The Weekend in Review

September 4, 2007

  So did everybody have a good holiday weekend?  Well, I know not everybody, but if most of you did, good on yuh.

How about those Michigan Wolverines?  I was so tickled I couldn’t quit smiling all weekend.  Being a dyed in the wool Badgers fan, seeing the always overrated Wolverines get dumped on their head by Appalachian State was better than a good heroin binge.  The badgers beat Washington state (boohoo PNW), and Notre Dame got monkey stomped by Georgia Tech.  All in all it was a perfect day in college football.

    I went to a Mexican wedding with the chango’s from work, and other than the Cerveza (sol) tasting like warm horse piss it was a really good time.  I taught a whole passel of senorita’s how to eat the worm out of a Mezcal bottle without drinking the whole damn thing, and the food was spectacular.  I was asked to show my “green-go card” several times, and managed to extricate myself from the fiesta before I got inebriated enough to start calling everybody Pancho Villa.

   George Bush may not be the best president we ever had, but he did something really intelligent last night.  Merely by sneaking out of town to go to Anwar, he showed the world that the American Press is to be trusted about as much as Al Jazeera.  So much for investigative journalism.  They were only a half a planet wrong as to where the president was.  Nice job ABC, CNN, FOX, et al.  too funny.

   The menagerie is driving me nuts.  This morning Mollie woke me up before the sun.  This is a no no on non-work days, and had it not been for the pitiful whine she was sounding I would have ignored her and went back to sleep.  When I turned the light on the reason for her whining became all to clear.   General Tso was latched onto her tail, and showed no intention of letting go.  I squeezed the little ratbag’s head till she released her, and went back to sleep.  I start hearing this crunching sound.  I had watched a movie last night prior to going to bed, and had inadvertantly left the case open.  Bad Idea.  Roscoe the asshole…i mean wonder bunny was in their taste testing the DVD cases.  I reached over and closed the door on his head, and then shut it proper when he withdrew.  It’s not like I don’t spend 20 bucks a week to feed the little bastard.  I go back to sleep.  Whilst sleeping I must have gotten warm, because I stuck my foot out from under the blanket, whereupon General Tso, still angry over his ignominious removal from Mollies assfeathers, leaped to the attack.  Kittens have razor sharp claws, and my foot looks like it would if Ron Popeil spent an hour testing his knives on it.

    The kids on the other hand have been easy to get along with.  No fighting, not even a good argument.  Apparently the supplemants (thorazine) I’ve been adding to their food is helping.

Oh yeah, I went on a date with a woman a little less than half my age.  I wouldn’t have, but she was buying, and I learned at a very young age to never pass up free food.  It went ok, and while I doubt I’d put me through it again this wasn’t her fault.  She was polite, charming, intelligent, and named after cheese.  It was all I could do not to beat that into the ground.

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oh, quit sucking up

August 8, 2007

  I made the mistake of hitting the love tag.  Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking either.  I thought maybe a good article on tennis or some such.  What I got was an article about the beauty of women…well…i think that’s what it was about.  Aw hell, no I don’t.  This geek was trying to get chicksies to pay attention to him.  It worked to.  I now know exactly which line of bullshit to present when I wish to fake the babes out of their knickers.

Enough about asswind.  I’ve found through trial and error…and error…and error…that the only way I can deal with the female of the species is to treat them like anyone else.  Sure, they have breasts, but if you take away that one overriding and significant benefit they aren’t much different than any other human.   Don’t get me wrong.  Romance and all the fluffy shit that goes with it is alright, but you should never underestimate them.  i have some simple rules to live by when it comes to women.

1.  Get it yourself.  For whatever reason they assume that being your servant isn’t what they signed on for, and that gooey thing you just swallowed with your first sip of that beer could be anything.

2.  Don’t mistake kindness for weakness.  In fact, if you are getting kindness, and the situation does not merit it, find an exit, and evacuate as quickly as humanly possible.

3.  Never go to sleep before a mad woman.  I could regale you with oodles of good stories on how I came to live by this rule, but I’m going to let John Wayne Bobbitt do a guest blog to explain it.

4.  Don’t touch their diet coke…ever…i mean…EVER.  I don’t know.  I have it on good authority that it’s a no no.

5.  Expect the unexpected.  If their is one thing that you can be sure of it’s that your dumbass has no idea what she is thinking until she tells you.  Never say “what are you thinking.”  You will either be told if she wanted you to know she would be talking, or you will spend the next several hours wishing you had heeded my advice.

6.   Never talk about the relationship.  Take that in.  Ruminate on it.  now take several deep breaths, and take it in again.  This one is incredibly important.  Talking about your relationship is the death knell of it.  Fine, think you’re one of them enlightened guys like numbnuts I just read.  What you know about your relationship with her is as a tea cup next to an ocean by comparison to what she knows about her relationship with you. 

7. Allow her to pass through the kitchen, but otherwise make that your space.  If you do not you will end up eating all kinds of shit she found in a recipe book, and its bad for you.  Food is meant to be tossed together, spiced all to hell, and eaten.  If your plate has more than four colors on it you let her in the kitchen.

8.  Never ask her if it was good for her.  You might just have an honest woman laying there, and the answer could trouble you for years.  In this one instance, be introspective.  Figure out if it was good for you as you drift off to sleep.  No Talking.  It only leads to bad things.

9.  She is tougher, meaner, and smarter.  I don’t know why.  You’ve been reading this, you think I suddenly became Dr. Ruth since number 8?  All I know is that in matters of your relationship she is, and you might as well accept it.  Go golfing.  Arm wrestle over beers at O’malley’s.  I know your ego just took a hit but you’ll survive it.  Underestimate her once and your friends will be luaghing at you or pitying you for months.

10.  Don’t listen to me.  I don’t.  I can fuck up a relationship just by showing up.  Still, all ten of these will keep you from ending up like shit for brains.


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.


Trust and The Ron Paul idea of Government

July 31, 2007

  That my friends is what it comes down to for me.  Do I trust enough to accept his idea of small federal government?  I know that in his world the states will bear the responsibilities that the federal government is relieved of, but that means trusting even more, and frankly less qualified people.

   Trust is a funny animal.  I have trusted people, and on virtually every occassion found them lacking.  Now, unless you are a dead blood relative you all fall into the same category.  I can trust you until I veer from what you desire for yourself.  In a world with out selfishness trust would be a given, but at least in the society I live in now people have aspirations.  We can be best buddies, and sooner or later what you want for you will be different than what I want for me.  Thats when the proverbial doodoo hits the fan.   As long as what you and I want don’t contradict each other we’re still ok, but if they do, one of is in for some greivious disappointment in our friend. 

    I tend to come out on the short end of the stick most of the time in the trust department.  Not because I am wildly trustworthy.  I can give you a whole stack of sworn affidavits that say otherwise.  It’s more because I have a very limited list of desires.  I’m not going to fight my buddy for the affections of a woman, because, and correct me if I’m wrong, there are about a gazillion of them out there, and plus or minus 30 IQ points and 100 lbs they’re all pretty much the same.  I’m not being sexist, the same can be said for men.  I’m not special, and one monkey don’t stop no show.  I’m also not going to walk over your carcass for a better position in the chain of command because quite simply I’m just not that damned ambitious.  I have been walked over though, and the scum sucking rump lickers that have done it can thank god and government that I was not allowed to respond as I thought appropriate.

   I have with cognizant intent limited my life to those things that are important to me.  Basically, don’t harm my children, or molest my pets and we’ll be just dandy.  This of course is in a society that is quite restrictive.  Not Nazi restrictive, not socialist restrictive, but a free society that through its beliefs and laws is quite controlled.  We have the church to control the 80% of people who claimed some religious affiliation as of 2001.   This number is rapidly declining, and those godless bastards out west are the main reason.  Religion has been used as a form of mass control since  naked folks slathered their buttocks with holly berries and danced in the moonlight.  It sets the moral boundaries that encourages a herd mentality that is amazingly well suited to the human species.  We need control, because without it we are absurdly violent and narcissistic.  It’s all about “me,” and it has always been about “me.”

  For that 20% and growing group of society that is secular  we have laws.  Laws of course are established by congress, approved by the executive branch, and interpreted by the courts.  If Dr. Paul has his way, these three entities will take on a junior role in our society.  Sort of a watch dog on the 50 of each that will become all powerful in our lives.    I’m not trying to be a spoil sport, but when is the last time adding people to a decision making process in society helped?

Look at your state, your city…are these the people you want determining the important decisions in your life?  Do you want to move every time a majority of your stupid assed neighbors come up with some crackpot scheme to make life better?

   Add to this the mans desire to end all controls on drugs, to make guns easy to obtain, to weaken the already understaffed military that we have, and you find me not only ambivalent about his chances, but questioning where I would fit in this free for all society of his.

  I have to assume that when my easy to get a gun ass blows some crackhead all over the sidewalk that there will still be laws to ensure that you folks pay for my incarceration.  You see, my lack of trust for his idea of government is not based on fear of it.  It’s based on fear of me.  I want you cow ponies controlled so I don’t have to control you myself.  i am a very friendly fellow, but stick your nose in my world and I can assure you that jacking off a bobcat in a telephone booth with glass in your hand will seem a wiser option.

   You see, the reality is that society is made up of a whole lot of people like me, and an extensive number of people that I only define as other.  Trust me when I tell you that a strong federal government makes us all safer, freer, and aliver than we would be under Ron Pauls vision.  His road leads to anarchy, and while I think I would do okay under that scenario, I’m not so sure about those of you with strong moral codes, and basic levels of decency.  Getting in touch with my inner beast isn’t a problem for me.  When was the last time you let the dog out?

  


Your Tax Dollars at Work

July 27, 2007

   I’m curious as to whether this would happen under the constitutional government envisioned by Ron Paul.  I’d also like to know where all of the candidates stand on this issue, and would seriously hope that all of them would state there views publically and for the record.  I know Ron Paul is for smaller government, but is he also for smaller members? I also know that the federal government sends millions of our tax dollars to the states every year for law enforcement.  With good reason.  Heinous crimes like the one in this link are perpetrated every day in our society, and I don’t think we have even scratched the surface of this problem.

   If we can afford to spend Billions on the war in Iraq, The war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on whatever the hell we want, then I think we should start a new war.  The war on masturbation.  I think this fine officer could be the New Whack-off Czar, in the newly formed Chicken-chokers Enforcement Agency.

   I’m serious.  All you spank monkeys better watch your ass.  We’re coming for you.  Ron Paul is going to nip this shit in the bud when he becomes president.  I envision a new constitutional amendment just for you self-lusting pervoids.   We’re going to put you in the newspaper and let your poor old grandma read about you in between her self-love sessions, and when we catch her she’s going in a cell with you.

I’m ashamed of this article, but I just couldn’t help myself.  You  bone beaters better organize.

I didn’t mention women in this article because women don’t masturbate.


well, bring on the dancing bears

July 6, 2007

   I’m wandering around trying to find worthless garbage masquerading as information.  I just found this quack.  He’s trying to tell women what their husbands celebrity crushes mean.  He goes way out on a limb (sarcasm) for these babies.  I think he also whacks his baloney pony to some of these gals, highbrow Dr. type or no.

http://health.yahoo.com/experts/menlovesex/49812/what-his-celeb-crush-says-about-him

hey, gee whiz wally, people think the income gap is to wide.  No way, beav.  Eddie was just funnin yuh.  No really wally, even people making over $80,000 a year say so 2 to 1.  Wow, beav.  This is news?  I guess the interesting part is 2/3rds say the government should fix it, and 2/3rds say the government should stay out of it.  Waits 7 minutes for my readers to do the math.  I think this poll was conducted by Ron Pauls bloggers.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070706/ap_on_re_us/income_gap_poll_2;_ylt=ApS0yugPwptVfcWFE.b0jmgL1vAI

A recent study shows women use only slightly more words than men.  another battle of the sexes stereotype bites the dust, but does it really matter?  What is called an “urban legend” has women using 3 times as many words as men.  I think the new study is inaccurate, and I have almost incontrevertible evidence.  They used me in the study.  Had this not occurred the study would have found numbers in the normal range.    What I want is a study that shows who listens more.  That bad boy would provoke some controversy.  One final note on this.  I’ll believe it when misterpiece does the study and not until.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19618373/

I can always count on foxnews to blow it out of proportion.  So its Al Gore’s kids second arrest for drugs.  So he was driving 100 mph on the freeway.  Crap happens.  First, like big Al says, its a private matter.  I think in keeping with the spirit of this we should drop the conversation about drug use and politics.  i for one think a ton of peyote buds would do a world of good on capital hill.  Secondly, give me a name of someone that doesn’t drive 100 miles an hour on a southern california freeway.  I’ve never seen a pterodactyl, and I’ve never seen one of those either.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,288134,00.html

CNN, in keeping with its policy of carrying only the most important stories manages to make a pretty good case for why J.K.Rowlings may kill off harry potter.  I can see it happening.  It’s either that or continue his slow decline into metrosexuality, and what kind of a witch gets a mani/pedi and dresses fastidiously?  Actually, I’m for a gay witch trilogy to follow the currently scheduled 487 Harry Potter movies.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/books/07/05/harrypotter.mythology.ap/index.html

ok, now for some hard news.

Dick Cheney strained his lower lumbar vertebrae while trying to remove Nancy Pelosi’s front clasp bra from behind.  Dick claimed the weight was just to much for him.  In a related story, tile had to be replaced in Nancy Pelosi’s office this morning after “something heavy” fell to the floor and shattered the tile.  Her secretary was heard whispering to a janitor “I swear to god…they must be 46 longs.”

   Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh perished today in a tragic kayak accident in Northern Alaska.  The two were sponsoring a Conservative gay pride Kayak race, with money raised going to the Association to Raise Awareness Movement(ASSRAM) a conservative organization working to bring Christian Coalition members out of the closet.  The bodies were not recovered.  In a related stories (criminy news almost always has related stories) A local Inuit tribe is having a whale blubber raffle.  It’s not clear where the blubber comes from as whale hunting is out of season.

David Duke and Wolf Blitzer kissed and made up after the fiasco on CNN.  David Duke said he didn’t hate jews, and had several recipes that required them.  Wolf said he would bend over and lick David Duke between the cheeks if his bosses said so.  Basically, niether changed the position they held prior to their confrontation.

   In a shocking turn of events Ann Coulter switched her party allegiance today, and is now calling herself Queen Libby.  Apparently she has fallen stark raving bonkers for Rosie O’donnell, and can’t stop gushing as only Ann can about their impending nuptials, and their plans to have a love child.  When asked about this news, Rosie O’donnell replied “blah blah blah yakkity yakkity yakkity blah blah blah and blah.”  (not a paraphrase.)

checks the wire….yeah, there’s some other stuff, but we’ll save it for another day.  The nice thing about my news is it works anytime.

oh…the bears…some spank monkey decided that grizzly bears are to dangerous for the idiot tourists that are invading their space so they’ve started painting them fluorescent  colors…its along the russian river in alaska…look it up yourself


why do i do it?

July 3, 2007

   I don’t usually do these.  Straightforward speak isn’t a gift of mine.  i have 72,356 defense mechanisms that generally keep me from being figured out by anyone.  Except I suppose my children, because what the hell, someone always knows you.  Which isn’t the concern particularly.  what everyone should be concerned about is knowing themselves.  Unfortunately, thats not always the easiest thing in the world.

   Who are you? No, really.  Tell the truth now.  You are a product of your experiences, your intellect, and your emotions.  I’m sure there are more, but being as were all animals its probably best to keep it simple.  How you behave is on a very basic level your reaction to the combination of those three things.    Ergo, how you interact with the rest of the creatures on this planet tells a lot about you.  Bored yet?  I know, My sigmundcricket routine needs work.  thats what this is…practice makes perfect.  Lets work our way through a few practice exercises and see what falls out of your tree.  If nothing does that says nothing except that jiminy isn’t real good at pushing peoples buttons.  Apathy is a harsh mistress.

   How are your relationships with others?  Not how you see them.  How did they see you.? What are you doing?  How they saw you is irrelevant.  They looked at you through the prism of their own little troika.  See, you already messed up if you tried to look at it through their eyes.  Sorry, just funning with you.  True though.  the only way to know yourself is to take all the little skeletons out of the closet and let your mind perambulate through the bones for awhile. Go ahead.  Even if you’re a supreme whackjob you’ll be able to look in the mirror when you’re done.  Supreme whackjobs are unaware what they do is wrong.

   I personally am not so hot at relationships.  this isn’t a point of pride with me, but rather an obvious shortcoming.  I’ve been involved with what I think are wonderful women, and I somehow manage to bring out the worst in them.  I hear  “it’s not what you do, it’s what you don’t do” so many times I’ve developed a form of paralysis that makes me do less.  Not maybe the best way to handle a situation, but if you’re not pleasing your mate then you either get the hell out or change.

   Change is that jingly shit in your pocket.  I have a very limited ability to understand it as anything else.  You can either fight who you are, or you can roll over on your back and drift with the current.  This isn’t to say I’ve never made an effort to change.  It just never takes.  Mulishness leads me to believe that though I have several hundred thousand flaws, they are mine and I enjoy them, and I am keeping them.

We’re not here to talk about me though.  What is it that makes a person leap to the defense of someone they don’t know at the merest hint of a slight? What does that tell you?  I don’t know, I’m asking.  It tells me that they have a bit of a problem with insecurity, and are therefore uncommonly overprotective.  It probably tells you something else.  We don’t have common experiences is my point.  We can both go through exactly the same thing, and see the entire situation differently.  Other experiences we have cause this divergence in observation.  i know, you’re thinking this is way elementary to you.  It may well be.  Your exalted intellect has now taken the baton from your experiences, and is willing to carry the load for awhile.

   Intellect is a funny thing.  When looking at yourself it’s more important to understand what you don’t know than what you do.   There are no omnipotent intellects, and yes, that includes yours.  Ok, I’ll grudgingly add mine, but I do mean grudgingly. I know some incredibly intelligent people. Dumber than stumps.  Can’tt wipe their butt if you don’t have directions next to the toilet paper dispenser.  It’s because  they have managed through education and study to amass a burgeoning cesspool of knowledge, yet managed to cocoon themselves within their specific fields of study and failed to experience life outside that bubble.   Having a sound intellect without experience is what leads to…well, for lack of a better term….blogging.  That was just a cruel and unnecessary shot, and I apologize.  I’m sure you know what I mean here.  Without experience intellect isn’t exactly filet mignon.

   Halt you heathen bastard, I shall take no more of your troglodytic slander.  See, right there your emotion took over.  I could rattle on for hours about this one.  I could attempt to inveigle you to my way of thinking, and if I knew the right buttons to push based on your intellect and experience probably succeed.  Unfortunately, my emotions don’t allow me to get real persistent.  I’m not exactly warm and fuzzy, and I’ m not cold and heartless.  My experience and intellect have created a mixture of cynicism and naivete, and you should try lugging that cross up Golgotha.

    Ok, so none of that means anything boys and girls.  we know this because I said it.  It’s just worthless junk tossed on the trash heap of your experience.  Yep, you just experienced 7 minutes of Criminy Freud, and still don’t know yourself any better than you did when we started.  You might know me a little better, but that and $43.00 will barely get you a tripple cappucina mocha souffle at starbucks.  BTW, I know nothing about coffee.

   did I mention love?  No?  go figure.