Monday, October 20, 2008

This Senior Center is SO kewl. Inside a castle WITH a bar. Where the fuck do I sign up?

Top of the morning gents,

Fuck dudes, you guys've sure gone through the pussy. We're SO old. All of us.

I'm crowding the big five-oh and bun's burning past sixty. All my younger brothers are in their 40's, my sisters are all in their 50's, my folks are in their 70's and my grandpa is over a hunnert. Alcoholism and drug abuse runs rampant in my family and only the good die young you sick twisted old fucks.

Hold your applause, you may not like me later on in my story.

On our PERS retirement paperwork, we checked off the monthly deduction for the Tier I LTC (long term care). Important shit you old PONTIACS (poor old niggers think it's a Cadillac), unless you WANT to get molested inside the Kotzebue or Barrow Senior Center.

I cackle evil with the image of you killers so crippled that you can't prevent the Henry, Adams and Davidovics faggot grandchildren from making geriatric pillow biters out of all of ye. Ted Bundy was a closet native too. He used his little gomer pecker to reopen healing surgeries like a true IHS/BIA nurse. "Hi Mom, I'm mental!" (Kevin Hanson)

Wake up fucks! 64 days after Kiana SixKiller dumped his granny in the Senior Wheelchair Porn Shop, she fucking croaked it. I would too. Ask any Eskimo, dying is preferable to chronic and ongoing rape and abuse. "Old age is the best cure for sex and death is the best cure for old age" (Sara Evak).

My gorgeous salmon cruncher wife has begged and pleaded with me to shoot her in the fucking face and dump her dead leaking ass out on the ice rather than be discarded at the Kotzebue Senior Abuse Farm in the care of sick ice niggers that were raised by natives.

Guess what? I have a solution for us graying gunslingers with skanky long dicks: follow me and bun to our chosen retirement home in Finland. A fucking castle with a bar all rolled into one glorious rest home for us long dicked squaw boys.

Why the skanky long dick comments? We have to have long dicks, our wives have all been probed by tiny 'skimo fingers and micro Inu dicks stapled on the front of their funny uncles and bastard brothers. One out of every two native women in Alaska will be raped in their life and we're the monsters that are doing our part. Fuck all.

Besides, rape victims love bigger dicks. So do mothers. This I know. Ain't none of ye have kept more mares brooded than yer author on drugs. If you did, you'd have equal number of stray bastard children and persistent infections as my readers.

Like that? Back to my dull point aside from top of me numb skull. I've been planning for retirement since me and Pim started stealing cars, robbing bank deposit slots and selling acid and blow to all kinda neegros.

I believe I've found my final resting place. The attached article details Valhalla fer old drunken Norse whose meat is rotting off the bone. Even you killers, rapists, mad bombers and axe weilding homicidal maniacs can come play. And die too.

You men ain't inherently cruel, just funny. So you'll appreciate this paragraph. We could moonlight as assistend living attendants. Yup. Since we'll all live way too long, we could help fellow droolers, mini-limbers and quadra-plege blue hairs fuck just like us.

My brother Cully once shared some disgusting duties for the dike nurses and gay ass attendants at United Cerebal Palsy and Smith-Wright Estates: help handicampers have sex. Viagra and axle grease for the stink spots, me and the Sgt. could then swing lightweight shrunken mummies at each other like Pete Townsend disintegrates guitars. Think of it. At least them disfigured emaciated insects would get fucked.

Yikes I'm rabid. Pull your attention back to Finland.

A rest home that has its own bar catering to us tall alcoholics sounds perty fucking fine by me. By George! Let's dump our parents at the Kotzebue Fart Hammer Wrinkled Wrecked-um Lodge! Now that's evil cackleworthy. The thought of our dads punching the staff, guests and visitors in the nuts and long dicking NANA blue hairs REALLY cracks me up.

I shudder at some old Schaeffer fuck licking yer mom right in the catchers mitt and turd cutter, but imagine Laura Frankson or Helen Barger on top of your dad gittin' ready to come. For you half-primate motherfuckers that's a fate a compli.

Later niggers.

*Whew. Almost puked appa kye.

Karluk Makki: the guy who photographed these photos from Finland. Enjoy.

---

Bar serves residents at Savonlinna home for the elderly

Brandy is the tipple of choice for locals, who have an average age of 84

By Juhani Saarinen

“Almost 50% cheaper than in a restaurant”, says Tuure Kähkönen as he orders another large cognac.

Kähkönen is spending his afternoon at a pub called Hermanninkuja 1 in Savonlinna. By outward appearances, the bar seems typical. The bar table is dark polished wood, the easy chairs are plush, and old photographs adorn the walls.

The only thing that is odd is the location. The bar is in the Hopearanta service home for the elderly in Savonlinna.

A bar in a service home is definitely not unusual for Finland but this pub and senior home was opened in Hopearanta, inside the medieval Olavinlinna Castle, in April, and it can be used by the residents - with an average age of 84 -, and their guests.

There are other similar institutions that are licenced to serve alcohol, but executive director Marja-Liisa Broms has not seen a bar like this one in this castle anywhere else in the country.

She got the idea during a visit to Denmark.

She feels that it is important for service homes to offer various stimulation for their residents, so that they might remain interested in their surroundings.

“Our aim is that life should not end at the door of the service home. And that is what our new pub is all about”, she says.

The bar was set up only after years of consideration.

There was some hesitation because of what Broms sees as the “traumatic” attitude that Finns have towards alcohol.

People who spend time in bars are easily labelled alcoholics.

While not all residents are interested in sitting in the bar, many do feel that the pub - which seats 20 customers - is a good addition to the service home.

“When guests come, I like to bring them here”, says Tauno Silvennoinen.

“There’s only one negative side: You can’t take a bottle to the room with you”, grins Teuvo Ahokas.

Aside from brandy, which seems a particularly popular tipple, hits with the locals include beer and wines, but to be honest it is the act of getting together that is more important than the drinking.

If anyone is refused service, the probability is a great deal strong that it has something to do with his or her medication, rather than that someone has had a drop too much already.

The pub is open until 8 in the evening. There is no need for a "last orders" call, and Tauno Silvennoinen is out of the place already before five.

"Oh, aren't your cheeks looking red. Quite flushed", some ladies tease him as he walks from the bar into the corridor.

There was really no need for the joshing this time - Silvennoinen's glass contained nothing stronger than lemonade.

Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 10/5/2008

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