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…but, for obvious reasons, I had yet to wear them.

That is, until today… after I fixed them.

Still obnoxious... but at least more accurate!

I say fuck Godwin.



Well, well, well....

Eight years to be exact.

For those of you that don’t know who I am, allow me to introduce myself: I am Wayne Chinsang. From time to time, I’ve been known to go by Insane Wayne Chinsang. For many years, I ran a little magazine/website/cult named Tastes Like Chicken. There will be more announcements about Tastes Like Chicken in the near future, but for now I’d like to talk about some more pressing issues.

Earlier today, I received this email from my old boss. Some of you may know him as Shady:

Fuck yeah, I'm down. Especially if I can get on that sweet payroll again.

You see, during the run of Tastes Like Chicken (from 1998 to around, say, 2007 or so), Shady quietly ran shit anonymously behind the scenes while I was the angry (and much prettier) face of the magazine. That isn’t to say Shady and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on most things, but I was always much better at voicing my… let’s just call it dissatisfaction with the world than he was.

And, I mean, let’s be honest here: Shady is a shell of the man he was during his TLC days. He’s now the father of a little girl. He has a tattoo of the Muppets on his arm. And that’s not even to mention his male-pattern baldness, or the fact that he just turned 40.

None of those things describe me. I am the father of exactly zero children (that I know of), the only tattoo I’d ever get would be of the phrase “TATTOOS ARE STUPID,” and I have a luxuriously full head of hair. Oh, and I don’t age. No, seriously, I never age. That’s what happens when you’ve spent the last eight years of your life sleeping in the abandoned ruins of a castle in Romania.

But I digress….

See, the thing is, I was able to take an eight-year break from reality because, as far as I could tell, humanity was mostly back on track. Sure, there was awful shit going on in the world, but we’re never going to be able to fully eradicate all misery. Not as long as contemporary country music exists, at least. Still, humanity was progressing nicely. We all seemed to be getting along together fairly well, or, at the very least, we respectfully accepted our little differences as simply that: little differences.

But then today I get that email from Shady, and after a quick Dogpile search (I told you, I’ve been gone awhile) I find out that 60 million Americans willingly voted a pussy-grabbing fascist into the White House. I’d like to say I’m surprised by this outcome (as Shady obviously was, as illustrated by his sophomoric and minimalist reaction of teen angst), but I’m really not. I mean, we’re talking about a country that elected that Texas hilljack Dubya (AKA George W. Bush for the newbies) into the White House twice. Twice!

All of this is to say that Trump’s ascension to the top of the political shit pile that is the U.S. government is about as surprising as Kanye West’s mental breakdown. (I spent a lot of time on Dogpile today.)

And so, Shady has decided to pass the anger baton on to me for the next four years, and rightly so. Because, when compared to me, Shady just doesn’t possess the appropriate amount of anger needed to adequately tackle this fucked-up turn of events. I, on the other hand, most certainly do.

Need proof? I once started an online petition to God to give Dubya cancer. For real! I really did that! And I don’t regret one goddamn second of it. Know why? Because Bush and his entire crew are still nothing more than petty war criminals. And I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: I will throw a fucking party each and every time a member of that administration leaves this mortal coil. Red Dog and Jack’s Frozen Pizzas on me, y’all!

But until that happens, Donald Trump, I’m turning my attention to you.

So while Shady concentrates on his silly “this is what I’m reading” or “here’s a misspelled sign” or “read this dumb quote one of my friends just said” type of posts here on The Blarg, I’m now in charge of managing the anger around here.

Because let’s be honest, folks… suddenly, there’s a fuckload to be angry about.

Stay tuned, dear reader. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.



…someone in our neighborhood has decided to shine a light on these dark days by leaving positive, chalk-written messages on area sidewalks and exterior walls.

On it.

Working on it.

Verdict is still out on this one.

Of course, positive messages don’t fully make up for the fact that 60 million Americans knowingly and willingly voted a racist into the White House, but it’s a great reminder that not everyone in this country is completely insane.

Trying damn hard to see the glass half full,


Jacob Weisberg's Slate podcast

…mostly because I have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to racists, xenophobes, narcissists, misogynists, fascists, sexual predators, pathological liars, and overall assholes. Donald Trump is all of those things.

Donald Trump will never be my president, but that’s not going to stop me from watching him like a hawk over the next four years, nor will it stop me from pointing out and criticizing his blatant hypocrisies, his appalling policies, and his awful nature.

I’ve already started this process by subscribing to Jacob Weisberg’s Slate podcast titled Trumpcast. Each episode explores another new terrifying aspect of the Asshole Elect.

So, if you’re also not interested in giving him a chance, if you too plan on remaining vigilant against this terrible man for the next four years, I encourage you to subscribe.

Learn more here.

Starting to feel like Wayne again,



Thanks to John Oliver for the reminder,


No, seriously, fuck you.

Fifty-nine million deplorables,


…tomorrow fucking morning I’m going to fucking wake up and vote for Hillary fucking Clinton, and you’re going to do the same fucking thing. You know fucking why? Because if you don’t, fuck you.

I know a lot of people are dishing out the standard, more diplomatic rallying call of, “It doesn’t matter who you vote for, just vote.” But guess what? I am not a lot of people, and so I have no fear or qualms in saying that if you don’t vote for Hillary fucking Clinton tomorrow you can go fuck yourself right in the fucking ass. With what, you might ask? My fucking dick. Or your own fucking dick. Or Bob Dole’s fucking dick. Honestly, I don’t care what you fuck yourself with so long as you fucking fuck yourself hard with it.

Oh, what’s that? The old white guy you wanted to win the fucking Democratic nomination didn’t win and now you don’t feel good about casting your vote for the fucking person that did? Awww, come here, little buddy. Let me put a Band-Aid on that skinned knee of yours… and then tell you to go fuck yourself. Guess what, whiny motherfucker? The person I voted for in the primaries—as in every fucking primary fucking ever—has never gone on to win the fucking nomination, so cry me a fucking river, you fucking baby.

That’s right, Obama wasn’t my first fucking choice in 2008. Who was? U.S. Representative Dennis fucking Kucinich. Do you remember him? Of course you fucking don’t because he didn’t fucking win. But guess fucking what? I swallowed my fucking pride, bit my fucking lip, and voted for the goddamn nominee that was handed to me because that’s what you fucking do when you’re up against John fucking McCain.

Though in hindsight, the 2008 election was like a fucking dream sequence from a shitty 1990s, made-for-fucking-TV movie compared to the fucking fuck-tastrophe of political ass-fucking that is this fucking election.

So you don’t feel good about Clinton or Trump, and to lash out against those two choices—like a rebellious teenage fucking moron that has no real clue about anything whatso-fucking-ever—you’re going to cast a vote for either Gary fucking Johnson or Jill fucking Stein instead.

Cool, dude! And fuck you. Because if that’s the case you’re dumber than the fucking idiot you’re voting for. When those two halfwits can point to fucking Aleppo on a fucking map, name a fucking world leader, or explain to me the “dangers” of fucking Wi-Fi (fucking seriously, Jill Stein fucking said this), then and only then can they have your vote. Until that time comes, you’re just gonna have to fucking grin, fucking bear it, and vote for Hillary fucking Clinton.

But wait! You’re going to vote for Trump, you say. Because he’s the lesser of two evils. Because he’s the one person that’ll bring real change to America.

Fuck fucking you, you motherfucking motherfucker.

So you’re voting for Trump because you’re a xenophobe. Or a racist. Or a sexist. Or a narcissist. Or a nationalist. And on, and on, and on, and on….

Or worse yet, you’re not any of those fucking things, but for whatever reason you’re totally fucking okay with voting for a human fucking piece of shit that is. If that’s fucking true, if that’s the real fucking case, then seriously, fuck you.

This election is about more than the divide that exists between Democrats and Republicans; in fact, this election transcends politics as a whole. This isn’t about being a fucking liberal or a fucking conservative. It’s bigger than all that shit.

I am a proud-as-fuck Democrat. I have never voted for a Republican in any election ever. That said, if Donald Trump had ended up being the fucking Democratic nominee—if he were the person representing the party I’ve sided with my entire life—I would never in a million fucking years vote for that fucking motherfucker. Ever.

Tomorrow, I encourage you to take fucking heed and think long and fucking hard before placing an “X” next to the name of the person you’re voting for.

Because when all this shit passes—which it will—how do you want to be remembered? As the xenophobe? The racist? The sexist? The narcissist? The nationalist? Or the person who isn’t any of those fucking things, but still had no fucking qualms voting for a person that is?

If you’re okay with being any of those things, then fuck you. I’ll see you on the other side—the wrong side—of history.

But if you’re not okay with it, I’ll be at the fucking bar as this great nation nominates its first fucking female president.

And the first one’s on me, motherfuckers.

Fucking forward,


Fuck this clown.

…from Pins Won’t Save the World (as designed by Sagmeister & Walsh).

Get your own stickers (and pins and shirts and prints and whatnot) here.

They won’t save the world… but at least they look cool,


Nice sieg heil, dipshit.

…get your fucking ads off my website.

You should be shot into space,


A dying breed.

At least they’ve got that black guy in the bottom righthand corner,


Old Poop!