Man Cannot Live On Moronbloggers Alone

Of course, Acebogg isn't *just* about simply regurgitating posts from Ace of Spades and making snide remarks and posting imbecilic pictures.

No, it's so much more than that.

It's also indulging in a creepy amount of over-sharing about the details of my personal life with perfect strangers, in the strange, and yet oddly affirmed, belief that all of my readers care.

And with that: the pictures of my dog, wife, and children.

Here is my dog:



His name is "Mayor Harvey," named, of course, for San Fransisco Mayor Harvey Milk, gunned down in despicable act of Rethuglican rethugnacious rethuggery.

I named him that because it seemed like a slightly more obnoxious liberal cliche than "Che Guevera."

Next is me and my lovely wife Brenda showing Mayor Harvey at a "progressive" dog show.



On the Progressive Dog Show circuit, dogs are not evaluated according to racist standards such as being "best representative of their breed," but rather upon their ability to think about trees and the environment and other gay shit of this nature.

It also helps to have a name like "Mayor Harvey." We've won nine years in a row. I think we'll name the next one "Mother Cindy."

On to my children. Here is my beautiful daughter Tyler:



I hope I'm not revealing anything too personal when I say she scored a goal in her latest soccer game. And also, she just got her menses.

Here is my son, "Esquedor," which is Spanish for... I don't know, actually. My wife named him. Actually, my Dominican neighbor Jose suggested the name.



To be honest, I sort of think that this might actually be Jose's kid. He and my wife... well, let's just say they're closer than I might like. And Esquedor has Jose's eyes, and Jose's mouth, and also, strangely enough, Jose's last name.

But I'm cool with that. Unlike that Reich-Winger Ass of Spite, I'm totally cool with brown people. Not afraid of them at all.

Granted, I'd prefer if they didn't bang my wife, but still, even on that: I'm cool.

Anyway, now I will leave you with an obscure video that's supposed to indicate I possess a certain level of taste. It's very obscure "world music," which I know my liberal readership likes.



I hear it a lot. Usually when Jose is over, with my wife, upstairs, locked in the bedroom, supposedly "teaching her lambada," but in actuality clawing her back to shreds as he rides her like a rabid mountain-puma. It's hard as hell to finish my SuperChallenge SuDoko puzzles over the sounds of my wife screaming "Yo soy su putana!" at the top of her goddamned lungs.

But, once again: I am totally cool with that.

Totally cool. With that.

I just wish they wouldn't do it in front of Mayor Harvey. A champion's confidence can be so easily rattled.