So I suppose, in order to create a blog that’s fortified with the promise of longevity I should have some idea what the hell I want to write about.
I’m relying entirely on my possibly misguided, definitely narcissistic assumption that people will just find me fucking funny. That they’ll put up with reading my shit because I can make them chuckle at my misfortune, and that my life, which swings gently between wasted hooker and the desperate to be euthanized on the quality of life pendulum will remind them of how great theirs is.
About a year ago, I watched a 30 minute documentary on youtube about the honey badger. It changed my life for a whole night.
From a distance the honey badger looks like the kind of animal you’d want to turn up to your nieces 6th birthday party, it’s furry, it’s confident, its got swag – but dont let this badly behaved otter duplicate dupe you, it would consume your young limb by limb and then thrash your wife to curb her mourning. When a honey badger is hungry (and it seems to be in a constant state of deliriously insatiable which is bullshit for all the other animals within close range ) it’s gonna fucken eat. Even the raging venom of an enraged king cobra cannot keep this badger of nazareth down. On the edge of my seat, I watch them spar, badger goes down, he rises again. Then when you think he’s finally succumb after about 20 minutes of inactivity his heads pop up again, and he crawls like your Uncle kenny at 2am on his way to the ‘bathroom’ (via your genitals) to the mangled remains of the cobra to eat again.
Roll credits. Cue stunned silence.
I looked at my best friend, Sgt Owen Fuckingnumi we both knew. Without the exchange of words, we had found Gods ultimate creation. We had stumbled across an animal that put it’s middle finger up to every mother fucker who had told him eat a dick just before her tore theirs away from their groin. And we were in love.
And thus was born the reciprocal nickname of Badger.
Often used with affection but moreso to describe an unncessarily hostile agressor.
The irony? I’m nothing like a honey fucken badger. But I respect the game.