November 30, 2002
Maybe We're A Lot Alike After All
I never would have believed it, because WILLIAM BURTON and I have not seen eye-to-eye in the past. In fact, we indulged in a pretty heated pissing contest just a while ago (I won, of course.).
But he wrote this:
I woke up this morning in my own heated apartment on a comfortable bed. I'm sitting at my own computer, while watching a movie on my own television. I have access to clean running water, to good food, and to top-flight medical care. I can walk a short distance through my very safe neighborhood to a public park, where children play and people take their dogs to romp. I have access to the latest current events and to thousands of years of human knowledge both by logging onto the internet and at my public library. I can vacation (and have) all over the world with the ease with which people used to travel to the nearest market. All this I have access to with an income that's below the national average. My son, who is far nicer and far better adjusted than I was at his age, has the day off from his fine public school, at which he has teachers who genuinely care about him. I see my mother and stepfather every week, and my nieces almost as often. I have a good woman in my life. In short, I'm the luckiest sumbitch who ever set foot on earth, or at least that's the way I feel. Sure, I have some minor annoyances in life, but who doesn't? I've had disappointments, but who hasn't? I never played third base for the Cubs (my one great regret), but I have a far happier, far more comfortable, and far luckier life than I possibly deserve. Thank you, America.
Thank you, William, for saying what everybody in this country should say, EVERY day. This may not be the perfect place to live, but it's damned sure better than anywhere else.
And that's a FACT!
You CAN'T Quit!
That bloodhound of a weapons inspector, Hans Blix, has refused the resignation of one of his top
Harvey John "Jack" McGeorge, 53, of Woodbridge is a munitions analyst for the U.N. Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission (UNMOVIC). His résumé lists training in the Marine Corps and the Secret Service but not a college degree in one of the specialized areas that the United Nations says its prefers for its inspectors, such as biochemistry or chemical engineering.
I've got no problem with his lack of sheepskin credentials. I know too many people who are "educated, to a degree" and totally witless, plus too many mustangs who learned by doing, who are very effective at their jobs, to be impressed by a goddam diploma.
I have no problem with this, either:
McGeorge founded, and has been an officer in, several sadomasochistic sex groups, through which he has taught courses on "sex slaves" and various techniques involving knives, ropes and choking devices. He had said that he would offer his resignation if The Washington Post wrote about his S&M background. On Thursday, the Post reported that McGeorge is a co-founder of Black Rose, a Washington-area S&M club, and a former officer in the Leather Leadership Conference Inc.
But I DO have a problem with a UN Commission that drags this kind of baggage on board a mission that can lead to war. I don't care who McGeorge ties up and chokes, nor do I care about his "sex slaves," as long as everybody involved is a willing participant. Hell. It sounds like FUN to me.
I just gotta wonder why this guy is where he is, and how the United Nations didn't know about his "peculiarities" when they chose him for the team.
I might want him as a consultant when I decide to open a strip club, and I am certain that I would like to meet some of his female friends, but I've got a real problem with him as a weapons inspector. I also have a problem with anyone in charge of a team who not only turned down this deviant whipmaster 's resignation, but didn't fire the shit out of him first.
Jiang defended the lack of background checks for applicants to UNMOVIC. Other U.N. spokesmen had said that such checks were not possible for the international organization.
"Scrutinizing?" How about LOOKING AT THEM, for crying out loud.
Does The Department of Homeland Security sound better and better to you every day?
Take Me Hostage!
If I'm ever going to be held hostage by raging, crazed terrorists, I hope it happens IN A LIQUOR STORE. I could hold out for a long time there, at least until the tequila shelf ran empty.
The bees, which had built a hive under the liquor store sign, trapped Singh, two customers and an employee inside the store for about two hours as firefighters repeatedly doused the insects with firefighting foam.
I would have taken control of that situation and declared it a Night of the Living Dead invasion, instructed people to board up all the windows, lock all the doors, and then party like it's 1999. Hell, we're trapped in a LIQUOR STORE, folks! Once we started cracking the caps on the really good stuff, I would use my cell phone to call the fire department and tell them that the whole thing was a false alarm. Just go back to the station, drink coffee and eat doughnuts. We'll be fine, right here in this well-stocked liquor store.
Anytime anybody asked, "Do you think it's safe to go outside yet?" I would shout "HELL NO! DO YOU WANNA DIE?" and reach for some of that single-malt scotch on the top shelf. I am certain that any good liquor store stocks a supply of Slim-Jims and Beer-Nuts, so we wouldn't starve. If we had a couple of decent-looking women in the store, we could hold out for ages.
I could handle that sort of hostage situation.
My son read the Thunderous Fart story last night and laughed on and off about it until he fell asleep. He's almost nine years old and farts are about as hilarious as anything in the world to him.
I am 50 years old and feel the same way.
I don't know what it is about the expellation of gas from the human buttocks that is so amusing, but IT IS, and even very young children know it. Wanna make a two year-old laugh? Fart loudly. They'll laugh.
Here is a kid still shitting in his/her own pants laughing about a FART! No wonder "Whoopie Cushions" were such a successful novelty toy.
Did you ever sneeze and fart at the same time? Did you ever do it at an important business meeting, around a big mahogany table, with all the big-wig bosses in attendance, at the very moment all the serious discussion died to silence? I did. All eyes shot toward me, but nobody said anything.
At first, I wanted to crawl under the table and die. Then, I said, "Well, you were asking for opinions about the business plan. You just heard mine." For a moment, the silence hung in the air like dirty underwear on a clothesline. Then, a manager said, "I was trying to find the right words, but I believe that Rob beat me to it." Everybody laughed and agreed that the plan sucked, we came up with a different idea and the meeting was a success.
Sometimes, a fart at just the right time is a good thing.
Of course, certain situations should be fart-free at all times. Having oral sex is one, and riding in an elevator is another. Farts just kinda spoil the ambiance.
Other situations almost REQUIRE farts. Hike a mountain trail all day, build a campfire at night and eat rice and beans for supper. If you don't rip a few good ones while watching salamanders run into the fire, you don't belong in the mountains, you wuss.
I once attended a company dinner and took a piss break after the meal. The plant manager walked up to the urinal next to mine, started to drain his very important and very powerful lizard and let loose a fart that had a tail like a Brontosaurus on it. "Ah! Pissing and farting," he sighed contentedly. "It just doesn't get any better than THIS, does it, Rob?" I agreed and wished that I could return fire. I mean, pissing and farting with the PLANT MANAGER could have been a feather in my cap.
I missed my big chance then. Anybody wanna pull my finger NOW?
I apologize for not giving credit for the Thunderous Fart post below to the lovely and talented PASCALE SOLEIL.
She did not let loose the monster herself (although I suspect she is capable of performing such feats) but I did steal the link from her page. I stumbled in the chivalry department by not acknowledging that fact.
As she put it so gracefully, "A fart is just a poop honking for the right-of-way."