Joke of the Day, The Stupidity of Hard Work

The biggest mistake I’ve ever made was proving to myself that I’m a hard worker. I should have been lazy. I could have been an office jockey or a McManager by now. Hard work is a bad idea in the corporate world like being honest during a job interview. I was honest during a job interview once. It made the lady trying to get me the job look bad. I guess things like hopes and dreams and aspirations aren’t allowed anymore.

I once said to a friends mom that “it was Confucius who once said a man has a hobby to pass the time and stress of working all day. But a man who makes a career out of his hobby never works a day in his life”. She said “that’s great but that’s not how things work”. Which is an encouraging life lesson coming from a woman whose parents helped finance her business.

My father is the same way. I once asked him if he wanted to invest in my writings. He scoffed. I asked why? He said “because I don’t see any returns out of it”. A great Philosophy from somebody whose parents financed his business.

And for a man who has never even read one of my posts. He had the audacity to tell me to start censoring myself. Dude. Really? I’m a Independent Writer. The only luxury I have is lack of censorship. I find it insulting that someone who runs from responsibility like Harrison Ford in the Fugitive has even the audacity to suggest this in the first place.

The worst part is I go to work and deal with the same kinds of people everyday. It’s a bunch of bosses and like three people trying to mind their own business that the rest try to get fired. I happen to be one of those three people. I don’t mean to make you look bad. We all go through those mental stages; and a rare few have the ability to transcend beyond even those.


Haunted by the Living


“Man, Louie would love to meet some ghosts”. We sat quietly to hear his outlandish exclamation as to why he would love to encounter a specter.”Ole Louie always wanted to meet those wandering bastards. I wanna know how they do it! Because, when I come back Ole Louie’s gonna wanna haunt some hot college slutty’s”. You know, watch over them like an angel. “Yeah” I replied. “When, their showering”.

Lock and Damned 13

My father got a used River Fishing Boat after doing a roof for one of his friends neighbors; and decided to test this beast out on the Mississippi River.

Why he decided to test it out on such a behemoth of a river is beyond understanding. We lived near several shallow rivers including the Rock which has spots that even I could walk across. It must have been all of that Milwaukee’s Best Ice those guys were scarfing down.

When we dropped that boat in the water. It sunk to the bottom of the river. Its plug for the sink hole had dry rotted. This was a bad omen. We had to go buy a new one. So, we rushed off to Wal Mart where my dad spent like $500 on everything except a plug. Thankfully, he remembered to buy the most expensive anchor. Just strong enough to hold a yacht.

Then, we get back out on the river. Now this isn’t any ordinary river. This is the Mississippi River. Thankfully for us, my dad brought me and three of his buddies along for a trip that already proved to be potentially life threatening. We could have just as easily tested her on a far less powerful body of water. But nahooooo, he insisted on not taking practical advice from a ten year old. He wanted to embark on quest of Mark Twainian proportions.

So, he gets the motor pumping and we’re headed off onto an adventure of a lifetime. Imagine Tom Sawyer as Rush’s Tom Sawyer plays in the back ground. We rode up and down the main stretch of the river making big waves in our little fishing boat. Then, my dad decides to go river cruising. So, we went exploring up stream. An hour later we reach damn 13. Now, their’s a side channel for fishing boats. This main lock is for Yachts and Big River Ships.

I pointed this fact out to my father but he wanted to do things the crazy dangerous way. We headed into the main lock. Imagine this dinky river cruiser surround by some decent sized ships in a giant pool of water slowly rising. It’s pretty neat. We got through just fine. Then the motor stalls about a football fields distance from the damn. We were stuck there with only a dinky electric trowing motor as the damn started sucking us in.

After all, the turbines underneath the water are only the size of a small mansion. I remember standing their frozen in time as the reality began to sink in. Slowly, the boat crept closer and closer to the damn. For a moment the boat stop. Than it got closer again. We got about 100 feet from the damn when my dads buddy took charge. He tied the knot off on that brand new anchor as the rest of us cried out for help.

Soon, two Coast Guards heard our distress and shut off the damn. Those guys looked more scared then we were. They had a small river fishing boat which they  frantically dropped into the water. They made their way out to our boat and shut off their motor to talk to us. We explained the situation and they tied us off. Then, the one in charge told my dad to cut us off. My dad handed the blade off to his roofing buddy that sat closest to the anchor.

He told the Coast Guard he wasn’t going to cut us off until the motor fired up. The man agreed as his gave his motor some torque. It quickly sputtered out of existence and for a brief moment we were both tied off to the same anchor. But, they got the motor running and they brought us to safety. When we finally touched land, one of the coast guards said to the other “Holy Shit that was scary”.


Why do we call them relationships when most of us can hardly them keep afloat? I think that’s weird. Shouldn’t we start calling them relationcapsized? Or what about when you fuck up a current relationship to cheat with an ex, shouldn’t we start calling those relationghostships?

Everyone talks about relationships but never the relationsunks. We feel good when we hear that another dingy got swallowed alive. But when the Titanic’s of the relationship world hits ice and disappear out of nowhere. We all burn candles and tell stories about how we thought they would make it.

I call family I haven’t heard from in years and start telling them the situation- send then links to the couples homepage- I hear she’s single. I like to slip it in my day to day conversation. Their failures become the metaphor in many of my stories. You know. Somebody has to shine some light on this subject and it might as well be me.

2018 Update: No More Open the Vox, no More Blogs or Websites by Writer Jordan Dumer

I decided. No more blogs or websites. I’m taking a long break from the internet and have no intention of returning. I’ll be focusing on writing stories and publishing my collections into books- but no more blogs- ever. I’ve exhausted way too much energy into a project that has proven fruitless.

I’ve been writing short stories that I plan to workshop before trying to get them published. I otherwise plan to edit my blog posts into separate collections before releasing to the general public.

I’d also like to apologize to any of those I offended. I’m not sorry that I offended you, but I am sorry that you were offended.

Bullsh*t is Humanities Magic Power

As a young man I wondered how come smart guys never seem to have sex. I mean if you’re smart, how come you’re not smart enough to get laid every once in a while. Than it dawned on me: the difference between smart guys and stupid people is one fundamental difference: Smart guys don’t laid enough and dumb guys get laid way more than they should.

Take school for example. In elementary school everyone is roughly on the same page: kick some balls around, score a couple of star stickers and you look at the opposite sex like, well people.

But by high school you notice the smart kids never seem to grow up. They kinda stick to their studies. Maybe find a girlfriend they can spoon with on the weekends but that’s about it. Than you’ve got the jocks and the popular kids who throw away their studies, quit showing up to class and get all arrogant. You know why? Their getting laid all the time.

When you’re not getting pussy, you have the time to think beyond your wiener; and have big plans about social reform and building an aqueduct in order to bring fresh water to the people. But when you’re getting laid, you’re all like “I don’t have time for this shit. I’m a busy man, so tell your bitch to fetch a pail and get the damn water herself if its that much of an inconvenience”.

And this is why we hire stupid people for top political positions. Because we don’t want to see a nice fresh faced president who never gets laid. That makes us look bad. We want that dirty rotten lying bastard because he’s a reflection of ourselves. Because lets face it, the guy who cares about us more than then he does his own dick makes us down right uncomfortable.

This is why people think Lincoln is gay. Lincoln wasn’t gay. As a child, he carved the wood nails they used to hold the lid shut on his mothers coffin. That’s some real man shit, not this modern day faggot shit where a doctor comes in and tells you mommies going away on a vocation and hope you connect the dots when you get older.Nope. Sorry Abe, time to put those carpentry skills to use.

But Lincolns a great example of this because when Lincoln was a young man, he was a bachelor  politician famous for using wit to publicly mock his political opponents. He didn’t care about woman, he didn’t care about native American rights, he didn’t care about freeing the slaves. You know why? He was getting laid all the time.

Then he got married, quits getting laid all the time and next thing you know, he’s suddenly got time to read, has big plans for social reform and frees the slaves. Why? Because he’s not getting laid anymore, that’s why.

And that’s where all this, Lincoln must have been gay shit stems from. People forget their use to be a time before tv warped our mind full of Viagra and bullshit. Plus, the dudes kids died on him left and right. I mean, how many times do you have to go threw seeing your own children die in front of your eyes before your dick goes out? Where’s the historical reevaluation of that aspect of Lincoln’s life.

And really, the only reason why a guy  becomes full of shit is to get laid because the way a woman knows if you’re sexually active or not is by being completely full of shit. It’s a vicious cycle.

I knew a guy from high school who asked a girl out only to get turned down because she already had a boyfriend. He said, “so what, I have a girlfriend, what’s the big deal?” You know what she did? Bought a wedding ring and purposed to him. Do you know why? Because, he’s full of shit.

When Ted Bundy was on death row, he had woman purpose to him- and this was after he murdered all those woman. You know why? Because he was the right kind of smart. He was that charming, manipulative, weave an illusion to so well that when you wake up and look at yourself in the mirror, you don’t even know who the fuck you are anymore kind of smart. That’s the number one quality a woman looks for in man.

I mean why do you think woman like jerks and bad boys? Because their full of shit, a clear sign that your sexually active, that’s it. If you want to sustain a relationship, pretend like you know all the answers. That’s it. Lie. Pretend like you’re like invincible and are going to live forever.

Take for example the fact that they introduced American Television to some otherwise isolated part of the world. Before American television, these woman were cool, they were secure about their looks and weren’t obsessed with material things. Than blam! After less than a month of being polluted by Hollywood’s toxic leftovers, the woman started dressing all slutty, divorces went up and morality went down.

That’s the true power of our bullshit. We as a species have gotten so good at being so full of shit that we build entire civilizations  around it. Look at where we are today-we  let the fake corporations control our genetically modified food supply, and for what? So we can protect our paper gold  used so your old lady can afford a pair of fake tits.


A potent representation of how bullshit can lift you higher and farther than you could without it.

And the thing is we can change anytime we want but the reason we don’t is because woman hold onto that bullshit and man might die alone in a cave crying in the fetal position like a little bitch but he will die standing to keep his girls legs from closing in

Don’t believe me? Look at religion. You think religion has had such a profound cultural impact because men wanted to give away their power and authority to an effeminate man in a white dress can tell you he has all the answers? No. It’s because while the rest of the tribe was away on the hunt, this pansy was filling the woman up will bullshit trying to get lad. That’s it.

Thousands of years of religious warfare not fought over whose bullshit is greater than the others. It was because their woman folk weren’t putting out until they proven their loyalty to that particular brand of bullshit.

Still don’t believe me? Look at Mormonism. You wouldn’t think that a smart, rational, down to earth, independent, mature, freethinking woman would fall for that shit. Then you go to Salt Lake City and you’re like what the fuck, where did I go wrong?

These woman had a choice. These weren’t Persian concubines. These were American woman who decided that sharing a man with several other woman was still better than trying to make it on your own. Why find love and truth when you can help some sack of shit snake oil salesman fund a city of pansies who believe that some dude found an ancient Egyptian tablet left by Jesus and his disciples in some obscure New England cave. And you know why he did it? He wanted a monopoly on pussy because that’s true wealth and power. And so he rounded up all the good ones crazy enough to find security in his bullshit and left the gold digging skanks for the rest of us sifter through. And that’s why Joseph Smith had to die.


Now days I look at myself in the mirror, smile, wink, shoot my thumb-pointer finger pistol into the mirror, pull the trigger; and remind myself that I am a complete waste of human garbage. It keeps me grounded. Than I tell myself I’m going to be a less pitiful waste of organic life matter everyday. It’s a reminder that this world is full of Feces Pieces; and its my responsibility to plant a useful seed like corn maybe into life’s grand manure pile and hope to get something beautiful out of it like a tulip for example”.

My Robot Ran Off with my Girl

Why even try anymore? Why date? I hate dating. Its a job interview. I put in all this time and money waiting for the right one whose waiting for the day they can finally replace me with a machine.

I think that’s how our species will die. I think robots will get all the good jobs- composers, artists, teachers and presidents- while we waddle around in fear of when the robots finally decide take over the janitors jobs. The thing is they wont- not when they got connections to manufacturers with NASA contracts.

And this is why we are species is doomed. All the earth woman will inter marry with robots, becoming loyal wives, stripping the rust from his bolts every night before bed. I can’t keep up a woman loyal but bet a robot could. I bet that robot would transform the sex crazed she wolves from my everyday experiences into biblical angels of pure light.

Hanzel and Grettle, A Comedy

We all love the Brother’s Grim Fairy Tale. This is that story, written by memory after a camping trip.

Famine, death. Food is scarce. It’s kinda the key point. But anyway. A Woodcutter, which is like being a carpenter, but only at the very bottom, was chopping down branches and gathering wood in the forest to sell for food (which had to be expensive).

You’d think to yourself, maybe he should lay some booby traps, catch some mice or men, maybe a bugs bunny rabbit, but you gotta remember the food was scarce, and so were books, and the reading, writing and trap making comprehension of an Entrepreneur in Firewood. But he was proud fag haggler, for he was the best fag haggler in all the lands.

So him, his second wife and his two kids, Hanzel and Grettle lived during this time of famine. They were getting close to starvation at this point, even starting to slip out of it a little bit.

So the new wife takes the Woodcutter aside and’s like, let’s eat the kids. And dudes like, no babe, have faith in God. And she was like well, God is telling me that Hanzel still has some fat on him. And he’s like, that’s messed up, maybe we should eat you. And that’s when she stuck her butt in the air and muttered, “we can always make more kids. That is, only if the opportunity beckons” she said with a wink emoji.

The Woodcutter wiped the blood from his nose, had only unsexy thoughts and took a cold shower under the waterfall before returning home that night with some fish he found floating in a nearby lake.

Later that night, after fish and random herbs and grasses, he took her aside and is like, so I tell you what, God told me not to eat the kids but he didn’t say I couldn’t lure them deep into the woods. We could use some alone time he said with a wink and a nudge followed by a grunt and a chest beat.

Hanzel, paranoid of his crazy bitch for a step mom, overheard the conversation and was like, #WTF?

So he grabbed his week supply of breadcrumbs that he had saved up and was going to tell them about it when the time came but then this shit all went down and dad is so stubborn. That woman has him wrapped around her finger. So he grabbed a handful of breadcrumbs and put them in his pocket.

The next day the Woodcutter told the kids he needed his help in the woods. Hanzel knew it was game on while Grettle cheerfully put on her coat and boots, their step mom blowing them fake kisses from the shadows of the cracked open door.

Hanzel waited until he came upon an unknown part of the trail. Still, their father led them deep into the woods before vanishing. Grettle cried as Hanzel lead the way eager to make it back to the trail before dark.

This happened three days in a row which by this point, even Grettle knew what was up, but no one said a word out of fear of an all for one slaughter feeding frenzy. They hadn’t eaten now for a few days and Hanzel was almost out of breadcrumbs. Tensions ran high.

That night their father lead them deep into the woods, having been disrupted from his mating ritual again for another night, not to mention feeling pretty stupid for failing to a little kid. Took them deeper than he’d ever been before. This was creepy The Hills Have Eyes, Shakespeares Macbeth and Deliverance deep parts of the woods, the really scary parts where it’s easy to get lost. That part of the woods.

And it is here where the Woodcutter successfully slips out of the picture. Hanzel has long since run out of breadcrumbs, and the ones still around, now long since eaten by the birds. The Woodcutter, upon realizing this, after noticing a few speckles of breadcrumbs along the trail, weeps on his way home to bang his wife.

Hanzel and Grettle get super lost before stumbling upon Micheal Jackson’s original blueprints for his Never Never Land Ranch. This two story paedophile’s wet dream is made of gingerbread with chocolate doors, liquorice gutters, Bubblegum Roofing Shingles, and everything in your wildest imaginations. Reminds me of Charlie Chaplin’s Turkey scene in The Gold Rush, a food induced hallucination sequence.

This, however, is not a hallucination but private property of the Super Elite, a retired mistress of an ex. Tyrant. A sweet old lady who invited them in after watching them eagerly eat her butterscotch doormat. “I have fresh meats, loaves of bread, plates of pasta, cream, cheeses, all of every variety if you’re hungry for more than just sweets,” she said with a charm.

“Do you have any vegetables?” asked Grettle. “NO. Only Salad Dressing” replied the sweet old lady and an Original member of the Behavrian Illuminati. “What do you eat?” asked Hanzel. “I’m on a strict diet” replied the sweet old woman, infamous Spider Widow of the Innocence. “Oh”, they thought and ate portion after portion of meats, sweets, baked goods, Creamy pasta, and cheese dips into a food coma.

The brother and sister woke up inside a giant metal cylinder, naked, tied back to back and glazed in honey. But thankfully, the pot was brittle from years of use that it quickly dissolved when you kicked it.

They scrambled towards the kitchen when they saw the sweet old lady and Independent Satanic Worshipper fast asleep in her bed made from infants bones. They got a knife from the drawer and cut themselves loose when they noticed she wasn’t in her bed.

Then they saw two bright red eyes. That sweet little old lady wasn’t so sweet no more. They stabbed, and punched, and kicked and killed that little old lady until they were sure she was dead. And then they chanted an Ancient Druidic spell and burned the body in the fire pit.

The Next day, Hanzel and Grettle went home with leftovers to tell of the goods news- and the bad news. Their father apologized for letting sex get in the way of child rearing. And they forgave him and lived happily ever after. And their skanky step. Mom. She died from a vaginal infection.