Drunken Tirade on the Rampage!!!!

Hey there people out in blog land!!!!

You probably don't know me (because I've been away from the Tirade for a good while now), so I'll totally introduce myself.

My name is Matt McClane.

I'm a veteran of steel and a patriot of back-breaking street justice. I break bones and also hearts. I rob from the rich and steal from the poor. I pack a punch the size of the big ass iceberg that sunk the Jim Cameron boat. I whittle knives out of human bones and use them to spread mayonnaise on my grilled-cheese sandwiches. I break the law when I have to park closer to my office by stealing a "15-minute loading zone" spot, and then I also break the law by murdering imaginary supervillains on the elevator with just my brain. I write compound, run-on sentences without shame or remorse. I'm a force of nature that leaves hours of tears and orgasms in my wake. I fight for what's right. I settle for nothing. I only give money to homeless people if they're wearing a cowboy hat. I ride the waves of democracy straight into the post office when I buy my stamps. I'm a man on a mission. A mission to succeed. Succeed by forging a new life for myself...based on brawn and sweat and tears. And solid, gold bullion.

Also: to learn more and better ways to convince women that I actually DID win a gold medal in the '92 Summer Olympics in skeet shooting.

I write this blog a lot, and it pretty much keeps me going. It sustains my life and heals my shattered soul after I've heard one too many Sublime songs on the way home from work.

And finally, I love you, readers. I'm not just brown-nosing because I'm drunk or because I want something from you. I love you because the way you smell every time you sit at this computer to read my stuff. You guys smell great, and if you bend over a little further, ladies, I can totally see down your shirt. Thanks, readers, for coming back time and time again.

The fondest memory I have of this blog is the time that it came out of nowhere in an abandoned parking lot to save me from a cobra.

Another magical moment is when I was hammering in the back yard, and the blog came back to bring me lemonaid. It tasted so sweet and delicious because it was made by the blog. Then I went back to hammering. I was hammering away, happy as an old hammer dog.

In other news: I'm pretty tired of working so much, so I've decided to officially run for office in my apartment so I can rake in millions of taxpayer dollars on the side. Basically, I'll cast my vote, my old buddy, Ted the teddy bear, can place his vote, and then the cardboard box that my new hard drive came in can place his too. Whoever gets the most votes will totally win the title, and it'll only be a few weeks (because of the paperwork) and I'll be running the damn show around here. I'll also use this awesome rubber shark to be my secret service manager.





Following the election, I'll have some type of torrid love affair with an unnamed woman outside my district. Basically anywhere outside my apartment is out of my district, so the woman won't have to compromise her love because she probably voted against me in the election.

As a gift, I'll probably bring her a few slices of cheese and/or this vintage video camera from 1992:





If there's one thing I've learned from all my horrifying experiences with the ladies: they love the shit out of vintage video cameras. And also penises.

As you've probably guessed, I've been having a good time taking pictures of random shit in my room and writing a clever quip about them, just for the excuse of posting a photo. Here, here's a great shot without any clever lines.





Finally, I'll leave you with the real reason for my drinking... a true celebration. Today, MySpace posted the first official trailer for my most anticipated horror film of 2009:



That just makes me feel warm in my groin area, which, by the way, is not soaked in my own urine because I got lost in the bathroom earlier for two solid hours.

I'll leave you with this note, because for some reason, urine made me think of one of my best buddies, Chris McAdoo. He has a birthday coming up, and he's about to feast on the intestines and innards of the giant number 3 and also the number 0. McAdoo, get ready to sink your teeth into the very beginning of the end of your life.

Oh, and also there's a big ass party at his house tomorrow night, and you should come and say hello. If you can, bring those freakin' awesome mutant biker guys from "Weird Science."





The thought of that creepy bald dude from the original "The Hills Have Eyes" smashing through McAdoo's living room on a spiked-wheeled chopper is an awesome thought. Remember that guy's weird-looking shotgun? That thing was badass.

Come to think of it, I might just give those dudes a call tomorrow. One of them owes me one from the time I saved his mom's life from a runaway shopping cart in the Food Lion parking lot.

Much love, readers, smoke 'em if ya got 'em.

Muah.

-M