WELCOME TO THE PREMIER EDITION OF MAN VS. MORON!!!!!

     Congratulations!  By logging on to this blog, you have greatly decreased your chances of being one of the morons to whom this page is dedicated to tormenting.  It shows you have the potential to be a fine, upstanding human being whose contribution to this earth entails more than producing carbon dioxide for the trees when you breathe, and fertilizer for them when you either shit outdoors,  or get abducted by a murderous necrophiliac on Viagra who drags you to his secluded campsite, snuffs you out, violates every hole in your corpse (including the 165 stab wounds he carved into you) and leaves your pitiful carcass to rot and feed raccoons and dung beetles.  But I digress...

     Anyway, let's get down to basics, shall we?  This blog was created so that I could keep a weekly log of my encounters with the human parasites known as "morons".  The definitions of a moron are many, but in general a moron is the person standing/ sitting/ masturbating next to you.  They are all around you.  A moron is the dumb bitch who ran a stop sign and nearly killed you because she is too busy talking, texting, and queefing simultaneously to bother with that trivial little requisite to driving known as PAYING ATTENTION TO THE ROAD.  A moron is the crack- peddling street trash with 8 baby- mammas who thinks he's a "playa" even thought he's 42 and lives with his grandma who demands spare change from you every morning on the corner of Fillmore and Geary.  A moron is is the mincing, lisping butt brigadier who dishes out unwanted weight-loss advice to you because he weighs 111 lbs. from snorting crank and straining to fit the horse-hung dong of a random trick named Makimbo up his gaping tail-pipe.  Or the co-worker who wears a colostomy bag, eats nothing but baked beans and cabbage, and then gets assigned to share your hotel room during your business trip.  Or the waiter who has open, gangrenous herpes simplex II sores on his serving hand and pinches your daughter's cheek in an attempt to schmooze and get a fatter tip.  Or priests who say you are going to hell because you farted on a Sunday and then get caught playing doctor with little Tommy and Billy and Toby and Jimmy.  Or yes, even your brain- dead husband, who still leaves skid marks in his underpants for you to wash and can't remember your birthday even though it's been coming around the same damned day for thirty years.  Yes, morons are everywhere and strike without warning or purpose.  You could find yourself face to face with a moron today.  And if you never have encountered a moron, then it means YOU are in fact one!  Please load your family into your car, park in a locked garage, roll up the windows, leave the engine running, soak yourself in motor oil, light a cigarette, and suck the tailpipe.

     Now that that's out of our way, let's talk about my favorite subject... moi.   Every week I will relay to you, my adoring masses, a tale of woe in which my brilliance is pitted against the formidible stupidity of a wild moron.  You will relive my frustration, revel in my victory, and gasp in silent awe, with the druel oozing down the corner of your mouth, at the level of patience and poise I exhibit as I put these detestable douchebags in their place fight the good fight to rid the world of stupidity one imbecile at a time.  I will also take free swipes at whichever prostitute/ reality show star, celebrity, pundit, politician, religious leader, organization, or serial killer, dog rapist, child drowner, or indicted/disgraced CEO happens to be making headlines at the time.  I will be giving out a "Moron of the Month" award to whichever public figure most deserves it.  Keep in mind that Pastor Fred Phelps, Bill O'Reily, Sean Hannity, Sarah Palin, Toby Keith, Kanye West, Barack Obama, and most evangelical church leaders will be perennial contenders.
     In order to appreciate and enjoy my genius here are the rules you must abide by and remember.  if any of these be too great for you to accept, then leave this blog and bash yourself in the face with a tire iron until it stops hurting:

1. I am not politically correct and I make no apologies for it.  Moronism knows no boundaries and neither does my stern finger of shame and blame.  If I encounter a moron, be they a  crippled cunt, homeless minority, retarded, blind, deaf, terminally ill, or Asian, I'm laughing at 'em as I sees 'em.  And I am always right so don't waste your time arguing with me... you will lose.  I am never wrong.  I thought I was once, but it was a mistake.

2.  I think stereotypes are hilarious and I will use/ refer to them as often as I like.  I also find humor in death, suffering, traumatic episodes, natural disasters, train wrecks, car crashes, fatal plastic surgeries, wild animal maulings, blunt force injuries to the head, terminal illnesses, old people falling, and punting young children.  Deal with it and lighten up.

3.  Finally, if you did not read my disclaimer, then read this:  this blog is intended for ENTERTAINMENT purposes only.  If you are offended by my blog or take it seriously, then change your tampon, take your head out of your mom's ass, and get a sense of humor.  If irony, parody, dry social commentary, and dark humor is too complex for you, log out and watch Dane Cook and Carrot Top on YouTube.  And then go to Hell.

     Lastly,  I believe in giving back.  That is why, along with your postings, I welcome your questions and pathetic pleas for the advice that will give your life substance and meaning, the wisdom that will act as a glowing beacon through the lightless void of inferior genetic material your parents gave you that you call a brain.  A part of my blog will be dedicated to dishing out advice to people I don't know whose circumstances I am only vaguely aware of whose well- being I couldn't give a shit about, with consequences for listening to me that I won't be held accountable for.  If you would like to be a recipient of my abuse... um, I mean assistance, address your emails to "dear viciouspeach" at blowitoutyourassdouchebag@gmail.com.  I look forward to offending... oh, I mean "hearing" from you soon and often.  Think of me as that wise, favorite uncle of yours, except I'm not related to you, don't know you, don't like you, and don't care a rat's bare ass about you.  But other than that, just like an adoring uncle.
You're welcome.