April 30, 2006
I'm proud of me
Heh. I enjoy being surrounded by intelligent, witty people. Unfortunately, nobody like that came to the Great Blown-Eyed Blodger Meet in Austin. The attendees were a bunch of drunken, slack-jawed, anti-social malcontents. I fit right in.
We had lots of live music, including some inspiring kazoo-playing. (Trust me---you've never heard "Rocky Racoon" until you've heard the Blown-Eyed Band play it.) I became goriously sunburned from sitting out on the sixth-floor deck by the empty swimming pool, where I performed admirably as Life Guard when I wasn't playing guitar and checking out the wimmen.
Speaking of the wimmen--- know what those sluts did? They hurt my delicate feelings, that's what they did. A bunch of them TURNED DOWN my offer to paint their toenails red and sneaked off on Saturday morning to have pedicures done by some Mexican gay-boy in a supposedly legitimate salon, which I think was a front for an illegal immigrant smuggling operation.
WTF were they thinking? I would have performed the same service for free, although my idea of burning off their foot-callouses with a Bic cigarette lighter MAY have discouraged a few of the shy ones from becoming my customers. Just damn! I thought bloggers had a sense of adventure.
Copious amounts of alcohol were consumed, but I remained steadfast and drank only club soda. Maybe that's why none of the wimmen let me paint their toenails. They didn't believe that I was really ME, especially after the sun made me look as if I had painted my FACE with red nail polish.
The still lovely, and very pregnant mouth of the got-dam south hung a name on the get-together yesterday. I kinda like it.
"The Blown-Star Blog-Meet."
If YOU didn't make it, you missed a good one...
April 29, 2006
When I get back home, I have to do some major revamping to my blogroll, especially in the "Bloggers I've Met" category. Texans like to brag about how everything is BIGGER in their state, and they are correct--- if they're talking about a blog-meet. I haven't counted heads yet, but we have a LOT of people here in Austin.
One pleasant surprise was seeing this guy show up. (He's taller than I imagined him being. Or I'm shorter than I thought I was.)
I'll make a list later...
April 27, 2006
quote of the day
"The five year average that oil companies make per gallon of gas is around 6 cents. With the surge in prices over the last year, they are now making about 9 cents per gallon. Government takes about 45.9 cents per gallon. The federal government alone takes 18.4 cents per gallon. So you claim you are being gouged, you are right. You are being gouged, but not by the oil companies, by the government."--- glen dean
Of course, it's GOVERNMENT investigating the oil companies for "price gouging." My aching ass. I guess it takes a gouger to know a gouger. We also have the spectacle of that blithering fucknozzle Arlen Specter bleating about taxing "windfall profits" and even President Bush advocating suspending tax breaks for Big Oil companies.
Sheer brilliance!!! Gas prices are too high, so the way to reduce prices is to RAISE TAXES on oil companies. You can't argue with that kind of logic. You can call it completely hare-brained, but you can't argue with it. It's too stupid.
You can't argue with this, either:
There's been unconscionable behavior all right, most of it on Capitol Hill. A decent portion of the latest run-up in gas prices -- and the entire cause of recent spot shortages -- is the direct result of the energy bill Congress passed last summer. That self-serving legislation handed Congress's friends in the ethanol lobby a mandate that forces drivers to use 7.5 billion gallons annually of that oxygenate by 2012. At the same time, Congress refused to provide liability protection to the makers of MTBE, a rival oxygenate getting hit with lawsuits. So MTBE makers are leaving the market in a rush, while overstretched ethanol producers (despite their promises) are in no way equipped to compensate for the loss of MTBE in the fuel supply. Ethanol is also difficult to ship and store outside of the Midwest, which is causing supply headaches and spot gas shortages along the East Coast and Texas.
And a fine job they've done of it, too. After demonstrating their ability to fuck up the market with short-sighted meddling, what do the politicians want to do now to fix it? Why, they want to MEDDLE SOME MORE, of course.
BOHICA. Bend over, here it comes again.
The fact is, we DO NOT have an oil-price crisis on our hands. Even at $3.00 a gallon, gasoline actually is less expensive now than it was under Jimmah Carter's reign. What we've got is unnecessarily high gas prices because of government taxation, pork legislation (ethanol), excessive (and EXPENSIVE) environmental regulation, green-headed fuckwittery over exploiting our own oil reserves, inadequate refining capacity (due largely to excessive environmental regulation--- see BACT standards), a war in Iraq and government demagogery over a problem that government created and exacerbated.
The President and congress are doing what politicians always do in such a situation--- they are relying on the pure ignorance of The American People to shift the blame from themselves to somebody else: EEEEEEvil Oil Companies! That plan will work, too, because The American People are really fucking ignorant. They'll believe that shit.
Of course, they're ignorant enough to believe that global warming is a crisis, too. Don't tell me that demagogery doesn't work.
Aw... pardon me. I'm in a really cynical mood today.
You can't look at this without admitting that Australians are really generous, giving people. I think it's great that someone wants to reach out to Muslims this way.
Kinda warms the cockles of my heart. Warms something else, too, when I look at the picture of Miss Israel.
a public service
You need to support a worthy cause. Go visit that site and help a guy get laid.
He's talking about a threesome here, folks, so go tickle his hit-counter so that he may tickle his fancy.
this is gross
I don't want to hear any more horror stories from wimmen about the agony of childbirth. They've got it easy. They COULD be giving birth through the clitoris.
Now, THAT sounds painful.
(Link shamelessly stolen from her. Heh. She...um... needs a spanking for writing that post.)
I don't believe that this guy is right in the head. I mean, just look at some of the goofy things he does.
See what I mean? The guy has no shame...
make a list
Here's an interesting idea. Can YOU name one great pop song for every year of your life?
I probably could, but I'm not going to. Hell--- I'm 54 got-dam years old! Do you realize how much work it would be to think up a great song for every year of MY life? Piss on that. I'm retired.
But I WILL give you a beginning and an end. From 1952: "Unforgettable," by Nat King Cole. From 2006: "My Old Friend," by Tim McGraw.
You can fill in the blanks in between...
Bejus! I haven't even started to pack for my trip to Austin and already somebody is threatening to whip my Cracker ass. From my comments on a previous post:
Ya come down here to Austin spoutin' off that big chickenhawk mouth of yers and start yer same ole bullshit 'bout Democrats and Air America Radio, some good ole boys (including Willie Nelson and myself) are prolly gonna show ya the door real quick like. Trust me, for yer sake, you don't want to meet up with me while yer here.
He's right about one thing--- I DON'T want to meet his dumb ass while I'm in Austin. I prefer people who don't drag their knuckles on the ground when they walk. "Tru2austin" needs to stick to what he's good at and leave blog-meets to people who have... y'know... a functioning brain.
Besides--- even with torn rotator cuffs in both shoulders, I think I can kick Willie Nelson's ass.
I'll believe it when I see it. Government agencies, once established, NEVER go away, no matter how useless or incompetent they are.
I'm not the only one who fears that what we'll end up with is a "restructured" FEMA plus another government agency charged with doing the same job.
Hey! It's GOVERNMENT! The answer to EVERY problem is to spend more money and create another bureaucracy. Obviously, the way to fix FEMA is to give us twice as much of it.
Emergency response and disaster relief should be handled at the local level, not from some office in Washington DC. If the federal government simply must be involved, let it provide funds for LOCAL agencies, then get the hell out of the way. People directly involved in a disaster have a lot more motivation to handle problems quickly and efficiently than the federal government does.
We saw that happen after Katrina with the National Guard, the Red Cross and local volunteers. THEY actually did a pretty good job while FEMA simply threw money to the wind. Local people understand the problems and have plenty of reason to deal with them. FEMA doesn't.
The only problem with my idea is when you have great leaders such as Ray Nagin in charge of local relief efforts. Give HIM a shit-load of federal money and he'll squander what he doesn't steal or pass along to his cronies.
But Nagin and the corrupt political system of Louisiana are an anomaly. Most local governments aren't THAT fucked up. And when my living room is flooded and the roof is blown off my house, I don't want to wait on some distant bureaucrat to "help" me. Give me somebody local who faces the same problems that I face.
But I'm dreaming. Once the federal government moves in, it NEVER moves out, no matter how badly it performs. When it screws up, it'll just invent a way to make incompetence more costly and call that crap a cure.
If FEMA is such a great idea, why doesn't the federal government run a National Fire Department?
a blog birthday
Go wish grandma a happy blogiversary. She was two years old on Monday.
Not bad... for an old fartress.
April 26, 2006
Hmmm... Air America is flying right down the shitter and Kos has sold only 3,600 copies of his new book. Anybody surprised? You shouldn't be. Just look at their target audiences.
Leftists don't like to spend their own money. They like to demonstrate their compassion and love for the poor by taking YOUR MONEY and giving it away, but they don't part with their own fortunes. I give you Ted Kennedy as a perfect example, with Al "$325 in charitable donations" Gore a close second.
The Democrat core constituiency is no help to them, because welfare checks and food stamps go only so far. After buying lottery tickets and few 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor, the Democrat rank and file is too broke to support their bellwethers.
Of course, they might do better in the marketplace if their product was worth a shit, but Air America damn sure ain't. It deserves to die, preferably by having someone drag it off and shoot it. Or at least drag Al Franken off and shoot HIM.
I don't know about Kos' book. I haven't read it, but it probably sucks, too. Leftists tend to sound a lot more articulate when they're actors reciting somebody else's words. They usually are braying moonbats when abandoned to speak for themselves.
What the hell. I don't listen to Air America, I don't read Kos and I really could care less what happens to either one. I don't know why I bothered to blog about this.
When is the last time you saw one of these?
I remember them well from my childhood. But I haven't been to Tennessee in a while. Do they still exist?
Day after tomorrow, I am leaving for Austin, Texas, to meet with a collection of unsavory individuals in a plot to
When the government employee gets off work later and pulls an armed robbery at a liquor store, I don't want any of MY non-existent guns involved. At a wage of almost $15 an hour for sleeping, the airport security goon can afford to buy his (or HER!) own goddam gun.
Anyway, because I expect to be surrounded by very loud, extroverted people who bloviate, pontificate and preach with gusto (they ARE bloggers, after all), I believe that I should issue this warning, for the good of humanity and all visitors to Austin. It's my duty.
Don't be surprised if you discover that I am a really nice guy. I am. Honest. But I have my dark side, and you really don't want to go there.
Be forewarned: if I hear ANYBODY use one of the following words, I will seethe with anger, see red before my eyes, nut up and go ballistic. I will whip out a telescoping golf ball retriever (because I DON'T have a gun) and rap you smartly about the head with it until you beg for mercy. Or I'll hire somebody to have you dragged off and shot if you do it more than once.
If I need to explain WHY I refuse to tolerate those words in my presence, you don't read my blog and therefore you DESERVE to be dragged off and shot. Twice.
See you in Austin.
This message brought to you as a public service by Acidman His Ownself. No animals or children were harmed in the writing of this post, but that might change if you use any of those words.
fillet of soul...
That's me. A real shining star...
my tax dollars at work--- for people who don't
ARRRGGGHHHH!!!! This is exactly what you get when you teach people to expect something for nothing. They take what you give 'em and demand MORE.
As I was driving to my grandmother's house on Sunday, I damn near had a wreck on DeRenne Avenue in Savannah. I was in the right lane and a big SUV was next to me in the left lane. As we tooled down the road side by side, the big car suddenly started drifting over into my lane.
I honked my horn, but the car kept coming, forcing me to slam on brakes to avoid a collision. My action triggered a similar reaction in cars all around me as THEY slammed on brakes, too. I suppose that all the excitement finally alerted the driver of the SUV that something was wrong, because the car swerved abruptly back into its proper lane.
I saw my chance, so I passed that crazy bastid in the SUV. I ignored the pain in my shoulder as I hung a raised middle finger out of my window. I let loose a stream of curses fit to wake the dead. Then I saw the driver.
It was a black woman, oblivious to everything except the cell phone pressed to her head.
I wanted to KILL that bitch. Drag her ass right outta that SUV and shoot her there in the street. Then, I wanted to pry that cell phone from her cold, dead hand, stomp it to bits and shove the pieces right up her chatty ass. Sideways.
I was pissed. I was pissed at HER, at got-dam CELL PHONES and at the dumb bastard responsible for the 19th Amendment. People like her shouldn't be allowed to drive, let alone vote. Asshole.
I know one thing she would be good at. She would fit right in working at a 7-11 store.
quote of the day
"We shoot each other over here. It is far more civilized."--- velociman
That's V-Man contemplating a trip to Africa, where he wishes to avoid being hacked to death with a machete. (Can't say I disagree with him...)
Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to an article in today's Savannah Morning News. I refuse to link to the story, because the SMN, in its brilliance, requires registration to read its web page and I don't believe in that bullshit. Just who the hell do they think they are anyway? Some kind of big shot publication that screens the riff-raff from their lofty page?
I don't demand that THEY register to read MY web page, so piss on 'em if they can't show me the same courtesy, the arrogant bastids. (If you want to read the story, go to www.savannahnow.com and see page 3C. AFTER you register...)
But I digress. It seems that a fine, upstanding member of the Coastal Empire community was arrested by police yesterday after he tried to run down two officers with his car during a high-speed chase across three counties. Rahmine (did his mama name him after Chinese noodles???) Karon Ashley survived several gunshot wounds he suffered earlier in a Waffle House parking lot before the chase.
After his arrest, Rahmine refused to give a description of his assailant. Obviously, Rahmine has a strong sense of honor, despite being a total scumbag.
Here's my favorite part:
Jail records show that Ashley has been arrested 24 times since 1998.
I am an English Major--- I don't do math--- but even I can figure that Choirboy Rahmine averaged THREE ARRESTS PER YEAR during that period. WTF??? If he had been a drunk driver, he would be rotting behind bars right now, so deep under the jail that he needed a sunshine pump to see the light of day. But he was prowling the streets, free as a bird, getting shot and leading police on a high-speed car chase instead.
I suppose that habitual violator laws don't apply to sober vermin.
The guy who shot Rahmine should have carried a bigger gun or had better aim. Or used a machete...
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April 25, 2006
Yeah. what he said.
The only thing that disgusts me more than the way Republicans are
You get absolute suckatude no matter which way you turn.
wonderful... just wonderful
I went to the doctor today.
People who know me understand that I don't go to the doctor unless I have something very badly wrong with me. Even then, I prefer to wait and see if whatever ails me won't go away by itself. I would rather pull my own teeth with a set of vice-grip pliers than to see a doctor.
But I had to do something this time. My problem began several months ago with pain in my left shoulder. I tried to ignore it, but it didn't go away. Instead, it spread to my RIGHT shoulder, too.
Lately, the problem has become severe. I can't raise my arms over my head anymore without feeling as if hot swords were being stuck in my shoulders. I have trouble dressing myself or washing my hair. The only way I can sleep at night is to lay flat on my back with my hands on my belly. If I happen to roll over, that's the end of sleep for a while. The shoulder pain wakes me up.
So, I decided to do something about it. The doctor checked me out, took some X-rays and gave me a preliminary diagnosis. He believes that I have torn rotator cuffs in BOTH shoulders to go along with some significant arthritus there. He believes that arthritus caused the original pain, then I fucked up the rotator cuffs by trying to use my arms while avoiding the arthritus pain.
Old football injuries can come back to haunt you...
The doc is going to set me up an appointment with an orthopedic guy who specializes in Sports Medicine. If the doc I saw today is correct, I'm looking at surgery. On BOTH shoulders. Soon.
Fuck me dead.
Yeah! Let government run it!
I believe that it's just a matter of time before we end up with some form of government-run health-care in this country. I also believe that it's a terrible idea, but that fact won't stop government from doing it. Too many people see it as another wonderful thing that government is going to "give" them for "free."
Too many people don't realize that government can't "give" you ANYTHING that it didn't take from somebody else first, and it ain't "free" when that happens. Besides--- "free" health care isn't worth a shit if you can't get it.
The human race is insane. We keep doing stupid things that blow up in our faces and expecting different results if we just try it one more time. Hell, we still have true-believer communists in this world, despite the fact that THAT system has failed miserably everywhere (and EVERY TIME) it's been tried.
We never learn.
I've never played one of these guitars, but the one he's considering sure is pretty. I just wish that he had mentioned the price.
Any of you readers familiar with Paul Reed Smith guitars? Do they play and sound as good as they look? Can you save me some searching and tell me the price range?
I really like name "Swamp Ash Special." I'll bet that you can't say "Swamp Ash Special" three times fast without... well, you probably can see where I'm going here.
"Swamp Ash Special." Sounds like a good name for a kick-ass rock & roll band to me.
he's pissing me off
Most of the stuff I planted in my garden is looking pretty good, but it ain't looking this good.
For one thing, I planted MY garden IN THE GROUND instead of in some pussy-assed boxes that insulate plants from the blessed hand of Mother Nature. MY plants have a challenge--- they ain't cradled in no comfy welfare state. MY plants have a fight on their hands.
As soon as I threw some fertilizer on the ground, every goddam weed known to mankind sprouted in my carefully-tilled soil. In fact, I believe that some of the shit poking up out there IS NOT known to mankind. That stuff came from alien seed-pods scattered by UFOs on their latest visit to earth.
Remember the dog that stomped on my tender, young okra? I haven't seen him around for days. I think the weeds in my garden ate him. I'm kinda worried that my tiller is gonna disappear next. Or ME, once I start trying to get rid of those killer weeds.
That's what you get when you have a REAL garden instead of a condominium complex for plants.
I can't help it. I was an English major.
PEOPLE!!! The word "however" is a conjunctive adverb. If you simply must stick "however" in the middle of a sentence, you're gonna need a semicolon and a comma to do so correctly. Allow me to demonstrate:
INCORRECT: "Tommy went to the store however he didn't buy anything."
CORRECT: "Tommy went to the store; however, he didn't buy anything."
If I had the power, I would drag the word "however" off and shoot it. It's a messy word. It's unsightly clutter, like an overflowing ashtray on an otherwise clean coffee table. Don't use it unless you HAVE to, and that's almost never the case. "Tommy went to the store but he didn't buy anything." See?
End of pedantry...
(Don't listen to me. This site is banned on South Carolina public school computers.)
quote of the day
"What are the facts about global warming? The only honest answer is: we do not know. Nor is our knowledge advanced by scientists who are not climatic experts issuing sensational pronouncements. Detailed temperature records date only from 1860. These show that between then and 1915 there was no change in the northern hemisphere. Between 1915 and 1945 there was a rise of 0.4C, countered in the following 20 years by a fall of 0.2C. During the remainder of the 20th century there was a rise of 0.4C, making an overall increase of 0.6C over the century."--- scotsman
Wow. The globe warmed 0.6 degrees over the past century. Let us digest this information, form a big circle, hold hands and scream, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!"
Hell, that's what environmental "scientists" are doing today. And numb-nutted politicians are listening to the scare-mongers. What we're got here is a frenzy of foolishness that generates more than enough hot air to account for a 0.6 degree rise in global temperature. If the idiots would just STFU we would do a lot more to fight global warming than worrying about CO2 emmissions.
Besides, my bullshit detector alarms when politicians work themselves into a lather worrying about the fate of the planet 100 years from now while they ignore our REAL problems, our NOW problems, such as illegal immigration and the inevitable collapse of our Social Security system, which AIN'T generated by some fucked-up computer model and AIN'T gonna wait 100 years to bite us. I call that fiddling while Rome burns.
The smoke from THAT fire is a bigger menace to this country than any greenhouse gas emmissions.
I've always asserted that I am a dog person. Dogs like me and I like them. Dogs hate cats and I do, too. Dogs can lick their own balls and I can... never mind. Let's not go there.
Despite my affinity for canines, I will admit that dogs often do really stupid things.
I once watched a pedigreed dalmation (REALLY DUMB DOGS!!!) get its head stuck in an empty plastic pickle jug (the dog smelled bait shrimp residue in the jug, poked his head inside to get a better sniff and then couldn't get his head out. He found himself... uh... in a pickle). The dog tried shaking the jug off, but when that didn't work, he took off running at warp speed, even though he couldn't see where he was going.
I don't know what the damn dog was thinking. Was he trying to OUTRUN the jug? Was he thinking at ALL? Who knows?
If the dog had a plan, it worked perfectly, because he sped head-first (at about 40 MPH) into the 2" X 4" legs of a wooden picnic table. The collision sounded like a baseball bat smacking a home run ball. The dog knocked itself silly and went rolling across the grass, but the jug was dislodged in the process.
It's just a good thing that the dog had a really hard head because that lick would have killed a lesser animal. It must have taught the dog a lesson because, despite being thick as a brick, he never stuck his head in a shrimp jug again.
Dumb dogs. Gotta love 'em.
April 24, 2006
should I worry?
I've been following this story closely. When I was young, I had all the usual childhood diseases, including TWO versions of the measles, but I never caught the mumps. My brother had the mumps twice, but I somehow avoided contamination.
I often wish that I could go back and relive parts of my childhood. But I DO NOT wish to do it by suffering a case of the mumps. I've heard that the disease is a lot rougher on
Speaking of killing me, I was thumbing through The Recovery Book yesterday (a tome about what to expect after rehab) when I noticed for the first time that the book was signed by "Dr. Bobby," the head doctor (pardon the pun---he's a psychiatrist specializing in drug and alcohol addiction) at Willingway Institute for the Chronically Impaired. Here's what he wrote:
"Rob--- God must have something in store for you--- he is working overtime keeping you alive! Good Luck, Dr. Bobby, 11/28/05"
That was penned by a man who was awakened at 2:00AM one morning to come attend to me when I had a bad reaction to my detox medication and almost took the Big Dirt Nap right there in his hospital. (He knows whereof he speaks about "working overtime" to keep me alive.) I don't know about that "God" stuff, nor am I certain that I want to know what He has "in store" for me if He exists. But I do know one thing.
I hope it ain't a case of the mumps.
she was just a kid
I visited my 94 year-old grandmother yesterday and she started talking about why she married my grandfather. "He was a good catch," she said, "I was afraid that somebody else would get him if I didn't."
Wimmen. Always scheming and calculating...
Next month, Mommie will be 95. She married my grandfather when she was 16 and had five children by the time she was 23. I have trouble wrapping my mind around that fact today. She was a mother of five when she wasn't much more than a kid herself.
Ah, the stories she can tell...
You have to be a raving idiot to understand. I damn sure don't. But if you believe in fighting fascism with fascism, you'll feel right at home with the lunatic left.
In the past, I've described Democrats as the party of vandals, and this vile post simply reinforces my beliefs. You can feel the hate radiating from the page. Party of compassion, my Cracker ass.
It reminds me of a two year-old pitching a hissy-fit. But what else do you expect from the folks at Indymedia? Once you drink the purple kool-ade, you lose your mind (along with any sense of decency you might have possessed).
I'm just sorry that MY name and address isn't on that list. If I owned any guns, I might have a wonderful opportunity for some target practice.
he's got the blues
Normally, I don't link to cute animal posts, and I damn sure won't do it for a fucking cat-blog. But I sometimes make exceptions.
Especially when it's monkey porn.
April 23, 2006
quote of the day
"Practically all policies advocated by the Left create poverty. Leftists get the government to waste vast slabs of the country's labour-force on bureaucracy and paperwork and so load the burden of providing most useful goods and services onto fewer and fewer people. So fewer useful goods and services are produced to go around. That is no accident. The Left love the poor. The Left need the poor so that they can feel good by patronizing and "helping" them. So they do their best to create as many poor people as possible."
I don't know who said it, but I found it here.
(UPDATE: I like this quote from my comments: "What were we thinking, that we should help our fellow man?" Don't get me wrong... I'm all for helping my fellow man whenever I can. But I don't consider stealing other people's money and giving THAT away to be "compassion." It's pure robbery in the name of income redistribution.
Where has that practice gotten us? It has created a permanent underclass of "poor" people who live on the
right idea, wrong motivation
When I saw the headline, "Black Activists Join To March With Minutemen," I thought that maybe the Jesse and Al show was about to appear on the scene. I just couldn't figure out what those two self-aggrandizing blowhards had to gain for themselves by getting involved in the illegal immigration issue.
Then I read the article and learned that some guy named Ted Hayes, a "homeless activist," was the featured black activist in the story. I've never heard of the guy, but I've damned sure heard what he has to say--- MANY times before.
(He)...alleged that most homeless people in Los Angeles are black and illegal immigration compounds the problem since blacks refuse to accept the slave wages that many illegal immigrants accept.--- emphasis mine--ed
If you don't see something terribly wrong with that statement, there's something terribly wrong with YOU. Is he suggesting that homeless people, at least the black ones, sleep on the fucking sidewalk and eat out of trash cans because they have too much pride to take a low-paying job? That's an odd idea of pride, if you ask me.
"While all Americans are suffering from this invasion, we blacks are suffering the most," Hayes said. "We feel like the leaders promoting this issue are being insensitive. This country wasn't built on the backs of immigrants like (Villaraigosa) says. It was built on the back of West African slaves."---emphasis mine again--ed.
Here we go again with that bullshit about this nation being built on the backs of slaves. Slaves may have picked a lot of cotton down South, but it's a real stretch to say that slaves built this nation. Or that white folks built it on the backs of slaves.
People who get all wound up over that silly statement convienently forget that slavery was abolished 143 years ago, when we had 35 states and less than half the land area of the country was settled. Slavery was abolished BEFORE most of the big advances in the Industrial Revolution and BEFORE the transcontinental railroad, the Golden Gate Bridge, Hoover Dam or the Empire State Building.
Forget all that. Was this nation really "built on the backs" of ANYBODY??? That's grand rhetoric for the I Hate America And I Wanna Make You Feel Guilty crowd, but it's really a bunch of hogwash. Was the Interstate Highway System built "on the backs" of DOT workers?
At least Hayes isn't totally oblivious to reality.
Hayes said that Minutemen Project members have been unfairly portrayed as racist.
Be still my trembling heart!!! Here's a black activist saying that some white people are NOT racists. That's a refreshing outlook, considering today's atmosphere of suffocating political-correctness. This guy must have wandered off the plantation somehow and fell out of lockstep with Cynthia McKinney and her ilk. I thought only Bill Cosby had the nerve to say stuff like that.
I agree that illegal immigration is a big problem--- for ALL Americans. Anybody who tries to make this problem a racial issue is nursing a grievance or pushing a hidden agenda with no thought to the future of this country. This issue is about national soverentry; it ain't about skin color, no matter what some "activist" tells you.
Listen to them, and don't be surprised when English is taught as a second language in public schools.
speaking of referrals...
I also discovered this site while scrolling through my referrals today. I saw her picture, read her words, and in a fit of pure audacity, invited her to have lunch with me when she starts her classes at Georgia Southern University in August. She's liable to tell me to go perform an anatomically-impossible act upon myself, but I figured it couldn't hurt to ask.
Besides, Statesboro is only an hour's drive away from where I live and I recently took some schoolin' there myself. I didn't go to Georgia Southern. Last November, I graduated (with honors) from Willingway Academy for the Habitually Intoxicated, which also happens to be in Statesboro.
Her tuition probably is less expensive than mine was...
There's just one thing that worries me about her. She lives in Reidsville, Georgia, home to a different sort of Institution of Higher Learning, (one at which I do NOT care to study) which is the State Prison. If she agrees to meet me for lunch, I had better be on my best behavior.
Her daddy might be the warden
Some of you regular readers may remember a fellow named "JB" from my comments. He and I actually go back to the very beginning of this blog, and I once considered him to be a good cyber-friend, before he kinda nutted up and went all trollish for a while. But I never could bring myself to ban him from my comments. Old times' sake, and all that crap.
JB isn't a bad writer when he gets off his one-trick pony about The US Constitution. He proves that right here, where you can also see a picture of his shining face.
It's an old article, but it showed up in my referrals today, so I linked it. For old times' sake.
does that mean me?
WTF does this crap really mean? (Other than another nail in the coffin of personal liberty, of course, but that's par for the course anymore.)
Web site operators posting sexually explicit information must place official government warning labels on their pages or risk being imprisoned for up to five years, the Bush administration proposed Thursday.
I knew immediately that the law must suck, because of what it's called: "Child Pornography and Obscenity Prevention Amendments of 2006."
RED ALERT!!! Any time you see a new law proposed with the word "Child" or "Children" in it, be afraid. Be VERY afraid, because it's a cloaking device for something evil. It works, too, in this pussifying country of ours.
Say you're doing something "For the Children," and panties moisten, including those on a LOT of men today, when all sorts of powerful, deep-rooted maternal instincts kick in, even if you're proposing to sacrifice 200 goats on an altar to Baal. If it's "for the children," it must be okay.
Sorry, I digress...
Sure, the law is another intrusion into personal freedom, the scope goes FAR beyond child pornography, and it takes us back into that malarial swamp of defining "obscenity," which can mean ANYTHING to a blue-nosed prude... but the real question is...how does it affect ME?
I have posted Nekkid Pitchers on my blog. My language often is earthy to say the least. Hell, that image below, of the water buffalo sticking his tongue up his nose might be considered obscene, or even "sexually explicit" by some deranged people. What is a blogger to do?
If I were rating my own page, I would give it a PG. Surprised? I don't see why. I think "children" under 17 can handle Gut Rumbles all by themselves without becoming crazed rapists or child molesters. Hell, they might even learn something, which could be a unique experience if they attend public schools. Besides, if you see this, I end up looking pretty tame.
But one man's PG may be the government's XXX. I don't want to risk going to prison for five years like some mother-raper or father-stabber, so I want to prepare to comply with the law. I need a rating on my blog, but I need some help, too.
How would YOU rate this site?
I'll bet that this "buff" fellow has the ladies standing in line. If you have a tongue like THAT, you're bound to be a babe magnet. I wonder if he can lick his eyebrows, too?
(I stole the picture from this site, where I learned that Africa has its OWN red-necks, just like Jawja, except half a world away.)
April 22, 2006
Everybody loves a good recipe. Well, they must, because bloggers post recipes all the time, as if they expect somebody to actually read that shit. Nobody does, and those who try seldom get past the part about soaking your finger in clarified butter, covering it with finely chopped basil and jamming it up a turkey's ass for that mysterious special flavor.
Yeah. I'll bet it IS a special flavor if you suck your finger after you've finished seasoning your bird.
But, I digress... Every now and then, I see a recipe that's really good. Want to know how to cook a placenta?
quote of the day
"Show me a man who has never been whacked so hard in the nads he has not wanted to die, and perhaps even vomited, and I will show you a man whose testicles have never descended."--- bane
If you read about how testicles function, you'll learn quickly why they hang outside the body the way they do. Temperature control is very important to testicles, which is why they shrink up into a tight wad in cold weather and damn near drag the ground when they get hot.
That's a fucking design flaw in the male body. Testicles should come in their own temperature-controlled package (excuse the pun) somewhere INSIDE the body for protection. Dangling loose where they are now simply makes them an inviting target of opportunity when someone really wants to get your attention.
I know. I've been whacked in the balls more times than I can remember, and I've done the grunting, incoherent pig-wallow on the ground, too, where I curled in a fetal position cupping (another pun) my injury in my hands while I prayed for death. I never puked from it, but I came close a few times.
Ladies, you'll never know such exquisite agony, but I wouldn't lie to you about something so important. A knock in the nuts is extremely painful. If pain came in colors, a jewel-jolt would be deep purple with black edges and green highlights scattered throughout. I think I've SEEN those colors behind tightly closed eyes as I did the grunting pig-wallow on the ground.
But I suppose that things could be worse. The brilliant engineer who put testicles where they are COULD have decided to mount them on men's foreheads. Man, THAT'S a terrible idea. Just think of it, guys.
On hot days, you might hurt yourself every time you blinked your eyes.
This time next week, I will be in Austin, Texas, surrounded by
I hosted the first Jawja Blog Meet at Caruso's Restaurant in Dahlonega, Georgia back in 2003. That meet was a blast, especially after it carried over into Blood Mountain Cabins and earned us a "BE QUIET, DAMMIT!" warning from the proprietor. Since then, we've disgraced Athens, Helen and Jekyll Island with our presence, and we've not seen anyone killed yet, despite our fondness for guns and bullwhips. Most of the Usual Jawja Suspects will be in Austin, just to show those braggart Texicans how to
I still intend to operate Acidman's Toenail Painting Salon, so ladies... plan on letting me... uh... do you. I may even branch out into Bikini Shaves while I'm at it. I have red toenail polish, and I'm bringing shaving cream and a new razor just in case. (Trust me, ladies... my hands are very steady now that I no longer drink alcohol.)
I have an extra room booked. I was hoping that the Acid Daughter would come to the meet, but I don't think she's going to make it. So, if you need a room, just let me know before I cancel that reservation. The one I still have on hold has two queen-sized beds, so it'll hold about 12 bloggers if they're really good friends...
I get all tingly just thinking about it. I hope to see you there.
(UPDATE: I just hope that this guy isn't planning on driving to Texas. But if he does, I want to take his ride for a spin.)
Some people are just too clever for their own good...
(Picture shamelessly stolen from here.)
Maybe this is what it takes:
"But if the GOP is going to get beat in this election, I hope they get beat good. With gerrymandering in the States, it's hard to see how more than 30 seats change hands in the House of Representatives. But if 60, 80, 100 or more switch from Red to Blue, meaning that even "Republican" districts are rejecting the firebrand politics of the xenophobic, corrupt, spendthrift, Religious Right wing of the GOP, maybe they'll get the message and we can start taking back our party."--- scott olin schmidt
I couldn't agree more. The Republican Party has completely disillusioned me, and I don't like it. I think that they played me, and everyone who thinks like me, as a fool.
Well, I'm crazy but I ain't real dumb. I listened to the bullshit about smaller government and less spending once, but I won't fall for that trick again. Republicans: You said one thing to me and then you did another. Now, I don't believe a damn thing you say. I just look at what you DO, and it makes me want to puke. Republicans may not be the jello-spined asswipes that the Democrats are, but they sure seem to WANT to be. I'm beginning to see little difference between the two.
I'm sick of both. What we really need is a viable third party in the country. Or an election-year bitch-slap to the Republican party to make them remember what brought them to power in 1994.
That's what it will take to get ME back to the polls.
In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, FEMA responded to the disaster by spraying money in all directions like a gigantic Rain Bird lawn sprinkler. Naw, that's not correct. No lawn sprinkler can spray that kind of volume with such inaccuracy. FEMA sprayed money like water from a bank of high-pressure fire hoses, and they weren't very careful with their aim. In this deluge of cash, a lot of people saw the opportunity to game the system, so they did, to the tune of MILLIONS of dollars.
Now, the government wants its money back from the grifters and thieves who stole all those taxpayer dollars.
In Mississippi alone, the Federal Emergency Management Agency said it is seeking $4.7 million from 2,044 people, telling them in a form letter that they have four months to repay or set up a payment plan.
BWHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! All I have to say about collecting that money is... good luck. I will be amazed if the government collects ANYTHING. After all, we're dealing with a lot of "poor" people who also happen to be members of a certain politically-special ethnic group. If the government attempts to force these people to pay back what they stole, cries of "racism!" will put a stop to THAT shit.
I can see it now--- Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton on their soap boxes, flinging their usual dung for the television news cameras and sending leftist sensitivities on a terrible guilt-trip. When all is said and done, I won't be surprised to see government not only forgive the theft, but also pay the thieving bastids MORE money in some twisted idea of "fairness."
Nobody should doubt the fact that FEMA royally screwed the pooch in its incompetent (and VERY expensive) relief efforts. I think they have a lot of nerve to ask for any money back after the way they showed such little regard for where the money was going in the first place. The problem really is THEIR fault for being so half-assed.
That fact doesn't make stealing from the government right. I pay taxes, so that was MY money the thieves were grabbing. But who can blame them? That's our "entitlement" mentality at work. I'll wager that most of the people who scammed the system are quite accustomed to getting something for nothing from the government. Hell, this disaster was just an opportunity to double-dip.
I predict that the idea of collecting any money from these people won't go very far. First of all, the people probably don't have the means to repay what they stole and we damn sure don't have the balls (or the prison space) to lock all of them up. Second, no politician in office today will touch this hot potato with a ten foot pole once it becomes a racial issue, which it certainly will.
Good luck, FEMA. But you're just pissin' in the wind here.
kick an anthill
Heh. this guy often makes ME look shy and coy. He certainly knows how to stir shit.
Don't miss the comments on that post.
April 21, 2006
the real villan
The next time you buy gas and feel the overpowering urge to curse greedy Big Oil for raping your wallet, remember this.
It AIN'T greedy Big Oil that's raping you.
I don't believe that Catfish has anything to worry about. Young men are very resilient at the age of 15. Tyler will be fine.
I was 15 when I saw a man die in the parking lot of the Shoney's restaurant on Victory Drive in Savannah. My football team was starting a road trip to Augusta to play Richmond Academy and we went to Shoney's for our pre-game meal. After I finished eating, I walked outside to stretch my legs and gnaw on one of those mint-flavored toothpicks Shoney's had before I got back on board the team bus.
As I was standing there, a car careened off Victory Drive, jumped the curb of the Shoney's parking lot and hit a palm tree right in front of me. The car ended up with its nose in the air and its rear bumper embedded in the asphalt as it stopped after climbing that palm tree.
I was frozen in shock, but a couple of men ran over to check on the car's occupants. An old man was behind the wheel and he was BLUE, and limp as a wet dishrag when he was dragged from the car. Dead as Dillinger's dick.
Newspaper accounts later speculated that the man died of a heart attack and THEN wrecked his car, but none of that shit mattered to me at the time. That man wasn't the first dead body I ever saw, but it was the first one I ever saw die right in front of me. It bothered me.
But it didn't bother me enough to keep me from playing a good game that night, and it didn't keep me from sleeping like a log afterward, either. I dreamed about it once or twice later, but I never needed a got-dam government grief-counceler holding my hand and whispering sweet nothings in my ear to ease my trauma.
I got over it. Tyler will, too.
quote of the day
"You know why I have more money, more stuff? I gave up my life for it. I work 60-70 and sometimes 80 hours a week for it. I have no wife, no girlfriend, no dog. I have a few friends whom I rarely get to see because I'm at work. I missed the opening game Red Sox vs Rangers (free ticket) because I was at work. I visit my family, my 81 year old mother less than once a year because I'm at work. I do this blog from work. My house got robbed last Tuesday while I was at work. I suppose the robber doesn't have a job because he robbed me during business hours. (robbing you IS his "job"--ed)He doesn't need a job, I gave him a guitar, three bottles of whiskey and a jar full of change, because I wasn't at home. I gave him a CD player and some tools because I have a Jeep with no top. He was coming back to make another withdrawal from the bank of Knine... Maybe a DVD player or a TV.
The most abused word in the English language today is "rights." Listen to the idiots among us. You have a "right" to a living wage, which means somebody is obligated to hand you CEO wages for mucking toilets. You have a "right" to breathe clean air and drink clean water. WTF?? You have a "right" to a job, and you have a "right" to get paid for NOT doing it.
Bullshit. You have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We may be shitting all over "liberty" today, but you still can pursue happiness. That doesn't mean that you're gonna FIND IT, because you have NO RIGHT to be happy. You have to get off your dead ass and GRAB happiness.
Never confuse "rights" with "I want that!!!" They ain't the same things.
I've noticed in MY life that the only things I ever got were things I worked for. When I was a kid, my father often pissed me off when I drooled over a new toy or a new bike. "Buy it for me!" I wheedled. "Earn the money and buy it yourself," he replied. "You'll appreciate it more that way."
I didn't understand at the time, but my father was correct. Most people today obviously didn't have the kind of father I did. They want something for nothing and they expect to get it. It's their "right."
There is nothing I despise more in this world than a vandal or a thief. That's tough luck for me, because we've institutionalized both practices now, thanks to craven politicians and their demanding minions.
So, a LOT of people sit on their asses and whine a LOT. They're too got-dam sorry and cowardly to go out and steal for themselves. They demand that the government do the stealing for them. And it does.
That just ain't "right."
This is a damn good post.
That's all I'm gonna say...
eat your heart out
I went grocery shopping today when I was hungry. Got-dam! I KNOW better than to do that, because I always end up with a buggy full of shit that makes me look like I'm catering a stoner's convention with a bad case of the munchies instead of stocking my pantry. Today was no exception.
I'll never eat ALL of a double-filled cherry pie, or that bunch of strawberry creme cheese strudel bites, or the two big jars of olives, or the ten cans (10 for $10!!!) of baby lima beans, or the two-for-one Kielbasa sausages, or the six boxes of flavored instant mashed potatoes, or the big jar of Peter Pan peanut butter, or the box of townhouse crackers, or the five pounds of snow crab legs I bought. But I was in a quiet food frenzy. I couldn't restrain myself.
Bejus! They had some very pretty New York Strip steaks for $4.99 a pound. I bought a dozen. BEAUTIFUL collard greens at $.129 a bunch--- a bought one bunch--- and got royally pissed off when I saw the price of ham hocks. The damn hocks cost almost as much as the fucking New York Strip steaks. That just ain't right. I didn't buy any. I had plenty of bacon at home and that'll work for seasoning in a pinch.
But I did buy some Mexican popcicles. I am NOT making this shit up. You can get a BIG plastic bag of 24 popcicles, made in Mexico and distributed out of Cincinnati, Ohio, for less than the Kroger brand box of 12, made in the USA. I read the package and learned that a popcicle is called a "paleta" in Spanish, and these were "con sabores artificiales" and "el inigualable sabor helado." I wondered how in the hell any company could make money by importing popcicles, then I bought two bags.
Total damage was $149, after I threw in a carton of cigarettes and a book of stamps. Not too bad, considering the fact that I didn't even venture down the beer aisle. That place scares me anymore.
I decided what I'm having for supper tonight. I'm going to eat snow crab legs and strip steak, with Kielbasa sausage, mashed potatoes and baby lima beans on the side. I'll have cherry pie for dessert and cheese strudel bites for breakfast tomorrow. I'm going to cook the collard greens this evening and eat them tomorrow. In between, I'll suck on a lot of Mexican popcicles.
Yeah, I live a rough life. Eat your heart out.
I stole the idea from here. I'm supposed to say four "cool" things about my hometown. I was born in eastern Kentucky and I now live in Rincon, Georgia, but I still consider Savannah, the "Hostess City of the South," "Sugartown," "The Beautiful Lady With a Dirty Face," "Home of Savannah Sand Gnats Baseball" as my hometown. So here goes...
1) St. Patrick's Day. Savannah is a fairly conservative place, but once every year the city becomes a painted whore in full party mode. Drunken debauchery is the rule of the day, with a big parade thrown in for good measure. Port-o-Lets overflow with beer piss and downtown bars are standing room only. Lotsa sport fucking occurs that day and usually at least one person dies from falling into the Savannah River and drowning or toppling off a River Street railing to land head-first on the cobblestones below. Titty-flashing once was a popular activity, but police frowned on that practice, the bastids, and they started arresting wimmen who displayed their goodies. You don't see many bare titties anymore, but you can see LOTS of wimmen with half-masted pants, squatting to pee outside the overflowing Port-o-Lets. One of my fondest St. Patrick's Day memories is holding my wanger with my left hand and shaking hands with Savannah Mayor John Rossikas (sp?) with my right as we both pissed in a River Street alley and I told him that I never voted for his ass. Hizzoner was drunk as a skunk.
2) Movies. LOTS of movies besides Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil were filmed in Savannah and it's always a hoot to watch the finished product to see how many places and people you recognize. Remember the Burt Reynolds flick, Gator? A lot of that movie was shot on River Street, and Jerry Reed's "office" was in "The Other End" tavern, where I once played guitar and sang back in the day. I also saw River Street transformed into 1860s Boston for the movie Glory. There have been a bunch of others, but I'm too lazy to name them all.
3) Good Food. I don't care what kind of food you like--- you'll find it in Savannah. I love the fresh seafood myself, but you have lots of other options. Home cookin'? Try "Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House." "The Lady & Sons" is good, too, but kinda pricey. "The Pirate's House" has a reputation a lot better than the food, but people like to eat there just to say that they did. "Ethnic" food? Name your poison. Hell--- my brother told me last weekend about a vegan Indian restaurant that's really good.
4) Oak Trees. Savannah was the first "planned city" in the country. James Oglethorpe laid out the downtown area in neat squares, which form little parks where people who work downtown go to eat lunch and feed the
Of course, once you leave the "planned" area, Savannah resembles something a kid put together when he was off his Ritalin, but I believe that every city has its urban sprawl and Savannah is no different. Just stay out of the "projects" after dark. There, from their government-subsidized, low-income housing, members of a downtrodden ethnic minority seek acceptance from a racist society by robbing and killing a lot of people, usually each other, but they'll occasionally
There. Meme complete. Doesn't it make you want to visit Savannah?
Tomorrow is earth day 2006. I am busy making preparations to celebrate this glorious event.
*I changed the oil in both of my vehicles. Tomorrow, I will dump the used motor oil down a storm drain to return it to Nature, from which it came. It's my way of recycling.
*I'm going to crank up my chainsaw and cut down some old-growth forest. Then, I'm going to drag the wood into a big pile, soak it with diesel fuel and set it on fire. That'll be my Shrine to Gaia and it ought to be pretty impressive. You should be able to see the smoke for miles.
*I intend to kill and eat an Endangered Species for lunch.
*Afterward, I will fart mightily and frequently, spewing copious amounts of greenhouse gas outta my Cracker ass and into the atmosphere. The planet isn't warm enough to suit me now.
*I PERSONALLY will drill for oil in the ANWR and shoot any caribu that get in my way.
*I'm going to drain a
*I'm going to visit a local elementary school on Monday, wear my Al Gore disguise, stand outside and yell, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!" until I make the children cry.
Those are just some of my plans for celebrating Earth Day. I really want to do my part to Save The Planet--- from environmentalists.
April 20, 2006
When I was a kid, we didn't buy skateboards in a store. We built our own, using a roller skate and a piece of 1" X 4" wood. The damn things didn't steer worth a damn, and the steel wheels would slip right out from under you when you tried to turn on concrete, leading to many a spectacular, bloody ass-bustin,' but we rode 'em.
Know what we called that activity back then? We called it "skurfing." I never hear ANYBODY use that term anymore. I'm wondering if anyone else ever did.
Have YOU ever heard of "skurfing?"
Leftists love to call President Bush a "chickenhawk" because he never fought in a war. That's really clever, isn't it? When it comes to name-calling and finger-pointing, Democrats have no equal.
But when it comes to taking a firm stand against a certified nut-ball who brags about developing nuclear weapons, the Democrats balk, saying that they don't wish a "rush to judgment." Bullshit. The cowardly turds are just laying low to see which way the political wind blows before they decide how to react. That's real leadership.
Asked about Democratic strategy on Iran, the aide said, “The strategy is simple: Give the Republicans enough rope and they’ll hang themselves."
See? Ya gotta have your priorities straight. The real issue isn't about what a crazed bunch of Iranians might do with nuclear weapons--- it's about how Democrats can take advantage of the situation for political gain. Bejus! Now we know what's REALLY important in the world today.
Wanna hear some mealy-mouthed mush-speak? Listen to what Rep. Jane Harman (D-CA), the ranking Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee had to say.
“All I'm saying is I remain skeptical,” she told an intelligence panel. “Lots of unanswered questions and conjecture that I have is that if I were Iran and I wanted to put out disinformation, it might look a lot like what our government is claiming is information.... I want to be absolutely sure that we base decisions, especially tough decisions like what are the next steps with Iran -- and I surely hope they are diplomatic because I think those are our best options -- on pristine and pure intelligence, or the closest we can get to that.”
Harmon is described as "outspoken" and "cogent." Gag me. With a spoon. I would describe her as "evasive" and "confused." We get the usual mewling about "diplomacy," which worked so well on Saddam Hussein, and then the navel-gazing about not knowing the "real intentions" of Iran's leaders. (Which can't possibly mirror their threatening rhetoric. They wouldn't actually USE nuclear weapons, even if they say they will. That's unthinkable! Yes, it is to some sheeple.)
This kind of "talk a lot but say nothing" crap is bad enough when Congress is toiling to pass some wasteful spending bill or another generous tax dollar giveaway program. But we're talking serious shit here--- NUKES IN IRAN--- not some pork-barrel legislation to build another bridge in West Virginia and name it after Robert Byrd.
A nuclear Iran is exactly the kind of problem we should expect our elected representatives to handle with an eye toward the future of the WORLD, not the outcome of the next election. But you see what we get.
Just one more reason why I won't vote anymore.
A squad of Jewish suicide bombers attacked my computer this morning in a sneak attack and destroyed my ability to post. I know that the bombers were Jewish, because I heard them screaming "Torah! Torah! Torah!"
The damage appears to be repaired now, although it was quite perplexing while it lasted. I saw some error messages that I've never seen before. The trauma was enough to send me out to my garden to pull weeds for a while.
I hate it when that happens...
something is wrong
April 19, 2006
I once saw a dog shit a wad of cellophane after he ate a ham sandwich wrapper and all. When the dog finished, he examined his droppings with a strange combination of curiosity and disgust.
Much like this guy, who obviously covets my title of "King of the Crap-Bloggers."
I've been offered a HUGE shitpot full of money to help a Nigerian get his (sometimes it's a her) money out of the country. It's MILLIONS of dollars and I get a big cut of it if I get in on the scheme. I know that these cries for help are legitimate, because this guy is writing a book about them, and he's a VERY serious fellow.
I'll never collect those millions that are waiting for me, because I'm just too lazy to send off my bank account information, my ATM PIN number and some upfront cash from my end, all of which are required to... um... grease the orifice to make the deal slide through. Supplying all of that information is just too much like work to suit me.
But here's a good idea that I might try myself. With THIS method, all I have to do is fire off some spam, then sit on my ass and whine while YOU send me money. I like the sound of that. It's labor unintensive and the rewards could be great.
Besides, it's easier for you to send money to ME than it is for you to deal with some lying, crooked, scheming Nigerian who lives halfway around the world from you. Postage costs alone favor me. And I PROMISE that for every $2 I receive, I'll send $1 back to YOU as a rebate for your generosity. That way, YOU can get rich, too.
Trust me. It's a win-win scenario. Send me some money today.
other people collect baseball cards
Yeah, some people collect baseball cards, old comics, firearms, or even fine works of art. But not this guy.
No... he collects "nicknames". And not just ANY nicknames, either. He has (according to his own written testimony) an Excel spreadsheet containing 458 synonyms and nicknames for the word “vagina.”
Bejus! And he claims to have a day job, too.
Quote of the day
"Long ago, when home-schooling our kids, I learned that we don’t teach kids anything. We simply open the doors for them, to look inside the room (or not, as the inclination takes them).
we need a law!!!
Uh-oh. Congress needs to get off its dead ass, stop fretting about the War on Terror, illegal immigration, runaway federal spending or nukes in Iran and DO SOMETHING about a REAL problem. There's a GENDER GAP in sexual satisfaction around the world. This travesty CANNOT be tolerated.
"There's a systematic disparity between men and women, where men are on the average substantially -- or about 10 points -- higher in their levels of satisfaction as women in that country," he said.
I propose the Fairness in Fornication Act. The law would require that men satisfy their partners in the sack or face fines and prison sentences. Complaints would be handled like Domestic Violence orders--- if a woman complains, then the man must be guilty--- to encourage compliance with the law. A "Three Strikes" provision would allow castration for repeat offenders.
Given some of the grand fornicators we have in Congress, we definitely have some expertise in this area...
Don't laugh. Congress might take this idea seriously.
This story stinks more and more as it drags itself through the news. I also smell the stench of Political Correctness rotting somewhere in the background.
White boys + Black woman + allegations of rape = RED ALERT!!! ELECTION AHEAD!!! POLITICAL OPPORTUNITY!!! ACT NOW!!!
Bullshit. I think this entire sordid affair is a farce, acted out by an opportunistic district attorney, a lying woman and a mainstream media that landed on this story like blowflies on steaming dung. It's a politically-correct feeding frenzy.
IF the Duke lacrosse players committed any crime, they deserve punishment. But if this affair is nothing more than some kind of ritual dance (complete with human sacrifice) to appease the Gods of Diversity and Sensitivity, then District Attorney Mike Nifong is the one who belongs in jail.
The whole thing stinks.
April 18, 2006
it's a girl!
I'm a proud blog-father again! This time, I've sowed my wild oats as far as Canada. Luckily for my blog-daughter, she's a lot better looking than her daddy.
Go check out lemons and lollipops. And keep your lecherous hands offa my daughter!
I TOLD you that my traffic was way down this year compared with what I had in 2005. I just checked N.Z. Bear's Ecosystem rankings and discovered that I am #332 in links and #338 in traffic. Just damn! The last time I looked (which was several months ago) I was around #250 in both categories.
Where have all (well, not ALL but damn near 500 per day) my readers gone? What has changed?
Don't tell me that I was a better blogger back when I was pickled to the gills every time I sat down at the computer. I don't want to believe that shit. I believe that I write MUCH better now, once I finally figured out how to do it sober again. But maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe drunken incoherence was a quality people found interesting about my blog.
I would say "Who cares?" too, but I'm not one of those dishonest bloggers who pompously declares that I write only for myself and don't care whether anyone reads me or not. I DO care and I DO pay attention to my traffic. (Besides, the referrals log on my Sitemeter is where I go to find interesting blogs that I've never seen before. If I see a URL there more than once, I figure that since they read ME, the person must be a wonderful judge of good blogs, so I go check them out in return.)
But I've developed a hole in my blog-bucket and my readership is leaking away. I don't know what to do about the problem, either. Maybe I should post some more nekkid pitchers of myself. Maybe I should email Glenn Reynolds and beg for an Instalanche. Maybe I should start a blog-war with somebody famous.
Maybe I should just quit fretting about it and write. I've always said that, "If you build it, they will come." I reckon that if they come, they can go, too.
C'est la vive.
Hey! It was a lot of work!
Lawyers work haaaaaaaard for their money. In fact, they work so hard that their time is worth more than a person's life.
If approved in federal and probate courts, the settlement would leave the family with $2.4 million and the family's attorneys with $4.1 million.
I wouldn't have the fucking nerve to claim that my services cost damn near DOUBLE the worth of somebody's life. But I'm not a lawyer. I still have a conscience.
Three law firms worked for the family and will split the fees. Paul Martins, one of the lawyers, said the fees are appropriate considering the complexity of the case.
BWHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! What do you expect the guy to say? He's a fricking LAWYER, for cryin' out loud! Of COURSE the fees are "appropriate" for HIM. He's collecting the got-dam money. You don't expect the bastard to be honest and confess, "Yeah, we milked this million-dollar baby for all it was worth. Took twice as much money as we gained for the client, but hey--- it was HAAAAARD work!"
My bleeding, chapped, Cracker ass.
it's my job
Yes, there is nothing I like better than spreading happiness, good will and joy everywhere I go. It's my job, now that I don't work anymore.
And it's always nice to know that sometimes, my efforts are appreciated.
Heh. If I play my cards right, I may get some free scuba-diving lessons out of this...
I appreciate fine writing, especially when it's on the subject of pussy-assed male fashion. The day you catch ME outside in a goddam flowing, diaphanous nightshirt will be one cold day in hell, at least now that I've quit drinking. Before? Well... you just might have seen me PASSED OUT in a flowing, diaphanous
But I don't do that anymore.
I just gave you the link to a damn good, funny post. Hie thy ass yonder and read it.
did i have a plan?
Last night I was thinking about my television interview and I worried a little bit. The reporter and his cameraman spent about an hour here at the Crackerbox and they taped a lot of talking for what is supposed to be a fairly lengthy news segment, maybe as much as five minutes long. (I'm not the only blogger they interviewed.)
I know enough about how television news is produced to realize that what I said and what they do with my words may be two entirely different things when the story hits the air. I was open and honest when I answered their questions, and that shit can backfire on you in the hands of someone with malicious intent.
I don't believe that the reporters were plotting any evil, but I could be wrong. Oh, well. If I was REALLY worried about how I look in the story, I could have refused the interview. I didn't, so let the chips fall where they may now. (Hell--- I might not even be included in the story at all. But I believe that I'm so handsome, articulate, charasmatic and humble that they can't possibly leave ME out!)
I revisited this question last night: "Did you have a plan when you started your blog?"
Shit. A PLAN??? I never had a real good plan for my fucking LIFE, let alone a plan for this blog. I just wanted to write and have somebody read me. I had no idea when I started that my blog would be anything other than a vent for my emotions and a reason to write every day. I never dreamed that the damned thing would cause so much trouble and still give me so much joy.
I just threw stuff at the wall to see if anything stuck there. It did. If that's a plan, then I had one...
could be me
Today makes 180 days since I last took a drink of alcohol. That's six months, almost half a year. Pretty good, huh?
Yeah. Pretty good. But I went here this morning and read this:
After TWO years of sobriety, he's drinking again. This is the longest he's ever been sober and he's throwing it all away. He's going to lose his job and we are NOT picking up the pieces for him again. He's going to have to find some one else to raise his kids because we are DONE. Fifteen years of putting up with his crap is enough. He was drinking champane at the brunch yesterday and after slamming his 3rd glass of it his daughter asked him to stop. He refused. So when he wasn't looking, Babs took the salt shaker and poured it in his glass. He sure stopped after that. Fucker.
I know the anger, pain and frustration that others feel when they see a drunk pissing his life away. I've had all that emotion directed at ME, when I was spiraling down the shit-hole that I dug and filled with alcohol. Earth People don't understand why the alcoholic does it, and the truth is--- neither does the alcoholic.
You think asking the question, "Why does he DO it?" bothers YOU? Try waking up with the shakes and no recollection of what you did the night before, and asking YOURSELF, "Why do I DO it?" and being absolutely helpless to stop.
Been there, done that. It ain't fun.
It ain't much fun for the people who care about you, either, but they need to get one thing through their heads. Alcoholics never quit drinking until THEY decide to quit, and even then they may not be able to do it. When Bill W. said that alcohol was "cunning, baffling, powerful," he wasn't kidding. If you've got the itch, it trumps everything your logical mind tells you. You'll drink even when you don't want to.
That's why I ain't bragging a lot about being sober for six months. I could fall right off the wagon tomorrow if I ain't careful. I may have stopped drinking, but I'll NEVER stop being an alcoholic. I KNOW that fact, and it scares the living shit out of me.
If I start drinking again, I won't wind up back in rehab. I'll end up on a slab at the morgue. And even facing THAT fact, I can't guarantee that I'll never drink again. I don't WANT to go there, but that doesn't mean that I won't.
You Earth People may not understand. But I do.
April 17, 2006
From my interview:
What would I do differently if I had my blog to go back and do over again? Not a whole lot, really. I never would have used the forbidden N-word--- not because I think I did anything terribly wrong by doing that, but because it just wasn't worth the crap that the post generated. Boy, did I ever get a full dose of sanctimony over THAT.
Talk less badly about my BC ex-wife? Give me a break. I haven't even touched the surface here about what a bitch she really is.
Stayed anonymous? Nah. My ego never would have stood for that. How am I supposed to receive adoration if nobody knows who I am?
Been less controversial? BWHAHAHAHAAA! Next question?
Do I have any regrets about what blogging has cost me? Yeah, some. But those are FAR outweighed by the enjoyment I've had, the people I've met and the pure-ass FUN blogging is for me.
The only thing I would do differently if I had it all to do over again is get my blog started sooner.
I'm just demonstrating...
The cameraman wants a shot of me blogging. That's what I'm doing now. I think this is kinda like lip-synching a song, but I'm actually going to write something rather than just pretend to do so. Maybe that'll give the film a touch of authenticity.
I don't get Channel 5 where I live, but they promised to give me a tape of their blogging story. Maybe some of you people in Atlanta will get a chance to see it.
By the way... you oughta see the gyrations the camera man is having to employ to get into my blogging room with me. Too many guitars and other junk in here to make two people comfortable. But we're gonna manage.
I kinda like this experience. Seeing how news is produced really isn't as messy as making sausage.
I'm being interviewed by Atlanta's Channel 5 television right now. Don't make any noise.
My thoughts are profound and I don't want you rubberneckers messing me up.
I read a post today that mentioned Jax beer. I vaguely recall buying Jax beer for $3.99 a case in Florida back in my younger days. It's not brewed anymore, and that fact started me to thinking about beers that have vanished like the dinosaurs during my lifetime.
Here are a few:
Just damn! I was certain that I could remember some more, but I'm stuck after those five. Can YOU name a defunct brand of beer that I don't have listed?
(I'm assuming that Blatz beer is still being brewed somewhere...)
Some people have waaaay too much time on their hands. If they can invent idiotic names such as these for their newborns, they need to get a hobby, preferably one that doesn't involve naming ANYTHING.
Bejus! These must be the rules they follow.
Cute. (1) contrived. (2) Got the “i” to do the smiley-face, heart and star dots over. (3) threw in a “y”.
Don't forget the apostrophe and the capital letter in the middle of the name. That's really cool, too! But I have to agree with this question.
What the hell is an "Araceli?"
I shamelessly stole this picture from here, where you will find lots of other interesting pictures. Go look.
It's more proof to me that belligerance and Mexican flags AIN'T the way to plead your case to the American people. At least not if you expect sympathy from anyone except the bleeding-heart, America-is-ALWAYS-guilty, cry-me-a-river leftist crowd. I believe that our immigration syatem is in dire need of repair, but that doesn't change one simple fact. "Illegal immigration" is just that--- ILLEGAL.
And it's a problem that needs to be dealt with--- fairly, but firmly. And quickly. Now is the time for our politicians to do their fucking jobs instead of posturing, pandering and plotting for political gain.
I don't think those gasbags have it in them.
it would make a good movie
If you don't believe that the internet is an amazing thing, just read this story.
Now THAT'S what I call serious networking.
I haven't done one of these in a while, so it's about time I did.
1. What issues are going to be most critical in the next Presidential election?
The War on Terror and Immigration Reform are the big issues, and I don't believe that either party has the balls or the ability to deal effectively with either problem. But it really doesn't matter to me, because I ain't gonna vote. Unless John Kerry gets the Democrat nomination again. I just might have to nuance my Cracker ass to the polls and vote against that weasel again.
2. Should convicted felons re-gain rights to vote, own or carry guns, hold public office, and serve on a jury?
I once would have answered this question differently, but the War on Drugs changed my mind. Thanks to our famous but futile War on Drugs, we have a lot of convicted "felons" around who are less of a menace to society than most politicians are. Besides, true felons are unlikely to vote or run for public office anyway. Drop this stupid law.
3. Should the government legalize illicit drugs, thereby allowing tax revenues and easing the burden on prisons for drug-related crimes?
Yes. We've already spent BILLIONS of dollars on this "problem" and it's worse now than it was before the War on Drugs began. No law will ever stop people from being people, and people are gonna gamble, fuck and get high. They have since the dawn of civilization and they ain't gonna stop now. The war on drugs is a collossal waste of time, money and energy on a lost cause. End it now.
4. What is the best thing that ever happened to you, outside of marriage, and children?
Blogging. It saved my life once, and it enriches my existence today. It's the best hobby I ever had.
5. If you had one wish, what would it be?
I wish I were young again. I want to shed this worn-out body the way a lizard sheds its skin and go back to being 21 years old again. Of course, I want to remember what I know today, too. That's a big wish, but it sure would be nice to have it come true.
I wasn't supposed to read this post. She told all males to skip it because it was girl talk, but I didn't listen. I read it anyway.
All I can say now is... OUCH!
Opt for the razor, ladies. LL is correct when she says that a man will never notice the difference, and I believe in following the path of least resistance as long as it leads where you want to go. That wax-the-cooter stuff sounds kinda painful to me, especially when a Bic disposable razor is a quick and painless option. Besides, if you ladies have a sporting lover, he'll do the shaving for you.
If you DON'T have a caring, compassionate,
like her or not
When Ann Coulter is good, she is very, very good. One thing that really pissed me off about some of the rhetoric spouted by those opposed to any new immigration laws is the tone of entitlement I heard. Somehow, we owe these people something for coming here illegally.
I call bullshit on that idea. It should be the other way around. Immigrants owe THIS COUNTRY something if they want to live here. Learn the goddam language, for starters. Adapt to OUR rules and customs. Don't demand that WE change to suit YOU. Just who the hell do you think you are anyway?
I believe that our immigration system is broken and it desperately needs repair. But I don't appreciate the "fuck YOU" tone of some of those leading the marches and protests over immigration reform.
Coming here ain't no got-dam "right." It's a privilege, one that should be greatly appreciated by those granted it. And I think that anybody who sneaks into this country illegally has a lot of nerve to DEMAND anything from anybody. I don't like that kind of arrogance.
And I also think it's very bad PR for the cause.
by the way...
If anybody is experiencing difficulty leaving commentes here (if you get a big, fat YOU ARE BANNED!!! notification), please email me to let me know. So far, only one person has complained, so maybe my Blacklisting efforts haven't inflicted too much collateral damage. I hope that's the case.
But if I got you by accident, please let me know. I'll try to fix it.
April 16, 2006
bits and pieces
*I went to visit my 94 year-old grandmother today. I wore a bright red Jawja Bulldogs tee shirt. She was sitting outside on her patio when I arrived, and as I was greeted by the joyous cavorting of her dog, Fancy, I heard Mommie say, "I can't see who that is, but I CAN see that pretty red shirt." She'll be 95 next month, and I'm going to wear that shirt more often when I go to see her--- so she can see me.
*A few of the neighborhood kids rang my doorbell this morning and offered to cut my grass AND wash my car for $40. We negotiated. I finally got them to do both jobs for $10. I should be ashamed of myself for exploiting child labor that way, but I would rather just think of myself as a damn good negotiator.
*A new Gallup Poll was released today. 60% of people responding disapprove of the way President Bush is handling the weather.
*I'm not a Catholic, so it's none of my business. But I think the Pope needs a new hairdresser. He looks like a silver-haired Jimmy Neutron with the coif he has now.
*An environmentalist made a shocking announcement today when he called a press conference to say, "We're NOT all gonna die!"
*Cynthia McKinney celebrated Easter today by declaring that the Easter Bunny is a Jew-loving white racist. When questioned further on the matter, she declared that the reporters were Jew-loving white racists, too, for daring to ask her any questions. She ended her press conference after accusing the Pope of being a white racist Jew with a bad hairdo.
*A total of 21,637,888 Easter eggs were hidden for various hunts today. 19,987,076 eggs were discovered, leaving 1,650,812 brightly colored eggs to rot in the bushes somewhere. Chickens plan a protest in Washington DC tomorrow. It's for the children.
*See how easy blogging is?
the answer man
Now you know where Easter eggs come from...
the horse's mouth?
Do you believe that songwriters perform their own work better than anyone else can? I don't, and when I read this post, the first person who came to MY mind was Kris Kristofferson. Eric says:
… if you like a song, search out the writer…. and then listen to a recording of THEM playing it…. playing it as they meant it to be heard…. If you liked the song before, then more than likely you will LOVE the song after you have heard how it was supposed to be played…. often with just a guitar and a singer on stage.
I beg to disagree. Kris Kristofferson has written some GREAT songs, but he butchers them when he plays them himself. He's a half-assed guitarist, he sings as if someone is wringing his neck and he can't carry his own got-dam tunes. Just listen to HIS version of "Sunday Morning, Coming Down," and then compare it with the version done by Johnny Cash. Hear the difference? Good. I rest my case.
The same is true of townes van zandt. Back in my semi-professional guitar-playing days, I had a couple of Van Zandt's albums and I performed several of his songs. But he wasn't much of a singer, in MY humble opinion. He songs were damned good, but he was no all-star musician or vocalist.
If you don't believe me, just listen to Van Zandt play "Pancho and Lefty," then listen to Emmylou Harris perform the same song. Try it. See what I mean?
I'm not saying that these songwriters aren't highly talented people. They are. But just as some people have a face for radio and not television, Kris and Townes have voices for songwriting, not performing. I could name numerous other people who fall into this odd category. Sometimes you can watch them perform on "The Bluebird Cafe" or "Austin City Limits" and you'll see what I mean. You'll sometimes cringe at just how badly they can treat their own work.
I do not put John Prine in that category. Something about his gravelly voice and his simple guitar playing just fits with the kind of songs he writes. I like his style--- it shines because it ISN'T polished. Kinda like a grandma moses. But John Prine is an exception.
A LOT of good songwriters can't perform their own work worth a shit. Can YOU name one?
Evidently this guy read an ancient post of mine about watching fat people attack the buffet table at a local restaurant. He observes, "Christ, some people can really eat."
That statement made me remember two people I've known who could "really eat." Oddly enough, both guys were split-rail skinny, despite their bottomless guts.
The first guy was named Keith. I worked with him at Chip's Drive-In back in my younger days. He was six feet tall with rusty red hair and feet the size of snow skis. (No, ladies--- I never saw his wanger, so I can't say whether his feet correlated size-wise with any other part of his anatomy. If they DID, then Keith was endowed with a real liver-turner of a unit.) Keith weight about 160 pounds soaking wet.
But that boy could eat more than anybody else I had ever known at the time. He was amazing. I thought that to be THAT skinny and still put away THAT much food, Keith must have been host to a 12-foot tapeworm. I once saw him (to win a bet) eat a banana split made in a one-quart monster-drink cup. I MADE the damn thing and it had five bananas in it, plus all the ice cream I could cram into the cup, plus a very liberal dosage of every topping on the sundae bar. I topped it off with nuts, whipped cream and six marashino cherries.
Keith ate the whole thing in 15 minutes and never even got an ice cream headache.
On another occasion (and on another bet), Keith ate three double beef Whoppers with cheese and three large orders of french fries at one sitting. After he inhaled that food and collected his winnings, he bought two fried apple pies and ate them, too. He was a human garbage disposal, but he NEVER gained any weight.
The other guy was named Jimmy (called "JP" for short) and I worked with him at the chemical plant. He was about my height, a short little fucker, and he weighed MAYBE 140 pounds. We went to a fish fry one evening and I saw the sawed-off bastard eat AT LEAST 20 fried whiting fillets, along with a mountain of hush puppies and cole slaw. He washed it all down with a gallon of iced tea.
I don't know where Jimmy put all that food, because his body didn't look big enough to hold it all. But I saw him eat that way on several other occasions, too. It made my belly hurt to watch him. He's the only person I ever met who probably shit turds bigger than he was.
Have YOU known people like that? People who could eat an entire house and never gain any weight? You know, people like this woman or this guy?
If they had normal metabolisms, they'd resemble the grazing buffalo I saw at the Western Sizzlin' Steakhouse food bar. Those people ate enough to feed a third world nation for a day, but they also had asses and guts that needed "Wide Load" warning signs attached when they travelled. No question about why THEY were fat.
My question is, why weren't Keith and Jimmy fat, too?
Here are some pictures taken of forsyth park in downtown Savannah. Yes, you can see the fountain and the oak trees (and some of the prettiest azaleas anywhere) right there between Drayton and Whittaker streets, not far from the middle of the city.
I once sang and played guitar for a wedding that was held right in front of the fountain. The scenery was nice, but the really beautiful part of the wedding was the fact that I got paid $100 for playing three songs.
Pretty, ain't it?
i knew him when
I hope that climbing the ladder of success doesn't change his generally sweet disposition. I probably need to kiss his ass really good here, in case I ever need a job. I like having powerful contacts in the business world.
Because of the sheltered life I lead, I've never heard of planet feedback before. Anybody familiar with it?
April 15, 2006
i've never liked the guy
I've never been a big fan of British Prime Minister Tony Blair. He's too damn wishy-washy. He reminds me too much of Bill Clinton, except for the fact that Blair can keep his dick in his pants and Clinton can't.
Blair announced that Britain cannot offer any military support for a strike on Iran. Maybe he can't. His country probably is stretched pretty thin with the commitments it has already. Britain may not be able to help even if it wanted to.
But I believe that Blair was wrong to ANNOUNCE NOW that Britain planned to stay the hell out of the fray if things in Iran really came to a boil. That's exactly how Iran's nutball leaders expect to get away with making their nukes.
Way to go, Tony. PROVE to the Iranian mullahs that they're correct when they talk about the USA (and by implication, the West in general) a "decaying power" lacking the "stamina" to block Iran's ambitions. Show those bastards how wrong they are, Tony. Whine and quit before the fight even starts.
Rewrite history while you're at it:
While the sense of crisis over Iran has been escalated by the fiery rhetoric between Tehran and the West - particularly Washington - many within the British government are now convinced that the impasse can be resolved by repeating the same sort of painstaking diplomatic activity that returned Libya to the international fold.
"Painstaking diplomatic activity?" I seem to recall that the diplomacy used to bring Libya and Khadaffi to their senses was an air strike that destroyed Khadaffi's palace and sent him scurrying off to hide in the desert until his ears stopped ringing, which took a couple of years. That's the kind of diplomacy these camel-jockeys understand. Anything less is a sign of weakness.
Strange... I recall that just a couple of years ago, pundits were predicting a revolution in Iran. The people were going to rise up and cast out the mullahs. Looks like they were wrong.
And anybody who thinks that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad doesn't need to be stepped on like the cockroach he is... well, they're wrong, too.
Serve the truth
I've always said that waiting tables in a restaurant is one of the most difficult and challenging jobs around--- not because the work is especially complicated, but because you have to deal so intimately with PEOPLE, and people can be incredible assholes. And some people seem to morph into hyper-assholery when dealing with waitpersons. There's no excuse for that crap.
You can listen to voice of experience here, and I agree with every word she says. Yeah. It's a lack of ego and self-esteem (or a VERY small dick) that makes a bully. And bullies like to pick on people who can't fight back, so they show their royal asses in restaurants.
I've complained about my food or the service in restaurants before, but I was polite when I did it. No screaming or cussing--- just a calm expression of dissatisfaction. I haven't done that very often (I'm really pretty easy to please. If I don't find a booger that ain't mine on my fork, I'm happy.), but when I did, I usually had the problem corrected quickly, with gushing apologies included. Twice, I've even had the restaurant comp my meal.
I think it's really a question of good manners, a quality that is sorely lacking in society today. Just try to be nice, even if you're all pissed off. Always remember that the people serving your food have feelings, too.
And they also have the opportunity to put boogers on your fork if you fuck with them.
He hopped when he should have zagged. His Energizer batteries finally let him down. He's Uggggghs Bunny now.
I'm getting a head start on wishing everybody a Happy Easter. For my Jewish friends, I offer wishes for a Pleasant Passover. For any Muslim readers I have, well... you can just go fuck your lunatic selves. If you sand gnats had an Easter basket, you'd fill it with hand grenades and delare jihad on something. Buncha crazy bastids.
In the interest of Truth In Reporting, I give you this disturbing video of the Easter Bunny in action, BEFORE he became road kill on the side of the highway. It must be the same rabbit that attacked Jimmy Carter.
(Video shamelessly lifted from this woman, who shamelessly lifted it from
obscene picture alert!
Here is some serious tree porn. Bejus! That's downright shameful!
Don't say I didn't warn you.
I think I've eaten a hamburger at Ruby Tuesday's, but I don't remember it being this good. Maybe I need to go back to Ruby's and try again.
Here are my selections for the best hamburgers in Savannah. As is typical in my life, two of the three places no longer are open for business.
#1-- The old Crystal Beer Parlor in downtown Savannah. Damn! The place is closed now, but they once served the best hamburger in the world as far as I'm concerned. With some steak fries and a pitcher of cold beer, that burger was exquisite.
#2-- The Exchange Tavern on River Street in Savannah. I think it's called "The Congress" on the menu. That's a delicious, two-fisted burger that leaves juice and fixins dripping off your elbows after a couple of bites. Ummmm.... GOOD!
#3-- Billy Bob's Steak House. Not the one on River Street, but the one that once operated off Mall Boulevard before the tax man ran them out of business. They served a 1/2 pound burger with everything, including chili on it, which was a true-gut-buster if you ate the whole thing. It would put you in a coma if you weren't careful.
Damn! Now I'm craving a hamburger. I won't defile my palate with anything I can find around where I live--- my choices are Burger King or MacDonald's--- so I'll just make my own, which would be #4 on that list if I still lived in Savannah.
I make a mean burger...
makes sense to me
If states are going to get all protective and ban smoking in public places, why not ban farting, too? We're talking serious greenhouse gas emissions here, a man-made cause of global warming, not to mention the olfactory damage caused by real stink-bomb farts.
Hell, it's a CRISIS! Government needs to STOP IT, especially in Mexican restaurants and places that serve boiled cabbage. This is a serious public health issue.
We need to think about The Children--- after all, when they stand up, their young, innocent faces are at ass-level to an adult. Just think about how many children get farts laid right in their faces today! If THAT'S not frightening enough to make you scream for government action, I don't know what is.
Besides, I've never seen second-hand smoke peel the paint right off a wall and clear an entire room of choking, gagging occupants. I can't say the same thing about farts.
a savannah icon
One thing I liked about my years spent playing guitar on River Street was the opportunity to get to know many of Savannah's street characters, of which the city has an abundance. One of the more interesting characters was the "Picture Man," a wizened black man who ran around with a Polaroid camera and charged people $5 a pop to take their picture. Hell, I still have two pictures that he took of ME and a lady companion back then. (I bargained him down to $2 each for those pictures. If I could figure out how to operate my scanner, I would post one.)
I saw in the newspaper where he died Thursday. I never knew that his real name was Robert Hall until I read it today. He was always Picture Man to me.
The guy had skin the color of a pecan shell. Looking at him, I could never decide whether he was 40 or 400 years old. But he hustled the street with vigor when he wasn't vending cold drinks in the stands at Savannah Sand Gnats baseball games.
His obituary was short, with no mention of kin. Picture Man was 71 years old when he died.
RIP, Picture Man.
i toldja it was a bitch!
My income tax returns are in the mail. Boy, that's a load off my mind. I've always believed that I was a pretty bright fellow, even if I WAS an English Major and math is NOT my forte, but plowing through the IRS instructions completely humbled me.
I was NOT a bright man. I was a monkey fucking a football.
I finally threw in the towel and bought Turbo Tax for both my state and federal taxes. I spent a total of around $100 by the time all was said and done, but I figure that it was cheap at the price. Trying to compute my taxes myself made me believe that my head might explode. I was on the verge of becoming homicidal.
Evidently, I am not the only monkey out there. Dealing with our 60,000 pages of tax code drives a LOT of people to the brink of insanity.
Last year six out of every 10 tax filers were so intimidated they had to hire a professional tax preparer to figure out how much they owe. Things are so bad that some psychiatrists are trying to get "fear of tax filing" designated as an official medical disability. The Tax Foundation calculates that all of this complexity imposes an enormous deadweight loss on the U.S. economy of some $250 billion a year, or almost 20 cents of compliance costs for every dollar raised. Tax compliance this year will cost more money than is paid in income taxes by every resident of California.
If six out of ten people are as fucked-up and mind-blown as I was doing my taxes, then we ought to be able to do something to solve the problem. That's a got-dam MAJORITY of taxpayers we're talking about. I know that everybody is afraid of the IRS, but when calculating their own taxes is beyond the ability of that many people, their screams of pain and frustration should be heard.
We should all be yelling at the top of our lungs to Washington, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!" The system is broke, and YOU need to fix it.
Did you know that the IRS has a mission statement? Well, they do, and here it is:
"Provide America's taxpayers top quality service by helping them understand and meet their tax responsibilities and by applying the tax law with integrity and fairness to all."
BWHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! Have you ever heard such utter bullshit in your life? Call one of the IRS "Help" lines and see what you get, IF you get anything other than a busy signal or a recorded voice saying please hold because all associates are busy
Somebody needs to be dragged off and shot for allowing such a mess to occur.
If I were
I think five cents on the dollar would produce plenty of money to run the government, especially when you consider all the "shadow" economy you catch with a sales tax. Right now, the IRS doesn't get a dime from a $100,000 drug deal. Under a national sales tax, the dealers pay when they spend the money.
Besides, ANYTHING is better than what we have now.
But I really don't expect the tax laws to change, except to become more complicated. Politicians use the current system to reward their friends and punish their enemies. You don't expect them to relinquish THAT kind of tool, do you? I think not.
And despite political promises of simplification, the tax-code tinkering gets worse every year. President Bush's tax-reform commission reported that, since the 1986 reform, Congress has added 15,000 new and mostly special-interest provisions to the code. Another deadweight cost of all the carve-outs and dodges arranged by Washington's corporate lobbyists is that tax rates have to be roughly twice as high to raise enough revenue to operate the government. These high tax rates are fiscally self-defeating because they distort and discourage economically productive behavior and thus shrink the tax base still further. (Emphasis mine)It's going to take a taxpayer revolt to change that crap and we're just not pissed off enough yet for that to happen. Until then, it'll be the same old shit, just a different day.
So, I'll keep my subscription to Turbo Tax up to date and hope that the program is sophisticated enough to handle whatever the government throws at it next. But...
If you're organizing a taxpayer revolt, where do I sign to join?
is it just me?
Is it just me, of does anybody else think that Iran's new, nutlog President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad looks a lot like ringo starr? Or maybe Ringo's younger brother? I like Ringo a lot better, but I still think the two look a lot alike.
Ahmadinejad sure likes to run his mouth and bluster mightily. The little prick is just begging for a takedown, and I believe that we ought to give it to him. Responsible parents don't allow their children to run with sissors. As responsible stewards of the planet, we shouldn't let this guy run around with nuclear weapons.
Hell, we've got an entire war machine right next door to this maniac. We ought to give him a taste of it if he doesn't mend his errant ways. If we know where his "battery of 164 centrifuges" is, we should demonstrate the effectiveness of our smart bombs and let Ahmadinejad find his got-dam enriched uranium in the rubble.
That's IF we don't bomb HIS ass, too, which I would do just to shut him up.
Crazy bastard. We can't allow him to get his finger on any nuclear button. That's like watching a fucktarded jihadi strap on a bomb belt and saying "Don't mess with him. He hasn't blown anybody up... yet." I say bite the snake before he bites YOU.
But that's just me. Perhaps all we need here is a bunch of anti-war leftists holding hands and singing "Kumbaya" to resolve the situation through a group hug. That ought to make Ahmadinejad go all mellow.
I just hope that we're not sitting back and waiting for Israel to take care of this problem for us. Oh, they'll do it before they are "wiped off the map," but if WE'RE going to be the Tall Dog Superpower of the world, WE need to handle this job. Besides, Israel already did it once, to Saddam in 1981. It's our turn now.
We cannot allow Iran to have nuclear weapons. Period.
April 14, 2006
I'm finished. I completed my income tax returns. I finally broke down and purchased Turbo Tax when I became so frustrated with my own efforts that I wanted to drag my tax forms outside and shoot them.
Turbo Tax took all the information without gagging and spit out my completed returns like a champ. Now I just hope that the damned things are correct. I think they are, but the tax-law bullshit is so thick and so deep that I can't be certain. All I can say in my defense is... I tried my best.
I took a medical deduction for all the out-of-pocket expense my stay at Willingway Hospital cost, which was a BUNDLE, so I ended up owing no taxes at all on my meager income. In fact, Turbo-Tax calculated an $8 low-income tax credit for me. That's a hoot. For the first time in my life, I'm getting something back from the government that I didn't pay for first. (They kept my "withholding" as an interest-free loan for a year. An $8 fee for THAT is cheap at the price.)
I ain't real excited. I've paid those bastards a fricking fortune in my life. If I ever intend to break even by collecting $8 per year, I'll need to live to be several gazillion years old, more or less.
But at least I'm finished. Until next year, that is.
fuck you, too
He read it on a blog, so it must be true.
Ron, aka Acidman, aka "that guy at Gutrumbles", has gone and sprayed the proverbial waterhose on the hornet's nest that is the blogosphere. Lots of my regular reads have delisted him because of a couple of posts of a suspect nature. That suspect nature is blatant racsism and use of the bad word instead of one of the PC terms for dark skinned people.
Uh... it's ROB, Jim, not "Ron." And you might link to the specific post where I "sprayed the proverbial water hose" instead of just a link to my main page, unless you're suggesting that ALL of my writing is "suspect." Is my crap-blogging racist, too?
Don't ask me any more about it than that cause I don't know. I didn't read him before this event and don't see any real reason to start now so I've got no opinion on the matter.
Huh? You don't read me and you aren't gonna start now? Then how the hell do you know that I'm a "blatant racist?" Are you psychic? Or just a good little politically-correct sheeple following where you are led? As for someone with "no opinion on the matter," you do a pretty good job of giving me your opinion.
If ignorance is bliss, we're dealing with a very happy guy here...
Got-dam! He probably thinks Oliver Willis is smart. (I think both he and Oliver are full of shit. Oops! Was that remark racist of me?)
Well, Jim, I don't read you, either, and I don't intend to start now. I would call you an incredible wit, with your observations about black asses, but I would be only half-right. I'll throw you a link just because I'm a warm-hearted, giving sort of guy, even though I am also such a virulent racist.
I try to be polite when I hate.
Is this a hate crime? It would be if a white person did it. But I'm not sure in this case.
Authorities have said Hardin sent the letters because she was unhappy at the school and wanted her parents to believe she wasn't safe there. The threats prompted officials to move dozens of minority students off campus for one night out of concern for their safety.
No, Hardin is a black female, so she can't possibly be guilty of a hate crime. Ya gotta be white and preferably a male to be hatin' right today. It's a Political Correctness matter.
That's the ticklish thing about hate crimes. It ain't so much about hate as it is about who's doin' the hatin' and what they're hatin' at.
(Hat tip to this farmer for the link!)
yeah, it's stupid
Sure, it's a stupid regulation. But we've got pretty much the same thing in Georgia now, which proves that power-mad nannies know no borders. They live and legislate in the South as well as the North.
The anti-smoking movement stopped being about public health a long time ago (if it ever was about health in the first place). It's become the convenient arena for the nanny state to run roughshod over individual liberties and private property rights.
Go ahead, you non-smokers. Support anti-smoking regulations because they don't affect YOU. Just don't be surprised when the nannies move on to something that DOES affect YOU next, because they WILL, just as surely as you can say "junk food." Idiots.
The older I get, the more convinced I am that we don't deserve what the Founding Fathers envisioned for this country. We have too many zealous nannies and too many ignorant sheeple among us. Combine the two and you get proof of one ugly fact.
We can't handle freedom.
hillary did it with pork futures
Politicians sometimes turn out to be wonderfully good investors. I wish I had such uncanny luck.
Mollohan reported a portfolio of less than $500,000 in 2000, generating less than $80,000 in income. In 2004, he reported having at least $6.3 million in assets that generated from $200,000 to $1.2 million in income.
Now, THERE'S a selfless "public servant," doing a thankless job for a pittance of pay. (I don't remember where I saw it, but I once read a nice article about the number of millionaires in Congress. What was really interesting was seeing how many of those people BECAME millionaires AFTER they won a seat. Nope... no graft or corruption here... just move along...)
Mollohan, the ranking Democrat on the House Ethics Committee, is up for re-election in the fall and has a strong opponent. He has tried to spin away questions about his appropriations and personal wealth by painting himself as victim of a partisan attack...
I really don't see how the Democrats can make the "Republican culture of corruption" much of a campaign issue when their guys have this kind of record. But they are shameless enough to try.
(Link shamelessly [although not as shameless as a Congressman] stolen from here, where you can find an excellent rant about taxes here.)
my smart brother
My brother is a high-octane attorney. As a formidable litigator, he tools around town in a BMW convertable and he strikes fear into the heart of the opposition when he walks into court.
But he's still MY little brother, and I'm about to tell you a true story about him. Picture THIS if you ever meet him in court:
I think I was about 12 years old, which would make my brother about 10. I had been out playing ball with some friends one day after school. I came home an hour or so before sunset and discovered my brother stretched out on the kitchen floor and holding a string in his hands as he peered intently through the sliding glass doors into the back yard.
"What in the world are YOU doing?" I asked.
"Shhh... I'm gonna trap a squirrel," my brother replied.
Sure enough, he had set up a trap--- a wooden box with a stick propping it off the ground and a string tied to the stick. He had baited his trap with a handful of peanuts and he was watching a couple of squirrels in the yard as they worked up the nerve to sample the peanuts. I sat down at the kitchen table to watch.
The squirrels kept inching closer to the trap. They were eyeballing the peanuts and wondering why something just seemed wrong with this picture. But one of the squirrels finally said to hell with his fears and stuck his head under the box. The peanuts were too great a temptation, and he crawled under the box to feast.
My brother yanked the stick away and the box fell, trapping the squirrel underneath. "I GOT him," my brother shouted triumphantly, and he ran out the door to retrieve his prize.
Like a complete dumbass, he stuck his bare hand under the box to grab the squirrel. The squirrel, panic-stricken and filled with fight-or-flight instincts, went into full attack mode and latched onto my brother's hand with fury of fang and claw. My brother yanked his hand out from under the box with the frantic squirrel still attached, and for a moment I didn't know who had who.
My brother screamed like a girl. He fell back on the ground and started rolling around, trying to detach the biting, clawing squirrel. The squirrel finally turned loose and hit the ground running, scampering like a rat with its ass on fire across the yard and up an oak tree. My brother staggered back inside the house with blood running from his hand and arm.
"It worked," he said proudly. "I had him for a minute there."
I thought, "Yeah, you had him, all right. That's the reason he's munching acorns in the oak tree right now and you're the one bleeding in the kitchen sink." But I didn't say that. I said, "You might want to think about wearing a glove next time."
I don't believe that my brother ever tried to trap another squirrel. Once he proved that his trap functioned as designed, he had no desire to try it again. Besides, he was better at figuring out exotic ways to kill frogs and THEY didn't bite.
Want to throw some serious disconcertion at my brother in court? Just sit there and make squirrel noises at him.
we're all gonna die!
I'm reading State of Fear by Michael Crichton, which was a gift from this guy during his trip to Savannah. Anybody who follows my blog knows that I am not a big fan of environmentalists and I don't believe the global warming alarmists. So far, the book seems to reflect a lot of MY philosophy about environmental "science."
The entire environmental movement is less about the environment than it is about grabbing research grant money, attacking capitalism and destroying civilization as we know it. In MY humble opinion, the environmental movement is a much greater threat to mankind than is global warming. It's damn sure killed a lot more people. (Just go here to see the death toll from banning DDT alone.)
I dealt with a lot of salesmen when I worked in the chemical plant. Their tactics were all the same: "Scare 'em, then save 'em." Warn of all the dire consequences awaiting if you DON'T buy their product, then promise a miracle cure if you do. Salesmen have been doing the same thing since the dawn of Man, when Org sold Arrk a hand-carved God-in-a-box to hang outside the entrance to his cave to ward off earthquakes.
Doesn't that sound a lot like what the global warming "scientists" do? Oh, and don't forget to silence the opposition, too. You don't want some loudmouth non-believer derailing your gravy train and you have the useful idiots in the MSM firmly on your side.
The article in Vanity Fair is part of a so-called "Green issue" that includes a call to arms from Al Gore and friendly profiles on climate change alarmists such as NASA's Jim Hansen, Ed Begley Jr., Bette Midler, Ed Norton and many others. Since global warming is a "threat graver than terrorism," the magazine tells readers on its cover, it's cool to want to fight global warming. "Green is the new black," Vanity Fair tells us.
Forget the irony of how "cool" it is to be against global warming. Just look at how the high priests of environmentalism shout "infidel!" at anyone who disagrees with them. They act more like enraged mullahs than scientists. I think that this quasi-religious zealotry is one reason that I am so suspicious of the environmental movement. Those people frighten me. ALL zealots do.
What's strange is that the NASA scientist Jim Hansen -- most famous of late for claiming he has been muzzled by the Bush administration for raising his concerns about climate change -- would participate in the attack on Seitz. Hansen participated in a press conference this week with Hertsgaard and activists from a green group during which they announced the startling "revelation" about Seitz. When a noted government scientist participates in the sort of character assassination attempted on Dr. Seitz, something is truly rotten in the state of American science. (---Emphasis mine)
Shakespeare could have been speaking of an environmental "scientist" when he said, "He doth protest too much." Kinda like the reaction Copernicus received from
Environmentalism already has cost millions of lives and billions of dollars. We've been stupid enough so far to boggle MY mind. How long do we keep listening to the scare-mongering, gaia-worshipping, religious nut-jobs before we realize that they are full of shit and we start acting as rational people again?
I think it's too late. Too many people are scared already, and they want desperately to be saved. The salesmanship on global warming has been highly effective, so much so that we have a lot of ignorant people today believing that carbon dioxide is "toxic." (It IS, too--- if you try to breathe it instead of oxygen. But EVERYTHING is toxic in the right dose, under the right circumstances.)
And if you think the environmental movement isn't about money and power, you haven't been paying much attention.
At the risk of pissing off a few people (yeah... I lose a lot of sleep worrying about doing THAT), I want to state a fact I learned the hard way when I was young: Wimmen fuck up a public bathroom worse than men do.
I'm not talking about peeing on the floor--- MEN are bad about that--- I'm talking about doing really disgusting things.
When I was 14 years old, I worked at a hamburger joint called "Chip's Drive In" on Waters Avenue in Savannah. On the night shift, one of my many duties after closing time was cleaning the bathrooms. Bejus! I learned to DESPISE that part of my job. It also destroyed my naive belief in the nobility of mankind.
The public bathrooms at the drive-in were located OUTSIDE the restaurant, at the back of the building. People could come and go as they pleased, without a lot of witnesses. When I went back there with my bucket, mop and disinfectant to muck out the mess, I never knew what I was going to find. Usually, it was pretty bad.
A typical men's room experience meant mopping several gallon of urine off the floor, cleaning greasy fingerprints and urine from the sink, and reading new grafitti, such as "St. Francis was a sissy" on the walls. I could usually handle that job by propping the door open, standing outside with a water hose and washing the place out before attempting to mop. Then, I could just mop, wipe, replace the pull-down towel in the sink rack, put fresh toilet paper on the roller and be out of there.
I always cleaned the men's room first. About the worst things I ever found in there was blood in the sink (probably the result of someone attempting to clean up after a drunken fist-fight) or an overflowing commode, plugged with a giant five-pound turd. Those problems, I could handle, even though I didn't like doing it.
But the ladies' room was different. Open THAT door and you entered an alternate universe, a world of incredibly disgusting filth and corruption. Bejus! That towel rack on the wall? Some sweet flower of Southern womanhood unrolled half of it and left shit-crusted HAND PRINTS all over the towel. How the hell did a woman ever get that much shit ON HER HANDS? And why did she wipe her hands ON THE TOWEL instead of using the sink to clean up?
Overflowing commode? Yep, got it right here, but NOT from a five-pound turd-pluggage. Just half a roll of toilet paper, used to daub the dew from the lilly and then becoming a soggy mass too large for the toilet to handle.
Sometimes, I saw SHIT ON THE FLOOR, something I never saw in the men's room. My Personal Protective Equipment consisted of elbow-length rubber gloves and nothing else. After entering that hell-hole a couple of times, I wanted a level-A Haz-Mat suit, complete with self-contained breathing apparatus, before I opened the door.
Fairer sex, my ass. I've SEEN what you ladies can to to a public bathroom. It ain't a pretty sight.
I've often wondered if cleaning those bathrooms as a young man is the reason I grew up to be such a misogynist today. I've often accused wimmen of possessing a "cleaning gene" that men lack, but they use it only in domestic settings, where they like to put frilly lid-covers on the commode so that the damn thing won't stay up by itself and a man has to piss by grabbing his Roscoe with one hand and holding the lid up with the other.
But they damn sure ignore that genetic "clean" instinct when it ain't THEIR bathroom they're using. I've seen evidence that wimmen can piss on a wall as well as men can, and even BETTER if you consider the contortion efforts involved to do so.
And SOME wimmen will dispose of a used tampon just about ANYWHERE...
No wonder I am king of the crap-bloggers. I was tramautized when I was 14 years old.
the plot thickens
I hope that the MSM keeps a close eye on this case. I think it's a perfect example of what happens when a lying woman cries "RAPE!" and a politically-correct DA smells a chance to posture. If you're an innocent young man caught in the subsequent frenzy, well... that's just tough shit for you.
Yeah, yeah, I know... the fact that the woman was passed-out drunk doesn't mean that she wasn't raped. But I did notice that the first calls from police mention nothing about the woman being beaten. Does THIS sound like a cop looking at a woman who has been brutally raped?
"She's breathing and appears to be fine. She's not in distress. She's just passed out drunk."
But the guys on the Duke lacrosse team are in a heap 'o trouble. They're being run over by the government steamroller.
That's always been the biggest fear in my adult life: to have the Powers That Be come after ME with all their might over something I didn't do. If that ever happens to you, it's welcome to Tiannamin Square, American style. You can't win in that situation.
I want to watch this case to its conclusion. And then I want someone to tell me how justice was done.
April 13, 2006
I made my first trip to Key West in 1978 aboard the Blue Fin, the Skidaway Island Oceanographic Institute's research vessel. The Blue Fin once was a shrimp boat, but it was intercepted by the US Coast Guard while carrying a load of marijuana instead of shrimp, and the boat later was sold at auction in Miami. The state of Georgia bought it and converted it into a research boat.
The Blue Fin was 80' long (if I remember correctly--- it might have been 60'--- I thought it was a pretty BIG boat), powered by two humongous diesel engines and equipped with large stabilizing anchors to deploy over the sides in rough seas. The boat had a regular crew of five people, and when we loaded up with me and a few scientists from the Institute, a total of twelve souls were on board for the Key West trip.
Believe it or not, we were headed to the warm waters of the keys to collect a special kind of seaweed, which would be used as worm food in an experiment involving (I am NOT making this up!) harvesting the methane from sea-worm farts as an alternative energy source. (Remember--- this was 1978, Carter was President and we were suffering an energy "crisis." Energy research dollars were plentiful, no matter how ridiculous the research.)
We left Skidaway Island at sunrise on a chilly, overcast morning in October. Cold rain misted from the slate-gray sky and a brisk wind blew robustly from the east. The local weather report carried a small craft warning and predictions of strong winds offshore, with seas 15 to 20 feet. Hell--- when we weighed anchor and left the dock, I was all a-twitter with excitement. I had no idea what I had gotten my ass into.
For those of you who have never been in 20-foot seas, I'll just say this: it's a goddam impressive sight and those waves make for one VERY impressive ride. Even with the stabilizers down and dragging, that boat tossed like a cork on the water. If you hung onto the rail and looked overboard, you'd find yourself staring down into a deep, watery chasm one minute, then staring UP at a mountain of ocean that blotted out the sky the next. Back and forth it went, all day long.
That was a VERY rough ride.
I was one of four people on board who did NOT get seasick. I spent all day up on deck, breathing fresh salt air and getting an occasional glimpse of the horizon between huge ocean swells. Almost everybody else ended up down below, suffering the tortures of the damned.
I tried to make it to my rack sometime that evening, but I took one step down the hatch and had to retreat quickly back out on deck. The smell of vomit in the crew quarters was so strong that you didn't smell it--- it reached out like a gnarly hand and choked you by the neck. I knew that I never would survive a night down in THAT hell-hole.
I ended up spending the night on the bridge, talking to the First Mate, a guy named Zack who pulled the graveyard shifts while the Captain slept. Zack was the son of a shrimper and he had been on the water since he was a little boy. He told me something interesting about seasickness.
Zack said that he had been seasick once in his life. Never as a boy and never as a young man. Never in rough seas or in storms. Never when hung-over and burping tequila fumes. He got sick as a sober grown man in the Gulf of Mexico on a beautiful day when the sea was as smooth as the surface of a mirror. He said that it hit him out of the blue, he barfed and heaved for 24 hours, he prayed for death, he thought he was GONNA die and then... he recovered, never to be seasick again.
"At least not yet," Zach added, at the end of his story.
That's why, although I've never been seasick in my life, I still feel a little trepidation when I head offshore in a boat. Since that night on the Blue Fin, I've met several other bleached-out sea-dogs who told stories similar to Zack's. Evidently, you can be on the water for YEARS and never have a problem, then have seasickness hit you like a ton of bricks for no good reason. (Except maybe to teach you some humility so that you feel sympathy and not scorn the next time you see someone get seasick.)
So, I don't laugh at you lubbers who can't make it out of the sound into deep water before you start talking to Ralph and Huey over the side and chumming the water before we're ready to fish. I'll be nice to you. Maybe my time is yet to come.
You know, I AM planning on a sailboat ride to Beliz this summer... all the way across the Gulf of Mexico...
gimme them teefus
In the idiotic War on (some) Drugs, government frequently abuses property forfeiture laws. Horror stories about people losing their cars, large sums of cash or other possessions while never even being charged with a crime are common, proof that if you give government awesome power, government will abuse that power.
But this is ridiculous. Got-dam! Taking your car or your home is bad enough, but we oughta draw the line at letting government pull your teeth.
That's a bit much, even for government.
hate your boss?
If you hate your boss, you'd better keep your feelings to yourself, or at least refrain from celebrating his death. If your boss croaks and you go running around the office singing, "Ding, dong the witch is dead," you just might get fired.
In MY humble opinion, the ghoulish dingbat got exactly what she deserved. But that's not what really struck me about this story. I liked this part:
Her activities caused a major disruption in the office, with some shocked employees unable to work as a result of the Plaintiff's celebration.
Just damn! It doesn't take much to make employees "unable to work" anymore. (The pussification of America continues...) Why didn't somebody just stand up and tell the celebrating woman to STF up?
Wait a minute... that's a bad idea. You might be accused of creating a "hostile environment" for the joyous ghoul and end up getting sued yourself. Besides, you don't need to be solving your own problems. That's government's job today.
No, don't do any happy dances if your boss dies. You'd better just stick to writing insulting things about him on the bathroom wall.
(TRUTH UPDATE: I knew that I had made it as a supervisor in the chemical plant when I stepped into a urinal booth at work one day and saw "Rob Smith Sucks Donkey Dicks!" carved into the wall. I am living proof that a person can take a piss while he swells with pride. I figured that if some disgruntled employee hated me enough to write on the bathroom wall about me sucking donkey dicks, then I must be doing something right.)
I received this email and decided to post it as a Public Service. Think about it the next time you hear a politician talking about spending taxpayer dollars:
Subject: Just what is a "billion"?
This proposal is coming from someone who supposedly has "her eyes
A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency did a good job of putting that figure into some perspective in one of its releases.
a.. A billion seconds ago it was 1959.
Louisiana Senator, Mary Landrieu (D), is presently asking the Congress for $250 BILLION to rebuild New Orleans. Interesting number, what does it mean?
Well, if you are one of 484,674 residents of New Orleans (every man,
Or, if you have one of the 188,251 homes in New Orleans, your home gets $1, 329,787
Or, if you are a family of four, your family gets $2,066,012.
Yep. To paraphrase the late Senator Everett Dirkson: a billion here, a billion there and pretty soon you're talking about serious money. Too bad that government doesn't seem to appreciate that fact.
April 12, 2006
si! se puede!
People protesting over immigration reform rallied in Savannah last weekend in Forsyth Park. (I would link to the Savannah Morning News (www.savannahnow.com) article, but those asses require registration now and I refuse to visit sites that require registration. I read the story in their dead-tree version and it changed my thinking about wetbacks and illegal immigration.
The rally was peaceful and the chant of the day was "Si! Se Puede!" which means "Yes! It can be done!" in Spanish. Most of the people participating in the protest were of Mexican heritage, which I expected. What I didn't expect was the sympathy I ended up feeling for them, especially after reading some of their stories.
It's goddam difficult to become an American citizen if you really try to play by the rules.
Talk about a bureaucracy that moves with the speed of a glacier! The US Immigration and Naturalization Service makes the DMV look like a model of efficiency. When you deal with them, you face YEARS of jumping through hoops and clearing ridiculous hurdles before you can become a citizen. Even people with valuable skills that we NEED in this country suffer the long wait and the red-tape nightmare that is the INS in action.
No wonder we have so many people here illegally. Just read this to get an idea of how bad the ordeal is.
Hoping to be quickly reunited with her husband, Sumathi filed a Form I-130, an application for an immigrant visa that would allow Jeevan to enter the United States. That was when she ran headlong into what has been called the most anti-family, anti-marriage, anti-immigrant aspect of American law: the prolonged and pointless separation of legal permanent residents from their spouses and children. (Emphasis mine)
Does that shit make sense to YOU? I've always said that if you want to create a bunch of criminals, just pass laws that are too stupid to follow. I'm beginning to believe that our current immigration laws fall into that category.
When you make doing it right damn near impossible, you get people doing it wrong, and I really can't blame them for it. If I were challenged with the kind of torturous, frustrating obstacles to citizenship that immigrants face today, I might say to hell with it myself and stay here illegally.
Chances are that the same government that created this mess isn't going to get off its dead ass to arrest or deport me, so why wade through the bullshit? I can get a job, earn a living and even start my own business WITHOUT permission from the INS. What do you think MOST people would do in that situation?
People gravitate to the path of least resistance. It's no fricking wonder that illegal immigration is a problem today. Our immigration laws and the way we enforce them ENCOURAGE people to ignore the rules. And when you make abiding by the law MUCH more difficult than violating it, people will violate the law.
Here are MY humble ideas about how to deal with immigration.
1) Make the process of becoming an American citizen a lot easier and a lot quicker than it is now. That means bogging a foot in the ass of the INS and making that bureaucracy do its fucking job in a timely manner. If the INS delivered your mail, you'd be getting five year-old Christmas cards today. The wheels of government may turn slow, but this crap is ridiculous.
2) Build the wall along the Mexican border. Fuck whoever is "offended" by that idea. We need to plug the holes in our border before we are overrun with illegal immigrants. We don't need the problem growing worse while we try to solve it. Once we get the system fixed, people won't need to swim the river to get here. We can admit them legally.
3) Stop ALL programs that cater to illegal immigrants using taxpayer dollars. That means no medical care, no bilingual education and no welfare, food stamps or other benefits for being here illegally. Stop catering to people who break the law and then screaming about a "crisis" of lawbreakers.
4) Require that all immigrants learn to read and write the English language. NEVER bend on that issue. And stop printing voting ballots in ANY foreign language. If you can't speak English, you don't vote. Period.
5) Once the new system is in place, ENFORCE THE LAWS. Round up and deport illegals (jailing their asses costs too much money) promptly. Confiscate all their property before you send them home. Send a REAL message that being here illegally is a bad idea. When you make the potential punishment outweigh the potential reward, you put a stop to a lot of bad behavior. That's one reason why we're not a nation of bank robbers and tax cheats. It's not because we are particularly morally pure--- it's because we fear the penalty for getting caught. That's the kind of law that works.
Okay, that's enough proof that I am a brilliant man and I can find fairly simple solutions to complex problems. Just fix the INS first, then go from there.
By damn, I oughta run for President!
In my mail today, I received a flyer from some obscure religious group. I didn't read the entire thing before I tossed it in the trash. I'm not interested in becoming religious at this point in my life, and even if I WERE, I wouldn't choose those people as my saviors. I got this far and quit:
"With God, all things is possible."
They speak religibonics! As an English Major, I really don't believe that I would fit in at their church. What are their Ten Commandments? Something like this?
1. "Thou shalt not put no other gods before me."
2. "Thou shalt not be making unto me no gravy image."
3. "Thou shalt not takes the name of the LORD thy God in vein."
4. "Remember the sabbath day, to keeps it holey.
5. "Honour thighs father and thighs mother."
6. "Thou shalt not kill nobody."
7. "Thou shalt not commit them adulteries."
8. "Don't be stealing nothin."
9. "Thou shalt not bare no false witnesses against thy neighbor, or nobody else even."
10. "Thou shalt not run around coveting stuff thy neighbor's got, especially not no ass, nor anything a'tall that are thy neighbor's."
The thought is there, but it just doesn't ring Biblical to me.
shame on tiger
Well... at least he didn't use the dreaded n-word. But a disappointed Tiger Woods DID open his mouth and let something politically-incorrect fly out of his neck after a frustrating final round at The Masters last week. He said that he putted "like a spaz."
Ohmygawd! The delicate sensibility brigade didn't take long to form ranks and bleat about THAT insensitive remark. It was insulting to every
If Tiger had said, "I was so in control from tee to green, the best I've played for years... But as soon as I got on the green I was a complete fucktard," would all the fucktards of the world be jumping up and falling down in protest? I mean, in today's world, the word "fucktard" MUST be insulting to some downtrodden, grievance-bearing minority group. Damn near everything else is.
The truth is, Tiger DID play like a "spaz" on the greens on Sunday. His inability to get the ball in the hole the way he usually does probably cost him a chance to win at Augusta and there's no pretty way to describe the way Tiger played. Tiger doesn't usually miss three and four-foot putts. He did in that final round.
"I would think that anybody in the disability community would see it as offensive," says Babs Johnson of National ADAPT. "It would be looked upon as someone having a fit or seizure or something like that. Body movements that you're not able to control."
So? I believe that Tiger implied that he was having fits and seizures with his putter and body movements that he couldn't control caused him to miss shots he should have made. In other words, he played "like a spaz."
Offensive, my Cracker ass. Crude, but accurate, is more like it.
sick, sick sick
I really don't understand this. Bejus! Everybody has heard of "back-alley abortions," but what about back-room castrations? That's just sick, sick, sick.
WHY would anybody do that? And WHY would anybody store severed testicles in a Tupperware bowl in the refrigerator? Were they planning on whipping up some kind of exotic midnight snack? That's just plain gross.
Besides, you don't need to go to some whacked-out, sado-masochist to get your nuts cut off today. Just try a visit to divorce court.
I'm not the only one
Disgusted with the Republican Party? I am, and I am not alone. I honestly believe that right now, the best thing that Democrats have going for them politically is the Republican Party.
When we put you in office, you had high ideals. You seemed to be committed to the idea of fiscal restraint. Instead, you have spent like a tax-and-spender (usually called Democrats) except in your case; it's been a cut tax but spend anyway. Our President Bush has not had the guts or the wisdom to veto some of those profligate spending bills, even when it was obvious he should have done so. Trent Lott the former Majority Leader of the Senate recently stated that he was tired of hearing from the "so called porkbusters." He is also on record as having said "“The way I do it is, I fold them into bills where you can’t find it,” Lott said. “I’ve been around here long enough to know how to bury it.” Is that what you think we elected you for?
Remember the scene in the movie Braveheart where William Wallace, arrow-pierced and bloody from a losing battle, chases after a mysterious knight on horseback, knocks him to the ground and prepares to kill him, only to discover that his "enemy" is Robert The Bruce, the man Wallace wanted to be king of Scotland? Remember how all the fight ran out of Wallace like used motor oil as he stayed his blade and simply fell back on the ground in grief and disappointment?
Well, that's how I feel about the Republican Party. I believed in them, I trusted them, and they betrayed me. I believe that they betrayed my country, too.
Such perfidy I cannot and will not forgive. I'm not going to write anything else on this subject because I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I mean it when I say that I'll NEVER vote for a Republican again. In fact, I may never VOTE again. My give-a-damn is busted and the Republicans broke it.
You have failed miserably at reforming the way government works. And, I'm not sure you even think we have noticed. You are going blithely about your business as though we were too stupid not to notice. Well, you are wrong. Further, you are wrong on so many counts. We expect good government and we are not getting it with you in charge. If we wanted all this scandal, spending like there is no tomorrow etc., we would have kept the Democrats in place in '94. But, we wanted change. You started off right but quickly lost your way.
Yep. That's right, Republicans. You "lost your way," and you lost ME, too.
if you build it, they will come
When I put up my bird feeders this year, I barely managed to walk away before the flocks descended on them. I saw lots of sparrows and some kind of powder-blue birds stuffing themselves out there, along with some cardinals and a few skanky-looking blackbirds. The doves weren't far behind, combing the ground under the feeders for spilled seed. That didn't take long.
But I didn't see any hummingbirds. I put up four hummer feeders and filled them with nectar, but nobody came to my party. Not one single hummingbird. I was a little bit disappointed by that fact, because I KNOW that Effingham County is FULL of hummingbirds during warm weather. I thought that maybe I put the feeders up too soon--- we've had a couple of chilly nights recently.
I guess I was wrong. I saw two hummingbirds feeding this morning and I think they must live nearby, because they keep coming back every hour or so. I think they are a "married" couple. One is a small, almost plain-looking female and the other is a big (for a hummer anyway) male with irridescent green feathers and a brilliant ruby throat.
If those two found my feeders, others will come. I really do like watching those little birds flying around like jet fighters. If I get a couple of more visitors, I'll be able to see some good, aggressive aerial combat out there. Hummers are fearless little fuckers and they'll fight each other over a feeder. That show is great entertainment.
I saw no fresh dog-paw prints in my garden this morning, so I don't need to load up the pellet gun and shoot a dog yet. Not YET. One of my neighbors is turning a beagle loose every morning to roam around and shit in somebody else's yard, and I suspect that THAT'S the dog that stomped all over my okra and banana pepper plants.
If that's so, his time is gonna come, unless I find out who owns the dog so that I can talk to them before I make their darling pet do the stinging-ass dance in my garden.
Speaking of the garden, my corn and beans are sprouting and the tomatoes and squash are taking off quite robustly. Other than the dog, the only problem I see is a proliferation of weeds in what always has been bare soil. See how "delicate" Mother Nature is? Throw some fertilizer on bare ground and just stand back. Something is gonna grow there, and in this case it's something I don't want.
Oh well. I've always said that gardening is a lot of work, and those weeds are just like the birds flocking to me feeders. They prove that if you build it, they will come.
April 11, 2006
Stuff you're just dying to know:
* I got a haircut today. That's the first one I've had since rehab, sometime back in early November. I look downright civilized now.
* Speaking of rehab, next week will mark SIX MONTHS (or at least 180 days) since I last took a drink of alcohol. That's been the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life, and even though I'm supposed to be filled with humility, I'm kinda proud of myself. I try not to look any further ahead than RIGHT NOW with my abstinence, but I believe that I can make another week.
* Where did my traffic go? I cruised along on this blog for a long time averaging 3,000+ visitors per day. I'm down to 2,600 now. I realize that I neglected my blog a lot during the past few months, but I've done that before and the readers always came back. My stats are still dropping now, as they've been doing since the first of the year. That's disconcerting.
* I AM being interviewed by an Atlanta newspaper about being fired for blogging. The reporters are supposed to be HERE, at the Crackerbox its ownself, next Monday at around 1:00 in the afternoon. They want to take pictures of "the scene of the crime." Bejus! That ought to give my stats another swift kick in the balls.
* Some bloggers are posting shameless, disgusting photos of their bare torsos on their blogs. The REALLY bad part is that only guys are doing this shit so far. I was going to take a picture of my own nekkid torso and post it, but I ain't got no torso no more. My torso recently disappeared to wherever my ass went long ago. Now I am built like a Tootsie Roll Pop--- just a head on a stick.
* Mama died a year ago this month. It doesn't seem like that long ago...
* A got-dam dog (I could see the paw prints) got into my garden last night or early this morning and stomped several of my okra plants and one banana pepper plant flat. If I catch that bastard out there, I'm going to pop him in the ass with my pellet rifle. See Fido jump.
* Wanna meet ME, live and in person? Come to the Austin blown-eyed blodger meet this month. I'll be easy to recognize--- I'm the one with no ass... and no torso.
* With posts such as this one, it's no wonder that my blog-traffic is going to shit.
i ain't crazy!
I am NOT crazy, no matter what she says about me. I'm just eccentric, that's all.
"Crazy Cracker," indeed. It's a good thing she posted a picture of her pretty red toenails or I might be mad at her.
holy complications, batman!!!
I'm attempting to do my income taxes. All I have to say is, "Fuck me dead." There is no earthly reason why this shit needs to be as complicated as it is, except for the fact that our government is run by a bunch of complete nincompoops who never heard of the KISS theory.
I needed a couple of special forms, so I went here to find them. Holy shit!!! Just LOOK at all those forms! I didn't bother to count them, but there's a BUNCH of 'em.
Some are even written in Spanish, the better to confuse illegal immigrants who actually try to pay their taxes. That's government for you. Can't keep 'em out of the country, but CAN make it convenient to pay their taxes.
As for me, no comprendo.
who got raped?
Just Damn! DNA tests failed to link any member of the Duke lacrosse team to the alleged rape of a stripper hired to entertain at a team party a month ago. How can this be true? The "victim" said that she was raped and sodomized. Wimmen don't lie about such things.
Maybe she just exaggerated her story a little. Womanly hyperventilation, and all that. Oh, well. If she wasn't raped, then no harm was done, right?
The allegations have led to the resignation of coach Mike Pressler, the cancellation of the lacrosse season and the suspension of one player from school.
Who REALLY got raped here?
Of course, the persecution... er... I mean prosecution of the players will continue, because the crime was so shocking, appalling and outrageous, even if it never happened.
District Attorney Mike Nifong has said he would have other evidence to make his case should the DNA analysis prove inconclusive or fail to match a member of the team.
It WOULD be kinda embarassing after all the flapdoodle to drop the case and admit that the woman lied. Better to clog the courts, ruin a few innocent lives and waste a whole lot of money with gaseous posturing than to let this story die the death it deserves.
Yeah, Nifong is correct. A sexual assault did, indeed, take place.
Duke's lacrosse team got fucked.
quote of the day
"Bottom line: It is hard to see how the GOP is not like the Titanic, except it is aiming for the iceberg."--- hugh Hewett
Couldn't have put it better myself...
bend over some more
Nine days ago, I posted about how the price of gasoline was becoming outrageous. Bejus! I was pissed because gas was selling for $2.49 in southeast Georgia at the time. It's up to $2.65 now. That's a fifteen-cent increase in nine days! WTF is going on?
I realize that the oil market is volitile and price fluctuations for gasoline are bound to occur. I also realize that refineries have to jump through ridiculous environmental hoops and make reformulated gasoline for the summer months. And thanks to 60 Minutes for scare-mongering about MTBE in ground water, refiners were forced to eliminate that ingredient from their product, which certainly added to the cost.
But I still think gas prices are ridiculously high right now. Let's get one thing straight--- I damn sure ain't calling for government action in this "crisis"--- government's solution probably would be to slap more tax on gasoline or "punish" oil companies with some kind of windfall profits charge (both of which CONSUMERS would pay--- not the oil companies. Shit. I may not do math, but government doesn't do economics.). No, I want government to stay out of the fray. Government meddling in the market is a big part of the problem to begin with.
I just want someone to explain WHY gasoline prices are what they are today and WHY they appear to be headed higher still. The kind of price swings I'm seeing just ain't natural for ANY commodity.
What causes that?
(UPDATE: here are some of the reasons, and a prediction that prices will increase another 15 cents per gallon over the summer. Now I wish I hadn't asked...)
he's back, too!
But I feel Jimbo's pain about the spam. I had some very good help from Paul, the golden god of shit I don't understand (and who hasn't posted on his site since December 8th), who got rid of MY major spam problems over a year ago. I still owe the guy a steak dinner if we ever meet up in person.
Paul's fix, however, appears to be out of commission now. The spammers are back, defecating all over my site with their links to porn, on-line gambling, discount cigarettes and other crap. I'm still getting about 50 spam comments and trackbacks per day, even though my Blacklist has swelled to bursting. I spend about 30 minutes to an hour every day, just deleting those bastards and adding to the Blacklist.
I'm really surprised that no one has complained about being banned accidentally. I almost took out all of Blogspot the other day before I realized what I was doing. If I haven't done any collateral damage through Blacklisting, it's a fricking miracle.
I suppose that trolls and spammers are just the price you pay for blogging, but that doesn't mean I have to like the low-life vandals. I would like them even LESS if they crashed my site the way they did Jimbo's.
I've got an idea for how to treat spammers that I
Rope + Tree + Spammer. Some assembly required.
Welcome back, Jim!
Rested, ready and somewhat sunburned, Dax is back. I missed him.
I'm glad that he got to do some deep sea fishing on his vacation. I LOVE deep sea fishing. I've been out many a time and almost never failed to load the boat with exotic fish--- black sea bass, red snapper, grouper, tuna, triggerfish and the usual shark, barracuda and amberjack. The only bad part is having to clean all those fish when you get back home.
I've never gotten seasick, either, although I've been in some pretty heavy seas and witnessed the suffering of others on a few occasions. That's GOT to be a horrible experience, because people really DO turn a greenish color as they barf their guts out. Which brings me to my Blog question of the day:
Have YOU ever been seasick?
speaking of old wimmen
I went to visit my 94 year-old grandmother on Sunday. That's the first time in four weeks that I've been mobile enough to make the trip over there. Mommie had an interesting story to tell me.
Somebody moved as a guest into her neighbor's house and brought two full-grown Rottweilers with her. The guest turned the dogs loose in the back yard. The yard is fenced, but it's just a four-foot cyclone barrier, which ain't much to a Rottie.
Mommie turned Fancy, her 5-pound Yorkshire Terrier, out for a bathroom call one morning. Shortly thereafter, she heard a tremendous ruckus in her yard. Fancy yelped frantically.
Mommie is frail and almost blind, but she still motors pretty good for 94. She grabbed a broom and ran outside. What she found made her blood run cold.
Both of the Rotties had jumped the fence and attacked Fancy. One of them had the little dog in its mouth, just one snap of its powerful jaws away from turning Fancy into hamburger meat, and one swallow away from making her a meal. Mommie started swinging her broom and lit into the big dog like a demon from hell.
She cracked the big dog twice with the broom, then the broomstick broke off just above the bristles. She continued her assault with nothing but half a broomstick until the big dog dropped little Fancy and ran for its life. Its companion followed in retreat.
When Mommie picked Fancy up off the ground, she thought the little dog was ripped to shreds, because Fancy was wet all over. Being mostly blind, Mommie couldn't see any injuries, but she could feel what she assumed was blood all over the dog. She took Fancy inside to doctor her.
Luckily, Fancy was wet with dog slobber and not blood. Once she was washed off and towelled dry, she was fine. But Mommie was pissed. She had my Uncle Virgil go cuss out the neighbors and then make a report to the Animal Control authorities about the loose dogs. Nothing more ever came of the incident, because the "guest" moved out of the neighbor's house a day or so later and took the dogs with her.
I chuckled at the story, because I could SEE my frail but fierce hillbilly grandmother taking on two giant dogs (that probably outweighed her) with a broom and winning the fight. Hell--- I wouldn't want her mad at ME, even if she IS almost blind now. But the story upset me, too.
I am a dog lover. But I've got no use for people who own big dogs and allow them to get loose and cause trouble. That incident could have been REALLY BAD if the dogs had been in a killing mood. And it's a damn good thing that I wasn't there when it happened. I don't own any guns, so I NEVER travel with a loaded one in my car...
But if anybody called Animal Control after that, it would be to pick up two dead dogs before I got them buried in the yard.
Here's an example of a policeman who doesn't need to be a cop. Hell, the Boy Scouts would drum his heartless ass out of THEIR ranks for treating an old lady so callously instead of HELPING her cross the street. Rotten prick.
LOS ANGELES (AP) - An 82-year-old woman received a $114 ticket for taking too long to cross a street. Mayvis Coyle said she began shuffling with her cane across Foothill Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley when the light was green, but was unable to make it to the other side before it turned red.
Boy, that's the way to protect and to serve. Rotten prick.
I try to respect cops because they have a dirty job and they routinely put their lives on the line so that I can sleep safely in my bed at night. But I've got to admit--- some cops are rotten pricks. They like the uniform, the gun and the power to intimidate citizens FAR too much.
In the schoolyard, they were the bullies who picked on smaller kids. Now they get paid for doing the same thing to adults. And I really like this reaction to the incident:
Los Angeles police Sgt. Mike Zaboski of the Valley Traffic Division said police are cracking down on people who improperly cross streets because pedestrian accidents are above normal. He said he could not comment on Coyle's ticket other than to say that it is her word against that of the citing officer, identified only as Officer Kelly.
Don't you just LOVE it? It's "her word against his," and everybody knows that cops don't lie, especially not rotten pricks who ticket 82 year-old wimmen for not crossing the street in a full sprint. No, I'm certain that the cop was just doing his job and Mayvis is lying her withered shanks off about what REALLY happened.
Woulda served him right, too.
April 10, 2006
clogged--- and clogged again!
He was petrified--- not frightened, just plugged-up--- with a turd the consistency of a piece of granite stuck firmly at the end of his bowels. He could feel it when he sat or walked. It was like having a brick shoved up his ass and left there. That thing had to GO.
He tried sitting on the throne, but the blockage wouldn't budge, not even a little. No amount of straining helped. He was plugged tighter than Dick's hatband.
He drank a big glass of grape juice, to... uh... prime the pump. No help. He tried walking around his yard to see if he could shift the rock-like plug around to facilitate an exit. Still no help. The problem was becoming painful now.
Growing desperate, he reached for the heavy weapons. He carefully unwrapped the foil from a Dulcolax missle and attempted to load it into the firing chamber. The damn missle almost wouldn't fit. He could feel the offending blockage just inside his anus, and he had to work the Dulcolax around it to achieve insertion. When he finished the nasty task, he felt really uncomfortable, stuffed like a Christmas goose.
Fifteen minutes later, he felt something stirring within his guts. He waddled to the bathroom and assumed the position on the Throne.
He had a horrible thought. Isn't THIS the way Elvis died??? Falling off his Graceland commode with a petrified turd stuck halfway out of his ass? Dead of a heart attack? The victim of clogged bowels caused by one too many peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Ohmygawd! The humanity!!! But he couldn't stop now. The job had to be done.
What followed was vile and revolting. Once the cork was out of the bottle, everything behind it came pouring out. Like a volcano spewing molten lava, he exploded. Bejus! He felt as if he were being turned inside-out. The digested remains of things he didn't even remember eating poured out of him in hunks and chunks. He was consumed with a strange combination of relief and disgust.
When he finally was finished, he sat spent and panting for a moment. That was a rough one, he thought, as he stood up and surveyed his work. A BIG ONE, too. Looked like about five pounds of shit in the bowl. With a sweaty, trembling hand, he reached for the handle and pushed it to flush.
The toilet made the right sound and water poured into the bowl. But it didn't flush. Instead, the water simply rose and floated all the detritus in a lazy, counter-clockwise circle, all the way to the rim of the bowl before it stopped, just short of overflowing. Here was a fine mess, indeed.
He pulled up his pants. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it, so he grabbed a plunger and went to work.
Bad idea. Shit splashed everywhere when he agitated the plunger up and down in the foul, brown liquid. He didn't unclog the commode, but he did manage to puree the contents and give himself a good faceful of muck in the process. He almost vomited before deciding that There Must Be A Better Way.
He took a section of the Sunday newspaper and cut a hole in the middle of it. He inserted the handle of the plunger through the hole and created a nice shit-shield for his tool when he was finished. He placed the paper over the commode bowl and started plunging away again.
This time, he got the job done. After about 45 seconds of frantic plunging, he was rewarded with the sound of the bowl draining. Aha! Gotcha, you bitch!!!! After that, all he had to do was figure out how to remove the plunger from the dung-soaked newspaper without getting even MORE shit all over himself.
He was... partially successful. But his commode works fine now. So does his shower, which he needed desperately after this ugly adventure.
Thank Bejus that I'm just making this story up. It didn't actually happen to ME. I didn't really shit a brick yesterday and clog MY toilet. No, I simply have a vivid imagination.
That's why I am KING of the shit-bloggers.
numbers are racist
Wanna see the kind of issue government likes to grapple with today? here is a perfect example. If you're a minority and you can't pass a math test, then the test must be racist.
Under a consent decree filed Monday in federal court in Norfolk, the city will change the way it scores the police entrance exam.
"Unfairly?" Don't you just LOVE such convoluted logic? If you can't do math, it's "unfair" to give you a math test, especially when passing it is required for getting a job. The outcomes aren't equal, so there must be something wrong with the test.
After an 18-month investigation, the Justice Department found that the police force did not reflect the diversity of the city’s population because of how the math test was graded.
Am I the only person who sees a great irony in the Justice Department using numbers and statistics to conclude that a math test is racist?
The Justice Department questioned whether math is relevant to the daily duties of a police officer. The city agreed to eliminate the 70 percent cutoff score for the math part of the test.
Naw, police don't need to do any math. After all, they don't USE math on the job, except for maybe when they write speeding tickets. It ain't like they need a degree in accounting to be a good cop, especially when expecting them to add 2+2 correctly screws up the jelly bean count. All hail "diversity!"
Government knows damn well how to remedy THIS problem. Pay people for failing.
Whether they choose to continue to the Police Academy, those 124 former applicants are entitled to seek a share of the $160,000. The pool contains two funds: $128,000 for black applicants and $32,000 for Hispanic applicants. (I suppose that if you are white and you failed the test, you're just SOL.) [...] A second court hearing will be scheduled to determine the amount of compensation per applicant. That amount will depend on the number of people who apply.
Who's going to "compensate" ME for this assault on my common sense? I'm an English Major, so I don't do math, but this idiocy adds up to pure crap to me. Equal opportunity doesn't always mean equal outcomes. That's not "unfair;" that's life. And government has no business playing God here.
Oops! I forgot!
Government IS God anymore.
quote of the day
"From their scramble to ram through a national legislative solution to Terri Schiavo's plight, to their overreaction to Hurricane Katrina, to their failure to recognize the public's disgust with pork-barrel projects, to the Dubai Ports deal, Republicans have appeared to the world to be as unprincipled and rudderless as the politicians they campaigned against back in 1994. Unless they change course dramatically in the seven months between now and Election Day, they may well find themselves facing the same fate as the Democratic political dinosaurs of that year that they replaced."--- GOP "official"
(Quote lifted from here.)
I have voted in every local, state and national election that offered me a ballot since I was eighteen years old. I believed in exercising my political voice, lonely though it sometimes seemed to be. I didn't like a lot of what the politicians did, and my motto was "If you don't vote, don't bitch. You LET it happen." I voted and I bitched.
Where did that philosophy get me? I despise the legacy left by Franklin Roosevelt while it grows every day. I remain convinced that Ronald Reagan was one of the GREAT Presidents this country has seen, but even HE couldn't stick to his guns in the battle over Congressional spending and taxes. I am proud to be an American, but I fear and distrust my bloated, incompetent government.
THAT'S where caring got me.
Government dictates how much water my toilet can flush, but it doesn't have the balls to deal with illegal immigration. Something is terribly wrong with that picture. Government doesn't "serve" its citizens--- it TENDS them, as if citizens were dumb animals in a zoo. And it does a piss-poor job of that, except for feeding them a rich diet of bullshit.
I thought that things might change, that government might at least slow down its wild stampede over my personal liberty when George Bush was elected. Given a Republican majority in both houses of Congress, Bush had the reins in his hands, and I desperately hoped that he would prove to be an advocate of smaller, less intrusive government. I hoped that he took freedom seriously.
I am proof that there is, indeed, a sucker born every minute.
I'm not sorry that I voted for Bush (twice!)--- Al Gore or John Kerry were totally unacceptable alternatives in MY mind--- but I need to be dragged off and shot for wishfully thinking that who I voted for made a shit bit of difference in the long run. Bush is nothing more than the same old same old. Maybe that's all we can hope for anymore.
My daddy always preached that "A winner never quits and a quitter never wins." That was his way of saying Never Give Up. His advice might still apply to sporting contests or fistfights, but it ain't worth a damn in politics anymore, at least not where the average citizen is concerned. Government is a steamroller, and it will flatten anybody who gets in its way. That's what it DOES today. And I don't think it makes a rat's ass who is driving the damned thing.
I'm done. I give up. I quit.
I've cast my last vote.
Republicans had their chance to win ME for the rest of my life, but they blew it. And I'm a red-state member of their got-dam BASE, for cryin' out loud. If they've managed to drive ME from their tent, what does that say about the Republican party? It says a LOT, and none of it good.
I have one political ambition anymore--- I just want to stay out of the way of the government steamroller. That's IMPOSSIBLE, given the scope of government today, but it's just as worthy an ambition (and just as naive) as thinking that MY vote will EVER make a difference in where this country is headed. The die is cast. Resistance is futile.
From now on, politicians can run their dog-and-pony show without me. I don't matter anyway.
April 09, 2006
Forget about getting anything in your Easter Basket this year. The Easter Bunny has been captured.
Got-dam! That rascal ain't never been hoppin' down no bunny-trail. He uses the Interstate Highway System and wears a "Wide Load" sign on his ass.
We must be running out of things to do "scientific" studies about. here is one that blows the mind so much that the headline calls it "alarming."
Young men who are good-looking and know it are more likely to engage in risky sex than guys who have a less positive body image, according to a new study from researchers at Pennsylvania State University.
Bejus! That's a real eye-opener, isn't it? I haven't cracked a book, interviewed anybody or accepted a dime in federal grant money, but I have a few scientific conclusions of my own that I wish to announce. I'm sorry if my findings stun you, but science can be surprising sometimes.
* Fat, ugly guys get less pussy than good-looking men!!!! Yep. If you're a guy, you're more likely to get laid if you look like Adonis than you are if you resemble the Elephant Man. I can't explain the reason, which is why I need a LOT more federal grant money to conduct further research. And to pay plastic surgeons to make me look more like Adonis than the Elephant Man.
* Guys with lots of money get laid more frequently than unwashed homeless men do!!! Sad, but true. Cash attracts wimmen while rotten teeth, powerful body odor and dirty fingernails don't. It's the truth: money may not buy love, but you CAN use it to surround yourself with sexy, willing wimmen.
* Ugly people tend to have sex with other ugly people!! The fact has nothing to do with shared similarities, other than hideous looks. Ugly people fuck other ugly people because that's all they can get.
*Guys frequently give pet names to their dicks!!! (Ladies... meet Roscoe...) Wimmen don't do that. Or if they do, I never found any in MY scientific research. They may call their bearded clam a "coochie," a "thingy" or something equally as cute, but they don't bestow actual names on their nethers. Of course, I'm not sure how I would react to a woman who said, "Rob... meet BONE CRUSHER."
*Every guy is hung like a horse and can hump like John Henry drivin' steel! If you don't believe me, just ask THEM. You NEVER hear a guy admit, "I have a two-inch dick and I spurt on my second stroke." Nope. They all claim to be built like tripods and they swear that they are so adroit at ravishing that they can make a woman cum so intensely that she passes out and pisses the bed every time. Guys wouldn't lie about such a thing.
I need to publish these findings. Enquiring minds want to know.
April 08, 2006
Have you ever heard an alligator calling for a mate?
A couple of days ago, I went to visit catfish. He killed a bunch of gators in his pond last year and he thought he might be rid of them this year. He thought wrong.
We went down to the pond to see if the fish were biting, but I think it was too windy and the wrong time of day for fishing. We didn't catch anything. But while we were sitting in lawn chairs down there, we heard a strange sound issuing from the nearby woods and marsh.
"WHONK! WHONK! WHONK!"
"Hear that?" asked Catfish. I heard it, all right, and I knew exactly what it was. It was a barking gator. Those dinosaur throwbacks make that noise this time of year because it's mating season and that song is supposed to sound like Elvis to a female. "Whonk! Whonk!"
"He's trying to sing up some pussy," I observed.
"I hope he gets some, because I'm gonna shoot his ass the first time I see him," Cat replied. "Maybe he'll get a bang before he goes out with one."
Have YOU ever heard gators bark? Maybe "bark" is the wrong word, because the sound is a combination grunt/bark/cough noise that makes me think of a bullfrog on steroids combined with a very hoarse dog. We never actually SAW any gators, but we damn sure could hear them.
It's a strange sound...
I think I have what he has.
April 07, 2006
I just fixed myself a genuine, gut-buster of a hamburger. It's a 1/3 pound ground chuck patty, with bacon, lettuce, tomato, Monteray Jack cheese and a thick slice of sweet onion, all on a large sesame seed bun. It's got hot Chinese mustard on the bottom slice of bun and Blue Plate mayonnaise on the top. The only thing missing is some kosher pickle slices. Yum, yum!
What do you like on YOUR hamburger?
I wouldn't have posted this. The images are far too disturbing.
Of course, he just crossed the 100,000 visitors threshold on his site, so maybe tasteless, shameless shit is the way to go for blog popularity.
I know it works for ME.
quotes of the day
"If government spending can’t withstand public scrutiny, then the money shouldn’t be spent.”--- Sen. Barack Obama
"I'll just say this about the so-called porkbusters. I'm getting damn tired of hearing from them. They have been nothing but trouble ever since Katrina. We in Mississippi have not asked for more than we deserve. We've been very reasonable."--- Sen. Trent Lott
Guess which one is a small-government, fiscally-responsible Republican? Got-dam. Ask me again why I ain't gonna vote anymore.
Trent Lott's attitude seems to be, "Do NOT look behind the curtain! The great and powerful Wizard of Mississippi has spoken!" What utter bullshit. Lott seems to want business as usual, no rocking of the boat and no accountability for wasting taxpayer's dollars. That's certainly a bold stand, one that I would expect from a career politician with his sucking mouth attached firmly to the federal budget pie.
Here's the time for YOU to "get real," Trent. Porkbusters aren't the "trouble." YOU ARE!
No wonder he doesn't want anybody watching over HIS shoulder as he pisses incredible amounts of tax money away--- he might have to defend idiocy such as this.
a little respect
Here's an interesting poll naming the 10 Most Respected Jobs in this country. Unsurprisingly, lawyers and politicians didn't make the list.
Doctors rank #1. No surprise there. But putting "soldiers" in the #2 spot marks a real sea change in public attitude about the military since the 1960s. Our troops have gone from being called "baby-killers" to being regarded as respected individuals since the Vietnam War. Wow. We don't "loathe" the military anymore? I'll bet you that THAT fact chaps a lot of leftist asses.
The choice that DOES surprise me is "accountants" ranked at #10. Bejus! I thought that most people don't have a clue about what accountants do, let alone respect the job. Besides, accountants aren't known for saving lives, fighting wars or being real movers and shakers. When I think of an accountant, I picture some guy hunched over a desk with a pencil in his hand, a visor on his forehead and a pile of paperwork in front of him. He wears thick glasses on his eyes and black garters on his shirt sleeves. He resembles a cross between Barney Fife and a monk.
Obviously, other people have a different opinion of accountants than I do, probably because they once found themselves in trouble with the IRS and a good accountant kept them out of jail. As an English Major (I don't do math), I've always regarded accounting as a job much like having a heavy gauge drill bit screwed directly into the brain via the eyeball every day. I wouldn't WANT to do it, even if I could.
In MY humble opinion, we ought to delete "teacher" (Just look at the condition of public schools today) and "scientist" (Just look at the number of attention-hungry, lying assholes who trumpet "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" from global warming or second-hand smoke.) from the list and replace them with "astronaut" and "writer," but that's just me. We don't send many people into space anymore and some writers work for the New York Times, so maybe those are poor choices for respected occupations.
I wonder why didn't "bloggers" make the list?
April 06, 2006
I plead guilty to a hate crime: I HATE the got-dam critters that infest my yard.
I've spent the past week or so planting a garden, putting up bird feeders and adding a few more wind chimes around the Crackerbox. The work is finished, but I'm still suffering the after-effects of it. I don't mean sore muscles, either. I'm talking about insect bites.
I believe that southeast Georgia has some of the most bloodthirsty, annoying, pestiferous and PLENTIFUL bugs you'll ever find. Here are some with which I am doing battle:
1) Fire Ants--- The meanest ants on the planet. I've put out enough Diazanon to kill an army, but I can't get rid of the ants. They just move somewhere else and then counter-attack whenever they see me. I'm still popping little white blisters on my arms, legs and hands from where those bastards bit me. If there is a God, tell me why he put those fuckers in His creation. I've got no use for them.
2) Sand Gnats--- Those flying teeth aren't as bad in Effingham County as they are near the salt marshes, but they still show up to pester me in the mornings and late afternoons. MILLIONS of them swarm from wherever they live to feast on my blood. In their own special way, they are worse than fire ants. If they had the size to match their viciousness, they'd be as big as a Greyhound bus. Without a big bottle of Avon's Skin So Soft, I wouldn't be able to go outside at all. That whore-smelling stuff is the only thing I've ever found that will keep sand gnats from biting.
3) Chiggers--- Some people call these parasitic bastards "red bugs," but I don't. I usually call them obscene names. Root around in your bushes or ANY wooded area around where I live and you'll cuss 'em, too. They are shameless about where they decide to latch on to you (the crotchital area is one of their favorite spots) and they make a big, red welt that itches like hell when they burrow into you. The only way I know to treat the bite is to cover it with clear fingernail polish so that you cut off the chigger's air supply. Even then, they'll last a couple of days before they die. Real shit-asses.
4) Ticks--- Talk about blood-suckers! If you've never had a tick on you, just come visit me. I can remedy your ignorance very quickly. Some people say that you can get a tick out of you by sticking a lit cigarette to his ass, which will make him back out of where he burrowed in. I call bullshit on that idea. I've tried it, and all I ended up with was a cooked tick still embedded in my body. I think you ALWAYS have to pull 'em out by hand. Just make sure the head stays attached when you do that.
5) Yellow Jackets Be careful where you step around here. Yellow jackets nest in the ground, and if you disturb them, they come boiling out of their nest like suds from a warm beer. They're pissed off, too, and they will sting the living shit out of you. When they hit, it feels like you've been shot with a bullet. Hurts like all get-out. They're another good reason for a Bulldog to hate Georgia Tech.
I love living in the South (It's sunny and 80 degrees outside as I write), but I could do without these critters. And I didn't even mention the B-52-sized mosquitoes we have around here. I think they exist just to eat whatever is left over after the other blood-sucking insects get finished feasting on you. Flying hypodermic needles.
Every one of those bastards really bug me.
I am a true American mutt.
I know very little about my family's heritage. All the old birth records in Kentucky went up in smoke when the Harlan County Courthouse burned down in 1910, so my grandmother's family bible is about the only document remaining that details my family tree. This much I have learned:
One of my great-grandfathers married a native American woman. He was a squaw-man and I have some redskin blood in me.
Another great-grandfather married a red-headed Irish woman. That's a good story, because my great-grandfather met her while he was in jail for some kind of crime involving moonshine or violence (or both) and my red-headed Irish great-grandmother earned money by feeding the prisoners. He saw her chopping wood for the jailhouse cook-stove one day and he walked over to her and said, "Let me cut that wood for you. You're too pretty to be doing that." The rest is history. (Yes, I come from a long line of charmers.)
I also know that I have some Dutch (I suspect that my mama's side of the family came to the Kentucky hollows from Pennsylvania during the Whiskey Rebellion, but I can't prove it.), English and French connections on the family tree. As I said, I am an American mutt.
But none of that crap makes ME want to wave a Dutch flag, call France my "homeland" or feel any kinship with Ward Churchill, especially since I have more Native American blood in me than he does. I'm an AMERICAN, pure and simple. Stick your hypenated shit where the sun don't shine.
I know exactly when calling yourself an American, with no hypenation, became politically incorrect--- somehow akin to being assimilated by the Borg collective. It started with the civil rights movement of the 1960s. "I'm Black and I'm Proud" resonated with the population, and when blacks started calling themselves "African-Americans," EVERYBODY wanted to attach a cool ethnic appendage to celebrate THEIR roots, too. Thus, we had an outbreak of diversity, resulting in lots of hypenated-Americans.
Italian-American. Irish-American. Spanish-American. Where you came from suddenly became more important to your identity than where you were. All hail diversity!
Bullshit. That kind of thinking led directly to the anti-American (THERE'S a legitimate hyphen for you!) demonstrations over immigration that we recently witnessed. And if you don't believe that the demonstrations WERE Anti-American, just look at who was involved.
Roots. Become too obsessed with them and they will strangle you. And tear down this country, too.
another one bites the dust
I have a scientific theory, one that I developed after much research and NO federal grant money. I went through my blogroll and concluded: A LOT of bloggers can't hold a fucking job.
Just look at the number of bloggers who are unemployed. I don't do math, but there's got to be a serious percentage of bloggers who are standing outside the workplace looking in. (Hell--- I'm one of them.) And now I see that yet another has joined the ranks of the shiftless and idle. It's a definite TREND, I tell you, just as real as global warming.
Of course, I lost MY job BECAUSE of my blog, which makes me kinda elite among unemployed bloggers. The others either quit, got "downsized" or were just too sorry to work, which doesn't make them anything special. Me? I'm SPECIAL! I may not have a job, but I'm still bursting with self-esteem.
Why not? I received another call from a publication that wants to interview me for a story about bloggers who got the axe for blogging. That makes THREE TIMES a high-octane media outlet has expressed interest in telling my story. Hey--- the first two may have changed their minds and dropped the idea like a hot rock, but at least I'm still getting calls. See? I'm SPECIAL!
The truth is, I kinda like being unemployed. I don't have a wife or kids depending on me to support them, so I don't have a lot of heavy obligations to meet anymore. Plus, I've had some kind of job since I was 14 years old--- I DESERVE a got-dam break at last. I've always believed in the idea that you "work to live, not live to work" and now that I can live WITHOUT working, that's exactly what I intend to do with the rest of my life.
I ain't asking nobody for nothing, I don't receive ANY kind of handout from ANYBODY and I damn sure ain't on the taxpayer's dole. Hell, I still pay INCOME TAXES, even though I don't have a job. Isn't THAT simply luscious? Where's MY got-dam "safety net" now that I'm a member of the unemployed? Where's MY "free" check in the mail?
There ain't one for me. I got an education, worked hard and didn't totally fuck up my life. I won "life's lottery" by working my ass off for 40 fucking years. I saved some money and I invested fairly well. I did something that our ever-growing welfare state doesn't believe that people can do (at least they damn sure don't encourage it): I took care of MYSELF. I still DO, too.
If I live long enough to see a dime from Social Security before that tottering system goes broke, it'll be the first and ONLY government check I ever received in my life, other than an income tax refund, which I don't count because THAT was my own money anyway. How many people do YOU know who can say THAT honestly today?
So, Hoosierboy, do not despair. You are in good company.
April 05, 2006
I feel sorry for this guy. He's cursed with the dreaded Red-Headed Gene, which makes him fair of skin and devoid of melanin, so that he never tans--- he simply turns red like a boiled shrimp and then sheds his skin like a molting snake when exposed to sunlight. That's gotta be rough, living in the South and all.
When I lived with Dora, the red-headed woman in my life before the BC came along, I could never take her to the beach for the weekend or spend a lot of time outdoors with her in the summer. She burned to a crisp just looking out the window on sunny days. Except for the scattering of freckles on her body, she had skin so pale that she was almost translucent. 30-weight sunscreen was a necessity when she went outside--- otherwise, she developed a glow-in-the-dark sunburn so severe that I often wondered if I could light a cigarette just by touching it to her heat-radiating body.
I've never had that problem. Thanks to my mutt-mixture heritage, I am blessed with a body that tans easily and seldom burns in the sun. I can recall only three times in my life when I've been sunburned badly enough to blister and peel; usually, I glow red for a day, then turn the color of a well-circulated copper penny after that. (I don't tan brown--- too much Native American blood in me. Sunlight transforms me into a Bronze God--- or at least it did before I became a Matchstick Man. Now I just look like a Bronze Anorexic.)
I enjoy being outdoors and usually by mid-summer, the only part of ME that glows in the dark is my Cracker ass, which resembles a bright white spotlight shining from a red clay riverbank when I'm nekkid. Hell, I have the beginnings of a good tan now, just from working shirtless in my garden for the past week.
Maybe that's why red-headed wimmen are so sexy to me. (Don't get any ideas, Eric--- I said red-headed WIMMEN!) The pale skin, the freckles and the way they seem somehow so delicate just appeals to my primitive instincts. I want to protect them, to ward off evil threats and WORSHIP them, just before I conk them over the head with my hunting club and haul them back to my cave for some serious ravishing.
(Personal experience has shown me that red-heads can ravish pretty seriously right back at you, too. That's another thing I like about them--- but that's a subject for another post.)
My attraction to red-heads is kinda strange, because I think tan lines are sexy on a nekkid woman and red-heads seldom have tan lines, because they are allergic to sunlight. But I still think red-heads are sexy. Go figure.
So, all you untanables out there have my deepest sympathy because you can't enjoy the outdoors the way I can without resembling a throughly boiled lobster fresh from the cook-pot. But you actually are better off staying out of the sun, because it'll age your skin, give you wrinkles and cause deadly, cancerous growths on your body. See? Your recessive genes serve a legitimate purpose other than putting freckles in places where other people don't get them.
As for me, I'll be back out in the yard today--- without a shirt.
April 04, 2006
boys will be boys
I once had a plan for my dotage. When I became an old man, I intended to pretend to be senile, drooling all over myself and babbling like a senseless idiot. That way, I could ride around in a wheelchair while grabbing wimmen by the tits or sticking my head up their dresses whenever I felt like it. I'd get away with it, too, because the wimmen would believe that I had the mind of a child and I didn't know what I was doing.
Good plan, huh?
Now, I don't know. I don't think I have the energy anymore to be a dirty old man. I think I would rather be a kid again and see if I couldn't "cute" my way through tit-grabbing and head-up-dress sticking. "Awww! Look, Barbara. Little Robbie just grabbed your tits. Ain't he cute?"
That's a better plan. Old men are stationary targets and too easy to bitch-slap. If I were a kid again, I might be able to outrun any woman who didn't think I was "cute" when I molested her.
(Picture shamelessly stolen from this guy)
I've gotta do my income taxes. That's a real bitch because my taxes are more complicated now than they were when I was working for a living and actually had an income. I haven't drawn a real paycheck in more than two years now. But I DID exercise some stock options and cash some mutual funds in 2005 and Uncle Sam demands his cut of THAT, which means that I need some obscure IRS forms to list my income from capital gains. Whoever invented the KISS Theory (Keep It Simple, Stupid) obviously didn't work for the IRS.
This shit gives me a headache. I am tempted to take this pile of paper to an H&R Block office and pay THEM to figure it all out. (I was an English Major. I don't do math.)
In my checkered past, I have skirted the law on many occasions and outright violated the law on others. But I've never deliberately cheated on my income taxes. My government frightens me too much. I don't want to get on a federal hit-list and find my Cracker ass rotting in jail like a common criminal because I didn't pay
I don't LIKE paying them, but I do pay. The alternative offers too many unpleasant possibilities...
That's another reason the immigrant protests pissed me off. The bastards want to suck up American gravy without bringing anything to the stew-pot but their hungry mouths. Fuck 'em. Let 'em start paying taxes out the wazoo the way most Americans do--- THEN they can bitch. In ENGLISH, of course.
Awww... I ain't gonna go there. I feel bad enough already without working up a bunch of unnecessary stomach acid over being treated like an endentured servant by my government. But seeing those latino shitheads waving Mexican flags and trashing the USA while I examine a stack of IRS paperwork to figure out how much I OWE for being here simply chaps my Cracker ass. Something about that picture just ain't right.
But my taxes had better be right. Otherwise, government may find me, lock me up and take everything I own. Turn me into nothing but a greasy spot on the tablecloth of life. That's real POWER, ladies and gentlemen, the kind that makes you quake in your boots.
They'll GET my money. It's just too bad that such a powerful entity can't pour piss out of a boot when it comes to protecting our borders.
I didn't sleep worth a shit last night. I don't know what caused it, but I suffered some of the worst belly pain that I've had since my surgery and the painkillers I took didn't touch it. The night is long when you spend most of it in misery, curled in a fetal position on your sofa.
I did manage to watch Florida crush UCLA in the National Championship basketball game, which was a weird experience for me because I rooted for the University of Florida. As a bleed-red-and-black Jawja Bulldawg, I hate Florida with a white-hot passion, but there's just NO WAY that I could pull for UCLA. Florida Gators may suck, but they don't suck as powerfully as a team from California does.
And I don't care if Joe-Kim Noah is one of the ugliest semi-white boys ever to walk the face of the planet. He played a damn good game last night. UCLA had their asses handed to them.
I've already started receiving medical bills from my hospital visit. The operation cost more than $18,000. That's just the beginning, because I haven't seen the tab for the hospital stay, the anesthesiologist, the ambulance ride or any of the other numerous entities I owe for saving my life. My half-assed Blue Cross medical insurance will pay as little as they can get away with, so I look forward to a lot of hassle with them over the next couple of months.
The bastards DID raise my insurance premiums by ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH, even though they haven't paid a dime of my bills yet. They didn't pay squat to Willingway, either. I ate that entire 38-day stay right out of my wallet, and let's just say that it wasn't cheap. Fuck me dead. If I were an illegal immigrant, I'd get all that shit for free.
I give up on my son. I've called him a dozen times lately, left messages on the answering machine and never received a word in reply. I haven't seen or talked to him since February. He's 12 years old. I've got to accept an unpleasant reality: If he wanted to talk to me, he would. Obviously, he doesn't. I guess he has decided to divorce me, too.
Even though I feel like warmed-over crap this morning, I'm going to do some more work in my yard. I finished with the garden yesterday, but when I bought the last of my plants, I also purchased six hummingbird feeders and I'm going to hang them today. I like watching those aggressive little bastards eat, fuck and fight. They are beautiful birds and very entertaining to boot.
I finally found some lantanas for my flower beds, too. I bought nine large pots of them and I plan on having the flowers in the ground before the week is out. Lantanas require very little maintenance, they stay in bloom for a long time and they are butterfly magnets. Plus, they spread like wildfire, all by themselves. They'll add some nice color to the front of the Crackerbox.
Gawd, but I hate to see myself in the mirror anymore. I could pass for anorexic. I believe that I've answered the Paul Simon question about "How many times you think you can run that body down?" because mine appears ready for the scrap pile after 54 years. Hell--- I've averaged one near-death experience per year since 2001 and I damn sure look like it, too.
That's fucking depressing. I used to be a hunk. Now, I resemble a matchstick man. I don't think the hunk is ever coming back, either. Every time I think I've made one step forward, I take two steps back. I ain't been right since the prostate cancer. I don't think I'll EVER be right again.
Sorry about the pissing and moaning, but I'm in a foul mood. It's just another day of the same old shit, and I'm getting mighty tired of it.
April 03, 2006
immigrant domain II
I think she's pissed. I don't believe that she's alone in feeling that way, either.
I'm pissed from watching television coverage of the recent immigration protests. The Latinos surely impressed me. I never want to see another fucking Mexican flag again in my life. (There's your precious "multiculturalism" in action.) And if an illegal immigrant wants to wave one, I suggest that he take his wetback ass back home to do it.
Don't sneak into MY country and then flip ME the finger. (Learn to speak English so that you can cuss me properly, dammit.) What the hell are you trying to do, anyway? The message seems to be, "We want your country, but we don't want YOU." Boy, THAT'S the way to win American hearts and minds to your cause.
Illegal immigration is a BIG problem in this country, and it's just gonna get worse because of these protests. Congress smells political opportunity in the air, so you can bet your sweet ass that we're going to get some new laws out of this mess. That bullshit won't solve the problem, because we don't enforce the laws we already have, but it'll damn sure chip away some more of YOUR freedom. That's what Congress does best anymore.
Plus, why all the sudden shock and awe? This crap has been a reality for a long time. Our "leaders" just now noticed it? Bullshit! By ignoring the problem for so long, being busy crafting Farm Bills and grabbing pork, the political gasbags allowed it to fester to the point that it may be IMPOSSIBLE to fix now. (Kinda like Social Security.)
What the hell--- I ain't worried. I speak Spanish.
Yeah, it's just a wild fantasy from a fevered brow, but it ain't that far from the truth.
Jim has just one thing wrong in his post. He can't REALLY expect those people to speak English, can he?
i've got friends
See? Some people really do care about me.
Here's a "disturbing trend" for you: although cigarette smoking among teens decreased by 30% from 2001 and 2004, teens ARE NOT going smoke-free. Instead of cigarettes, they are puffing stogies now.
What causes that?
A study from the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey blames the unhealthy fad on celebrity-backed advertisements. After all, if Demi Moore can smoke a cigar, so can your teen.
I call bullshit! Teens smoke today for the same reason they've always smoked--- they think it makes them look grown-up and cool. Banning cigarette advertisments didn't change this fact and nothing else the nanny do-gooders ban will change it, either. But you can bet your sweet ass they're gonna try, the pricks.
Wanna know the REAL reason teens smoke cigars today? We have government and the nanny do-gooders to thank for it. They taxed the shit out of cigarettes and ended up making cigars a less expensive choice for smoking. So, teens smoke cigars.
You KNOW the fix they'll demand for this problem. We need to start taxing the shit out of cigars, too. It's For The Children, don't ya know.
Bejus. If government spent a fraction of the time, energy and money it wastes trying to dictate personal choices to the citizenry on legitimate government business, we just might have secure borders and no illegal immigration problem.
I noticed it just as soon as I moved this morning.
I lay in bed for a moment, taking a thorough survey. Let's see... my shoulders hurt, my belly muscles were sore, my back ached and both legs felt kinda wobbly, even though I wasn't standing up yet. Hmmm... I was experiencing the after-effects of gardening. Yep, the bending, stooping, digging, raking, weed-pulling and planting left their marks on my decrepit, out-of-shape body. I felt like Fido's ass this morning.
I long ago accepted the fact that moderation isn't one of my strong points. I'm the kind of person who thinks that TOO MUCH is better than NOT ENOUGH, no matter what I'm doing. I've always been that way, too--- from drinking booze to chasing pussy to all points in between. If I'm gonna DO IT, I'm going to OVERDO IT.
Well, it's official: I think I overdid the grunt work in my garden the past couple of days, especially considering the shape I'm in. Hell, I just got out of the hospital after having major surgery! I was physically fucked up even before that! I'm not a well man! What was I thinking, working my ass off like that?
I need a long soak in my hot tub, followed by a full-body massage, preferably administered by a nekkid woman with red toenails. And hot, scented oil dripping from her strong, expert hands. Knead me, baby!
Or not. As soon as I limber up enough to walk to my car, I'm going back to the seed & feed store for some more plants. I ain't dead (yet) and the garden ain't finished. I still have some bare ground to fill.
Besides, my old football coach always said that when you feel sore and beat-up, you need to go out and do MORE of the stuff that left you feeling sore and beat-up in the first place. You work the soreness out that way.
That's exactly what I intend to do today...
April 02, 2006
The difference between wimmen and monkeys:
Also, there was that story about the guy in California who communed with a bunch of chimps and tried to make them his pals. They rewarded him by biting off his fingers and tearing off his testicles. Women do the latter almost as a matter of policy, but they rarely bite off your fingers. You need fingers to make money. ---steve H.
I wish I had written that.
After I finished with my garden, I took a shower and headed off to the grocery store. I plan on having a big, gluttonous supper tonight (filet mignon, snow crab legs and shrimp), and I figured that a crisp spinach salad and a baked potato would go nicely with the meal. I needed spinach and croutons to make everything happen, so I went to get some.
I decided to purchase some REAL butter for the snow crab legs while I was at it, so I wheeled my buggy over to the dairy products aisle, which also happens to be the beer and wine aisle at my Kroger store. Bejus! That was a mistake.
I saw all that cold beer stacked in the coolers and suddenly the urge hit me. I've never wanted a cold beer so badly in my LIFE as I did right then and there in the store. I could TASTE IT in my mind. I could FEEL IT bubbling on my tongue and sliding down my throat. I WANTED that taste and that feeling. Oh, it would be so GOOOOOD!!!
And right there next to the beer was WINE! Man! A bottle of white zin sure would be a nice touch with the steak and seafood, just to... y'know... prime the pallete and all. Besides, I ought to keep some beer and wine around the house for when thirsty friends drop by to visit. That's just being a good host...
Hell, I thought of a HUNDRED good reasons to buy some beer and wine.
Fortunately for me, Georgia still has its Blue Laws that forbid the sale of beer and wine on Sundays, except for in restaurants. Kroger's ain't a restaurant, so I couldn't consummate the trade there. Instead, I purchased what I came for and drove back home.
The weird thing is that I wasn't even THINKING about having a drink when I walked into the store. But when I saw the beer cooler, I started salivating like Pavlov's got-dam dog. The alcoholic justification mechanism kicked into gear and I damn near had MYSELF convinced that buying a six pack was a good idea. After all--- I HAD done some pretty hot work in my garden. I DESERVED a cold beer.
Bullshit. That AIN'T a good idea and it won't EVER be, and especially not TODAY. Not NOW. Still, I thought about a cold beer all the way home. Hell--- I'm still thinking about one.
I want to believe that I wouldn't have bought the beer even if today weren't Sunday. I've been sorely tempted before and I didn't do it when I could have. But it was kinda different today. Stronger. Kinda cunning, baffling and powerful. Kinda really difficult to resist.
The truth is... it kinda shook me up.
what did I miss?
Okay, just for the record: I went to Costa Rica at the end of February. When I left the USA, gasoline was selling for $2.07 a gallon in Georgia. That's what I paid when I filled up my car the day before I headed off to Costa Rica.
I spent a week in Costa Rica, stayed sick for a week after I got back home, then ended up in the hospital for five days after that. I lost another week recovering from the hospital visit. Only now, FOUR WEEKS after I left the country, have I become un-housebound and coherent enough to notice that today gasoline costs $2.49 a gallon where I live.
Huh??? WTF happened while I was out of circulation?
I don't do math (I was an English major) but to me, current gas prices look almost 20% higher than they were a month ago. We haven't experienced any natural disasters, refinery fires or OPEC gougings during this time, have we? If we did, I missed them. If not, why the hell is gasoline so expensive again? And I live in a state where gas is relatively cheap, compared to the rest of the country.
What are YOU paying for gas now?
damn! That's like work!
I felt pretty good yesterday morning, so I went back to work on my garden early, before the sun got too hot. I was having a nice time until I managed to stir up a bunch of insurgent fire ants, who ambushed me mercilessly and bit the living shit out of me. Damn! Those are some mean little bastards!
I had to postpone gardening for a while and root around in my garage for the 100# of Diazanon I bought after the EPA announced that the perfectly safe and effective pesticide was being banned for no good reason other than some environmentalist's whiney whim a couple of years ago. I purchased two 50# bags and stored it for future usage before the stuff vanished from store shelves. Fuck the EPA. I hope fire ants bite the shit out of them, too, the buncha Chicken Littles.
I found my stash and launched a chemical attack against the implacable, six-legged terrorists infesting my yard. My preemptive strike must have been effective, because I didn't see ANY ants in my garden today. All the mounds appear to be abandoned. But past experience has shown me that I didn't kill the bastards. I probably just ran them off into my neighbor's yard for a while. Like the Terminator, they'll be back.
But I was able to finish my planting today, unbitten and unbothered, so I am happy. Sore and tired, but happy. I set up my big Rainbird sprinkler and created my own rainstorm to wet everything in good. The damn plot of ground already looks like a garden, except for one small detail: I still have room for more stuff out there.
What the hell. I already have tomatoes, corn, potatoes, green beans, okra, squash (crookneck AND zuccinni), bell peppers, banana peppers, cucumbers and sugar snap peas planted. If I'm able to get out of bed tomorrow, I'm gonna go buy some more squash, okra and cucumbers, plus some watermelon and cantelope. No sense in letting any tilled ground go to waste.
After that comes the fun part--- trying to keep the tree-rats, the potato bugs, the cutworms, the corn grubs and other nasty predators from eating me out of business. "Delicate" environment, my Cracker ass. It's a got-dam hostile world out there. It's already put a whipping on me, and I just got started.
Gardening---call it a hobby if you want, but it sure seems a lot like work when you actually DO IT.
i've been robbed!!!
Somebody stole an hour of my life last night.
I don't know why we bother with this Daylight Saving time change twice every year. The government keeps expanding the change (in 2007, DST begins on the second Sunday of March and ends the first Sunday of November, which means that we have more "fake" time than "real" time in a year), so why don't we just get on DST and STAY THERE? Fuck this bouncing back and forth.
When I was working for a living (expecially when working shiftwork), the time change always screwed up my body clock for at least a month before I became acclimated to it. I don't have that problem now, but I still don't like the time change. It's just too got-dam arbitrary to suit me. Besides, I don't like change anyway.
So, I advocate a revolt! How about a little passive resistance when government wants to go back to "real" time this fall? Let's just refuse to do it! Leave the clocks alone and stay on DST. See how long it takes the government to adjust to US, when everybody starts showing up an hour early for EVERYTHING!
Okay, forget government. Government loves inertia anyway, and it'll just make you stand in line an extra hour to receive shitty service from its bloated bureaucracies. Government doesn't give a damn about YOUR convenience.
But private-sector businesses do, and THEY will change to accommodate YOU. There's money in it for them. If we say "frog," they'll jump. Here's a by-Gawd revolution that The People can WIN. When the government says, "Fall Back!" this autumn, say "BITE ME!" in reply and don't change your clocks. See what happens.
Besides, does anybody REALLY know what time it is?
(UPDATE! I see that my reference to a song by Chicago did NOT go unnoticed by some sharp readers. Yes, we all have time enough to die.)
Playing the race card is how Cynthia got where she is and how she manages to stay there. Think the race card isn't a powerful trump? Cynthia punches a Capitol Hill Policeman, and suddenly SHE is the victim of being black in Congress. Bejus! Poor, poor, pitiful HER. Tears well in my eyes when I think about how terrible her life must be. What a heavy burden she bears.
This sheer absurdity is where the path of Political Correctness leads. Cynthia may have shown her ass and assaulted a cop, but it's not HER fault that she acted like a maniac. She's black. NOTHING she does can be HER fault.
Wait and see. By the time all the posturing and pontificating are done, the cop will end up apologizing to HER for doing his job, if he's not fired first.
Maybe I'm particularly sensitive to McKinney's shenanigans because I'm from Georgia and she once was the representative for MY Congressional district. I've watched this moonbat fly for a long time and she's just gotten more insane over the years. (And that's quite an accomplishment, considering how nutty she was to begin with.) She embarasses the hell out of me. But she always seems to manage a free pass for every lunatic thing she does.
THAT'S the New Racism in America today: we excuse reprehensible behavior from protected minorities to demonstrate how "tolerant" we are. My aching ass. If low expectations ("What else can you expect? The poor darkies can't help themselves. After all, they were slaves once.") aren't a form of racism, I don't know what is. That's not "compassion." It's condescension.
But don't listen to me. I am a "virulent racist."
April 01, 2006
it's the thought that counts
Oh, I also received a pooping penguin. Yes, you read that right. A toy penguin. You wind it up, it waddles around and shits chocolate candy pellets.
Yes, somebody gave zonker a gift that accurately captures the personality of the man himself. Only it should have been a goat instead of a penguin.
I still plan to attend the Blown-Eyed Blodger Meet in Austin this month and I am happy to know that Zonk will be there. I just hope he stops hallucinating by then. I have taken MANY a piss in Texas and when I looked down into the urinal, I never noticed that "everything is bigger" effect he talks about. Maybe I was just too drunk to appreciate the "bigger" thing at the time because I kept looking down at TWO Roscoes, thanks to copious amounts of Shiner Bock and Lone Star beer.
I intend to be sober for this trip and if my dick gets bigger, you'll be the first to know.
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