickheads. i mean, i really fucking doubt that a bunch of goths or metalheads trashed that service station last night, or that a bunch of black metal elitists bashed and robbed those kids at the shopping centre. i would bet at least $5 that the bunch of fucknuts who broke into that old lady's house and proceeded to assault her do not listen to post-rock shoegaze. it's always those pesky hippity fucks trying to live out their tarded gangsta fantasies.

yes, i know that rap is a multi-faceted beast; there are silly gangstas who can barely put two words together, and there are serious lyricists who are all about the art itself, not gangsta bullshit. however, reflecting upon my experiences and the shit one sees in the news, it's always the hip hop culture knobs who are causing all the shit. it's always the gruddamn homeboys.

thus, when i make rap music, i feel like i'm making tracks to entertain troglodyte knobs i very much dislike. fuck that shit. i will no longer make dumbass hippity crap, or contribute to that culture in any way, shape or form. yes, not every rap fan is a house-invading, wallet-rolling gangsta dickhead. but the vast majority of house-invading, wallet-rolling gangsta dickheads (as well as your garden variety trouble-causing "tough cunts") are connected to hip hop, in one way or another. and i refuse to make music for those very dickheads.

Count Bombcat over and out.

Yep, that time of year. It's the middle of winter, so the gruddamn fluff show was the order of the weekend once again. It was great. Sticking to the time-honoured fluff show tradition, I sat around the accom, ate snags, drank horrible premix and listened to songs.

Today I was reading in the car, and some old cunt put his takeaway container on the bonnet and fucked off. I was ever so pissed. I waited until he left and, believing the container to be rubbish, angrily tossed it into the nearest trash can. I got back into the car and resumed reading books about things. The fucktarded fossil returned some time later and proceeded to fucking circle my car and other vehicles in the vicinity, trying to figure out where the fuck he left his food. He just wouldn't stop circling the car like a fucking vulture on MDMA. I'm not sure he even realised that I was in the car. He kept disappearing out of view and coming back again. At one point I feared he was going to return with a rifle and blow me the fuck away for stealing his shitass baked potato. Eventually he fucked off into the horizon for good. Let that be a lesson for you, cunt: people's cars are not your fucking kitchen table. Fuck yourself, assface.

SENIOR SHITCUNT - CLIENT RIMJOBS AND INTERNATIONAL QUEEF LIAISON

Company Description

Buttpimple International is a globally anal executive services company operating in over 40 countries. We advise people on queefing, rimming, fisting, defecating and urinating on web developer startups and their representatives all over the world. What sets Buttpimple apart is not what we defecate on, but when and how we do it. Shitting on a cunt's head at 5 in the morning as opposed to 6 in the afternoon has a tremendous impact on queef client outcomes. We piss and shit differently and are truly enterprising in all matters of international queefing. Buttpimple is the company where creative and entrepreneurial pissers and shitters with high levels of lethal ass gas choose to make a difference to web developer startups the world over.

Job Description

Our Queef Butt Advisory Division is situated within the wider Butthole Occupier enterprise, which boasts an unrivalled array of queefing and weaponised defecation services, buoyed by the highly effective Piss On A Cunt (POAC) model, which allows Buttpimple to consistently meet our clients' international queefing needs.

We are currently looking for an International Queef Liaison Representative to join our absolutely deplorable national business at the Senior Queef Executive level in our Moscow team.

Key responsibilities include:

- Ensure the company receives new defamation suits daily
- Working closely with other Queef Services products and slapping managers in the face with both soft and hard dildos every morning.
- Working resiliently and efficiently to destroy working relationships with vendors and internal stakeholders, diminishing Buttpimple's reputation in the marketplace on a daily basis
- Developing and implementing strategies to foster a highly toxic working environment
- Queefing on clients, visitors and internal stakeholders

This role offers you the ideal opportunity to build your profile with an established International Queefing business. You will be supported in your efforts by bullying managers, toxic team members, a completely clueless leadership team and a top-performing Queef Services brand. Your wilful disregard for Buttpimple and all that it stands for will assist you in fostering complete public disdain for Buttpimple both locally and on the international stage.

Qualifications

To be considered, you will bring the following expertise to this role:

- Highly disorganised, undisciplined, illiterate and highly insensitive to clients' needs
- Absolutely no understanding whatsoever of anything, really (you've got to be a Real Dumb Cunt)
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- Proven ability to destroy a company both financially and reputation-wise within approximately three months after commencement
- Highly motivated to drive Buttpimple into the ground and create as many lawsuits as possible
- Assaulting fellow employees in daily meetings, pissing on managers from behind as they eat lunch
- Flinging faeces at potential clients and visitors to the office

We look forward to receiving your absolutely useless and laughable resume today!

i saw an ad on a job board that said, "Looking for Cooking / Sandwich." decided to write the advertiser a nice cover letter.


dear Employer

i am writing to apply for the position of Cook / Sandwich.

i'm an extremely tasty and experienced sandwich. my experience includes containing bacon, pickle, egg, and sometimes even lettuce. i am able to be seasoned with both mayonnaise and tomato sauce. i have even been made with ciabatta bread, and I also have strong experience with other types of bread.

over the course of my ten-year career as a sandwich, i'd accumulated a wealth of experience in being eaten by a wide variety of customers, all of whom reported experiencing the highest degree of enjoyment whilst ingesting me.

i am confident that a sandwich with my degree of experience will be an asset to your kitchen team. please don't hesitate to contact me at any time to further discuss this piquant and mutually beneficial opportunity.

regards
John the sandwich

if you don't have an innate talent for writing, no amount of writing degrees will help you. if you don't have an innate talent for programming, no amount of programming degrees will help you. there's some shit you just gotta be born with. too many knobs and knobettes go to uni thinking they're actually gonna get good at shit for which they ain't got no aptitude. lel.

think about it - if you've never enjoyed crafting beautifully written sentences, and if you've never sat down and simply wrote, just because you do it well, then how the fuck are you going to just up and learn the art of writing by doing a university degree? i mean, would you do an engineering degree if you know for a fact that you don't have a mechanical aptitude and hate numbers?

now, don't get it twisted - there's nothing wrong with not being good at writing, or anything else, for that matter. my point is that too many people believe universities to be some crazy-ass magical oracle factories, where some complete dumb cunt can walk in, stay for three years, and then emerge as some super-genius. wrong, my droogies. if you hate numbers, stay the fuck away from engineering. if you don't have a natural ability when it comes to the written word, that Master of Writing ain't gonna help you. you may pass the coursework, but you'll still be a mediocre-ass writer, because you just ain't got that shit au naturel.

stick to what you do well, droogies. and for fuck's sake, don't study web development. that shit is for the lowest form of life on Earth - hipsters.

content note: This Is A Political Post.

that's right, cunts, it's time to get political. i'll skip the whole beating around the bush thing and get straight to the point. now, you may think to yourself, "is this cunt really a political blogger, offending and educating thousands of readers daily? is he indeed the triggerer of the lefties, the infuriator of the right-wingers, and just a generally unpleasant writer who is just out to cause havoc in the big bad political world?"

the answer to the question posed in the above paragraph is quite simple, my friend: i am here to tell you about the best fucking fish'n'chips I've ever had.

it all started yesterday morning, at a nondescript cooking school running classes for NEET assholes who can't cook anything more sophisticated than dog shit on toast. i quietly listened to the chef's instructions as she told us all about seafood and how to make it taste really fucking good. we got chopping, sautéing, skewering, de-boning, frying, and had a jolly good time. then, we had all that shit for breakfast, and it all tasted great. they even gave us a glass of wine. fuck, what a day.

today, i drove around meaninglessly, as i tend to do when i need to clear my head and think rationally about Trump's visit to Saudi Arabia. i'm also sick and fucking tired of people making fun of Trump's hair. i'm convinced that the detractors are simply jealous.

after a good deal of spinning the wheel and being offended by big hyper-masculine four wheel drives, i ended up in a beautiful suburb called Boobturdsville. i go there often, and i always buy fish'n'chips there. best-tasting shit ever, period. pre-menstrual tension. big juicy tits.

ahh, perfect winter night. grouse feeds, a few shots of Finlandia goodness, berry strudel in the oven, and an amazingly relaxing Cryo Chamber compilation on the old Chromecast. this is the perfect recipe for super-comfy over-9000 winter evening of ambient drone'n'inebriation.

winter is, lyk, litrully the comfiest time of year. it's a time of crazy soup, mulled wine, fat-ass blankets, vodka shots and bitching hot chocolate. winter is litrully the absolute shit, because it rids the world of summercunts. it's nice to be able to walk around the city on a cold and rainy day and not have to wade through herds of half-naked, loud, aggro, short shorts-and-Bingtang-wifebeater-wearing summercunts.

you know how you walk through a park in summer and there are summercunt couples making out on top of each other everywhere you look? well, you don't have that problem in winter, because all those cunts are depressed and hibernating. the parks are empty, and it's fucking beautiful. it's funny how thousands of summercunts just disappear from the streets in winter. i wonder what kind of winter summercunt wonderland they travel to in order to escape the oppressive forces of my favourite time of year.

well, shit. maybe the old homeboy still has it.

memories run back to old anxieties quietly
i guess she's finally tired of my impiety, waking me violently
been dodging bullets, but you can't run forever
and the bad weather will eventually find you, see
alcohol and slow beats wash away these throes of defeat
woefully bleak and drifting, i'll flow 'til i sleep
and i'm not a palm reader, but i know what tomorrow will bring
more grime from all directions, i'm like a worm on a string
but i'm determined to swing that shit my way, and one day

but i'm letting the beat dissolve my tensions
penning simple rhymes at the pub, counting my blessings

(expand reppin chaddy verse. list goon, woodstocks, underachievement, changing hood.)
and i stay pressin chapters, stay reppin chadstone
my old house is gone, no fake gangstas flexin
used to be a rough hood, and now my old street is full of fuckin mansions
the landscape is changing
a stark contrast to the days of cheap sixers of woodstocks
drug-fucked cunts and vacant blocks
used to dress hood and I still do
used to bump X and Shady

some distant cold winter in '06
i was convinced i knew all the right answers to this shit
now i'm up to my old tricks, haven't done a fucking thing in ten years
but slam beers and watch the clocks tick

i focus on the poetry side of the game
i don't smoke weed and don't go to shows i'm too much of a hermit
i'm a shut-in poet,
nothing lifts me up like some incendiary bars
inner-city crime rate so high maybe 'cause ppl ain't affording rent
scores of young homies living in vans and shoddy tents
a nihilistic outlook helps soften the struggle
learning to chip away at shit rather than giving up

hook
chasing ghosts, forever running