Murder at Mantisville

The Mantisville Speedway (aka "The Paperclip"), the shortest track in NASCAR's Sprint Cup Series (0.526 miles), with only 12 degrees of banking on the curves, takes a heavy toll on brakes, tires, and ANYONE WHO DARES TO RACE ME.

At last Sunday's Goody's Fast Pain Relief 500 (aka "The Mantisville Massacre"), the #9 car so definitively dominated the race that the everyone left thinking Jimmy Johnson had won! Well, kudos to JJ for so deftly edging out Denny Hamlin in a heated battle for fastest loser, but by the time #48 crossed the finish line, #9 had finished his famous "48 states" victory lap.

Those who say "it's lonely at the top" haven't spent much time there. Hey, don't take it from me...ask Moose Knuckle about his vast array of fantasy stone circle death match league championships...but surely direct any such questions regarding our rock and roll romance towards me...right Loosey Moosey? We all know who's on top in that league.

Doo-Doo Flake City

Doo-doo Flake: An interesting word combo that I recently overheard. I just find it humorous. Never in my life have I pooed in the form of a flake...or flakes...nor have I seen such forms of poo in picture, print, or theater. This phenomenon must have occurred at some point, somewhere. It is my quest to find a doo-doo flake. I do imagine that if I cannot find a doo-doo flake, I could create a doo-doo flake of my own. My guess is that I would have to take a poo in my pants and then go ahead and sit right down to smash the poo all over my bottom. Then I would play the waiting game...just waiting for it to dry. Once dried, I would need to chisel the poo off of my butt cheeks...and BAM!!! DOO-DOO FLAKES for all. To speed up the process, I guess I could use a hairdryer, or just bask in the sun with my naked poo covered rear in open air.

...still...

...stillness abound, stillifus rex emerges from shell...crowd storms number nine car like the bastille...stillifus practices stilts, sharp like stiletto...crowd goes still like seeing hillbilly with gills...stillifus rex, aka bristol pete lairavich...first place in fantasy nascar league...bri-still...

...bristol motor speedway, concrete short track (0.533 miles), very steep banking...fosters breathing compatible rhythm of revving (straightaways) and relative resting (turns) of engine...kung fu ninja breathing exercises help bristol pete sync breathing with number nine car engine, enhancing guidance systems...consider structural relation between iambic pentameter and beating heart...

...celebrated checkered finish with checkered evening of stiller vile life with sirius supporters...sipping distilled space vodka with isis, talking of sun-day when we race goody's fast pain relief 500...at the mantisville speedway in ridgeway, virginia...

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

ALERT! ALERT! My Special Little Ninja Boy has gotten out of his cage. I know you guys were wanting me to write about my exploits, but there is no fucking time when My Special Little Ninja Boy has gotten loose. We were just playing a game we like to call "Chuck Norris' fist of fury in my ass" when he knocked me the fuck out and took off. I dont know how that dumb rascal figured out how to open the front door but he is smarter than I took him for. I am scared now for the people or things he comes in contact with but him will destroy them. I remember the time Moose Knuckles came over and My Special Little Ninja Boy grabbed ahold of his uncircumsized cock and snapped it off like he was splitting a wishbone to make that very special wish. Moose Knuckles hasnt been the same since. Please is you see M.S.L.N.B do not try to grab him, just do exactly this. Say to him "Snack, Crackle, Pop" and he will stand still. Then proceed to bend over and spread you ass apart for him so he can see that red eye of yours. Dont be alarmed when he starts to breathe heavy. When he screms "Die you stinkin fuckin gook!" Count to five and when he lunges at you like a fat lady at a glory hole convention, spin around and punch him right in the face. Call me right after so I can pick him up. Please whatever you do dont offer him anything to eat, or he will rape your children. That little bastard has done that too many times. I will end this with a quick quote from Thomas Jefferson.....Why dont you little colored ladies come and sign the Constitution with my magic spitting skin pencil.

At long last I have found thee....Lance Mantis! My arch-enemy turned homosexual romance turned arch-enemy turned heterosexual romance and again arch-enemy! I bet you think you got the best of me! You left me there in that tussle with Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman and the Yetti! Well I got news for you.... I will go down with this ship.. I won't put my flag up or surrender... There will be no white flag upon door! You know the rest! Back to the Yetti and Dr. Quinn... Basically I choked The Yetti and put Quinn's face through a fish fillet slicer. You may think the picture to the left were made from the Yetti.... You would be wrong! Those are shoes I made from Dr. Quinn's feet!

Space...race?

Cosmonaut Lance Mantis here again to help tune you in to interstellar communications of Earth and the binary star system Sirius. Universal subscribers know well my love for fantasy NASCAR (National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing), but my involvement in NASQUAR (Non-local Association of Spacecrafts and QAUntum Riddles) is no fantasy, yall. Check your rear-view mirror to witness my next first-place finish.

You may wonder why the R in NASQUAR does not stand for racing. In NASCAR and other terrestrial forms of racing, we usually deal in speed, velocity, and other constructs of classical mechanics. In NASQUAR, however, we deal mostly in quantum mechanics and talk about phenomena like Dr. Jack Sarfatti's "information-without-transportation," which I successfully applied to win NASQUAR's Plutona 5000 before it even started.

Robert Anton Wilson has used the term "correlations-without-connections" to refer to such non-local quantum phenomena, some of which I just demonstrated in the following sentences. Jack Sarfatti rhymes with NASQUAR-happy. I didn't plan that. While writing this, I discovered that Mr. Sarfatti has a website at "stardrive.org." Lance Mantis, NASQUAR's star driver? Mere coincidence? Synchronicity?

As I departed on my upcoming space riddle ride to the past, I recommend that anyone interested in attending my previous NASQUAR event consider releasing yourself from materialistic billiard ball action-reaction past-present-future systems of physics and sprinkle some quanta on your Siriul...

Saint Danica Patrick's Day

I'll play the race card again with alcohol and foul-co-fuel still racing through me blood after a St. Patrick's Day of kart racing and heavy drinking. See the picture? They chased me like Irish raiders with an ever-widening separation so vast the camera couldn't capture us as a group, but can any camera capture number 9 in action?

The morning of the race, I waketh up in a Phoenix desert zone to throngs of kart drivers gathered, chanting, "we appeal to you, holy serpent boy, to come and race among us!" Me blood bubbling with ancestral energy of Irish, I cast Landsnake McMantis, a speeding carbomb weaving snake-style around them and not among them, but I left some lucky charms for them at the finish line.

I sprayed mist of Miller High Life into the sunset as a drag-racing dragon named Nostrildamus flew me from the land, steering clear of Area 51 and utterly torching any flying creature in sight. I arrived at an opium den in Sarajevo to drink Irish stout, whiskey, and cream with Kourtney Kardashian while robot leprechauns showered us with shamrock confetti in celebration of the victory. The rest of the night was no race, but still a lot of great riding took place.

Here Comes the Judge

Alright! Alright! Calm down everyone. I am back by popular demand. I have been working hard trying to get my new business off the ground so I apologize for the delay. I do thank you for your kind words and your encouragement on getting me back on the blogisphere. I have been thinking long and hard of what to do next as far as my profession. Most of the ideas I have thought of, come to find out are very illegal and might get me shunned from "normal" society. What's that?...an example? Glad you asked. Well I was watching the movie "Taken" the other night and it got me thinking. How unfortunate was it that this poor man had his daughter kidnapped in a far away country and he warned her about it. I mean it was terrible that his own daughter was stolen and sold into slavery on the black market. And how terrible is it that I don't live in a far away country where I could do the same thing. I mean those guys looked like they make a lot of money. I know it would be a hard startup but there is very low overhead on human selling. I mean I would probably have to sell my own child to just get the business off the ground to get the initial capital to start this lucrative business. Plus they always say first impressions are key and I would have to make a great deal for these gentleman, and they look like their expectations are high. And what better product to be the face of my business than Daddy's little girl. But like I said this is very illegal and I could probably go to jail for a long time, not to mention going to Hell after that and they say that is a drag. Well I guess I have to keep the ideas-a-comin. This quote is dear to my heart, It is from my daughter when she said..Daddy what is human trafficking?..... Isn't she cute!

Cyclone donuts anyone?

Ever seen a ten thousand pound truck use four wheel drive to spin donuts so fast it goes up on two wheels and nearly takes flight or flips out of control causing mass disaster but doesn't? Well I saw Maximum Destruction do that and a whole lot more Saturday at THUNDER NATIONALS at the Pensacola Civic Center!! Not a monstrous venue, but sufficient for inspirnationally destructive monster jamming.

First we recognized the US Military servicehumans. Then came God Bless the USA and the National Anthem as we prayed the Pledge of Allegiance. Then came earplugs, monster truck exhibitions/racing, staged quad racing (yeah, that guy didn't really bet his girlfriend on that race he didn't really win), FMX with high flying back flips, and freestyle monster trucking with a twisterous donut contest. I didn't join in the event, preferring to let the amateurs mash it out while I rested my pistons for last Sunday's big race, NASCAR Sprint Cup's Kobalt Tools 500 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway!!

I woke up Sunday with my motor running high, fastened my immobilizing wrist braces, logged in, clicked on my 4 drivers and held on to first place better than Kurt Busch can do a victory lap in reverse. I left my laptop in the shop a couple days extra after that road-ripper. Now cool your engines as my next NASCAR event (3/22), Sprint Cup's Food City 500 at the Bristol Motor Speedway in Bristol, TN, approaches like molasses dripping down a skyscraper. Lance Mantis, aka Bristol Pete Lairavich, veering off.

Oh The Horror!!!

To all the Blancherry-ites out there, I apologize for the delay in getting new and exciting items to you but the "MAN" was bringing me down so I had to take him out. But all is well and the charges didn't stick. There was only one incident in the pen for which I will give no details, but I will say this, for being such rough and rugged men in there they are very sensitive in the art of love making ( and it was in the name of love). OK, now to the task at hand. In this session I am writing about the fascination of The Mardi Gras. This is something that has been brewing in my mind every since that Sunday evening that I stood and watched the debauchery in all its glory. There are many humorous sides of Mardi Gras. I will explain one. Myself and the uber-falacio enthused Dumpster Baby had a discussion on the Moon Pie. Why do people get excited about a pastry that is as appetizing as licking vaj filled with baby droppings. Trust me that does not taste good, especially when you are thinking it was just a bad case of clamidia. Anywho...Now how does the Moon Pie get made. Does it go through a staling process like a fine wine goes through a aging process? How long does the Moon Pie age before it is released into the wild. I have never bit into a Moon Pie and thought, Damn! that was one fresh Moon Pie. Usually my reaction is, Damn the Moon Pie people fooled me into eating this chocolate covered cardboard again. Was this how Moon Pie originated? Did Mr. Moon bake this pie and think that it was missing something. So he left the pie on the table and went back to his baking dungeon to devise a better tasting recipe. As he came up from the dungeon a year later totally devastated from not thinking up anything (I am told the baking inventing process takes a long time and has driven people to madness, hence the fruit cake) and saw this pie resting on the table waiting for his attention like an obedient dog. Mr. Moon bit into the pie and experienced pure euphoria. He had visions of people loving and worshiping this pie. Women would want this pie so much that they would lift up their shirts and throw their mammaries at him. Maybe I am discussing this because I am bitter that I didn't create this gold-mine. But don't think that I am not trying to come up with the next big thing. I am already in the works on making a dildo that runs on solar-power. The problem is that I keep getting horrible looks from people when I am outside testing the prototypes. Cant these idiots see the genius in a man with his ass pointing to the heavens shoving a black Tommy Lee-sized penis into his back pussy screaming out CHA-CHING OH DEAR GOD CHA CHING. I will leave you with a quote from the greatest inventor of all, George Washington Carver, when he said "Why don't you put these creamy nuts in your mouth."

We Want the Moonraker

Fans,

Your letters have been read and your demands heeded. I have attempted to reach out to our favorite blog groupie, Captain Moonraker, to find out if she would like to join our blogteam. At first, I was concerned about adding a female to the team because of jealousy among the menfolk. However, Ms. Capt. Moonraker has made it very clear that everyone gets a turn...and if there is any argument as to who goes first, she usually responds that there are enough orifices for everybody...all equally as wet, dirty, smelly, and full of jungle rot as the next. I believe you have all enjoyed her obvious whoracity and skankiness in our comments section where she often spits her words of whore-dom. Hopefully, we will soon see her whorishness put to much better use.

Invitation Sent,

Rolf.

Whisper

So many of my readers have been asking me, "Rolf, if thou were a half shark-alligator, half man, and thou could arrange the various anatomical parts of the three subspecies to thou's liking in order to build thyself, how wouldst thou arrange thyself?" First, let me be very clear in stating that I do not appreciate old england speak...and that I haven't the foggiest idea why taz become so popular. However, the question has peaked my interest in said subject of "cross speciesization. " Additionally, I presume that answering this question will reduce my fan-mail by at least three hundred pieces daily, leaving me more moonlit eves to study the effects of intelligent crossbreeding of scorpupines and whipporwhales on nutrient availablity for fledgling seal-goats in post glacial East Germany all the while pleasuring my lover with heavy petting and the occasional flicker of the tongue against her throbbing crotch tonsil. Alas, I shall reply to the inquiries of my inspiration by first mentioning that a half shark-alligator, half man is exactly what the name implies: Roughly one quarter shark, one quarter alligator, and one half man. Due to anticryptogramatic genetic rounding error, it is virtually impossible to create such a species in perfect proportion, but there is enough spinal fluid to go around...so relax and read on...Teeth and Jaws: I will take some of the teeth of the alligator. They are smaller and more manageable than the shark's teeth but just as capable of tearing young sea otters from their lazy beds of kelp. I will also take the human molars as I thoroughly enjoy Autumn berry picking, and of course the associated noshing, at the Lake of the Ozarks with my miniature spotted spoonhound, James. Lastly, I will need the regenerative properties of the shark's teeth as I imagine I will fall victim to the occasional mouthful of small brown river rock and silt while chasing finger mullet, the perfect late afternoon snack. Disclaimer: I will consume manatee, but not in large volume. Head shape: Definitely alligator. I need room for all of my teeth, and I want them straight, not in jagged rows like the shark. A gleaming smile of pearly whites is important in all cultures and I will be heavily involved as a philanthropist in all three: shark, alligator, and human. I have only scratched the surface and promise to continue my selections later as my readers have now resigned to their own imaginations of the power and grace I have thus far described...and as a result are most likely now involved in heavy nasal air whisping, light pecking, and eyelash dragging with their lovers. Take your time all you lovers of the fruit of the human form...tickle the toes of your mate...a touch of the tongue to the neck...a meeting of the lips...a light breath in the ear...caress the soul...and please take your time...The candlelight will flicker once...it's just me...the wind as I resign my post atop your imagination, and make my leave...I'll be not gone for long.

Okay, okay, fine...

Alright alright people, robots. Word has spread around the blogosphere that I may be pursuing too many other interests with my life, further fueling the mass anxiety regarding my future bloglihood. Well let your engines idle while I explain.

See, when my pen runs out of ink, I scrape tar off the racetrack with my teeth and devour squirrels, composing paragraphs with their blood. Then I send an image of it to my secretary who converts it to text and publishes it here while I RACE, people. This ain't GOLF, you whining web crawlers. Ask Mike Tice.

Look here folks, user agents. Even if I race continuously for the rest of my life, I'll still write with my tire tracks and expound with my exhaust fumes. So until I reach my final wrecking place, where of course the shrapnel and mangled organism would spell "LANCE MANTIS, RACER, BLOGGER" and probably fossilize, keep your eyes on the blog and your restrictor plates intact. I don't miss many shifts.

Three Local News Stories-Guess My Location!

I am sorry that I cannot reveal where these news stories occurred as it would tip off my location, which would result in mobs of lunatic fans searching out my abode as well as unsolicited and poorly written fan mail, which I refuse to read. However, if you do guess my location correctly, you will be entered into a raffle. The prize? To spend a weekend with me and my family at the Lake of the Ozarks where we often frolic among the local campers and feed legumes to their mutts and children. It is a truly enlightening experience. These headlines are very...FARK-tastic...but legitimately posted on my local news website. For info on what "FARK-tastic" means, visit www.fark.com.

1. Gunman Steals Toilet Paper from Elderly Couple - My initial thought upon reading this article is that the victims saved the gunman a trip. I imagine he planned to get toilet paper with the cash anyway. http://www.firstcoastnews.com/news/news-article.aspx?storyid=132706

2. Local Mathmaticians Celebrate Rare Numerical Holiday - An enlightening article about Square Root Day. This holiday is the reason I did not post a blog yesterday. I don't work on Square Root Day. http://www.firstcoastnews.com/news/news-article.aspx?storyid=132735

3. Man Gets DUI for Driving Lawnmower - No comment. http://www.firstcoastnews.com/news/news-article.aspx?storyid=132624

Todays Lesson is Anthropomorphism

I saw this TV show the other night and it had a guy that was sexually aroused by inanimate objects. He was so aroused by this couch that he spread the cushions apart and continued to have sex with it. Now although I cannot relate to this gentleman I do get aroused with rather odd things. Have you ever taken a bite of a really good peach and had the urge to rub it all over your genitalia? Not saying that I did it... but I did it. Also, I was out walking my Egyptian fecal monkey the other night and I was taken aback by this light post. The lines that were formed in it made it look like the curves of a woman with scoliosis. I mean, the word scoliosis just gets my vaj to bubble. I mean anything that looks emaciated just gets me. I mean I cannot look at a "feed the hungry" commercial without rubbing my large erected "nipple cocks". Now I know this is odd but please don't judge me. And if you do judge me please find me guilty of being incredibly sexy. I often have to ask myself, Hector if your dipstick could reach your Fuzzy Balloonknot do you think they would have a good conversation? And by conversation I mean really filthy sex. To end this blog I will post one of most favorite quotes. "But Bert why don't you ask Cookie Monster to join us for "A" is for Anal Sex"....Ernie

Fuck you dick squeezers!

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ODIN

The title of this post really has nothing to do with its subject. "What is the subject?"..you may ask? Well i don't know yet but I think it will come to me soon. In the meantime I write whatever I damn well please! For instance... I may say something like"Gut-Bucket!" You may think I am referring to a loose woman but I am actually referring to a unit for disposal of guts. I don't think of you as stupid for thinking this way, I just think you to be less fortunate! You may look at the picture and wonder why there is an emaciated little piggy there. That would be a great question and I'll try to provide a great answer. What if my answer was "vlomice". That word doesn't even exist but i used it anyway. I have complete control of this post.. If you have read this much of it you are either very bored or you can eat corn on the cob through a picket fence! I go on a business trip tomorrow so I will have more diablog and pics from my adventure!! Hawwhawww!

Keyboard in the Ignition

Of course I'm an excellent driver. No money to fix or legally operate my car, but I'm leading the race in fantasy NASCAR!! But don't worry, I'll make a pit stop to tell yall about my high-motor experiences.

See I was racing and then people need to stop complaining about freedom and exercise it, like police do when they arrest me, or like the secret police do spying on the regular police, or like a bill collector trying to impale me on a checkered flag.

And then this one guy misses pit road and blames it on the government!! You believe that?! Who does he mean anyway?? Damn near everybody governs somehow sometimes, like this homeless dude I saw telling a cop-on-a-horse to buzz off. Or maybe he was talking to the flies swarming around the horse, or his head, or in my helmet. Either way, governance...government.

I smell like burnt rubber, not money. Ask Rolf.

The Love is Overwhelming

Alright, Calm down I am back with a new blog. I thank all the little people out there that have been submitting requests for a new entry on my life and my thoughts. Its overwhelming the fan mail, the roses, and the one set of flesh colored panties from Mrs. Thelma Rosenberg, a 76 years young lady from Scottsdale AZ. (Oh they smell like I am running through a meadow of beautiful daffodils covered in gorilla ejaculate). Now I know that I can't write on this every minute of the day like you guys are requesting but I swear to get a blog out every couple of days, unless I don't then it will be longer than that. Take this letter from Cathy Reynolds from upstate New York when she writes.."Hector can you please send me your discarded hair clippings and also your tooth-brushing spittle, so I can bathe in them while I listen to All Night Long from Lionel Richie". I wish I could do this for you Cathy but the shipping would be outrageous and plus I already bathe in those things myself. As for the choice of Lionel Richie, I applaude your taste for the finer things in life, there is nothing like the sweet sounds of late 80's Passion Ballads. Now although fans are what drive this Mazda Miada of blogs, I am not all that interested in fulfilling the wishes of young gay men. I can only write about what I know, and I do not know that much about the gay world, I mean I havent been in that circle for at least 6-8 months (I have just gotten that salty taste out of my mouth, plus I still have nightmares of that wild night that I ended up in the hospital getting my stomach pumped from filming the movie "These Pipes are Clean"). I appreciate your appreciation and please continue to send in your appreciation letters(I love that word almost as much as I love myslef, I am the best by the way). I will end this like I end all my blogs with words of wisdom from wise people. "Oh! Franklin those crutches wont fit in me, but dont stop!!!"... Eleanor Roosevelt

When Hell Comes to Frogtown!

As I pulled into Frogtown, Florida today, I was greeted by a plethora of these strange warning signs. What was even more strange were the citizens. Why were they naked or dressed in old suits and dresses? Why were they dirty and/or bleeding? Why were some missing limbs and vital organs? Why were they biting one another? I decided to stop and investigate the "happenings". I rolled-up on a chap who seemed pre-occupied with some lady who was taking a nap on the side-walk. I asked the fellow his name and he grunted at me! I think he was drunk because as he shambled to the car, he stumbled a bit and then vomited blood on my hood! He tried to open the door of my car so I cracked the window and asked directions to the nearest gas station! I was running very low on gas and really didn't want to get stranded here...(It seemed to be the bad side of town!) It was then I realized the problem.... THEY WERE RUDE AND DIDN'T SEEM TO LIKE OUTSIDERS! I pulled forward and I think ran over his foot. He didn't seem to mind so I kept going. They don't have strict jay-walking laws in this town because it seemed the entire town was milling around in the street. They wouldn't move so I had to, more-or-less, slalom between the citizens taking care not to hit any of them. They must of had some street-party that got out of hand because there were police cars and buildings on fire. "What a bunch of drunks", I thought to myself. "It's 10:00am and these people are hammered! It will be a cold-day in Hell before I ever come back to this shit-hole!"

Cheese Plug

Here's the thing...Easy Cheese is really good. The problem is that nasty little crusty cheese plug that forms in the spout even if you cover it. Seriously, even if you leave it in the cabinet, covered, for 3 minutes, the nasty cheese plug simply appears. There's really no way around it. If you're not careful, that little cheese plug can take your eyeball out while causing you to waste valuable easy cheese. Imagine if this same type of phenomena occured in urethra. Hello...kidney stone or cheese plug? I'll take the Easy Cheese Plug every time.

The Start of Many

Well, Well, Well it has begun. Finally a place where I can express my passions, my dreams, and also my love of French Agrarian architecture. It is 1:00 pm now and I still cannot stay awake, so I am fitting in nicely to the unemployment way of life. I am noticing more people like me now on the street and out and about. I am feeling a sudden connection with the "unemployed"(a very rude way the educated people call us). I even found the urge to empty out my trashcan and light it ablaze to keep warm, but I decided not to because I am so warm in my fully heated home. I am thinking about going to my nearest soup kitchen and joining my com padres in a nice meal. But the thing that is keeping me from going is that I am so full from my hearty breakfast and plus I am not really interested on sipping a warm bowl of urine. I mean when I volunteered at the soup kitchen when I was younger I used to urine in a bowl and serve it to those miscreants. Well as I am getting used to this new way of life I will leave you with a saying from the famous Ray Parker Jr. when he said " Bustin' makes me feel good."

I met John Wayne when I had John Wayne!

I met John Wayne at the airport on my way home from a business trip to the Andes Mountains. I sold 4 truck-loads of super-soakers and slinkees to the locals. Anywho! He ended-up being a Chinese spy and one hell of a grappler. When it was all said and done, we both had extended hospital stays and lots of Jello. I wonder if our paths will ever cross again??..If they do..I will be ready and waiting...with a gun!!!