This is one of The Baron's all time favorite words and the scourge of the Boston public transit system.
Frotteurism refers to a paraphilic interest in rubbing, usually one's pelvis or erect penis, against a non-consenting person for sexual gratification. It may involve touching any part of the body including the genital area. A person who practices frotteurism is known as a frotteur. The majority of frotteurs are male and the majority of victims are female although female on male, female on female, and male on male frotteurs exist. This activity is often done in circumstances where the victim cannot easily respond, in a public place such as a crowded train or concert.
The Baron is pretty sure that this word is an onomatopoeia but he can't quite nail down the sound it would make. Probably something like taut corduroy rubbing on a coarse grit sandpaper....
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Things The Baron Hates : Social Smokers
There are few more pathetic creatures on this earth than the social smoker.
The Baron is positive you've met one. The conversation usually goes something like this:
you: ....yeah I think smoking is pretty gross, especially when chicks do it.....unless it's my hog.
Le deuce: Me too, except I really like to smoke at parties.
you: Why the fuck would you do that, are you retarded or something?
Le deuce: Naw man, I just like to smoke with other people, not by myself.
you: Goddamn!! You might be the biggest flap of camel scrotum I've ever met!
Here's the problem. When a person says "I'm a social smoker" or "I only smoke at parties", what they mean is "I've been so subconsciously dominated by tobacco advertising and traditional media portrayal of smoking and related products that my feeble mind has been completely co opted and I can barely keep control of my own sphincters due to my woefully pathetic mental faculties."
For you see gentle reader, the social smoker truly believes that sucking on a smoldering wad of dry leaves somehow makes them cool and anti-establishment. They still behave like they're in middle school if only in a single vice and they're unaware that their notions of superiority were entirely fabricated by a team of ad-men who have covertly fisted their brains into submission.
Social smokers think they're making a statement. They think they're resisting authority. They think they're proving their edgy originality to their friends. In actuality, they're proving how completely they've allowed the media to jam it's throbbing, crusty, crab-infested wang into the deepest sulci of their simpering brains.
At least real smokers do it because it makes them feel good.
Also, hipsters who are social smokers are the epitome of what is wrong with the universe and a compelling case for its immediate destruction.
The Baron is positive you've met one. The conversation usually goes something like this:
you: ....yeah I think smoking is pretty gross, especially when chicks do it.....unless it's my hog.
Le deuce: Me too, except I really like to smoke at parties.
you: Why the fuck would you do that, are you retarded or something?
Le deuce: Naw man, I just like to smoke with other people, not by myself.
you: Goddamn!! You might be the biggest flap of camel scrotum I've ever met!
Here's the problem. When a person says "I'm a social smoker" or "I only smoke at parties", what they mean is "I've been so subconsciously dominated by tobacco advertising and traditional media portrayal of smoking and related products that my feeble mind has been completely co opted and I can barely keep control of my own sphincters due to my woefully pathetic mental faculties."
For you see gentle reader, the social smoker truly believes that sucking on a smoldering wad of dry leaves somehow makes them cool and anti-establishment. They still behave like they're in middle school if only in a single vice and they're unaware that their notions of superiority were entirely fabricated by a team of ad-men who have covertly fisted their brains into submission.
Social smokers think they're making a statement. They think they're resisting authority. They think they're proving their edgy originality to their friends. In actuality, they're proving how completely they've allowed the media to jam it's throbbing, crusty, crab-infested wang into the deepest sulci of their simpering brains.
At least real smokers do it because it makes them feel good.
Also, hipsters who are social smokers are the epitome of what is wrong with the universe and a compelling case for its immediate destruction.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
World's Greatest Product / Christmas Gift for the Discerning The Baron Fan
Chop, slice, stab and slash with ferocity you won't get from other knives! Others charge hundreds more for quality like this!
HOLY SHIT!!! Could that be the best tagline of any advertisement ever? The Baron thinks it is, and that's why he wants a Hobo-Hacker for every day tasks like chopping jive turkeys and slashing at vagrants.
This knife looks like it could take down a super-tramp and The Baron knows from experience that they're nearly immortal.
Allow The Baron to highlight some key phrases from the description:
When you're out in the wild, you never know what circumstances you'll find yourself in. That's why you should always take along this warrior hatchet knife. It's unique 8.25" blade combines the chopping power of a hatchet with the slicing power of a knife to get you out of even the toughest jams. Features a razor-sharp 420 stainless steel blade and individual finger-ring knuckle guard. Includes protective sheath and Zachary Crockett® collector's certificate of authenticity.
Holy fucking cow! This knife might be the ultimate red-neck accessory. But let's be serious. What kind of son of the soil is going to use this on a bear out in the wild? More than likely cousin Merl is going to end up with a nasty gash after a night of chugging Early Times and Natty Ice out in the above ground pool. However, The Baron bets that would make a hell of a story to impress the lady-scumbags down at the drag race / swimmin' hole.
The Baron will give one rapeosaurus egg to anyone who can figure out how to attach it to the end of a Victorian style umbrella so that The Baron can slash, hack and chop scumbags at a respectable and gentlemanly distance.
HOLY SHIT!!! Could that be the best tagline of any advertisement ever? The Baron thinks it is, and that's why he wants a Hobo-Hacker for every day tasks like chopping jive turkeys and slashing at vagrants.
This knife looks like it could take down a super-tramp and The Baron knows from experience that they're nearly immortal.
Allow The Baron to highlight some key phrases from the description:When you're out in the wild, you never know what circumstances you'll find yourself in. That's why you should always take along this warrior hatchet knife. It's unique 8.25" blade combines the chopping power of a hatchet with the slicing power of a knife to get you out of even the toughest jams. Features a razor-sharp 420 stainless steel blade and individual finger-ring knuckle guard. Includes protective sheath and Zachary Crockett® collector's certificate of authenticity.
Holy fucking cow! This knife might be the ultimate red-neck accessory. But let's be serious. What kind of son of the soil is going to use this on a bear out in the wild? More than likely cousin Merl is going to end up with a nasty gash after a night of chugging Early Times and Natty Ice out in the above ground pool. However, The Baron bets that would make a hell of a story to impress the lady-scumbags down at the drag race / swimmin' hole.
The Baron will give one rapeosaurus egg to anyone who can figure out how to attach it to the end of a Victorian style umbrella so that The Baron can slash, hack and chop scumbags at a respectable and gentlemanly distance.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Infuriating Video Game Bosses in History: Ninja Gaiden, that Fucker with the Cleaver
The Baron just had to steady his nerves with 8 beers to even think about the original Ninja Gaiden video game on Nintendo.
So many bad memories, so many humiliations, so many digital penetrations (digital as in computers, not fingers you sick asshole!).
Ninja Gaiden remains one of the most difficult video games of all time. In fact The Baron thinks it should have been named "I thought Ninja were supposed to be deadlier than this Gaiden".
Most of the game is spent getting killed by random thugs, dogs and birds. That's right, fucking birds!!
But who is The Baron kidding, you've never even gotten past the first level because of this assmaster.
That cleaver fucker is apparently a bartender of some kind and also a huge sack of monkey shit. Apparently all you have to do to kill him is jump over and stab him in the back, but let's be serious, when we played this game we were little shithead kids and we had too much honor / too little cognitive ability to knife a fool in the back.
The Baron actually broke a controller upon being finger banged by this boss for the hundredth time in a single sitting. Well, you know what cleaver guy? Go fuck yourself!! You're still stuck in 1986 when the music was awesome, the babes had afros of pubes and everyone had a ton of money and drugs......
Hey! Wait a second........that sounds pretty awesome. DAMN YOU CLEAVER GUY!!
So many bad memories, so many humiliations, so many digital penetrations (digital as in computers, not fingers you sick asshole!).
Ninja Gaiden remains one of the most difficult video games of all time. In fact The Baron thinks it should have been named "I thought Ninja were supposed to be deadlier than this Gaiden".
Most of the game is spent getting killed by random thugs, dogs and birds. That's right, fucking birds!!But who is The Baron kidding, you've never even gotten past the first level because of this assmaster.
That cleaver fucker is apparently a bartender of some kind and also a huge sack of monkey shit. Apparently all you have to do to kill him is jump over and stab him in the back, but let's be serious, when we played this game we were little shithead kids and we had too much honor / too little cognitive ability to knife a fool in the back.The Baron actually broke a controller upon being finger banged by this boss for the hundredth time in a single sitting. Well, you know what cleaver guy? Go fuck yourself!! You're still stuck in 1986 when the music was awesome, the babes had afros of pubes and everyone had a ton of money and drugs......
Hey! Wait a second........that sounds pretty awesome. DAMN YOU CLEAVER GUY!!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Hipsters Can Go Fuck Themselves The Baron is Sick of Their SHIT!!!
The Baron was on the train this morning with some of the most nausea inducing hipsters he's ever seen and it took all of his considerable strength to keep from throttling them to death with their own fucking red converse sneakers and goddamn retarded fedora hats with their stupid little satin things wrapped around their penis horking heads and those shit-blistering tight black jeans and those stupid chain wallet things that The Baron thought were only for d-bags in high school.
And another thing? Where do these smarmy, mac-glass wearing frog raping, namby-pamby, emaciated hipster "men" find those hideous, skeletal, coked out, pale as shit, buck toothed women?
And how come they all talk like a bunch of shit-faced assmasters, all high pitched and with too much inflection and then a ton of high nasal laughing?
Are they always high on paint fumes or are they laughing like retarded hyenas on purpose just to annoy the shit out of people?
Furthermore hipsters, do you think The Baron is threatened by the way you look and act? Is The Baron's narrow little mind supposed to be blown when you step on the train looking like an Ethiopian marathon runner on a crash diet? Well you know what hipsters?
FUCK YOU!
The Baron isn't intimidated by your shit!!! So cram your oversized headphones back on your gangly little skull and pump some indie / punk / utter horseshit music into your tiny, insignificant brain.
The day is fast approaching when The Baron will no longer abide by your constant, grating dick-wash and on that day you will all suffer a fate worse than death!!!!! The universe is a cold and uncaring void of pain and suffering but it will certainly make an exception for The Baron and an example out of you!
(Also, as a final insult Apple will go out of business the very instant you're gone.)
And another thing? Where do these smarmy, mac-glass wearing frog raping, namby-pamby, emaciated hipster "men" find those hideous, skeletal, coked out, pale as shit, buck toothed women?
And how come they all talk like a bunch of shit-faced assmasters, all high pitched and with too much inflection and then a ton of high nasal laughing?
Are they always high on paint fumes or are they laughing like retarded hyenas on purpose just to annoy the shit out of people?
Furthermore hipsters, do you think The Baron is threatened by the way you look and act? Is The Baron's narrow little mind supposed to be blown when you step on the train looking like an Ethiopian marathon runner on a crash diet? Well you know what hipsters?
FUCK YOU!
The Baron isn't intimidated by your shit!!! So cram your oversized headphones back on your gangly little skull and pump some indie / punk / utter horseshit music into your tiny, insignificant brain.
The day is fast approaching when The Baron will no longer abide by your constant, grating dick-wash and on that day you will all suffer a fate worse than death!!!!! The universe is a cold and uncaring void of pain and suffering but it will certainly make an exception for The Baron and an example out of you!
(Also, as a final insult Apple will go out of business the very instant you're gone.)
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