Friday, August 22, 2008

Help Create an Internet Phenomenon, and Get Prizes!

So, dropping by jimwrightisanasshole.com I was disappointed to see that not much is occurring there.

And then I realized that the proprietor probably doesn't have much to work with aside from a list of why Jim Wright is an jerk. He's a secretive bastard, is Jim Wright, but it seems a shame to allow such a potential internet phenomenon as jimwrightisanasshole.com go to waste. Why, done correctly it could be bigger than the Rick Roll, Demotivation Posters, or Bacon Cat itself!

And so, in the spirit of the helpfulness that I'm known for, I thought I'd give jimwrightisanasshole.com a little something to work with. However, being a jerk, I figured I'd make you people do all of the actual work - and then I'd just take the credit for it.

And then it occurred to me that not only could I make you all work, I could make you dance!


So, here it is: Announcing the first ever Stonekettle Station Jim is a Jerk Giveaway Super Sweepstakes with prizes and mileage points and a free puppy.

I know, I know, you're all excited now and saying to yourself "I gotta get me some of that!"

Well you can, and here's how it works:

Relate your favorite anecdote about Jim Wright and why he is indeed a jerk worthy of a website soley dedicated to his assholiness. Help turn jimwrightisanasshole into the Internet phenomenon it rightfully should be.

You want to, you know you do.

Time Limit: Midnight (Alaskan Time Zone) Friday, August 30, 2008

Submissions: in comments under this post or via email to stonekettlestation@gmail.com. Email submissions will be published, but if submitters wish to remain anonymous, so note in the email. Non regular commenters (and even those without bowel problems) are highly encouraged to participate - in fact, the judges may be unfairly biased in favor of first time commenters. Then again, they may not, you submits your little story, you takes your chances.

No size limit. Though the judges are drunkards and layabouts and do get bored or distracted very quickly, try to bear that in mind when submitting. Be entertaining, be funny, be snarky, be sarcastic, be subtle. Demonstrate your extensive, and completely made up, knowledge of the subject.

Extra points will be awarded for demeaning other entrants, or just blatantly stealing their ideas. Double extra bonus points will be awarded for putting a hex, the evil eye, or other such dastardly spell on the competition - in the event that any such juju is demonstrated to actually work, the sweepstakes will be terminated immediately and the person placing the curse shall be declared the winner.

No limit on submissions, write as many as you like. However, only one submission per comment or email please.

First Prize: This genuine, one of a kind, handmade, finely crafted piece of Alaskan Artwork, turned from endangered polar bear ivory and rare green sea turtle shells salvaged from an Exxon north slope oil spill, with magic properties guaranteed to increase sexual potency, end famine, and cause Dick Cheney to do a jerky little dance wearing a funky green hat and rainbow pride wife-beater T-shirt when you rub it just right. (OK, it's just White Alaskan Birch Burl, but the Dick Cheney part is absolutely true, I swear)

Birch Burl #64

It's beautiful and unique and the winning of it will bring you the envy of people everywhere. Think of the fame, the glory, the pride, the smug satisfaction you'll get from owning this amazing piece of artwork. Think about making Dick do the monkey dance.

Second Prize: There is no second prize, loser, we don't reward second rate work.

Here's an example to get you started:

Back in '86, Jim Wright was crossing an unnamed Middle Eastern desert. He had stopped to tie his boot and, distracted by a shiny rock, he didn't notice when the rest of his military unit disappeared over the horizon (some say this was done with malice aforethought by the above mentioned members of the military unit, who fed up with his hogging of the government issue MRE oatmeal bars and the resulting flatulence had decided to take matters into their own hands). Alone, Jim Wright set off resolutely (some would say cluelessly or maybe even aimlessly) into the desert. After a while the heat and lack of water, not to mention the vapors from the airplane glue he had smeared on his mustache to prevent sunburn , began to take its toll. Disorientated and hallucinating, he stumbled into a dusty nomad village where much to his surprise he was confronted by a large band of surly, burly, tattooed, thuggishly cross-dressing, Nazi Biker Hoodlums who were having their dirty and perverted way with a small group of Peace Corps Nun Missionaries. Jim Wright, being a trained military man, rapidly assessed the situation and - perhaps due to the fumes wafting from his upper lip - came to a conclusion. Cocking his weapon he sprang into action, spraying bullets and swear words with equal, and random, abandon. When the smoke, dust, and blue air cleared - all of the nuns were dead. And thus did Jim Wright free the captive Bikers, who to this day owe him a debt of gratitude and free beer - or at least so it says on the commendation that he wrote himself, his logic being that he was the only government witness and thus the only reliable judge of what had actually happened that day.

And like that, and so forth and so on.

The hounds, unleash them and dance you filthy little monkeys, dance!


Note: Some restriction apply. Void where prohibited by law, custom, and Nazi biker thugs. Rules are subject to change and so is this disclaimer. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. Objects may appear closer than they actually are. Do not remove tags, or electrostatic protection without proper grounding. Some genetic mutation may occur. Use only in a well ventilated space and with proper protection. Hasta Lasagna, don't get any on ya. Stay off the moors, beware the moon, have a nice day and don't say your weren't warned.

Another Note: After extensive consultation with our illustrious state Senators, the judges have decided to openly and enthusiastically accept bribery, since they feel this will just streamline the final selection process - plus they like to get stuff. Cash is king, just saying.


  1. You mean the headlines and faux stories we wrote about you weren't attention enough?

    Comment whore. (said with utmost love and respect, of course)

  2. A template. Brought to my attention by the teen boy squad, because I don't tend to go looking for that kind of stuff. ;)

  3. No no no, the chuck norris/jim wright comparison meme is next month's Sweepstakes.

  4. I'm so in.

    But I want to choose my Cheney-enhancing bowl. Yes, yes. I want choice, you asshole.

  5. Okay, my sister is screwing with me on this, so I. Am. In.

    Fuck her.

    And you too, you asshole.

  6. You misunderstand! I don't mean that we have to compare you to Chuck ant all.

    I mean the format of the site is a good fit for an asshole site.

    - a few pages listing facts (100+ comments on why Jim Wright is an asshole).
    - FAQs on Jim Wright's alpha asshole status
    - More detailed anecdotes on Jim Wright's escapades in assholeyness, these can be independent pages
    - e-commerce pages selling Jim Wright is an asshole t-shirts. And bowls.

    We can replace the old west look with a Alaskan valley trash theme - or a Navy theme - or a Boba Fett bounty hunter theme, if you wish. ;)

  7. Jim Wright is such an asshole, he wants to make us dance without dancing (with video proof) himself. ;)

  8. There I was, standing innocently on the street, a manga-eyed, pony-tailed little eight year old, when Jim Wright came running up, kicked me in the stomach, stole all my cookie money, and then jumped up and down on all the remaining boxes of cookies, rendering them into naught but crumbs.


  9. Like, I was totally just standing there. I was talking to Lisa, you know Lisa right? Anyway, Lisa and I were just standing there talking, and then this guy, this like OLD guy, I mean, he must have been at least, like THIRTY, this old ugly guy comes up to us and like asks us if he can use one of our phones.

    We were like, old guy, you like totally can't use our phones! You're like OLD! And unattractive! And you want to like touch our phones?

    Then he gets all like, made. I mean, really, what an a-hole! You're an OLD guy, what did you expect?

  10. In less than an hour we've got Chuck Norris, sibling rivalry, greed and avarice, Boba Fett, and a little 8-year old manga eyed girl.

    This is starting out even better than I'd hoped. ::rubs hands together in evil glee:::

  11. It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out! A man appeared suddenly in the fog. His shiny gun held out before him like a beacon.

    "Your money or your life," he muttered, his voice sepulcher in the dark foreboding night.

    "I pray sir," I cried, "I have no money! I am but a poor, lost circus performer!"

    "Lout!" cried the stranger, "I care not for your mishap and mischance! I'll take the coat off your back and the shoes off your feet."

    And thus you find me here, today. A wretch, reduced to these circumstances by that fool, that thug, that brute of a man.

    Jim Wright.

  12. We wuz sittin' in th' crib and this holmes comes up ta me talkin' like he's a bro or somethin'.

    "Homey," says he.

    "Homey?" say I, "You don't know shit. What you doin' in my hood callin' me homey?"

    "Homey," says he, "I come to kick yo ass and take yo snatch and fuck yo ho and you like it."

    Man, this dude got a problem. "Homes, I ain't got no snatch or no ho, and yo welcome to try and kick my ass..."

    Then the candy ass bitch pulls a piece on me and afore I know it, bitch SHOT me in the foot.

    Then he rolls me, takes all my coin, and then stomps on the foot he just shot.

    I tell you, that asshole ever show his face here again I shoot the muthfucka right in the face. Got my piece here right now that bitch show up again.

  13. Last week, I personally witnessed Mr. Wright's annual puppy kicking spree.

    An event he trains for all year, it involves steel-toed boots and Milkbone lures. I was horrified, but with glee in his eyes and maniacal laughter on his lips, he continued on. When questioned, he admitted that next year, he was going to expand his efforts to include kittens as well.


    (suck it, Janiece)

  14. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious"

    "What are we doing here then?"

    "We are looking for someone to help get us off this planet."

    "This bar is kinda seedy looking, and they don't let droids in."

    "You wait here. I shall look around for someone who can assist us."

    "I'll... I'll wait right here. Right here on this stool."

    "That's my chair."

    "But you weren't sitting in it! Okay! Okay! I'm moving."

    "I don't much like your face."

    "I'm sorry! Maybe I'll just move over here."

    "Maybe I'll just rip you apart limb from limb."

    (Video cuts out)

    And that ladies and gentlemen is what finally happened to Jim Wright. The video is unadulterated and proves one and for all that he finally messed with the wrong person.

    Wish we knew where the old man was, so he could give him the bounty.

  15. Here I am at the close of a bad day, that ended a bad week, in the middle of a bad month, standing at the bar minding my own business, when Jim Wright comes up and pisses in my drink.

    That's right. He pulled it out in front of God and everyone and pissed in my beer.


  16. Best beer you ever had though, wasn't it?

  17. Three years and nine months ago, Jim Wright entered his voting booth. His eyes were hellish blurry and he was yawning like a shiteater. He hadn't been able to sleep, and hadn't had enough fucking caffeine yet that morning, but he was determined to do his goddamn civic duty.

    Going down the form, he scanned and punched, scanned and punched. When he came to the section entitled 'President of the United States', he yawned, again, like a idiot.

    His hand slipped, and he punched the slot next to 'George W. Bush'.

    "Holy Fucking Jesus Teargas Sucking Krishna on a Cocksucking Jerkwad Powered Ass-Backward Unicycle!", he thought. "Well, I'm in a fucking hurry, my shoulder hurts, and I've got goddamn deadlines. I'm just going to finish the motherfucking ballot and turn it in as it is."

    And so he did. And his fucking vote counted.


  18. It was a sad day at the puppy fair. The day Jim Wright came to visit.

    Early in the morning the children had all lined up, eager to see the puppies. However, the man in the hate came out and said that he was sorry, there weren't any puppies today.

    A nice man named Jim Wright had come and adopted ALL the puppies, wasn't that wonderful boys and girls?

    Just then, Jim Wright stepped around the corner, his soft fur coat gleaming in the sun.

  19. Jim Wright is such an asshole he made Hitler cry.

  20. Jim Wright is such an asshole that when the pictures were found in the copier the next morning after the party, everyone knew who it was, but no one was brave enough to say anything.

  21. Jim Wright is such an asshole that his bunny slippers are made of live bunnies.

  22. And his coonskin cap still has a coon inside the skin.

  23. Jim Wright is such an asshole that turkey buzzards flee when he steps outside.

  24. Jim Wright is such an asshole that he made his own Pat the Bunny book--using real bunnies and the beards of his enemies.

  25. Jim Wright voted for Ralph Nader.


  26. Michelle had a very bad week.

    Michelle is feeling somewhat better now.

  27. I have to comment on this as I read the comments since there are already 29 of them.


    You used to be so civil. You've turned into such a fucking potty-mouthed slattern. (slattern used merely because I know Michelle will give me props for it.)

  28. What Anne said.

    No, I'm not gonna make it easy on you by quoting her. Look for it yourselves...Assholes.

  29. Michelle and Jim and the beer was terrific.

  30. Michelle;
    Just for the release following the bad week, if you win I am throwing in a bonus Beastly box or something. Whew if you saved that up all week you must be 10 or 15 pounds lighter now. Careful you may just disappear if you keep this up.

  31. greed and avarice.

    Damn Skippy, fuckwad.

    But at least I'm not an asshole.

  32. Jim once bit a man in Reno just to watch him cry.

  33. Anecdotes, people, anecdotes: funny stories with a little twist at the end, like in the example where Jim Wright rescues the wrong people.

    Not one liners.

    Anecdotes. Like you would tell to a group of friends over a beer in the bar.

    Not insults.

    Anecdotes, you filthy monkeys, anecdotes.

  34. Michelle can be forgiven, because she's drunk at the moment.

  35. Many years ago, Jim Wright took shore leave in a crowded southeastern Asian village. He was bored.

    While he sat on the shore watching the sunset, he shot up the town's fishing fleet, watching the boats founder and sink beneath the harbor. He ambled into town, challenged the police chief and the mayor to a poker game and cheated them out of several months wages.

    Annoyed at the crowd of poor and ragged villagers blocking his progress, he pushed through the patient line to the front. He shoved the grey-clad nuns to the ground and overturned their kettle of rice.

    He got into a minor altercation with a bouncer over watering the drinks and busted up the only bar in town, leaving his shipmates high and dry with no place to drink.

    Then he stomped into the brothel, in a foul mood. All the whores, boys and girls, looked dirty and diseased. He slammed the back door on his way out, and kicked the mother dog on the back step and scattered her nursing puppies. He paused, lit a cigarette, and tossed the lit match into the brush beside the house. He nodded and jumped off the steps as the flames crept up the side of the building.

    It was getting breezy, so Jim grabbed a blanket off a homeless mother and children, startling her nursing baby, and wrapped it around himself on his way back to the pier. He caught the tender back to the ship. He told the the guys who gave him shit for busting up the bar to fuck off. They'd live.

    He went and threw himself down on his bunk and pulled out last month's Hustler magazine. The girls seemed ugly.

    God, he was bored.

    He had an idea. He grabbed a pen and a notebook, tore off and discarded his bunkmate's letter to his dying grandmother, and sat back. He would write fiction, something romantic and inspirational.

    Across the top of the page, he wrote, "Going Home". He thought for a minute about his pen name, then continued, "by Daniel..." no, change that, "Danielle Steele".

  36. Jim Wright put on his good suit, white shirt and tie, and checked to make sure his shoes were shiny. He popped in a breath mint and headed out the door into the sunny Saturday morning.

    He parked his car in a likely looking neighborhood, pulled a sheaf of materials from his briefcase, and headed up the walk to the first home.

    A "No Soliciting" sign. Well, that didn't apply to him. He squared his shoulders, stood straight. He wasn't selling, he was sharing the good news!

    He knocked. "Hello, I'd like to tell you the good news about..." Slam.

    "Every no gets you closer to a yes!" he told himself. "And you're doing God's work."


    No answer.

    "Get the fuck off my property!" Slam.


    "Well hello there!" The heavyset woman in the stained chenille bathrobe purred. Ash dripped from her cigarette on to the linoleum; poodles yapped at her feet. "Sure, come on in."

    "I'm Jim Wright, and I'd like to tell you the good news!" he said, as he evaded the screen door and the snapping dogs on the way into her dim living room.

    The TV flickered in the background. There was only that, and a single tattered recliner, nothing more. He glanced at her.

    She shrugged. "Since Lawrence died in that crazy waffle-iron accident, I haven't been able to keep up my payments. They took the furniture. The IRS has been calling about the house. But you said you had good news?"

    Jim smiled. "Yes. I do have great news! You can be saved!"

    The woman sat down heavily in her chair, gasping. Her robe gaped open, showing Jim more than he wanted to see.

    "Are you serious? You mean, the debts, the house, all of it?"

    Jim pulled out a tract. "Well, at least the most important debt of all." He handed it to her. "You see, I'm here to tell you about Jesus."

    The woman looked down at the tract as comprehension dawned. The title was "Give Generously! You Will Be Rewarded in Heaven." She turned the tract over, and on the back, inscribed in neat letters, it said, "The Reverend Jim Wright, Prophet, First Church of Wrighteousness".

    She stood up slowly, turning red. "I thought you were from my lawyer's office. Religious freak! Get.... out!" She grabbed Jim's sleeve and marched him to the door.

    As she shoved him out, poodles snarling behind her, he said, "Ma'am, I'll pray for you, that you'll see the light."

    As the door slammed, she shouted after him, "Asshole!"

    He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was doing God's work. On his way up the walk, he uprooted the only flower left growing in the yard, tore it up, and threw it on her front porch. She'd learn.

    He headed for the next house.

  37. Anecdotes, you filthy monkeys, anecdotes.

    The nerve of this asshole to try telling us what kind of entries he wants in his contest.

    Fuck off. I'll anecdote if I want to!

  38. Michelle wasn't drunk. Michelle was tipsy.

    Michelle learned her lesson in college and does not get drunk any more.

    Thank goodness.

  39. However, I am amused that I wrote "bitch SHOT me in the foot," last night.

  40. A few years before she died, Mother Theresa was walking the streets of Calcutta when she came upon a young woman weeping piteously.

    "What is wrong, my child?" Mother Theresa asked as she bent down to provide comfort.

    "It... it was awful!" she cried. "Jim Wright..."

    "Say no more, my child," said Mother Theresa. "The reputation of that man proceeds him, and his exploits are known even unto me." She lowered herself carefully to the stoop to sit beside the girl.

    "Years ago," she said, "Jim Wright swept through Calcutta like a plague, wreaking havoc and destruction the likes of which are normally seen only after typhoons. It took a full year to rebuild my hospice, and the orphanage... well, even after the exorcism it was decreed that nothing would thrive there again, so we sowed the ground with salt, and sold the land to the Americans. They thought they were getting a deal, but every venture there has failed, and the men leading those ventures have all died under mysterious circumstances."

    Mother Theresa leaned straightened her back and looked towards the heavens. "The Lord gives us many burdens to bear. Understand that you do not bear your burden alone."

    With that, the young woman threw herself into Mother Theresa's arms and sobbed, "It's just so horrible, Mother! He never called! He never wrote! I never heard from him again!"

  41. Also, let us not forget that Jim Wright killed Eric, and then severed his fingertips and pulled out his teeth to slow identification.

    Those exploits were documented elsewhere, but I believe they should still be submitted for consideration as to his assholiness.

  42. Anecdotes, you filthy monkeys, anecdotes.

    Fuck off.

    A quality product takes time to produce.

    Not that you'd know anything about that. Asshole.

  43. New ad campaign.

    Preparation H cures bouts of Jim Wright!

    Need I say more?

    (And while we're on the subject, was Preparation F worth anything at all?)

  44. Local Man Escalates Annual Puppy Kicking Spree

    Jim Wright, local woodworker, retired Warrant Officer and all around asshole, recently decided to escalate his annual puppy-kicking spree. Saying that puppy and kitten-kicking were "passe" and "unoriginal," he vowed to escalate the annual event by including a new, "baby volleyball" segment.

    "Hey, babies are about the right size to use as a volleyball," Wright is quoted as saying. "And when you spike them...wow! Just WOW!"

    Wright, who is a permanent resident of the "person of interest" list with the Palmer police department, is rumored to be stealing babies from local daycare centers in preparation for this new segment.

    Wright would not comment on the alleged baby-stealing, but patrons of the local Starbucks commented, "Doesn't surprise me one bit. That Jim Wright is an asshole."

    (Bite me, Cindi.)

  45. Psst! Judge! Hey, Judge!

    If you pick my entry, there's a couple of jars of homemade apple butter in it for you.

    Big jars. Not those wimpy 8 oz jars that just tease you.

    Think about it.

  46. I heard that Jim Wright was Dick Cheney's man in the Navy.

    And yes, I do mean it both ways.

  47. I love all the swearing, particularly Michelle's and Jeri's!


    I heard that next to the word "asshole" in the dictionary is a picture of Jim Wright.


    I heard they invented new cuss words just to describe what a Jesus-raping, moose-turd-eating, panda-torturing, ass-smooching, baby-seal-sodomizing, political motherfucking, son-of-an-alien-whore Jim Wright is.

  48. One bright summery afternoon, I was sitting at my computer, trying to write an overdue field report on my job, and that Lefthanded Asshole, Jim Wright comes by and pisses on my computer and shorts it out, losing hours of work.

    I know he was trying to be an asshole, but YAY! Now I have an excuse for why the report's not in yet. Thanks, Jim!

  49. Jim Wright is such an asshole that he keep pulling out his dick thinking his penis is the solution to everything.



    All guys think that.

  50. I could be persuaded to bring you a flat of blackberries, in return for special consideration by the academy.

  51. Jim Wright was driving into Anchorage on the Glenn Highway to run errands.

    He had a giant coffee in one hand and his cell phone in his other. This was fucking inconvenient, as he liked to talk with his hands, and occasionally he'd slosh a little hot coffee onto his lap. Goddamn it!

    Jim was driving 70 this icy morning in his big diesel pickup, weaving his way through the dickless wonders driving like morons in their econocars.

    Coming up the hill out of Eagle River, he had to slow down, and his blood pressure started to rise. Christ's crotchless panties! Would these shitty drivers ever get out of his way?

    He saw a small hole, and gunned his engine, cutting off a young mother in a goddamned minivan with one of those fucking "Baby on Board" stickers in the back window.

    The idiot bitch braked, and as he passed her he saw her start to skid. In his rearview mirror he saw her skid into the damned ditch.

    He rolled his eyes. Jesus fucking Christ. She shouldn't be on the road if she couldn't goddamned drive.

    He flipped her off, sloshing more coffee onto his leg, and screamed "asshole" as he drove off.

  52. Jim Wright turned down Obama's Democratic vice-presidential running mate offer, and now the Dems are stuck with that windbag liability Biden.


  53. I'm actually not going to google it to find out - for many reasons - but I wonder if you were to google "asshole", where on the results list Jim Wright would appear. ;)

  54. and Beastly, my week really was that bad.

    I thought I was doing better, until on the way to the grocery store this morning my husband got an obscenity laden tirade that lasted through a red light.

    Fucking lazy-ass, no good, cum-sucking bastards.

  55. Jeri,

    Dictionary definitions, Bush, card game, quizzy goodness...

    Page 2
    Repeats from above, Dennis Leary, how to tell if you're an asshole...

    Page 3
    More of the same, parking complaints...

    Went through 5 pages of Google results and no Jim.

    Jim Wright is such an asshole he thinks he belongs on the front page of a google search.


  56. Christ's crotchless panties

    Sooo adding that to my obscenity vocabulary...

  57. Jim Wright has not caught Osama Bin Laden, singlehandedly.

    Anon GF

  58. Oh. Forgot to add:

  59. A desolate wind blew in from the west, doing little more than blowing around a hot acrid dust.

    The sky was an unpleasant and unhealthy shade of red with gray overtones.

    The sheet of glass which covered the ground for as far as the eye could see reflected the red of the sky and cast an eerie holocaust light against the skeletons of the buildings pointing their jagged cement bones into the sky.

    Footsteps crunched as an individual walked across the molten silicate surface.

    "Fucking Jim Wright," muttered Nathan. "I fucking told John it was a bad idea. TOLD him it was a stupid thing to do. But does anyone ever listen to me? Hell no. I told him, 'dude, by the time it ships to Alaska stinky tofu will be deadly, but John just fucking laughed and now look where we are."

    And with that Nathan shuffled across the desolate landscape.

  60. "What are you whining about?" cried Eric. "At least you're not dead."

  61. There I was sitting in my office, when the door slammed open.

    I refused to flinch or show any sign of surprise, but I have to admit I was impressed when the door fell forward off its hinges.

    "You're gonna pay for that door," I said, without turning around. I lit a cigarette, brought my feet to the floor, and slowly turned around.

    And there he stood. For all his bluster he wasn't that much to look at. Five foot five with the lifts in his shoes. Dressed in clothes ironed within an inch of their lives--I'd hate to be his laundry--and a high and tight so tight that it was squeezing the brains right out of his head.

    "I want you to take someone out for me," he stated baldly.

    I don't know who you are, or who you think I am, but you've come beating down the wrong door."

    "I said, I want you to take someone out for me."

    Apparently listening comprehension was one of the first things squeezed out of his brain.

    "I'm telling you, I'm a private eye. I find people and things. That's it. They only things I take out are the trash and occasionally the lovely secretary across the hall when she has a weak moment."

    He stormed across the room, which was pretty impressive because it was all of two feet.

    Of course for him that took him several steps, so he was able to build up to a minor tropical storm even if it wasn't a full fledged hurricane.

    "Do you know who I am?" he yelled? I could see his face getting red. At this rate he'd have a stroke before he ever got to the point.

    "Nope," I said. "Don't much care either."

    With that he reached his left hand across his body.

    When the smoke cleared his gun was halfway out of his holster, as he lay on the floor, my bullet between his eyes.

    I rolled him over with my foot, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

    "I lied," I said. "I do have some curiosity as to who you are."

    I rifled through his wallet.

    "Jim Wright, 'eh?" I dropped his wallet on the floor beside him and walked back towards me desk and the phone.

    "What an asshole."

  62. Have I ever mentioned how much I love writing short-short stories?

  63. As I was blanching and pitting peaches in the kitchen, Michael kept harassing me and being a general jerk.

    So I turned to him and said, "Stop being such a Jim Wright!"

  64. Nathan, stop that, you're starting to sound like a real Jim Wright

  65. How about now?

    Did I win yet now?

  66. I come to work this morning to discover that one of my computers isn't working.

    Fucking Jim Wright.

  67. "Cindi,

    You used to be so civil. You've turned into such a fucking potty-mouthed slattern. (slattern used merely because I know Michelle will give me props for it.)"

    Fuck you Nathan.

  68. Jim Wright, having decided that spiking babies isn't cool enough, has taken to using a pitchfork to unload them from his truck.


    (no, Janiece, you bite me

    And Jim? Apple Butter is the scourge of preserves. Just sayin'.

  69. This comment has been removed by the author.

  70. Every spring, on the Saturday of Prom, Jim Wright stations himself outside the local hair salon. As the girls emerge, feeling cautiously confident that they will wow their boyfriends, he begins to laugh. He points. He guffaws. He follows them to their cars, hurling insults directed at their appearance. Once their self-esteem has been well and truly crushed, he turns with a snicker, and resumes his post by the door, preparing himself for his next victim.

    What an asshole.

  71. Hot sisters fighting over me.

    I'm basking in the warm buttery glow of it all. I am.

    :::bask, bask:::

    And the hair things sounds exactly like something I would do. Crush their little dreams, oh yes, oh yes, and trample their self esteem with hobnail boots.

  72. I call foul on the baby/pitchfork meme! She totally stole that from a truly disgusting "dead baby" joke she used to tell me when we were children.

    Lazy bitch.

    And Jim knows he can pick and choose his preserve variety...providing I win.

    Otherwise, he's ass-out. Asshole.

  73. The reason Jim Wright doesn't actually have to work for a living isn't because he's retired from the Navy and his Hot, Smart Wife supports his lazy obnoxious ass. Oh, no.

    The reason Jim Wright doesn't work for a living is because during his world travels, he used his intelligence gathering skills to find and invest in a child labor scheme in the far east. He and his evil minions steal away young children at the age of four, and then put them to work in shoe factories, creating designer footwear for Paris Hilton. Once their poor little hands are too big to do the detail work to his overseer's satisfaction, he then imports them to brothels. Once they're too old and worn out for that, then it's off to the fields.

    Do I need to point out that they don't have a retirement plan?

    Man, Jim Wright is an asshole.

    And as an aside, why does his Hot, Smart Wife tolerate such an asshole?

  74. Fuck you Nathan

    Fuck you, Janiece

    Did you blow your creative wad on that prom-hair story? Cause these insults are getting to be kind of a snooze-fest.


  75. Sometimes, the old standards work best.

    And you don't get to cry foul on anything, because you don't make the rules.

    Neener, neener, neener.

  76. A Good Morning, Jim Wright Style

    One cold winter day, Jim was dropping his son off at school. As young Jimmy was leaving the truck, Jim Wright reminded him of the Wright Family Credo: Crush the innocent, insult the weak-hearted, reduce others to tears! Young Jimmy shook his head in sadness and despair, and went off to school.

    Jim Wright then proceeded to Starbucks, his favorite locale to practice the Family Credo. As he turned into the parking lot, Jim spotted an old woman making her way across the parking lot, looking for a designated handicap parking spot. Cutting her off with his truck, his tires squealed as he parked in the last handicap spot in the parking lot.

    Walking into the grocery store, he got in line at the Starbucks behind a couple of women who were chatting while waiting for their turn in line. As the women talked about the challenges of losing weight, Jim interrupted with a diatribe about self-control, exercise, and how fat slobs like them will never be attractive. By the time Jim reached the front of the line, his mission was accomplished - the women were sobbing, and had abandoned their shopping carts to run to their cars.

    Whistling, Jim Wright then collected his drink and headed back to his truck. As he crossed the parking lot, he saw the old woman he had cut off earlier, making her way to the store with her walker. With a gleam in his eye, he ran over to her and kicked her walker out of her hands. As she slumped against a nearby car in order to maintain her balance, Jim Wright made his way to the truck, laughing maniacally.

    On the way home, he had one more opportunity to live by his credo. On the lonely road to his home, he saw a young driver broken down on the side of the road. He was wearing shorts and tennis shoes in the harsh weather, and was examining the engine of his small Honda. Gripping his Starbucks cup more tightly, Jim swerved over and took off the driver's side door, which had been open. Jim then shouted "LOSER!" out the window at the young man as he happily drove home.

    A good morning to be an asshole.

  77. With a gleam in his eye, he ran over to her and kicked her walker out of her hands

    A technical note: Jim Wright would not run. He might walk swiftly, in a deliberate, purposeful, manly way not in a swishing power-walk sort of way, but he does not run. And you can't make him. He would rather be eaten by bears than run nowadays. Running was his least favorite thing about military service. Really. Just saying, for the sake of accuracy and all.

  78. Running is the part of the story you're quibbling with?

    Christ on a Crutch, you're such an asshole!

  79. Jim Wright walks into a bar.

    After emptying the tip jar into his coat pocket, he wanders back to the poker table. Looking over the shoulder of the guy who just went all in, he asks him what "all those little hearts and faces" mean. The better's scream of agony follows Jim to the pool table, where he arranges himself all over the current champ's girlfriend. Blind with jealousy, the champ loses his match, along with the sweet '65 Mustang he put up for the tourney.

    Rejecting the champ's girlfriend, Jim ambles out to the parking lot, where he keys each and every car there. For the coups de grace, he kicks over the Harleys lined up at the door, and roars off into the night in his F350 diesel dually.

    God, what an asshole.

  80. Y'know, Jim Wright is such an asshole, I think I'm going to blame him for all the shit I'm dealing with right now.

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  83. Sorry.

    Was that a bit too much? I'm having another bad day. Maybe I'll go have a drink.

  84. Jim Wright is such an asshole, he headed the committee that created the TSA.

  85. Fuck you Cindi.
    Fuck you Janiece.
    Fuck you Michelle.
    Fuck you Jeri.
    And yeah, fuck you too Anne.

    Fuck all-a-y'all.

    Did I win yet?

    No? Well Fuck you too, Jim.

  86. Jim Wright walks into a bar.

    He neglected to duck.

    It hurt.


  87. Hey Nathan?

    Fuck you and the horse you road in on, you goat molesting road whore.


  88. And Jim? Fuck you too. I'm still blaming you for all the shit I'm dealing with at work.


  89. You're all eight dollar road whores. Who would do it with a goat for an extra buck.

    Jim, what flavor of preserves do you want, you asshole?

  90. The Judges prefer Cash flavored preserves - especially in the $100 dollar denomination.

    But they will settle for a jar of your fabulous apple butter, especially Judge Jr. - who managed to eat most of the last batch by himself, without asking, much to the chagrin of Judge Sr.

  91. the horse I road in on?

    the horse I fucking road in on?


  92. Hey Nathan?

    Just watch yourself next time you have some of my cookies. I'm going to make a special batch just for you.

  93. "Stonekettle Station Jim is a Jerk Giveaway Super Sweepstakes with prizes and mileage points and a free puppy."

    Only a complete tool would give away free puppies for people who want to pay $1000 for a pure-breed of some unpronouncable asian brand.

  94. Did I mention that the puppies are deep fried? Though I will be happy to broil them if you're watching your cholesterol intake.

  95. Speaking of puppies

    I don't think even Jim Wright is that much of an asshole.

  96. Careful, Jim, I might be about to swing a judge in my favor. :p

  97. "You're all eight dollar road whores. Who would do it with a goat for an extra buck.

    Jim, what flavor of preserves do you want, you asshole?

    Ass kisser.

  98. To be completely pedantic, it should asshole kisser.

    Now I'm an asshole!

  99. The UCF started a nice, polite group dedicated to writing exercises, rescuing puppies and kittens, and helping old ladies across the street.

    Then Jim Wright joined.

    Now the UCF is classified as a terrorist organization, membership in the UCF brought down Shawn Powers and cost Eric his life, and the remaining members are now a bunch of foul mouthed louts.

    What an asshole.

  100. Ass kisser.

    Fucking rube.

    This is big city politics, baby.

    Clearly, you're out of your league.

  101. "Clearly, you're out of your league."

    And what league would that be, you fucking dilettante? The Little League?

    Now you can kiss my ass.

  102. The Little League?


    "You're killing me, Smalls."

  103. And yeah, fuck you too Anne.

    Fuck you too, you fucking motherfucker.

    You wanna fucking know how much of a fucking asshole Jim Wright is, you little fuck? Lemme tell ya.
    There was this nice group of people with a weird acronym for a name, UC-something-or-other, they were a nice bunch a folks. They liked to write and trade pictures of flowers and packages of fucking chocolate and stuff like that. You get the picture.
    Well, one day, this fuck, Jim Wright, is bored or something (which is easy, since he lives in the fucking sticks of Alaska) and he decides to stir up a little action. He starts a fucking contest to see which of his little bitches can make him laugh. Yeah, a lot like that fucking fairytale. Anyhow, it starts off real civilized, 'cause these are nice folks and they really don't want to piss each other off, 'cause that just ain't done, see? Jim Wright, that asshole, comes in and stirs a little here, stirs a little there and before you know it, they are cussing and fighting and fucking beating each other up for a chance to win this damn contest. He got the two sisters to get into a hair-pulling, eye-scratching, name-calling fight. He got the sweetest little gal, one of them ones that sent presents and pictures of flowers, to start fucking cussing like the meanest sailor. Every other word outta her mouth was a cuss word of some sort. They practiced their fucking writing skills alright - they told stories about puppy kicking, baby tossing, and driving grandmas off the damned road. And this Jim Wright guy? He keeps laughing and fucking egging them on. Bastard. A real fucking bastard. Running his own damned experiment in social fucking graces, I guess. Asshole.

    What happened, you say? Well, that's the funny part. See, he finally declared a winner. She was real happy, obviously. King of the fucking shit hill. The others, though, well they manage to scrape together the money so they could all go up to his fucking compound and kick the fucking shit out of him. He was a badass, don't get me wrong. He just stirred up a fucking hornets nest and when you got that many coming after ya, the only way you can beat 'em is to take 'em on one by one, like in a narrow space or something. They found him outside, away from his shop and his fucking tools. He only had one gun on him and his buddy just stood to the side and laughed his ass off. Bastard had it coming to him. He didn't die or nothing, but he did learn something about stirring up hornets.

    Unfortunately, so did the mob. The ones that weren't killed in the assault were hunted down one by one. No more UC-whatever-it-was.

    Let that be a lesson to you, young fuck. The internet is a fucking dangerous place.

  104. Good thing this isn't a family friendly site.

  105. The idea of Beastly laughing his ass off while Jim gets his ass kicked by a screeching, frothing band of UCFers is making me laugh my ass off.


    And Judges? I'm prepared to send up two jars of apple butter - one for the little judge and one for the big judge. Think about it.

    ::wink, wink::

  106. "And Judges? I'm prepared to send up two jars of apple butter - one for the little judge and one for the big judge. Think about it.

    Slathering bootlicker.

  107. venting a little are we, Michelle?

    Say, just so you know, somebody, and I'm not saying who, just stopped by here with a completely scandalous picture of me, GWB, and a freakin' bunny. I was told you had a hand in its design.

    You're on the list. I'll be a gentleman about it and give you time to make peace with your creator, but your days are numbered, lady, oh yes, they are.

    Just as soon as I get done laughing my ass off that is.


  108. I suggested the cute fluffy kittens with the Xs over their eyes. :)

  109. And as I said to Jeri, that was the part I liked best.

    I'm not much on T-shirts with pictures, but should that end up on a shirt, I'd wear it.

  110. Slathering bootlicker.

    Seriously? Have you met me?

    You better watch out - I'll use some Jim Wright Approved tactics on your country butt. Then you'll be sorry.

    Seriously...don't risk it. This guy is a mess.

    Oh, and an asshole, too.

  111. Hey, are we going to get to see the incriminating photo?

    Inquiring minds want to know.

  112. I'm considering it as a joint entry in this contest by Michelle and Jeri - the problem is that if they win, I'll have to cut the dammed prize in half on the bandsaw.

  113. A Former cryptologist submits the initial page for jimwrightisanasshole.com

  114. Jeri did all the hard work on that.

    I'm on a different project.


  115. "You better watch out - I'll use some Jim Wright Approved tactics on your country butt. Then you'll be sorry."

    I'm shakin' in my Chuck T.s baby.

  116. Here is the picture in question.

    Michelle contributed quite a bit - she brainstormed design ideas and helped me track down all the stuff that went into it. Pixel editing is easy - blank page fright is a bitch. ;)

    Larry, that's pretty hilarious!

  117. Beautifully done, Jeri. I like how the light on Jim's face is coming from the sunny side of the picture.

    And the kittens with the Xed eyes are perfect!

    You guys make a great team. :)

    Oh wait, we're supposed to be mean 'n' nasty... ummm... That is totally weak, Jeri! Really quite derivative, in fact! Michelle told me that you stole the idea from her. (Michelle, Jeri said that the ideas were all hers.) You guys are going to have to step it up a notch if you want to win this thing.

  118. We're going to count that as a contest entry. Toss in a jar of jam and you'll be on our short list.

    hmmmm, jam.

  119. Brownies would be a short lister too, just saying.

  120. They don't ship well though, since they should really be eaten within 36 hours.

  121. So you're saying we're not worth next day, still warm from the oven, FEDEX delivery? 'Cause that's what we're hearing here.

    Your call, of course, but there could be...consequences. Just saying.

  122. Well, I'm not cooking or baking you a damn thing.


  123. And with an attitude like that, you probably won't be winning either.

    hmmmmm, apple butter.

    Just saying.

  124. Well, it's not exactly a new attitude, you know.

    There are some things I just don't have in me. ;)

  125. I'll confirm that.

    She's always been an attitude case.

    Who doesn't make apple butter or brownies, I might add...

  126. I'm a great cook.

    I just don't want to.

  127. And for the record, I make the best fried chicken on the planet :)

  128. Well, If we're going to go down that road, I make some pretty dammed good fried chicken too.

    Someday we're going to have to have a showdown on that score.

  129. Oh God, the PRESSURE! :D

    Kidding, I'd love that, actually. I'd be interested in your methods.

    Because, really, there is no bad fried chicken.

  130. Do I smell fried chicken?

    Hmmm...fried chicken...!

  131. Midnight, my time. About five hours from now.

  132. You would pick the day that my computer is in the shop, having the drive upgraded, as the final day for your contest, so I can't slide any furious-and-final entries by the judges.


  133. Jim settled back in his seat in the crowded theatre. He'd been waiting for Matrix IV: Revisited to come out for some time, and was psyched to see the show.

    The previews were endless, but the credits finally rolled, and the action began. It was everything he'd hoped for, and more. Bullet time, tense moments, wild action scenes, and fine acting by Keanu Reeves and new squeeze Denise Richards.

    During a climactic fight scene, Neo and Agent Smith balanced precariously opposite each other on a rotating helicopter blade, firing automatic weapons at each other as the helicopter wobbled and fell through the night.

    Jim's cell phone rang: Ode to Joy, in all its polyphonic glory.

    "Jim Wright here."

    A pause.

    "Dammit, I don't care whether your lead electrician has problems. You have a contract and a job to do, I want your van at my house in the morning at 8am."

    Another pause.

    "Your resource problems..."

    The usher tapped Jim on the shoulder. "Excuse me sir, but could you please turn off your cell phone, or take your call out into the lobby?"

    Jim jerked away from the pimply-faced kid. "No, I paid perfectly good money for this movie and I don't want to miss it. Fuck off."

    He returned to his phone. "Your problems aren't my concern. I don't care that your electrician had a heart attack, you're about to give me one. Get your team to my home tomorrow, on time."

    He slammed his phone shut. "Dipshits."

    The people around him glared; you could cut the tension with a knife.

    His phone rang again as a security guard headed up the aisle toward him. Ode to Joy was such a great choice. The guard locked eyes with him, daring him to answer it.

    He flipped the phone open and flipped the guard off at the same time. "Jim Wright speaking."


    He swore into the phone, "You goddamn monkey-fucking moronic asswipes. You couldn't find your limp dicks on a map if you had a toothless whore on her knees in front of you. Krishna on a Kawasaki..."

    He felt something metal touch his arm. He looked up. The security guard - no, guards, there were two - were standing over him. One had a taser against his arm. "Sir, come with us please."

    Jim thought it might be a good idea to cooperate. For now. He flipped his phone closed, and stood up. "You jerkwad rent-a-cops, I paid good money for this movie, I'll sue your pansy asses for every..."

    The security guard jabbed the taser into his arm and he subsided.

    The audience clapped as he walked out the door, throwing popcorn after him and screaming "Asshole!"

  134. When Jim Wright is checking out at the grocery store, and they ask whether he wants paper or plastic, he says "both - and can you double bag, please?"

    Then he laughs maniacally, and mutters, "Fucking natural resources, what a waste of space."


  135. Earlier this week, Jim was in line behind Todd and Sarah Palin at Kaladi Brothers, chitchatting with them about GPSs, snowmachines, first day of school dropoff zones and PTA meetings.

    His attention slipped for a couple of minutes, distracted by a couple of heavy-set women ordering venti caramel mocha frappes with extra caramel... "hold the whipped cream, please, I'm trying to cut down."

    Jim thought they were still talking about a used snowmachine Todd had seen on Craigslist. Tuning back in, he said, "Anyway, I really do think you should go for it. It's a great opportunity - this will take you places, you'll never get another chance like this. Shoot, I'd help you get it up and running!"

    The conversation had changed, though, and the group was talking politics.

    Jim, whose political advice is well respected, had just advised Sarah to accept the vice presidential nomination.

    Sarah got really quiet, and then a couple days later showed up in Ohio at McCain's side.

    She didn't thank Jim in her acceptance speech, but we all knew who'd given her the advice that had been the final deciding factor. Jim had cost Alaska the best governor they'd ever had, and big oil was free to wreak havoc on the Alaska political landscape once again.

    All this, because Jim got distracted and pissed off by people acting like idiots, rather than paying attention to the state governor.


  136. What you contestants don't realize is that Jim Wright is going to charge postage and handling to the winner when he mails the prize bowl to you. What an asshole!

  137. Well, I did advise everyone to read the fine print, Brenda013.

    OK Contest is closed. You can keep commenting but I won't count anything after midnight my time - unless, you know, it's really funny and I feel like it. The rules, they're more what you'd call "guidelines" and I am just that kind of asshole. Apparently.

    Anyway the judges will sort through the entries, flip coins, consult the tea leaves, drink heavily, spin the wheel, and use other such impartial scientifically validated methodology to determine the winner.

    Winner will be announced..uh...soon. Yeah. Soon. Maybe tomorrow.

    Today, I'm going glacier climbing. But, you know, it'll eat at me, it will.

  138. Did Michelle win yet?

  139. Did Jeri win yet? How come there isn't a winner?

    You promise us a winner and we get what? Nada. Nothing.

    All our hard work goes unrecognized!


  140. Jim Wright is a person I don’t really know, but I do know that spent four fucking hours one night trying to make a T-shirt for him, so that he could wear a picture of George Bush hugging a large white rabbit on his chest while Jim himself looks on lovingly over the bodies of dead kitties. You know, I ought to actually be mad at the idiots who made the bloody computer printer T-shirt iron-ons, but now that I’ve visited this site, I feel much more comfortable instead believing that my long national iron-on nightmare was really Jim Wright’s fault. Asshole.

  141. Really, isn't it about time you put us all out of our misery and declared Michelle the winner? She wrote more entries than anyone, got your website up and running, and came up with the dead kittens idea for your picture. On top of that, she's pro-choice, pro-troop withdrawal, and pro-gay marriage.) Plus, she's cute when she's tipsy!

    Vote Michelle for winner of the asshole contest! Wait, that didn't come out exactly how I intended it. But, anyway, did Michelle win yet?

  142. I was way out of my depth on this one!

    Did I win yet?

    Whaddaryoulookinat? Assholes!

  143. I just completed making tasty, tasty apple butter. The house is awash with its delicious aroma.

    Did I win yet?

  144. clompcloMPCLOMPCLOM--creeak SLAM




    Right, so what kind of an asshole is Jim Wright?

    (shit! hang on a sec, cards got mixed up in the car--)


    Right, so what kind of an asshole is Jim Wright? Well, let me tell you folks, Jim Wright is the kind of asshole who--

    What the fuck do you mean Random Michelle won?

  145. Sorry Eric.

    It's all your fault for touting my awesomeness. Jim was apparently unable to fight the tide of awesome that you started.



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