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Tip of the Cockblock: The DO’s and DON’Ts of Resolutions
January 10, 2016 · CATEGORY: Tip of the Cockblock · BY:

Om my! You interrupted my meditation you scoundrels! It is I, your favorite guru, Cockharishi, returned from my cave of enlightenment to avail you with my infinite wisdom and aid you on your journey of self-improvement, no toad-licking required!

The year is new and so are your goals; like a bright shiny penny, you want to pick up this new start and spend it wisely. Problem is every year so far you’ve reached for the stars and fell flat on your ass, but this time it’s going to be different, cuz your wise ol pay Mighty is here. Remember that saying about how doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity? Well now you can be certifiably* sane because I have some tips and tricks on how to make the most out of your 2016 New Year’s Resolutions.

*no certificates shall be issued at any time


Nobody likes cold turkey, so when diving into that tepid pool of false hope you call resolutions try and pace yourself with some self-control. Trying to cut back on the sauce? Switch from vodka to wine before you pull your jaundiced behind onto the wagon. Or, if you vow to go to the gym more, pick one with a jacuzzi, or at the very least cable TV. I mean come on, what are you, a martyr?


Nothing looks more unsexy then taking a sad failed turd of a resolution out back to be put down like a traumatic childhood memory, so pick a resolution that’s attainable. Keeping things light and simple will have you spending less time pulling your feathers out and more time savoring the sweet mustard of self delusional accomplishment. Take this for an example. If you play Elder Scrolls too often but just bought Fallout 4, resolve to play Elder Scrolls less often. Bam! Easy success and now you’re king of the world!

DO: Choose Wisely!

You are who you are, volunteering at the shelter once a month isn’t gonna transform you into Mother Theresa (the fairy tale one), so make sure a resolution will transform you into the glowing stud/stud-ette you always dreamed to be and, more importantly, how others picture you as. When Gandalf the Grey encountered the balrog he had a difficult choice to make. I mean yeah sure, He was gonna fight that buttmunch no matter what, (it was the only way through the mountain), but he CHOSE to do an extra kick ass job of it and in the end he got a sweet white hair upgrade. That’s sure to impress the lady wizards at the next enchanted ice cream social!

DON’T: Beat Yourself UP

Alright, so you slipped up, maybe that third bowl of ice cream NEEDED to be eaten, who’s to say? You’re not a pathetic worm, spineless and suitable only for the consumption of your avian overlords. Everybody falls sometimes. Try again tomorrow, but you might want to sleep in…. and possibly have a few muffins for breakfast to get your day started.


A resolution doesn’t have to be a lonely quest. Chances are the people you rub shoulders with are as degenerate as you are. Find a friend with similar flaws and then discuss cheap/easy fix ideas incessantly. This will give the illusion of progress whether you actually do anything or not.


Once February rolls around, you will either have completely forgotten about your resolution, fought with your buddy, or been trampled to death under the heels of your superiors. But who cares? Resolutions a stupid tradition, invented by greeting card corporations to sell gluten-free notebooks or something. You could be struck by lightning tomorrow, so the way I see it as long as you don’t cling to tall metal poles during thunderstorms you are basically winning at life . So keep doing you and don’t forget there is always next year!

Until next time, namustard, my young Padawans and Padawanas.

Mighty Cockblock

Tip of the Cockblock: The DO’s and DON’Ts of LOOKING AT ART
September 20, 2013 · CATEGORY: Tip of the Cockblock · BY:

Salutations, you slick, sly sons of so-and-sos. And daughters. Also daughters of so-and-sos. Don’t you dare say we aren’t about gender inclusivity at Cock & Block Enterprises LLC, whaaaaat!

Pop on your catcher’s mitt you mooks, ‘cause I’m about to pitch some real-life situations at y’all asses. Fastball style. Batter up!

So you somehow found yourself stranded at a high-society art gallery opening, where all the crème-de-la-creative-crèmes are rubbing their bony artist elbows together and saying stuff like “What’s your process?” and “I can’t afford food, can I eat a sponge?” all while trying not to make eye contact with one another. That’s weird! What do you do?! First off, don’t panic, ya hayseed chowderbrain! Wipe that drool from your slack-jawed chin and just follow ol’ Cockblock’s simple life advice.


Even if you can’t make heads or tails outta that eight-foot sculpture of Gary Busey’s teeth constructed completely from circus peanuts, that doesn’t mean you gotta stare at it with all the vacant-eyed dopiness of a Redditor at a women’s lib rally. Simply nodding and muttering syllables beneath your breath is a surefire way to spread the illusion that you’re deeply affected by this art, even if you’re actually just deep in thought about what kind of sinister hell we live in where Netflix would change “My Queue” to “My List.” QUEUE WAS SO MUCH BETTER YOU INSTANT STREAMING IDIOTS DANG.


Treat your art-gazing like a black ops operation: get in, appreciate that piece, then get the fuck out while you’ve still got legs to walk with. Lingering only means two things: either you’re so lost in thought about the artist’s process of recreating Inspector Gadget animation cels entirely from bodily fluid that you’ve just gotta wrap unlock their secrets by pure visual osmosis, or worse, that you’re interested. In. Buying. It. And you’re not! Trust me. Artists are dumb no-nothings that are too cool to sling lattes and too dumb to… I don’t know, invent time travel. If more artists would stop making My Little Pony fanart all the time and pick up a quantum mathematics textbook or two, I could be riding a dinosaur like a comically oversized rodeo bull right about now! Rass’n frass’n good-fer-nothings.


Hands-down, the best thing about going to an art opening is telling the artist you’re interested in their work, then saying “NOT!” while lowering sunglasses onto your face and skateboarding away onto a half-pipe. The second best thing is the FREE BOOZE, BOYEEEEE. Grab yourself a fistful of champagne flutes and drown those suckers faster than the asshole gallery owner can explain the difference between Manet and Monet. UM, if I cared about dead people I’d literally be in a graveyard right now! Ha ha, what a loser.


Uh, because they already have free booze there. Come on, that’s money saved, son. Acting like you ain’t got rent to pay, the hell’s the matter with you. One of these days we gonna have a serious conversation about your financial priorities, geez.


Oh yes, the finer sea of gangly, scruffy-faced suckers in skinny jeans and banged, bangled beauties with bangin’ bods you will never find. Find your target, sidle on up beside them and spit one of the following:

1: “I feel like nobody else gets it. You look like you get it. Let’s awkwardly make out like anxious middle-schoolers.”

2: “I’ve lived in Brooklyn, Portland, and Austin. Hello, I am also the worst.”

3: “Do you want to play Truth or Dare and if so I dare you to give me your number ;)”

Works like a charm. Call me Toronto-born actor-turned-rapper Aubrey “Drake” Graham, because you can Thank Me Later.


You know what lies deep beneath that Coffee Bean And Jesus beard? Disappointment. First you’re at an art gallery both pretending you know what the hell a fresco is, next thing you know you’re rolling your eyes because they won’t stop finding ways to work Jeff Mangum into every conversation. Yes, okay, we get it, he resurfaced after years in isolation following an ill-timed nervous breakdown and while he hasn’t produced a substantial amount of new content it’s wonderful that he’s touring with his recently reunited band but damn girl, it is 3AM and I have work tomorrow! You are the worst, girl, for real.

And bada-bing bada-blammo, that is how you properly act at an art gallery, ya dummies.

Until next time!

Mighty Cockblock

December 21, 2012 · CATEGORY: Tip of the Cockblock · BY:

Whaddaya say, my roosterific compadres and fine feathered friends. Guess who’s dropped down from heaven on high to slather some steaming, sensual Relationship Schmear ™ on that broke ass bagel you call your love life? Me! Cockblock. It’s me, Cockblock, I’m back. Hello!

So, hey, let’s spit some real-real on the real really quick, for real: human interaction is hellllla lame. Like, making eye contact? Shaking hands? Engaging in small talk about jobs and apartments and the economy and whatnot in hopes of eventually stumbling on a conversational subject that doesn’t remind you of the terrible lingering inevitability that awaits us all at the end of our LifeQuest?

To quote a terrible person circa 1995: puh-leeze!

Heartfelt emotional conversations are so over. Now we have smartphones, bee-yooootch!


OkCupid? Of course, stupid! J-Date? Why wait?! RedneckAndSingle? Quit ackin’ like you ain’t ready to mingle!

Look at it this way: if you were going fishing, would you have a better chance of catching a sexy-ass trout if you cast just one fishing line, or, like, eighty?! That’s a trick question, “playa” in ironic quotation marks – you ain’t gonna get you none if you don’t dangle yourself out there first and foremost. White and waspy? What’s stopping you from logging onto BlackPeopleMeet and tracking down the Nubian king of your dreams? Nothing. Nothing is stopping you except for your dated views on race relations. It’s 2012, sucka. We have a Samoan guy in the White House (I think??). Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson enjoys a multi-faceted and storied career in entertainment media. Racism has been done for, like, ever.

You racist.


Nobody likes a square, and there’s nothing more geometrically resembling a square than acting like you’re actually interested in building a relationship with someone you’ve met on the Internet. Some fine-ass shawty just digitally wink at you? Pshhhshhsh; play it cool, son. Wait a full month before responding and even then, who’s to say you’re gonna call her by the right name? Not this guy, who’s telling you to do the exact opposite are you even listening to me dogg for real.

Women love a bit of mysteriousness in their would-be-suitors (citation: the honeys in my bed right now aw hell naww) so be more Batman than Bruce Wayne and watch the chickadees pile up, ya dig, dogg?


Oh hey, nice angled MySpace selfie you took in your tiny ass bathroom mirror.

“NOT!” Haha, good one, Cockblock!

Think of it this way, friend-o: if Burger King ran realistic photos of their slimy-ass cowstacks on billboards, how many Whoppers do you think they’d sell? Probably a whole lot because Whoppers are effin’ DELICIOUS but that’s totes beside the point.

Everyone has the same dating profile pics – at a bar with friends, outdoors at some scenic landmark or other, bawling openly while questioning the meaning of it all, at a bar with friends – but how many purported pick-up artists have shots of them pile-driving a dinosaur? It’s a market just waiting to be filled.


Get your listening ears out, because ol’ Cocky-B is about to lay the truth out flat like a pancake or maybe a nice duvet. Or a rug? Yeah. A sick-ass oriental rug. Classy as hell in here.

Lads and ladies aren’t crazy about a turkey that tries too hard. OkCupid may be asking for “essays,” but that don’t mean you need to be scripting theses about your formative years growing up in some dumb- ass suburbia in South Dontmatternone. Give them the quick sell, like you walkin’-and-talkin’ in an Aaron Sorkin movie – razzle and dazzle them – then let them get really bored with the real you much later on. There’s a million fish in the sea, but trust me — none of them want to hear about your political views. Oh please, I’d love to hear about how you signed that medical marijuana petition back in ’09. TELL ME MORE, FREE-THINKER.


Get out there, get at them, and get gone the next day before it gets awkward and they’re asking you about “the future.” What does that even mean, “the future.” I don’t know, maybe we’ll be living in space colonies. Like I’m a damn psychic or something.

Anyway, until next time ‘round, muchachos!

Mighty Cockblock