Flipping Out With Joe Mikulik

When I was 6 years old, I punched my grandmother in the face and then repeatedly shut the oven door on her head because she refused to give me just 4 more animal crackers! 4 MORE!!!

When I was 16 my high school chemistry teacher, Mrs. Stephens, accused me of cheating so I took a vat of hydochloric acid and threw it against her wall melting the pictures of her ugly ass family. Then, I sat down in my chair and clearly reenacted how I couldn't have cheated off the chick next to me with the big jugs because said jugs flopped over her test paper preventing any opportunity to cheat. I then micturated in Mrs. Stephens' fish tank while screaming at the top of my lungs "I AM NOT A CHEATER!".

A few years ago my youngest daughter got a puppy for her birthday. One afternoon, after I had gone way out of my way to Dairy Queen to purchase a cold, delicious strawberry shake to feed my craving for a cold, delicious strawberry shake I had to take a quick phone call in my study and left my cold, delicious strawberry shake in the kitchen. Upon completion of the call, I returned to the kitchen to find said puppy in the middle of a cold, delicious strawberry shake puddle on the kitchen floor. I got so angry and red in the face that my bow tie I was wearing caught on fire and smoke started to spout from my ears like steam from a tea pot. I then made a scream that only mythological sirens could understand, which broke every piece of glass in my house. I picked up the puppy and proceeded to punt it through some football uprights. When my daughter started to cry at the "cruelty" I had shown to her "precious Snaps", I dropped an anvil on her head and then punted her through some uprights as well. I then found a spoon and tried to salvage what I could of my now warm, melted, but delicious none-the-less strawberry floor shake.

So, some could say I have a "history of poor anger management". Some could say I "make mountains out of mole hills". I say that I'm merely a man of my own accord. I'm just trying to play with the cards I've been dealt and fighting for the little man and trying to rid the world of injustice. My life motto: "NEVER SURRENDER". My good friend, homie, brethren, mentor, etc., Malcolm X said "by any means necessary". Therefore, I feel justified in my actions from Sunday afternoon's baseball game in which, I "lost control" and garnered me a suspension and fine (as I'm sure you've all heard or seen by now). Here's the footage, just in case...



Shit, I hate Stuart Scott. Personally, I think I need to do some more bicep and deltoid work in the gym...where I'm regularly found forging my own weights from scrap steel I find under the highway.

So, now I find myself with 7 days off and out $1,000. What am I going to do with myself? I don't know. Some say I should "go to counseling". Some say I should take a trip or find a hobby. Hey! I have a hobby! It's called kicking ass and taking names and flipping the ass out!

Just this morning, I woke up to find my neighbor putting HIS trashbags into MY trash bin because his overly wasteful ass is too much for HIS bin to handle. I instantly Fred Flinstoned (walking with chest forward, feet stomping, arms pressed like concrete down to the ground) to the curb where I flung his trash all over his yard saying "shit" a lot. I then, set his piece of shit Toyota Prius ablaze while grabbing my crotch in the direction of his house with one hand and giving him the bird with the other. Next, I chopped down the giant oak in his front yard with my hands and fashioned a battering ram with which I knocked down his front door. I punched my neighbor in the nose, gave him a wedgie and then burned the bottom of his feet with a hot iron I had plugged in earlier. Finally, I told him his kids were "ugly retards" and that his wife had small boobs and stormed out after scattering some Chips Ahoy cookies across his living room.

Some say I'm insane and evil. I say I'm just living. Some say I need to relax. I say you can kiss my ass.