A Violent History

Ok, so I come from a vaquero family.  I don't really know everything that my grandfather did in his younger days; but the fact that he died before I was even born and I  still managed to hear this story is a testament to how badass he was.  One time he went to the farmer's market, and some assholee drew a knife on him.
That, right there, is breaking a cardinal rule:  You never bring a knife to a gun fight.
My grandpa then drew his revolver and made the motherfucker dance, just like in the movies.
Many years later, his daughter, who was also my mother, married my father.  He cheated on her shamelessly.  Again, this was before I was even born; but one of my father's mistresses kept prank calling my mother going "I happen to be your husbands lover, blah, blah blah."  Eventually, my mother got pissed off.  My mother found out where the bitch lived (I only know this because one of my cousins was a witness to this), she went to her apartment, and instead of knocking on the door, my mother drew her revolver and filled the bitch's front door full of lead.  Then she yelled at the bitch:  "Next time you call me Imma fill YOU full of lead instead."  Within one month, bitch left the country.
I like to think that I've kept the tradition alive.  I will fuck an asshole up and ask questions later.  Enough said.
Funny thing is, I don't even use guns, generally.  If some asshole pulls a gun on me, I wrestle it away from him, and pistolwhip him with it.  I consider it very funny when I do that.  Seriously, I laugh my ass off afterwards.  I'm not only vaquero as fuck, I'm also ninja as fuck.

Why TSA Needs Some Serious Reform

To begin with, they are idiots.  They are pervs.  They are ineffective.
Read this article from one of my favorite writers on the web that illustrates what I think of them better than I could ever expound on it:
Seanbaby Rules!!!
Now, read this:
What do you think about body scanners now?
That's right, they can make nude HD pics of you that you didn't pose for, except you totally did, you just didn't know about it.  My only consolation is that the TSA assholes are going to get cancer soon from sitting near those machines all day because of the dangerous radiation levels they emit.
In addition, the full body scanners have made it easier than ever to sneak a pistol or explosives into a plane.
Watch this vid:
How To Get ANYTHING Through TSA Nude Body Scanners - MUST WATCH!
That's right, the TSA's policies are absolutely retarded, and mainly geared towards feeling up pretty girls.

Trying to be a Badass if You Are Not One

Long story short, don't try it.
Long story longer, I was just planning to go to my local grocery store tonight; but as soon as I step out of my house, I see some asshole making out with a girl no older than 15, she was wearing her school uniform forfucksakes, and (as many kinky sexual things as I've done, I've always done them in private, or for willing audiences) I go "niños, éso no se hace en público."  The girl stopped; but the guy starts looking at me hard, like it's a staring contest.  I got into a fighting stance and went "¿Que putas?  ¡No se hace en público!"  That's when I noticed he must be in his twenties.  He kept talking to her for a while, I don't know what he told her; but he started following me shortly.  I turned around, right in front of hood security, who have guns; but are pieces of shit who couldn't hit a black whale on the side of a white barn, and by this time I'm pissed of as fuck; because I'm thinking he's a pedophile, and because it is an insult to my intelligence for him to think that he could sneak up on me, and I think his plan was to sucker punch me.  I was so pissed of that I didn't even care if he understood what I was saying, so I just went "You want a piece of me?  Come and get it asshole!"  Apparently, he might be friends with hood security, so he started to chat with them, more on that later.
In the meantime, I'm just trying to catch the bus to the supermarket, so I kept walking.  He starts walking behind me again.  That's when I just turned around to face him and gave him the thousand yard stare, and that's when he stopped dead in his tracks and pretended to play dumb because he didn't want to die.  This is not the end of the story, because on my way back from the grocery, the asshole rent-a-cop that he was talking to starts staring at me and that, too, pissed me the fuck off, so I went "What the fuck are you looking at?"  And walked past him; but then I could see in my peripheral vision that he turned his head around to see if was going to try and suckerpunch him or something.  I told him "take a picture, asshole, it will last longer."
Trust me, when I want to sneak up on someone, they never see it coming. I'm ninja as fuck.  I've actually walked right by someone who I didn't particularly want to meet, and who was waiting for me outside a place at the time she knew I would be there, and I saw her; but she didn't see me.  She later came to my house, and just rang the doorbell, and talked me into fucking her, and I fucked the shit out of her.  I didn't particularly want to; but she asked me to.  Practically begged me to, and who am I to say no?  She is not a good person; but she does have a tightass pussy.  I might actually try to see if I can fuck her tonight again.  I don't love her; but I do love her pussy.  Tight as fuck.

All Strippers Are Prostitutes

So there's been a lot conjecture lately on the interwebs about whether or not strippers are prostitutes.  I know the answer, and the answer is yes; but strippers are a little different from most prostitutes.  In the US, there are bouncers around the stage to make sure you don't so much as touch them.  In the VIP rooms there is CCTV to make sure that even though she is butt naked and dryhumping you, you don't fondle her.  So what you do is, you don't use your hands, you ask her if she wants to go to your place.  Now most strippers in the US aren't employees of the strip club, they are independent contractors, and they can leave the place whenever they please.  They tell you to wait for them outside, and after 5 minutes, they come out.  Once you're alone with her, she gets you hard with a blowjob, and then she asks you if you have a condom.  That's when she tells you it's fine, and to just fuck her and cum inside her.

Kilka and Sophia Update

Ok guys, I know I haven't written any new K&S for a long time.  The reason is that I've been working on the trike design, and a VSTOL fighter that a character in the new story arc flies.  The trike is going to be very hard to finish because it transforms.  I'm currently working on a transforming model about 1/8 scale.  I'll show you pics once it's done.  I will probably start writing the new story arc before the model is finished.  I might also do a paper model of Sophia, so you can see what she is really supposed to look like.  I'm probably going to be pretty busy this next week with other miscellaneous stuff; but you'll get your fix.

I Once Fucked Somebody's Grandma

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Family History

Sometimes it just happens that you need to destroy a little part of the world to rebuild it all again. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. My grandfather on my mother's side started out as a ranch hand. Never learned how to read; but he learned the fuck out of math. I know for a fact that one time he got mugged, and he pulled out his pistol and made the mugger dance. Vaquero as fuck. Sadly, I never got a chance to meet him, still, everything I own is because of him and my mother. Cowboy up!
One time, my mother went to my father's girlfriend's house, and filled her front door full of lead, and yelled, "next time Imma kill you." This was not unfounded, that woman had the gall to call my mother and say "I'm your husband's lover." After my mom swisscheesed the fuck out of that woman's front door, she left the country. My mom was pretty badass.
Vaquero as fuck.
My mom actually used to own an M-1 carabine. She let my little brother play with it; but she was scared to let me so much as touch it, because she could tell, even when I was five, thatI'm very enthusiastic about shooting stuff. Before FPS games were invented, I would play war in the plaza in Monterrey, Nuevo León, Mexico, with a very fine bottle cap slingshot rifle. I didn't even seek alliances. It was me against the world, and I didn't even try to snipe anyone, I'd just sneak up on peeps and shoot them in the back. That must have hurt.
Never try to sneak up on an indio. The indio sneaks up on you.  There are a lot of people stronger and faster than me; but I only know one guy that is a better shot than me, and he's the guy that taught me how to shoot.  And I don't know anyone that is more ninja than me.  I can sneak up on anyone. 
Oh my gosh, there was this girl, about 15 years old that I was crushing so hard on back then. I was only 5, so I didn't know what a romantic relationship really was; but I did know then, just as I know now that she was very beautiful. I think that when I blew her kisses, she thought it was my uncles doing it. Seriously, that girl was super model material. So pretty.
Her hair was blonde; but the thing was, it was always perfectly coiffed. She must have spent a minimum of one hour ironing her hair every morning before she left the house. I'm still a sucker for pretty girls.
Always will be. Women are really my only vice. Some people say that I like to drink too much, or that I have anger managent issues, or whatever pussyass shit the media is selling this week. I love women. That's it.
   

The Meaning of Life

Enjoy your life while you have it.  You don't know if tomorrow as you step out of your house a bus is going to run you over.  You don't know if a plane or a drunk driver is going to crash into your house tonight as you're sleeping.  All these life prolonging fads are a fallacy.  Do you really want to have two more years of a stranger wiping your ass at a nursing home when you're 70?
Your life is what it is right now.  It might not be what you wanted it to be.  Life is what happens to you after you make your plans.  That doensn't mean that you can't have fun and make the most of it.
I never would have dreamt that I would have become the person I am today if you had told me this when I was 15; but I did know that I would never be the person I had planned to become when I was 14.  Currently, I don't know where I'll be 6 months from now, much less 6 years from now.
Do you want to live forever you sons of bitches?

Playing Hard to Get

Ladies, just give it up, you know you want to.
Here's an example from my own experience:

One of the most cathartic things in a man's life is when you have been trying to flirt with this girl for months, and she just isn't having it. Walks away from you mid sentence, even insults you. Then one day, you're just waiting for the bus, you see her walking on the other side of the street and you just go "fuck it, this is a lost cause," so you just ignore her; but she crosses the street and comes over to talk to you. If life were a movie, that's the point in the soundtrack where Mick Jagger starts singing Under my Thumb. You mark my words, Imma nail this girl but good, and soon.   

You know how sometimes you really like someone; but they treat you shabbily, so you also resent them, so when you finally have sex with them you give them one of those violent angry fucks? Yeah, I don't know anything about that either...

The Tale of a Cunt and her Brother

Back when I lived in Oakland, near 40th an Boadway, 299 Mather, which is the intersection off Mather right on Broadway, right before Rockridge.  There was a girl that lived down there, her name escapes me.  At some point, she ushered in this cow.  Her name was Catherine.  Fucking slut bitch.  The cute girl eventually moved out, the whore moves in.
After she moves in, the cute girl's French friend moves out, and she moves her brother in, some dude by the name of Jeremy, I think.  One day, I hear the whore crying  "why me???!!"  And any of us would have given her some sympathy, or done anything to make her feel better.  Shit, I would have baked her a fucking cake if she'd said that to me, or made her any food or drink that she asked for; but she didn't say shit to any of us at that point.
As she started telling her bullshit story, the truth came out, and pay heed my friends, for this is the textbook case of a fake rape story:
1.  She met this guy at a dive bar, he bought her a drink, they went to her car, and she sucked his dick.
2.  She asked her to drive her home; but asked him to come in (now why the fuck would she do that if it weren't to have him fuck her?  That makes no sense).
3.  They had (supposedly nonconsensual) sex.
4.  Two fucking days later.  TWO WHOLE FUCKING DAYS LATER, she goes and files a police report against dude saying he drugged her and raped her.  I don't actually believe any rape victim would ever behave that way unless she was retarded.  Of course there was no DNA recovered, and the toxicology test was negative.  OF COURSE!!!!!
Now, some time after this, someone sneaks into my room, because I didn't leave it locked and I trusted them implicitly, and steals $200 off my pants, that I'd made off my locksmith business, plus my car keys.  I had to change the locks on all my cars doors because of it.  Just all the shit I had to buy to do that cost me more than $200.  What the motherfucker Jeremy didn't realize is that if I'd seen him do that as I was asleep, Ida shot his ass with a 7 shot .357 Taurus.  That, I believe, is the only reason he is alive today.
It's funny that Catherine used to threaten me all she wanted (not that she would kick my ass, or that her brother would, because she knew I could take them both together even if they were armed and I wasn't; but that her mother would come from whatever flyover state she lived in and serve me.  A 60 year old Jabba the Hut clone is no threat to me even now.  I could slice the fuck out of that lady in a second with a machete, if she were even alive, which I suspect she's not) as she got increasingly crazy.
She actually came on to one of my other roommates very explicitely, and at some point they actually got into a physical fight, to the point that the cops were called.  I didn't see it start, I was just drunk as fuck watching movies in my room at 3 am, and I hear this big commotion outside.  Keep in mind at this point I was the only one living in the first floor of the main house.  Catherine lived upstairs at that point, and Jeremy's gf who was supposedly preggo (which I suspect she wasn't, and was just trying to manipulate him, because believe me that girl was the neighborhood bycicle, and made no bones about it.  Shit, I actually saw her walking the San Pablo stroll once, and she only didn't get in my van because she knew me, and she knew I knew Jeremy) didn't even live there.  I come outside my room very pissed off, and they're all like "he/she hit me!"  Pointing fingers at each other.  And I'm like "just go back to your respective rooms you infantile dumbasses."  And then someone, I don't remember who, says "well I already called the cops."  I bet it was one of those girls; but as I said, I don't fucking remember because I was just getting drunk while watching movies, when all these people started fighting.
So I wait for the cops, they are like "are you ok?  Have you been drinking tonight?"  And I'm like "yeah, I'm ok, I'm drunk as fuck, and I'm the only person here that is not involved in this altercation."  They then asked me what happened, and I was like "I was getting drunk, watching movies, and then I hear this big fight in the second floor I come outside and see these three at each other's throats."  While the cops were interviewing me and my male roommate, the crazy bitches, which at this point had shorn all their hair, kept screaming all kind of fakeass feminazi slogans.  Then the cops turn to them and start trying to interview them, and it's more fakeass feminazi slogans, so eventually the cops are like "ok, shut up, both of you or we will have you institutionalized."  To Jeremy's gf one of them said "you don't live here, so go home, or I'll arrest you."  I never saw her at the house again, after that.
Catherine got increasingly psycho after that, even writing me a passive aggressive note telling me not to bring my whores into the house because one time she noticed I had a nooner in my room behind closed doors.  I don't mind about that kind of shit, because nobody tells me what to do, and what happens behind closed doors is between me, and the person I'm with.  I just ignored that shit; but once I cut off the water to the house (because the bill was in my name, and I wasn't to get into debt for a bunch of pussies that were not willing to truly throw down, and I knew none of them were), she hardly even stayed there.  I was the only one that had water (because I knew that to have water to shower or wash my hands or dishes, all I had to do was to get water off the water heater, none of these assholes were smart enough to figure it out).
Now some of my roommates fucked her door up, so after there was no water, she started putting her clothes out in the hallway in the second floor in preparation to move them, so what I did, is, I would piss all over them, even though I lived in the first floor.  I actually took the trouble, even though I didn't need to, to walk up the stairs and piss on the bitch's clothes.  Take heed all you psycho whores.  Because right know, I wouldn't even do that.  They'd find you bleeding all over your clothes, and I'd be nowhere to be found.
Two years later, I happen to have a part time restaurant job in addition to working security.  In walks Jeremy with another girl, not the one he got pregnant while I first knew him; but some other bitch, as I'm cutting celery.  I recognize him instantly.  He recognizes me.  I stop what I'm doing and change my stance while holding a large kitchen knife.  He pretends to look at the menu for a couple of seconds and whispers to his new drug addled bitch "I don't like anything here."  Which is a fallacy, because everything in the menu there was awesome.
The restaurant was Tacone.  A little expensive for a college town;  but the food is awesome.  Just make sure it's family owned.  After the franchise screwed over the family that originally owned the restaurant, some French asshole took over the place that the corporation thought could manage it, and they were completely wrong about that, because the only thing that piece of shit could manage was being a stuckup piece of shit.
Anyways, I digress.  Jeremy knew that I wasn't going to stab him right there; but I was certainly going to fuck with his food.  He's lucky  I didn't catch him walking up the alley to the restaurant as I was taking out the trash, or I would have stabbed the shit out of both him and his girlfriend, and stuffed them into the trash compactor.  The trash compactor was always full; but I would have found a way to fit them in there if necessary.  Shit, my uniform was black.  It was practically designed for blood not to show up, because my job at the restaurant was in fact to cut up meat and not have the blood show up.
Also, ladies, let this be a lesson to you:  If you are dating an asshole, you're an asshole by association, and you get what you deserve from that.