Desservo #6: Knee-Deep In Stupidity: Desservo's Last Stand

Ok, folks, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I hate every one of you. And I’m not talking about the site’s readers. I’m talking about the staffers. Oh, wait a minute. Same thing. In any case, the only reason why I always write “Jesus Loves You” at the end of my articles is because I hate you. Somebody has to love you, because lord knows your mothers don’t. xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

I also want to admit another truth – I only read the other staffers’ articles to see if my name is mentioned anywhere in them. I’m so narcissistic that if Sting ever met me he’d probably turn to his friends after I leave and say, “What an asshole!” If you don’t mention me in your article, don’t ask me what I thought of it, because I didn’t read it.

But I figure, since I do receive mention every once in a while, I’ll return the favor and write a little something about all of the staffers here at the WOV.

First, we must start with the man himself.

Vocephus: What can I say? I hate his guts. He’s a rotten human being and edits the living hell out of all of the articles submitted to this website. I’ll be surprised if this one makes it up at all. Hell, he even once kidnapped my mother and threatened her watery death if I didn’t run through the park on a Saturday morning naked with “Vocephus.com” written on my torso. He probably got a laugh out of that one, unlike the parents of all the little children attending the park at the time. They had a completely different reaction, I tell you. Yeah, Vox acts like a nice guy, but don’t let that charm and those eyes fool you –he’s a sadistic control freak and I’m convinced that Hitler’s ghastly specter has crawled up his ass and established the Fourth Reich. Jesus, Vox, what in Arthur Digby’s sweet name do you eat? Keep smiling, asshole, I know where you sleep.

Raphael The Contradiction: I suggest Raphael changes his name from “The Contradiction” to the “The Crack Addiction.” This asshole’s teeth are all yellow and decayed – well, the ones that haven’t fallen out already. Try eating lunch with this guy. I guarantee you won’t make it all the way through. And for God sakes, man, take a shower. I’m glad that you can acknowledge your dirty, dirty lifestyle as a heroin whore, but it reminds me of the High School kid who thinks he’s justified in fucking up by admitting that he’s lazy (I know, because that was me). Raph, just because you admit you’re fucked up doesn’t give you the right to stink like a shit sandwich. What is it with these crack heads? May Jesus help you, Raph, because I sure as hell aint goin’ anywhere near you.

Vomit God: Ah, 80 pounds of sweat, greasy hair and pimples in ass-tight jeans and a tattered Fugazi T-Shirt. This pathetic pile of shit is a dirty recluse and hasn’t seen the light of day in a good solid nine years. No wonder why he’s so bitter all the time. The man is 21 years old and his dad still beats him to a retarded pulp for not taking out the trash on time, and his mom still gives him a time out in the corner with a dunce hat for throwing a fit. Well, you can’t blame Vomit for getting short-fused with his parents; I’d be pissed if my parents made me wear a helmet all the time. What this boy is going to do with his life, God only knows – but He won’t tell us because he can’t stand to hear his children laughing.

Drunken Dwarf: He is neither drunken, nor is he a dwarf. What a fucking fraud. This goateed little bastard is as clean as a preacher’s asshole on Sunday. And guess where he lives? DICTIONARY HILL! (For those of you who read Confessions of a Delivery Boy, you will know why this place makes me hate Drunken Dwarf even more). I think he’s sneaky. He always looks like he has an agenda too. Watch your wallet around this one, but don’t worry about your girlfriend, because he doesn’t have a chance.

Since I don’t know The Mike (don’t really want to, either, I think I hate enough people in my life – one more WOV staffer would only complicate things), I’ll skip right to:

Kaiser: I don’t know what to say about this guy. No one has ever seen his family, and he keeps telling me his sister is “away” at college or something. It’s funny I never get a very clear answer on that. I think he killed the bitch. And he always looks at me funny. I think I might be living under his house very soon – right along with his sister, his parents, and that cheerleader he knocked up in High School. He pretends to be an intellectual communist, but let’s just say Kaiser has a funny way of doing away with his problems. Ey, comrade?

Ogre: Wife-beater extraordinaire. From what I hear, his children were born normal but they sure are slow ones now. I think he beat all seventeen of them into submission. Don’t feel bad though – a couple of them are really forging ahead and making names for themselves. For instance, Joe, Ogre’s 27-year-old, graduates from High School next year. My congratulations go out to the boy (I’m glad to see him getting off to an early start) – it’s just too bad his dad has to be an asshole.

Dr. CoxRobitka: Ah, the prolific Dr. Cox. This guy writes like welfare recipients fuck. He’s gone through more keyboards than Devo. Okay, I can’t do this anymore. This is dishonest. For the love of fuck, man, when are you gonna write something? Dr. Cox is nothing more than a spoiled rich kid who lives in a ritzy mansion complete with iron gates, illegal aliens working in the garden, and three Lamborghini’s being polished in the garage. Next time you see this asshole, do me a favor and sock him in the face. In the meantime I’ll continue to use him for his awesome recording equipment.

Gandhi Mangler: Strange. I thought they didn’t allow internet access to mental patients. Never mind all those wacky stories about redneck carnivals and such – the Mangler here might seem insightful and funny and write colorful stories, but in reality, the guys in the white suits have him pumped up on Happy Juice twenty-four/seven. You should always email him, the insane need positive reinforcement too.

Last…AND least…

Hot Alicia: Well, it sure is good to have a new writer. I’m really glad to see that Alicia has joined the ranks of Vocephus. Oh, don’t get me wrong – I don’t think she’s a good writer or anything. I’m just glad I’m not the “new guy” anymore. Welcome to the WOV. I hope you like living with regret.

Well, that’s what I think of the inhabitants of the World of Vocephus. All jokes aside, though, Vox is a great guy, and probably the only guy I’ve ever met that is a mirror image of myself when it comes to personality and interests. It’s too bad I didn’t know this eternal virgin when I was a kid. Raphael’s a good man to talk to, and I always run into him in weird places. He’s in a class of mine in preschool—I mean college, and we suffer intolerable educational bullshit together, side by side (just lay off the crack Raph). Vomit God is another one of those guys who likes a lot of the obscure shit I do, and he’s always got something very interesting to say (unlike me).

Drunken Dwarf is another friend, and a guy I can always have a nice little side conversation with about the pains of work and what not. Although whenever I see him he looks at me as if I’m about to hit him, I think this fucker’s a pretty decent guy. Kaiser’s another kindred spirit, and I always enjoy talking to him, even if he is a murderer. Ogre doesn’t even have a wife to beat (but I’m sure he would if he did). I don’t know him all that personally but we get along for some reason. Dr. Cox is another trusted friend of mine; I’ve been on many stupid adventures with him. Gandhi Mangler I don’t know personally, but if he is insane I have no proof and I happen to think the guy’s a good writer. And finally (last but not least), she’s new but I really liked Alicia’s debut article. She seems to have a good writing style and is a fun person to hang around with to boot. I just hope the next time I get kicked in the “junk” the bitch stops laughing and helps me out.

Well, this completes my article. Yes, the end of it went off on a total tangent of ass-kissery, but I felt I needed to clear up the facetious anger – the last thing I need is my friends and fellow staffers hating me like I hate them. And to tell you the truth, this article came from me simply not knowing what to write – so what better to turn to than an anger article? Always works for me. Until next time…

Jesus Loves You