the day in pictures

August 1, 2007

ha ha sucker, you got as much chance of viewing a picture here as you do of finding a winning lotto ticket in your pocket while you’re getting a blowjob from she-ra the warrior princess.  You can, however, should you choose to waste the next several moments of your life enjoy what I like to think of as the least common denominator in faux literature.

   The day began with a Roscoe.  It always does.  You know the old saw about teaching kids to walk and talk and then telling them to sit down and shut up?  That’s what my rescue of Roscoe is beginning to be.   He went from being the rabbit version of being a clam, to being the bruce willis in die hard version of being a rabbit.  Tile no longer limits his range, but for whatever reason makes him crap.  I mean all over.  Little bunny balls needing to be swept up every three to five minutes so the kitchen table doesn’t disappear.  He’s like a never ending bag of rabbit poo.  I now sleep with a shovel so I can navigate the hallway when I awaken without smelling like an excerpt from mutual of omaha’s wild kingdom.

   He has also taken to bullying Mollie.  I mean bullying in the Ole’ sense.  He will build up a full head of bull rabbit steam and slam into her.  Mollie is mostly fur,  but roscoe is a midget, and the affect of his new ramming technique on Mollie is to make her aware that he is present.  Roscoe on the other hand spends three to four minutes roaming around the living room like  Dean Martin after a weekend in vegas.  When the concussion subsides, he proves that bunny memories are short by slamming into her again.  This goes on for as long as it takes mollie to decide she is tired of the game. 

   So that’s how the morning starts.  This morning also included a beautiful sunrise, the picture of which you can find here.  It made hateful hard until I remembered we were dismantling the slag caster today.  We didn’t though.  It was delayed a day I know not why.  The sum total of my involvement in this project is going to be cutting the molds off the chain, stacking them on pallets, and then returning them to be mounted on the new chain. 

    Instead me and Forrest Gump (I know it’s supposed to be Forrest Gump and I, so lick ass) painted the baghouse.  Thats the new nickname of my forgetful young protege.  He doesn’t seem to like it much which makes it all the better.  Due to safety concerns I am required to be with him anytime he’s on plant property (to head off some dumbass, no, not in the bathroom), and he keeps forgetting things.  Which means I have to walk extra steps, which vexes the hell out of me.  Maybe the new moniker will encourage him.   The problem is it may encourage him to throw me off the baghouse.  I’ll chance it…tormenting the young is fun as hell.

So as I’m driving home my daughter calls and informs me that after I give her some money her and her friend are going to the movies and she’ll be home sometime next tuesday.  That’s how she does me.  I figured what the hell, I’ll stop and get some food at the deli.  Cooking for one is just stupid.  I order my victuals (thats vittles spelled right you chitlin eating rednecks), and the young lady behind the counter says “you don’t remember me do you?”  All the alarms start sounding in my head, and I’m scrambling like hell trying to figure out what the hell I had done to this one.  She appeared to young for me to have taken carnal liberties with her, so I assumed she was pissed at me for dumping her shrew mother or some such.  I couldn’t place her so I said, “well, you’re obviously not one of the hateful old fat heifers that normally gaurd the fried chicken.”  She said “oh, you know my coworkers.” I’m still searching my brain.  I never forget anything, and I can not place this woman for shit.   It turns out that she used to hang out with this gal that used to live next door to me.   I even babysat her kids once.  I remember her as a typical hotter than hell party girl, and not much else.   She no longer looks like she did.  In fact, she is no longer recognizeable, and I said so.  Tact and diplomacy are not a dish that I partake of.  It occurred to me after I said it that she probably took this harsher than it was meant.  She is not an unattractive woman, but her hot chick party days are behind her.  To me she is more attractive now, but I’d be willing to bet based on what I’ve been reading about women and mirrors she looks in hers with a bit of angst.  Maybe I’m wrong.  It seems 6 years changes the young more than the middle aged.  She recognized me instantly.  Then again, when you look like a cross between quasimodo and homer simpson, you’re a little hard to forget.

that was mostly the day.  Rotten kids, rotten pets, rotten coworkers.  A nice good morning, and a chance meeting of an old acquaintance.  I’ve had worse days.

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Sunday is for random Roscoe

July 15, 2007

loofa-bunny.jpgdemonic-possession-bunny.jpgcranky-bunny.jpgfine, you want the wonder bunny, you got the wonder bunny.  Just so you know, I paid in blood to get you rabbit pictures.  Roscoe needs a trim, and doesn’t like having his picture taken.  I don’t like getting blood transfusions, so todays random thoughts could be a little vindictive.

pic one…sneaking away loofa bunny

pic two demonic possession bunny

pic three yeah, now you know why i live in terror…how would you like to have that lusting after your ankle?


the day in pictures ( a roscoe the wonder bunny adventure)

July 7, 2007

actually, if a picture paints a thousand words, lets call this half a picture.  The morning was a strange one.  roughly 32 minutes after my eyes open, the scene before me registered somewhere in the catatonic recesses of my brain.  My dog was sitting on the coffee table, and slowly spinning in a circle, whilst looking over the edge with a smile of trepidation.  Yes, I said trepidation, and I know it usually doesn’t come with an accompanying smile.  Mollie only has one expression, and its “smile.”

I’m virtually certain what awakened me was the sound of her toenails, which need clipping, tapping out a rhythmic beat on the hardwood of the octagonal table.  Shortly after the visuals registered, I also heard the light thumping sound that a rabbits ass makes as it lands on a carpeted floor, repeating itself over and over in an almost dirgelike cadence.  I immediately checked to ensure none of my appendages were reachable, and then contemplated the situation.  I don’t own a gun, and strangling a sexually deviant bunny didn’t seem like a good way to start the day. Since bunnycide was out I was in a bit of a pickle.  I had just about decided to sacrifice my ankle so that mollie could escape when it occurred to me that if I stepped on the table, grabbed mollie, then leapt to the chair; I could quite possibly make the leap into the kitchen.

    The kitchen is our Mecca when Roscoe goes catting as it were.  He is not overly affectionate with the idea of walking on tile, and this predeliction to avoid slick surfaces has more than once saved the mooch and I from trauma’s far to terrible to ponder.  I checked to ensure all the blinds were drawn.  I sleep commando extremus, and scaring the neighbor lady wasn’t on the days agenda either.  I had to get to work, and the worlds most intolerable pets were already making me late.  Without taking time to consider the visual I performed the afrementioned semi-acrobatic maneuver.

   It didn’t work.  Well, it did, no one was injured, and whether the dog was traumatized by what must have seemed to be an attack by an  insane naked guy I have yet to learn.  Unfortunately Roscoe’s raging hormones overcame the deterrance value of the tile, and I and Mollie were forced to lock ourselves in the bathrooom while Roscoe grunted out in the hall.  I’m not sure why we locked the door.  Roscoe can’t reach.  Maybe to many horror movies.

    If I slept with shoes on this would have gone differently.  i have no problem with rabbit penis being humped against my shoe, but at 5:30 in the a.m. I don’t want it scootching on my bare foot.  Anyway, I leapt into the shower, and then did the hair, teeth, and shave thing.  Poor mollie looked like a drowned rat when I finally decided we either got out of the steambath or I was going to have to call in sick to work.

   My dilemma continued.  I was still dressed quite scantily in a friggin towel, and no others.   My brain, still functioning at its nocturnal rate of 1 thought every 8 hours tripped to an idea.  I edged the door open  and tossed the towel on f@#kface….er….Roscoe.  Sorry.  His nonsense is starting to get under my skin.  Shoving the door open I swaddled his grunting and kicking furry little ass in the towel, and hustled him out into his own personal purgatory.

finally locked away, i managed to feed mollie get dressed and make it to work on time.  The rest of the day was hot long and hard…sorta like Roscoe I reckon.  Anticlimatic as hell though.  When I arrived home Roscoe was sleeping, and Mollie was sitting on the coffee table. I think she likes it.  One more bad habit to live with.


Shake the tree

July 5, 2007

   Since blowing my own horn is never allowed here I won’t say I told you so.  I will however say that David Duke throwing his support behind Ron Paul should make a lot of you question where you stand.  You really can judge people based on the company they keep, and this guy is drawing every radical freakazoid militia racist gonzo whacko to his banner.  Also a lot of bloggers, libertarians, and conservatives I’ll grant, but the scum always rises to the top, and the David Duke report isn’t a good thing.

    in other non-news the Clintons are actually trying to delineate between their behaviour, well Bills, at the end of his presidency, and Bushies commuting of Scooter Libby.  Unfortunately they have a small point.  Libby is involved in the administration, and may, I say may, be covering for his bosses.  Quid pro quo? who knows.  A few of the folks Bill let off the hook knew where his bodies were buried as well, though.  John Conyers is holding hearings.  We’re paying for it.  Do you ever tire of the incessant handjob our politicians practice?  Its costly, and useless, yet they continue to do it no matter who holds the reins.

   The blog is healthy, long live the blog.  Met some new folks.  If you really wanna tickle your funny bone I recommend Mediapython.  He’s a good writer too.  It’s a decent place to drop a few minutes of your day.. his post about his to do list had me amused no end.

    Max Adams.  Here’s true talent.   Her blog is an eclectic hodge podge of creativity that should entertain you.   Warning to all you fellas.  clever or sexy, or the bouncer won’t let you in.  If you don’t believe she has talent, she inspired the first ever picture at my picture free blog.

MDVPhas a political (primarily) blog, and seems aware of the game.  He’s a Fred Thompson guy and you political types should check him out

for a different slant on the world take a peek at Stranger.  She’s funny, and observant.  A good combo.

I’ve already plugged D. Peace, but some folks just have it, and he has ten bucks everytime I do this.  I’m not really sure why this guy isn’t a drunken comedic lounge act, but I’m glad he’s here instead.

oscarandre is a writer.  that may seem dull as accolades go, but man, he is a writer

The rest of the blogroll is good stuff to.  I recommend vote-smart.org to anyone interested in politics, but not altogether sure they’re getting the straight dope from their candidates blog.

did I say dope? Man, i miss that.

for the roscoe the wonder  bunny fans…last night I caught the    penile purveyor sexually assaulting mollie the dogs water dish.  He’s a bit of a randy bastard, and I’m not sure whether I should have him in the same house as my teenaged children.  I’m contemplating leasing him out to some “b” movie clown and see if i can’t make enough loot to replace the water dish.  I wouldn’t drink out of it, and since mollie witnessed the above mentioned atrocity, I doubt she will either.

there…thats a wrap 

whoops…anita has a macabre thing going that will tittilate  those into that sort of thing.


Sunday is for random thoughts #4

July 1, 2007

1.   Doesn’t the latest terrorist failure in the British Isles make you wonder why it is that the mightiest nation on earth can’t whoop the Islamic version of the Keystone Cops?

2.   I always loved story problems in math.  This one shoud be on the SAT  If you leave los Angeles driving east at 65 MPH and another car leaves new york driving west at 65 MPH, how many licks will it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?

3.  Barack Obama raised over $32 million dollars this quarter.  Proving you don’t need experience to run for president.  You just need a lot of stupid people with too much money to support you.

4.    Republicans won’t reveal their figures until this week.  Proving I suppose that The apple is faster than the abacus.

5.    these don’t seem random enough

6.   David Sedaris is the funniest homo to ever write a book.  Is homo still allowed or do I have to say heterosexually challenged individual?

7.   It’s unfortunate for Ron Paul that his supporters will not be allowed to vote hundreds of times in the primary.  Thats made him all the rage on web-based polls.  When the voting is real this guy won’t last through 5 states.

8.   In an effort to start feeding the hungry in impoverished areas of the world I intend to start promoting the cat as a viable food source on I can Haz cheeseburger.

9.  Hearing about Alli “treatment effects” senior management at Domino’s has begun a recruitment effort for the takers of this pill.  I believe its a cost cutting measure.  (don’t give me that look…I just got that off the wire…think it’ll change the taste of the pizza?)

10.   china” has begun a crackdown on political leaders that have mistresses.  Good plan.   The intent is to raise morality.  I bet it raises the divorce rate, and violence. 

11.   I wish they made an amnesia pill.  I’d take it even if it made you crap your pants.

12.  Roscoe can only see sideways.  Bet that would make driving a real bear.

13.  If your looking for work,  The government in India is looking to hire a “condom Man.”  I’m not sure if you have to be bald or not.

14.   it takes 20 hours to build a camry.  10 hours of that is painting.  It takes 164 hours to build a hummer for the military.  no painting included.

15.  if an ultra liberal and an ultra conservative had sex, what would the kid be?  It couldn’t happen.  Ultra liberals are all gay, and ultraconservatives don’t have sex.  Them not procreating is a good thing for the rest of us.  Kill off the “i’m to stupid to listen to reason gene,” maybe.

16.  I found a website that claims to contain (I didn’t check) women in my area that wish to have sex.  I’m not even going to get into the miracle of a midwestern woman that wants to have sex.  I’d just like to point out that this used to be what alcohol and badlines were used for.

17.  I just contemplated what my week at work is going to entail.  It’s the only thought that ever makes me look lovingly at the strychnine bottle.

18.  Based on what she licks my dogs favorite flavors are her butt and my chin.

19.  Ever notice that men who have daughters look older than men of comparable age that don’t?

20.  The world is an incredilby dangerous place.  That said, you are still more likely to die falling down than from all violent means combined.  I’m not sure how they score it if you fall down on a car bomb as you’re having your throat cut by a mugger.

21.  Have a good week.


when you die, can I have your stuff?

June 28, 2007

I was awakened this morning by my sorry excuse for a menagerie; Roscoe the wonder bunny, and Mollie the mooch. Roscoe is of course a rabbit, and Mollie is part cocker spaniel part poodle bag of fur representing as a dog. I let them wander at night because something about the sound of my possessions being destroyed helps me sleep better. They were standing side by side with their front feet on my blankets. I’m not sure if they were contemplating my demise, but if Roscoe wants me dead Mollie is to big a chicken not to be a co-conspirator.

Have you ever seen a rabbit glaring balefully at you? Its not a pleasant experience. Particularly upon awakening from what can only be described as a persistent vegetative state. Mollie of course was smiling. Its the only expression she has. Whether she is sitting in a mud puddle (her favorite torment), or lying sprawled in overheated misery on the carpet, she smiles. This was even more disconcerting. It was like a mafia hit man grinning as he puts two in your forehead. I’m not sure what was bothering them, but it started my day all wrong.

I spent the day preoccupied with death. My preoccupation was interrupted intermittently by thoughts of rabbit stew, and poodle on a stick. I’ve done it before, but this is the first time it was brought on by two quadrupedal fluff merchants that depend on me for their existence. Man, they get no food tonight.

I’m like, really old, so I have some experience with the tender ministrations of Ms. Death. I know death is female because a male can’t carry a grudge like that. I’ ve lost a sibling, a parent, and oodles of other relatives, to say nothing of the multitudes of friends, workmates, and every other sort of ilk. You never become inured to it, but you learn to cope, and assimilate the lessons learned into how you view death.

I’m personally not looking forward to it. Not so much the death itself, but the manner thereof. I’m absolutely certain at this point that i don’t wish to be tender vittles for a mutt and an overgrown rodent. I can almost hear them discussing whether I was breathing or not. I also don’t wish to pull one of those long, drawn out, see what the doctors can do to keep the carcass among the living deaths. I think if I had my druthers I’d be run over by a fat Bulgarian driving a Snapple truck.

Maybe the next worst thing is the aftermath. You know. what happens after my soul leaves its dessicated, crusty, shrine to the fallibility of the lord our god, Theodore. I named god Theodore. I have the right. I call him Ted when I ask him to hold my coat. I figure since he can’t seem to do anything about famine, war, and genocide I should find a use for him.

So on to the aftermath. What happens after. Generally after we die one of our loved ones calls the mortuary, and our body is prepared for the great beyond. They suck all our fluids out, and pump us full of embalming fluids so that our corpse doesn’t rot and smell up the funeral.
The funeral is generally the next step. This is a get together of those who knew us, and depending on their feelings toward us they are wondering what they were left, if they look fat in this dress, or if the dearly departeds spouse is back on the market, or if a mourning period will ensue.
The next step is to send the remains to the great hereafter. All cultures approach this differently, but an almost universal part of this is wondering whats going to be for lunch after. Be it a flaming barge, cremation, burial, or some other form of interment, disposing of carcasses is hungry work. Also thirsty. I hope my funeral has a free bar.
Whilst all this hoo haa is going on, the dearly departed is faced with an important decision. The dead have a choice. They can either come back to earth in another form (without knowing what that form will be), or they can spend eternity Throwing darts at O’malleys Pub and Eatery. As for me, I’m throwing dartsI already know about the great supreme poobah’s sense of humor vis a vis yours truly, and have no intentions of spending a life time as a rat in a fertilizer factory. He doesn’t care for the hold my coat joke.

So why that title? I came home from golfing one afternoon, and my son was admiring my golf clubs. He was 5 at the time. He came over to me, and with a very serious look that reminds me of the one Roscoe was packing this morning asked me “If you die, do I get your stuff?” Sure kid. Everything but the darts. I’ll be needing those.

this was previously published, but was burned in a purge…i had a request, so bear with me


rethefted

June 15, 2007

yuck.  I apologize to those of you she named.  I can do no more than that.  I’ll not honor the rest of it with any comment, but i did steal my stuff back

what these people aren’t.

Ron Paul…he isn’t a libertarian.  i could go into all the reasons why, but then you wouldn’t go to http://vote-smart.org and make up your own mind.

Ann Coulter…stupid.  She has found a niche that made her rich, and all she had to do was be nasty.  I can be nasty.  Of course I don’t have that horse-faced inbred look.

Mike Moore…a journalist.  but his new documentary sicko has enough truth in it to make it worth the view, just like all his documentaries.  Now its true I wouldn’t put him out if he was burning, but he still manages to catch my attention.

Sean Hannity…a pragmatist.  Given a chance to appeal to the decent sensibilities of intelligent people, Sean would pass and continue to preach to the choir with his nitwit vitriolic warmongering.  Face it Sean, if it wasn’t for my boy Alan (god what a geek) Colmes you’d be just another pasty faced Irish conservative talking on the radio.

George Bush…a bad guy.  You can hate him all you want.  You can think he’s stupid.  But do you really down in your heart after watching the guy think that he has ill intent?  I can see where he might be a little to easily led by the people he trusts, but I think ol George is as decent a man as has ever been president.  Remember Jimmy Carter? he was a decent guy.  shitty president.  Just like George.

Paris Hilton…she just isn’t.  Her 30 to 50 million future inheritance is real.  The cameras that chase her around are real.  The idiots that make her the star of their daily quest for titillation are real.  Turn off the camera’s though and Paris disappears…completely.

Hillary Clinton…a liberal.  Hillary Clinton is a politician par excellance.  She would bang every ungulate from here to poughkeepsie if the bestiality vote would get her made president.  Remember Bill? Stone cold liberal till he got elected.  Then he became moderate Bill pushing through the Republican agenda like no conservative president ever has.  Hillary is cut from the same cloth.  Its why they hate each other.

Al Sharpton…a man of god.   A man of god would work to bring people together under the lord.  Al Sharpton is s your typical for us by us black preacher.  Tawanda Brawley leaps to mind.  For those of you to young to remember her, she is why Al Sharpton stayed out of the Duke lacrosse team rape case.

Martha Stewart: dumb or weak.  This woman is as popular as she ever was with the middle class.  This after an insider trading scandal that made her look like a have greedily succumbing to the temptation to take advantage of her position in life.  Normally this would have her burned in effigy, instead, she’s who all the little Rachel Ray’s wanna be when they grow up.

Wolf Blitzer….a Wolf.  This boy is as sheep as it gets…. CNN has a ring in his nose and a finger up his a..   you know what I’m talking about.  This guy couldn’t spell cat if you spotted him the “c” and the “t” without some exec at CNN coaching him first

that’s what they aren’t… I couldn’t begin to guess what they are.

 

Talents

    About the only difference between today and every other weekday is that for some unknown reason I did a 180 on the way to the bathroom upon rising.  This confused the hell out of mollie the mooch.  Not really knowing what to do the poor pooch did what she does when she’s confused and sat down.  Roscoe, perpetually bringing up the rear in our little love caravan failed to notice my abrupt change of direction, and failed to yield.  This created the hilarious for me, disconcerting for mollie, and intolerable for roscoe result of Mollie sitting on Roscoe’s head.  I can’t really tell you in words, but seeing a cockerpoodle with a rabbit thrashing around in its butt is a vision that every day should start with.

    On to talents.  Do you have one? Wanna share?  I do.  Have one.  I’m sharing because I didn’t feel like playing poker, and its to hot to do anything that is not incredibly sedentary.   My talent is I’m a prick.  I can annoy a person in 15 seconds or less, piss em off in under a minute, and have them in a spittle flying apopleptic rage in well under 10.

     This doesn’t pay well as talents go.  I mean, its not getting loot like a Vincent Van Gogh original, but he was dead before the cashola started to flow.  Its not drawing pay like a fortune 500 executive either, but it has good bennies.   People are always incredibly fun to watch.  They will do the damnedest things if they think no one is looking.    Mad though, upset, annoyed; then they are at their finest.

    There is really no joy in life like watching a normally calm, sane human being completely losing their cool over a few words.  I don’t do anything else.  It’s not really all that iunteractive a sport.  Just speak and watch the games begin.  The reason I’m good at it is really quite simple.  It’s easy. 

   People lack self control.  They are so used to having things go the way that they want; when faced with anything out of the ordinary they become first defensive, then offensive, and then downright assinine.  i love it.  Its better than sex with a monkey.

    There are several gambits to the game.  Its not chess mind you, but maybe conversationally instigative checkers.  My favorite is to be over nice.  I’m not sure why this one works so well, but if their is one thing folks can’t stand its someone being nice to them.  I mean real nice.  I mean ass kissing, brown nosing, sycophantically nice.  This probably only works for me because it makes people wonder whats coming.  I’m so rarely nice to anyone outside of my household that it gives people the creeps when I am.

    Another one is to agree with everything someone says, and repeat it like its wisdom from the almighty.  This one performs well at work.  Unless you work with a closet insecurity freak that acts like an egomaniac.  They love this. 

    One I used just yesterday is maybe the easiest to get the opportunity to use.  Find some pompous windbag that’s obviously overly fond of him/herself, and just make observations about their character.  Nothing extreme mind.  Just point out how insecure they seem.  That sort of thing.  I had The vindictive bastard.wordpress.com so mad i know it took a bottle of windex to clean his screen.  Tormenting the obnoxious is fun.  Tormenting the semi-literate obnoxious is what makes life worth living.

   My book how to torment others is available for the low low price of $14.95 at all your better bookstores. 

Sunday is for random thoughts

1.  I’m pretty sure the reason alcoholism is a rampant sickness in our society is because it makes human interaction almost tolerable.

2.   Albania likes us.   That being the case it makes it real easy to wonder what the hell is wrong with the rest of Europe.  My vote is jealousy.  Na na na na boo boo.  You don’t like us because you want to be us.  You want to shower more than once a week.  You want to brush your teeth.   You want to have leaders that aren’t deviants, retards, and criminals.  Well, so do we on that last one.

3.  Congress has the effrontery to tell me that I need a 700 odd mile fence on my  over 1500 mile southern border.   Ok, so build a fence to keep your dog in.   Leave several gaps in it.  does it work?  How can you not chuckle?

4.  Gun control is the one issue I think I can have an impact on so pay attention.  Get a good sight picture.  Breathe in….release the breath and squeeze (don’t pull) the trigger.  I have now done my part on one of the great issues facing our society.  Use it in good health.

5.   My dog is fat, fluffy, and lazy.  She makes me get up at odd hours to take her out to relieve herself.  She barks incessantly when i’m not home which makes the neighbors complain.   She follows me literally everywhere.  you can’t divorce your dog, but I did get rid of a wife that behaved almost exactly the same way.

6.   To all you sullen Ron Paul fans that come, read, and leave pissed off because I think he looks like Henry Gibson, or has the people skills of Elmer Fudd.  Get over it.  I’m just being a jilted fan.  His stance on imperialism is right on, but he is not as so many of you like to say….a libertarian.  Go to vote-smart. org, and read up on your diminutive dynamo.  The man is at least 7 turnips shy of a truckload.

7.  Breakfast is by far the most important meal of the day.  Today I had a cuba libre’ and some cheese popcorn.  I feel like a million bucks.  Well, like 32 bucks and some change, but thats progress.

8.   Nascar has a rain delay for the second week in a row.  Ted does not like nascar.  Ted does not like anything.  Ted is a spoiled rotten omnipotent brat, and should be excoriated in all the newspapers of the land.  Its good to be irreverant on Sunday.  Its a day of rest, and their is nothing more restful than twisting the tail of the created by man creator.

9.  Love is a four letter word that is defined   “someone else doing things exactly the way you want them to.”

I can live without it.

10.    If the French have finally realized that socialism is an invalid theory, and they have judging by the conservative landslide in their parliamentary elections, does that mean we can now put that baby to bed in Europe?  Or is the dumbest, laziest, dirtiest nation in Europe just trying to keep up with the brits?  Hard to say.  If they all start riding around naked on their bicycles we’ll have our answer.

11.   Ferrets attack more people than grizzly bears.   I know this is true because I saw it on a mountain dew commercial.

12.  My dentist wants 4 digits to work on my teeth.  Thats not so bad.  I just won’t buy gas this week.

13.    Its over.  For the 39th time in 3 days its over.  I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I’m not defecating what looks like thick lemonade anymore, so i think its a good thing.

14.  You have just wasted 10 minutes of your day if you read all of this.   Thats assuming that if you’re reading this you have to sound out the long words, and read while moving your lips.  You should maybe do something else now.

15.   Remember….you can’t change anything.  You have no power.  Control is only an illusion, and your life is slowly spiralling into the fiery pits of hell.  Chaos will rule supreme in your existence, and life will never be as good for you as it was yesterday.  That being said, you still as a species are amusing as hell.  Please continue.

according to spellcheck I didn’t mispell anything.  Find a deep hole and pray.  Armageddon is upon us.

suck your thumb

     I try to be moderate in my viewpoints.  I also try to curtail my opinion when I disagree with something someone else does or says.  I almost never comment on other writers, because….well….a lot of them are idiots, and you don’t make any friends calling people idiot.

     Michelle Malkin….you are an idiot.  You may be cute, but you’re still an idiot.   I read one of this wenches articles today, and I came away with this utterly amazed feeling.  Not at the depth of her persuasive ability.  Not at her obvious astuteness.  i was amazed that the Washington Times actually paid this overeducated elitist to write this swill.

     Seems Michelle is a little worried that all the allah lovers are teaching their kids to kill whitey, and were teaching ours to be wussies.  Its quite true.  Thats almost exactly whats happening.  In middle America.  In the public schools of our suburbs, maybe.  The muslims do teach their children about Jihad from the time they pull em off the camels teat.  They’ve been doing it for generations.  War in the middle east is like saturday cartoons here.  They keep getting worse, and they never end.

     I guess where my problem comes in is in wondering what we should do.  Help me out Michelle.  Shall we have M-16 training in kindergarten?  Should all our politicians rattle the sabre?  Can you see Ron Paul threatening anyone? “Be vewwwy vewwy quiet….wewe hunting muswims…..hehehehehehehehe.”  

      I don’t think I want my children trained to hate anyone.  I’ll grant our schools suck.  I’d go so far as to say the government wastes almost every tax dollar they sink into the public schools.  I live in the inner city though.  All I can say is I’d pit my streetwise scumbags against the ayatollahs assholes any old day.  The kids in my neighborhood don’t lack for balls, and the kids in Michelle’s neighborhood aren’t going to fight our wars anyway. 

    So do me a favor you wafer thin sorority sister nitwit.  Move your column to the society page, or talk some sense.  

http://washingtontimes.com/commentary/mmalkin.htm   michelle’s blithering idiocy in print.

 ok, I don’t try….so what.
 

Faith, Love, and the Art of Politics

    Like Baskin Robbins, politics has a flavor of the day.  In the republican party, or rather for a fringe element of them its Ron Paul.  For the Democrats, it changes like I change socks.    For all concerned, the flavor is faith, and how sweet it is to broadcast your beliefs on all the cable network news shows.  I was watching tonight; (and I confess to ignoring most of it), the three top candidates from the democrats discussing their faith on CNN’s faith forum.

    Here I should point out that I have a lackadaisical attitude toward faith.  I have faith, but I limit it to those things that are almost certain to happen whether I believe they will or not.  Like the sun coming up, my children asking for $150.00 shoes, or me hurling if I chase my tequila with a vicodin.   Its not a spiritual thing with me.  I do pray though.  I like to think of it as chatting with Ted.  It usually goes something like this.

Me: Uh, lord?

God:  I told you to call me Ted.

Me:  Yeah, but it feels a little wierd.

God:  I’m god, your wierdness isn’t my problem.

Me: true.

God: so what’s up?

Me: The usual.  I’m confused about you really.

God:  Do tell?

Me:   Well, what is it you do?

God:  I’m omnipotent.

Me:  Do tell?

God:  I can do anything.

Me:  Really?  Like cure aids?  end famine? stop wars?

God:  I could do all those on a slow Tuesday.

Me: really?!?!  Then why don’t you?

God:  I gave man free will.  If you folks want it fixed…. fix it.

Me:  (thinks)  ok, so what do you do?

God:  I’m omnipotent.

Me:  But what does that entail?

God:  I created the universe in 6 days.  Then took a day off.

Me: Then what?

God:  (thinks)  I had immaculate conception with Mary, then 33 years later I gave my only begotten son that man would be saved.

Me: from what?  Saved from what?

God:  Nobody ever asked that before…I’ll ruminate on it.

Me:  Then what?

God:  Then nothing.  I’m waiting.

Me:  For what?

God:  For man to love his fellow man, for the rich to care for the poor, for the church to care for the unsaved, for all mankind to love one another.

Me:   You got hopes.

God:  Nope.  I have a hammock, a never ending six pack, and you to pick on.

Me: sounds like a good gig.

God: Works for me.

Me: no kiddin.  So just one more question?

God: shoot?

Me:  What do you think of the candidates for the 2008 election?

God:  I think I need a beer.

Me: Oh, me too.  Thanks a bunch Ted.  Can you hold my coat?