On The Road Again

I'm on the road again, living in a hotel in Birmingham tonight. I got my rental, with some confusion and me saying, "I don't care if it's a pickup truck, just give it to me." I got behind a really old man with political stickers all over his tailgate. Poor guy, all his favorite candidates lost. Maybe that's why he drove so slow?

The drive was about as exciting and eventful as you might expect. I listened to the radio. I played with all the buttons on the dash. I tried taking deep and meaningful photos with my keychain camera. I stopped to pee. You know, the usual crap.

I did notice that highway 78 in Mississippi coming out of Tennessee is a real piece of work. And by work I mean crap. It is as torn up as most anything I ever saw in Arkansas. I thought Arkansas was the king of crappy highways, but Mississippi is trying hard to take the title.

Is it a sin to drive with your tailgate open? I did it anyway. It's not my truck, but it is my gas. Whomever rented it last had a flat and they threw the tire in the bed. Apparently a new tire was installed, but the spare was just thrown back into the bed again. Since I wanted to run with the tailgate down I had to stuff the spare inside the extended cab with me.

Hey, at least I wasn't alone, eh?

Anyway, I got here faster than I was supposed to, which means the cruise control worked as designed. I immediately plugged up the company laptop, only to find that it would not allow me to log in. I called PC support and explained the situation to 5000 different people before they finally decided that what I needed to do was drive over to a Particular Building and plug into the network there. This would place all my info into the cache so that when I returned to the hotel it would remember who the hell I am.

So I hung up the phone and drove through Birmingham rush hour traffic, a lovely experience if you've never been fortunate enough to enjoy it, over to the Particular Building. I didn't bring my corporate badge, as I wasn't expecting to need to go onsite anywhere and be able to prove who I am. Also, I'm in jeans and a T-shirt. So I don't exactly look Banklike, if you know what I mean. I was expecting to have to give some detailed explanations as to who I am and what I needed to do.

Didn't happen. I walked in and looked all over the first floor for someone to talk to. I didn't see anyone, so I headed up to the only floor in this building that I've ever been on other than the first floor. I walked to the back of the building, found a network connection, and logged in. I didn't see another soul the entire time. Once I was in I shut down and headed downstairs. On my way out the door I encountered my first fellow employee. She was coming in as I was going out, so I held the door.

Let me tell you about her. She was about 5'9" or maybe 5'10" with the heels she had on. She was blonde. She was built like a brick house. She was about 25. She was very well dressed in a tight pink top and black pants. She was BEAUTIFUL. She smiled and thanked me for holding the door. And I nearly died. She looked so good it hurt. And here I had left my keychain camera at the hotel. Dammit!

I walked to my rented truck in a daze. Who was THAT?! Woo hoo! I want to be transferred. I want to work in THIS building. I want to work with HER.

Back out into Birmingham rush hour. Yeeha. My enthusiasm was slightly dampened by the press of traffic, but she was still on my mind. Beautiful Alabama girls are like no other. In that brief moment that she smiled and said "thank you" as she walked past she set me on fire. I'll be thinking about her all night, especially since I'm here all alone and have nothing to do and no one to talk to.

So I'm here on the computer watching the damned message light on the phone flashing like mad. I already listened to the message 3 times and there is no mention of options to delete it or make this light stop flashing. Yes, I KNOW I have a message. I already heard it. Thank you. Stop flashing, please.

I've got my cellphone pinned to my shoulder as My Wife tells me all about her day at work and I continue to type here on this laptop. In a minute I'll walk across the way to the nearest restaurant and eat by myself. I'll probably be thinking about that beautiful blonde Birmingham girl. What else is there to do? This isn't much fun at all.
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Inspired - Being Poor

I discovered this on VDOPrincess' blog. I had to put my two cents in.

I wasn't raised poor. I was raised by a father who grew up poor, only he wasn't poor compared to everyone he knew so he didn't think of himself as poor. In SmallTown, Texas where he grew up everyone lived fairly poor, especially by today's standards. That was all he knew. That's how he lived. So that was how he raised us. All 5 of us.

My Wife wasn't raised poor, but after she left home she was desperately poor while trying to get through college and work at the same time.

So, from all that I have seen and all that I know, here is what I have to say about being poor in America:

Being poor is praying that nothing breaks, especially the car that barely runs, because there isn't any money to fix anything and there isn't ever going to be.

Being poor is dropping out of school so you can work more hours because you have to have that money.

Being poor is not being able to miss work when you're sick and then getting sicker because you never took time off to get well.

Being poor is seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, but knowing the train is coming sooner or later and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

Being poor is eating popcorn for supper because there isn't anything else.

Being poor is skipping lunch even though you're hungry.

Being poor is knowing which cereals are filling and which leave you feeling hungry too soon.

Being poor is stress beyond what you can bear, worry that will not leave you alone, dreams filled with fear, and a stomach forever in a knot.

Being poor is panic attacks.

Being poor is a nervous breakdown.

Being poor is cutting coupons because they're found money, not running the heat even though you're freezing, not running the air even though you're sweating, getting a hardback book for Christmas and thinking it's the best present ever, never buying books in hardback because they cost more, buying clothes because they'll last and not because they look right for you, always getting the cheap gas even though your engine is knocking, standing on your feet all day dealing with obnoxious customers who yell at you for the prices you yourself can't afford to pay, not owning a gun even though a killer lives next door because you can't afford to buy one, paycheck to paycheck, day by day, no more dreams, no hope for tomorrow, no way out, no choice.


I'm on the road all day tomorrow. Another lovely business trip. If I miss Half Nekkid Thursday it's because I'm not there to blog. Hopefully I'll be able to get on that afternoon or night and Friday. If not, try to understand that I have to work and when they send me out of town I can't help it. Sometimes I can get on and sometimes I can't.
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Gone, and Back, and Gone

A few weeks ago Krista shut down her blog, Oceanaria. I was sad and cried like a little Girlie-man.

And then it was hijacked by some gay porn site so that whenever anyone went looking for Krista we got molested by lesbians and back door boys. It was pretty rough.

But then she took her blog back and is now up and running once again! Hurray for Krista!

Life was good again.

Krista got 41 comments just from saying "I'm back." I don't get 41 comments for anything unless my pants are off and I'm posting the photo. If I were to shut down my blog and leave it to gay pornographers for a few weeks before returning there would be no one waiting there to comment at all (except Stacy the Peanut Queen, because she's been there since the beginning and I SO appreciate that.)

Now, on the same day that I discover Krista's return to blogdom, I find that Rachel Queen of Slackers has shut down. I am so sad. I loved her drive-by style of blogging. It reminded me of a certain magazine I wrote for in college called "Fred's Wonderful Newsletter."

Every story we wrote, every cartoon we drew, every photo we created, was done on the fly, and often under the influence of alcohol, lack of sleep, or heavy doses of allergy medication and Mountain Dew. It gave it a certain flavor that you couldn't imitate or fake.

[Or sell to anyone else apparently, as The National Post continually rejects my articles. ]

But people in college, living under the influence of these very same things, loved it.

They say Rachel had to shut her blog down for personal reasons and I realize that sometimes this happens. I hope I didn't drive Rachel off with my constant stalking and obscene phone calls at 4 a.m.

No, seriously, I am way too lazy to stalk her way off in D.C.-land and there is no way in hell she'd ever give me her phone number. Anyway, I have friends in the Secret Service who do it for me. I just call them up and ask for an update and they say, while watching her through binoculars, "she's writing something on her computer. I think she's blogging. Yes, yes, she's writing on her blog." And then I run to my computer and see what she wrote. Ah, what clandestine fun! And now it's over. And I am very sad.

So anyway, I'm happy to see that Krista and Oceanaria is back. And I'm really bummed that Rachel's Queen of Slackers is gone. I think I'll laugh with my left side and cry with my right. It's all a little convoluted and confusing right now.
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Nude Memphis' Daily Helpful Advice

Speaking of bad breath, I've made a fascinating discovery this morning and you might benefit from it. When you're gargling with Listerine and you need to take a breath because you've been under too long you might find yourself thinking that perhaps you could inhale through your nose and thus not choke on the Listerine. But let me tell you, this is a bad idea.

"Why? Why is it a bad idea, Mr. Memphis," you might ask. Well, I'll tell you.

Because when you breathe through your nose you open up your sinuses. And when you open up your sinuses while your throat is drowning in Listerine you wind up with Listerine pouring into your sinuses like a New Orleans levy during a hurricane.

Have you ever inhaled Listerine before? Don't do it!

Ever had the urge to pour yourself a few lines of Listerine and just suck it right on up your nose? JUST SAY NO!

Yeah, I filled my sinuses with minty fresh Listerine and let me tell you, it hurt like a mofo. Yes, LET ME TELL YOU so you don't do it yourself.

On the plus side, though, my sinuses have been minty fresh and clean all morning long. Woo woo!
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Odiferious Memphis

It seems I have some sort of sinus infection this week. The usual effect of my sinus infections is to give me the breath that kills. Yes, I can peel your contact lenses right out of your eyes as I speak with this crap. So I have it, as My Wife so graciously informed me.

Also, for some reason I am pouring sweat. I came in, discovered I had left my badge in my truck, went back for it, came in again, went all the way down to the next building for today's class, found no one there, came all the way back, went upstairs to my desk, asked my coworkers why we weren't in class, and stood dripping sweat like some soft of porn star as they explained to me that the instructor for today's half of the class couldn't get a flight out of Pittsburg so class is cancelled.

So, I have breath from hell and I'm covered in stanky sweat. Yes, I am your dream man right now. I smell like old shoe and paint thinner.

Mmmm, sweeeeeeet.
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Memphis Driver Of The Month

Memphis Driver of the Month

I got behind this guy in his gold Nissan Maxima with a yellow ribbon on it in some windy turns. I was quickly irritated with him because he was driving slow and talking on his cell phone. So I took his photo in preparation for some typical Memphis crap driving.

We got through the S-turns and he picked up to a decent enough speed, but he was still on his cell phone. I was expecting trouble. When we got to the intersection where road dead-ends he amazed me. Despite being on his cell phone he still managed to put on his blinker! Most people don't bother. Even more amazingly, instead of sitting there with his thumbs up his ass while traffic was clear like most Memphis drivers do, he actually made his turn within a reasonable amount of time. As we passed the new private high school I noticed that this impressive-despite-the-cell-phone driver is elderly.

OK, so let's get this straight here. He's on the phone. He's old. He's got some girl in the car, probably his granddaughter, and he's apparently trying to get her somewhere. Yet despite all this he still managed to drive better than 90 percent of the people in Memphis. I am impressed. I was looking for my Memphis Asshole Driver of the Day, and instead I found this guy.

So here's to you, Mr. Exceptional Memphis Driver of the Month. The odds of finding another driver around here as good as you are almost zero, so I'm dedicating this entire month to you. Congratulations!
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Left-Handed Women Studied for Breast Cancer

Left-Handed Women's Risk of Breast Cancer Higher - Study

Originally By Patricia Reaney
Modified Because It's Dumb By Memphis Steve

LONDON (Reuters) - Left-handed women are more than twice as likely as right-handers to suffer from breast cancer before reaching menopause, some really drunk Dutch scientists said on Monday.

More than a million women are diagnosed with breast cancer worldwide each year whether they actually have it or not. Three-quarters of cases occur after watching lame shows on The Lifetime Network, which usually begins around the age of 50.

Researchers at the University Medical Center in Utrecht in the Netherlands speculate, which is another word for 'wild-assed guess,' that there is a shared origin early in life for both left handedness and developing breast cancer, possibly exposure to hormones in the womb.

Oh, those hateful left-handed hormones.

"Left handedness is associated with breast cancer, most specifically pre-menopausal breast cancer," said Cuno Uiterwaal, an assistant professor of clinical epidemiology with an unfortunate name, in an interview.

"We found that left-handed women are more than twice as likely to develop pre-menopausal breast cancer as non-left handed women," the researchers said in the report published online by the British Medical Journal.

Other risk factors such as family history of breast cancer, numbers of pregnancies, smoking habits, how "rockin' the tatas are" to young men, and social and economic status were considered, but then rejected in the lightning round.

About 8 percent to 9 percent of women are left-handed. But the scientists said the findings should not alarm them because this is bullshit.

"What our study intends to do is focus on this area and bring in more funding. Mostly just the funding thing. We do not know all the causes of breast cancer, that is why we should continue receiving this ungodly amount of funding that we currently receive. This may be one new factor that leads us to a better understanding of the aetiology (cause of the illness)," Uiterwaal added, throwing in the pretentious term just to show off what a geek he is and try to impress people.

"Although the underlying mechanisms remain elusive, ie 'give us more money,' our results support the hypothesis (wild assed guess) that left handedness is related to increased risk of breast cancer," the researchers added.

In other findings, these illustrious Dutch scientists claim to have found compelling evidence that:

Men whose left testicle hangs lower than the right are more likely to get prostate cancer
Dogs who sit slightly crooked are more likely to pee on the carpet while you're not at home
Children with one leg longer than the other are more likely to be crooked
Both men and women with one leg missing are less likely to date
Men with penises that hang lower than their knees are significantly more likely to get laid on both Friday and Saturday nights by multiple women
Women who sleep with men whose penises hang below their knees are more likely to walk funny, but feel happier than women who don't
Men who wear pink are more likely to have difficulty separating from their mothers
Men with penises that hang lower than their knees are less likely to pee in public urinals because the water is cold
Greedy researchers with no genuine results are more likely to report bullshit findings
Gay, left-handed, child-molesting, ax-murderers are more likely to shop at Wal-Mart
Women who crave attention are more likely to be photographed hugging Jesse Jackson
Boxers who are washed up are more likely to have a Che Guevara tattoo
and finally
Women who use men and then discard them when fortunes are turning are more likely to be named Robin Givens
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I Remember

I remember my middle sister hanging Mike Polites by his underwear on the gas cap of the old Ford F100 pickup because he was acting like an ass and refused to go home when she told him to.

I remember he was really pissed off as he hung there kicking and screaming.

I remember making him laugh while we were walking the 3 blocks to his house. He said, "Stop, I have to pee. I'm going to wet my pants." This was a mistake, as I took it as a major challenge and really poured it on. I told every joke I could think of until he laid down in the street, with his face red from laughing, and peed a yellow river all over himself and the asphalt. His mom didn't think it was as funny as I did.

I remember sitting on the front porch with David Kohl and noticing that my neighbor's sisters were up in their bedroom with some of their friends and they were all trying on clothes. They had left the curtains open and we both got an eyeful. We were all in high school at the time.

I remember the only time in my entire life that I ever threw rocks at cars. My older brother and his friends started it and I wanted to join in. I was too little to be able to see out of the pipe we were throwing from, so I just threw blind. I hit dead on target with my very first and only throw. And they stopped. It was a deputy sherriff I had hit. His truck was even marked, which did me no good since I couldn't see. It was one hell of a throw though. My dad was real impressed when the deputy brought me and my brother home and told him about it.

I remember sitting in those same pipes, before the city finished widening that road, and learning every single cussword I know to this day from my older brother. I was about 5 or 6 years old at the time. My mom was thrilled that I had such a fabulous vocabulary at such an early age.

I remember learning to smoke in those pipes, too. Having an older brother can really give a boy an advantage in life!

I remember my brother and his friend getting me and my best friend's sister, Wendy, to play Truth or Dare. They dared me to kiss her so I did. Wendy was pretty. I think they dared me to do it because they wanted to kiss her, but they couldn't come up with an excuse. Who can say?

I remember riding my spyderbike down the motorcycle trails and jumping it way up in the air over the jumps. It felt like I could fly!

I remember my handlebars breaking off in mid-jump one time and thinking I was going to be impaled on the jagged metal where the handlebars use to be.

I remember dragging my broken bike several miles home, cussing and bitching the whole way, as I finally had a valid use for all those words my brother had taught me.

I remember when I was really little peeing in the trash can because Mom was taking a bath and my big brother said it would be OK, they'd understand that I'd had to go real bad.

I remember trying to smother myself under my covers when I was about 6 years old because my parents didn't love me. It didn't work though. But I did manage to inhale a lot of lint.

I remember in elementary school Tommy Garrett being the guy all the girls liked and him having the boots I wanted and him being the football star and him being the only person on my basketball team who could tackle me when we played Smear-the-Queer over at his house. And I was the only person who could tackle him. We thought we were going to be professional athletes when we grew up.

I remember being mistaken for Tommy at my high school reunion. Apparently I hadn't changed a bit. If I had actually been Tommy.

I remember getting salmonella poisoning the summer between 5th and 6th grade and puking my guts out for over a week. My dad got it twice in a row. Apparently Mom, ever the jokester, didn't throw the bad meat out. She served it to him again and Dad got super sick one more time. I don't eat my mom's cooking much anymore. I just prefer to eat out.

I remember how my neighbor's mom always hated me. She wasn't shy about letting me know, but my own home was so much less pleasant that I'd always go back over there every single day, even if there was nothing to do and I was just sitting there watching TV with my best friend.

I remember chasing the train and catching it. There was some old man in the caboose and he was peeking out the back door to see what I was doing. I slapped the bottom step of the stairs and was satisfied, so I quit chasing it. Not many people can say they caught a speeding train. I guess it didn't take much to impress me back then.

I remember taking a girl I was crazy about to my senior prom. She arranged for this other guy she liked to come to our after-prom celebration. First she tried to get me really drunk. Then she made an excuse for me to drive to the store for something and when I got back this other guy was there. And while I was gone somehow she had accidently gotten us thrown out of the motel, so we just had to go to this guy's house where he lived with 2 other guys. I remember her going off to his room and fighting with him while I peed in his floor and all over his house.

What sorts of things do you remember at 3 a.m.?

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Ebay Boyd

How much would you play for this sucker? My Wife said she wanted one, but she can't find any. So I, being the perfect husband and most excellent lover in the entire world (yes, please spread that around for me, would you?) I went out on the internet and said, "I'll find you one."

So I'm out on Ebay, fighting it out with housewives and overweight sci-fi guys who secretly collect these things and pile them on their computers at work (you know who you are.) I'm prepared to pay the most ridiculous price for one just so I don't have to deal with it anymore and My Wife can be happy.
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Psychopaths could be best financial traders?

Billionaire Hitler Youth George SorosGeorge Soros
Billionaire investor, communist, and former Hitler Youth

LONDON (Reuters) - "Wanted: psychopaths to make a killing in the markets."

Such an advert will not be appearing in the world's newspapers any time soon, but it may have a ring of truth after research revealed the best wheeler-dealers could well be "functional psychopaths."

A team of U.S. scientists has found the emotionally impaired are more willing to gamble for high stakes and that people with brain damage may make good financial decisions, the Times newspaper reported Monday.

In a study of investors' behavior 41 people with normal IQs were asked to play a simple investment game. Fifteen of the group had suffered lesions on the areas of the brain that affect emotions.

The result was those with brain damage outperformed those without.

The scientists found emotions led some of the group to avoid risks even when the potential benefits far outweighed the losses, a phenomenon known as myopic loss aversion.

One of the researchers, Antione Bechara, an associate professor of neurology at the University of Iowa, said the best stock market investors might plausibly be called "functional psychopaths."

Fellow author, Baba Shiv of Stanford Graduate School of Business said many company chiefs and top lawyers may also show they share the same trait.

"Emotions serve an adaptive role in speeding up the decision-making process," said Shiv.

"However, there are circumstances in which a naturally occurring emotional response must be inhibited, so that a deliberate and potentially wiser decision can be made."

The study, published in June in the journal Psychological Science, was conducted by a team of researchers from Stanford University, Carnegie Mellon University, and the University of Iowa.
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College Athletics and Grabbing My Nuts

When I was in college they made all the athletes get physicals. They sent the girls in and 5 seconds later they were out again. "What they'd do?"


A guy would go in and take 30 minutes.

"What they'd do?"

"You don't wanna know."

So it's my turn. I go in. The doctor is a woman. Her assistant is just a trainer, not a doctor, and she's a woman too. So they check this and that and then she says "take off your pants."

Then she says "take off your underwear."

Then she grabs me by the balls and starts playing around with them, and not in a sexy way. It feels like having someone pull out your kidneys or your eyes and roll them around in their fingers while they're still attached, in case you were curious. It isn't fun AT ALL. The trainer woman is going in and out the door, always looking over at me as she passes by. The volleyball girls are peeking in the door at my junk when it swings open. The trainer girl nearly falls over a box of stuff as she's peeking while the doc is trying to see how long she can roll my nuts before I puke on her. I'm like, "having fun? I don't have a hernia. I think we've established this by now. I don't have testicular cancer, but thanks for checking. Who the fuck is the trainer and why is she in here? How many volleyball players need to see my dick before we're done here? Are you gonna buy those or just play with them until they're worn out?"

This was the beginning of my freshman year, my introduction to college. Later that same term I would join a fraternity. And then I learned about real naked humiliation. But at least that always included hot girls and beer.
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Another Monday Morning

Thank you for the fabulous parking space! If not for you and the car on the other side of me both parking so badly I would never have found such a fantastic space this close to the front doors. You rock!

On the way up the elevator I overheard a woman say she had named her son Tomiko. No, she isn't Japanese. Welcome to Memphis.

As I was walking past the security desk I saw a man standing there and on the other side of him was Gina, the woman whose coffee cup I held for ransom. I couldn't actually see Gina. All I could see was a profile view of her ass and part of her leg. And yet I knew immediately who it was.
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Months ago I bought stock in Google, back when it was around $200 per share. I couldn't afford much, but I got what I could. I rode it up to over $300 per share. All along the way I tailed it with a STOP order to protect me from outrageous losses in case it should fall. A week or so ago it fell back and set off my STOP order at $275. I wrote about it and then thought about it and then decided to buy back in. And I wrote about that, too.

Now I'm thinking about this more thoroughly. Google's big boys at the top have done some interesting things.

First of all, they have announced that they are issuing more shares of stock, which slightly devalues the existing shares. This is an odd thing to do. Why would they do this? They said they don't have any specific plans for the extra money the sale will generate. They just want to do it and stash the money away in case they should ever need it.

Second, and perhaps most importantly, the insiders at the top are selling their own shares of Google stock. Why does this matter? Because it tells you what they think about the current price of the stock. When the big boys think their company's stock is undervalued they buy it back. But when they think it is priced about as high as it is going to go they sell it and make some money. They have been selling their shares for several weeks now.

While all of this is going on most stock analysts are saying Google is gold and we should all buy, buy, buy. A select few, my own broker's advisors included, are saying Google is riding a bubble and is way overpriced. They say sell, sell, sell.

Stocks experts in the media are just like all the other media experts. They are only experts because the media says they are. What exactly qualifies a person as an expert is difficult to define, much like 'sex' and 'family' can't be defined by Bill and Hillary Clinton even though it seems as if it should be obvious to many of the rest us.

Last Friday I was looking at my money situation and trying to find a way to raise more cash to invest in Google stock. As I did so I watched it rise to nearly $300 per share, making me feel like I had missed out because if I had just jumped on it without thinking first thing that morning I could have made several dollars per share in that same day. But I finally decided not to buy. I wanted to think about it.

So I am sitting on this Google stock I just rebought and I am thinking back about a year to when I bought Redhat. I checked with all of the 'experts' to see if they agreed with my opinion that Redhat was gold and going to bring Microsoft down to its' knees. They all agreed. Redhat is gold, they said. So I bought it near its' 52 week high, breaking a cardinal rule right off the bat, and almost immediately resold without even knowing it when the stock fell like a dead bird from the sky and hit my very, very liberal STOP limit which I had set almost as an afterthought. It continued to fall well below that and made me glad I had sold even though I lost a lot of money in the process. I could have lost twice as much.

I think I'm going to set another STOP on Google and I'm going to be fairly intolerant with it. I'm going to set it high. If Google falls much then I'm out. And then I think I'll stay out for awhile.

I made a fundamental error with Google. I never set a price that I wanted to sell at. I just decided to ride it to the top, which is a number no one can know in advance. I tried to compensate for that by keeping a STOP limit under it to protect me from having the stock fall too far from its' peak. That does work, somewhat, but large fluctuations in price such as a company exactly like Good is prone to will kick you out prematurely. Generally you should have a price in mind that you intend to sell at right from the start. If I had simply decided to sell Google at $300 per share I would have made my money and been done with it by now. But I didn't. I had figured on being a long term investor in Google and riding it for years. That's fine, but when a stock rides a bubble it's better to just get off at a relatively high point and then get back in later when it's more reasonably priced, rather than trying to ride the bubble all the way to the top.

I already thought something was odd when Google never announced plans to split their stock after they went over $300 per share. At that point, if the leaders of a company feel the price is fair, they'll almost always split or at least offer some explanation as to why they aren't splitting. Google hasn't said boo about it. And then, with all of them selling their own shares, I think the writing is on the wall. They think it's overpriced and they are quietly cashing in as fast as they can. I think I probably need to get out, too.


In the past I've mentioned a high-flying REIT with the symbol ALX several times. It keeps going up and up, so naturally it keeps getting my attention. It's flying high again this week and I was wondering what is going on. Happily, they just released their latest financials.

The financials look spectacular. At first. Their earnings have leaped like a cat being surprised by a barking dog. But when I looked closer I noticed that most of their dramatic increase in earnings comes from one-time-only sales of properties. This bothered me, as it means nothing towards long-term growth. So I kept digging around through all the info.

I noticed that all of the big boys are selling their holdings in this REIT. Absolutely no big buyer is buying at all. It's not just company insiders who are selling, but the mutual fund managers, too. This is a BAD sign.

So, I'm holding off on doing anything with this one. I'm just going to keep watching it. I'm not putting money in it unless I see something that makes me think it is a lot more solid than I think right now. Something stinks with this.
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Elevator Fun

Ever get on an elevator all alone, thinking hard about something?

And you stand there as the doors close.

And you're busy thinking.

And you keep thinking.

And then you start to think that this elevator is slow.

It sure is taking a long time to go from the first floor to the third floor.

And then you realize you never hit the button to go anywhere.


I never do that.
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Ghetto Spelling

Ghetto spelling assignment

Leroy is a 20 year-old 5th grader. This is Leroy's homework assignment. He must use each vocabulary word in a sentence.

1. Hotel - I gave my girlfriend crabs, and the hotel everybody.

2. Dictate - My girlfriend say my dictate good.

3. Catacomb - I saw Don King at da fight the other night. Man, somebody get that catacomb!

4. Foreclose - If I pay alimony today, I got no money foreclose.

5. Rectum - I had two Cadillacs, but my bitch rectum both.

6. Disappointment - My parole officer tol' me if I miss disappointment they gonna send me back to the joint.

7. Penis - I went to the doctors and he handed me a cup and said penis.

8. Israel - Tito try to sell me a Rolex. I say, "man, it look fake." He say, "Bullshit, that watch israel."

9. Undermine - There's a fine lookin' ho living in the apartment undermine.

10. Acoustic - When I was little, my uncle bought me acoustic and took me to da poolhall.

11. Iraq - When we got to the poolhall, I tol' my uncle iraq, you break.

12. Stain - My mother-in-law stopped by and I axed her, "Do you plan on stain for dinner?"

13. Fortify - I axed this ho on da street, "howmuch?" she say "fortify."

14. Income - I just got in bed wif da ho and income my wife.

Furthering your education with Today's Ebonic word:

Today's word is:"OMELETTE"

Let us use it in a sentence.

"I should pop yoass fo bloggin dis, but omelette dis one slide."
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San Francisco Judge Outlaws God Again

By DAVID KRAVETS, Associated Press Writer
Modified freely By Memphis Steve, Nude Memphis Writer

SAN FRANCISCO - A federal judge declared the reciting of the Pledge of Allegiance in public schools unconstitutional Wednesday in a case brought by the same fucking atheist whose previous battle against the words "under God" was rejected by the U.S. Supreme Court on the grounds that he is an asshole and a lousy excuse for a father, a man, and an American.

U.S. District Judge Larry "Tinkerbell" Karlton ruled that the pledge's reference to one nation "under God" violates school children's right to be "free from any mention of God unless immediately followed by the word 'damn.'"

Karlton said he was bound by precedent of the infamous 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, which in 2002 ruled in favor of Sacramento atheist Michael Newdow that the pledge is unconstitutional because athiests hate God, donate large sums of campaign money, and throw all the best parties.

The Supreme Court dismissed the case last year, saying Newdow lacked standing because he did not have custody of his elementary school daughter he sued on behalf of and was perhaps the worst and most narcissistic parent the Justices had ever met. Clarence Thomas went further, describing Newdow as a "dickhead" and recommended that his visitation rights be revoked since he appeared to be a threat to both his daughter and his country.

Newdow, an asshole, an attorney, and an abortion doctor, filed an identical case on behalf of three unnamed parents and their children since he had none of his own, or at least none that wanted to have anything to do with him. Karlton said those families have the right to sue because he'd already planned to rule in their favor before even hearing the case and wanted to make sure he got invited to the next big shindig at the Playboy Mansion.

Karlton, ruling in Sacramento, said he would sign a restraining order preventing the recitation of the pledge at the Elk Grove Unified, Rio Linda and Elverta Joint Elementary school districts in Sacramento County, where the plaintiffs' children attend. The order also prohibits God from coming within 500 feet of any of these aforementioned schools. If God violates the order he may be arrested.

The order would not extend beyond those districts unless it is affirmed by a higher court, which everyone already knows it will be since that court is the infamous 9th Circus Court of Appeals, in which case it would apply to nine western states, none of whom asked for this bullshit.

The decision sets up another showdown over the pledge in schools, at a time when the makeup of the Supreme Court is in chaos.

Wednesday's ruling comes as Supreme Court nominee John Roberts faces day three of the Abortion Inquisition before the Senate Judiciary Committee. He would succeed the late William H. Rehnquist as chief justice if he says he loves abortion and renounces faith in both God and Christ.

In July, Sandra Day O'Connor announced her plans to retire when a successor is confirmed. She plans to host a daytime talk show which will be produced by Oprah Winfrey and says she simply doesn't have time for 'piddly things' like the Supreme Court anymore.

The Becket Fund, a religious rights group that is a party to the case, said it would immediately appeal the case to the San Francisco-based 9th U.S. Circus Court of Appeals. If the court does not change its precedent, which it won't, the group would go to the Supreme Court, just for the hell of it.

"It's a way to get this issue to the Supreme Court for a final decision to be made," said fund attorney Jared Leland.

The decisions by Karlton and the 9th Circuit conflict with an August opinion by the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Richmond, Va. That court upheld a Virginia law requiring public schools lead daily Pledge of Allegiance recitation, which is similar to the requirement in California.

A three-judge panel of that circuit ruled that the pledge is a patriotic exercise, not a religious affirmation similar to a prayer.

"Undoubtedly, the pledge contains a religious phrase, and it is demeaning to persons of any faith to assert that the words `under God' contain no religious significance," Judge Karen Williams wrote for the 4th Circuit. "The inclusion of those two words, however, does not alter the nature of the pledge as a patriotic activity."

Newdow, reached at his home, was not immediately prepared to comment because he was busy lubing up a child for some celebratory festivities along with 23 of his closest boyfriends.

Karlton, appointed to the Sacramento bench in 1979 by President Jimmy Carter, wrote that the case concerned "the ongoing struggle to rid this nation of God and his followers" and added that his opinion "will satisfy mostly just the wealthy elitists, who are really the only people that matter anyway, in my opinion."

Karlton dismissed claims that the 1954 Congressional legislation inserting the words "under God" was unconstitutional. If his ruling stands, he reasoned that the school children and their parents in the case would not be harmed by the phrase because they could no longer recite it without being immediately arrested.

Terence Cassidy, a lawyer representing the school districts, said he was reviewing the opinion and was not immediately prepared to comment.

[modified for parody and not subject to rulings by the 9th Circuit who can all go fuck themselves.]

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Oh Great Mystery of the Universe

How do women always know when you're checking out their ass?

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Attention: I Have An Announcement To Make

Lotus Notes Is A Huge Steaming Pile Of Shit!

Thank you. That is all.
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Narcissists and the Women Who Love Them

I have recently become aware of something which I consider a strange phenomenon. Roughly 50 percent of women like George Bush and roughly 50 percent hate him with a rabid hatred that cannot be adequately explained by a dislike for his political policies alone.

The women who like George Bush say they trust him as a leader. They do not say they want to have sex with him or find him attractive. They do not seem to jump with excitement at the mention of his name. At least not that I have seen or heard. But they do seem somewhat fed up with lying bastards and spineless mama’s boys, much more so than the women who hate him. He's far more charismatic than his father, but far less than many U.S. Presidents before him. His election and re-election seemed to defy the odds.

The women who hate George Bush seem to hate him with extreme passion and intense emotion. They say they hope he dies in some horrible and painful way and they hope he goes to hell. And they love Bill Clinton.

Bill Clinton is known to be a man who treats women like material objects. He doesn’t respect them. He doesn't even seem to like them. He lies to them constantly to get them to do what he wants. He uses them. He discards them. He denies having ever known them once they become inconvenient. He never, ever says he’s sorry. In all these ways he's considered to have been similar to both Kennedy and Roosevelt.

a very similiar-looking but different RyanI don’t claim to understand this odd phenomenon, but I do recall working with a guy who reminded me of Bill Clinton more than anyone I’ve ever known. His name is not important, but I'll call him Ryan. The following are my opinions based on my observations:

Ryan is a punk. He’s extremely skinny, with blonde hair that sticks straight up because he got it cut to look like Billy Idol. He has blue eyes. He has no muscles and dresses in shiny disco clothes like some kind of long lost member of the band Abba. He wears a shiny black leather jacket all year round because he thinks it makes him look cool even when it's too hot out and he's pouring sweat, or too cold and he's forced to run down the downtown Memphis sidewalk like a fool because he's freezing his skinny white disco ass off. He gets all his money from his daddy, who got his money by manipulating people at a company I'll call Fat Ex (not its' real name) until he got promoted into management, where using and abusing people is an art form.

Ryan smokes like a freight train, but bums his cigarettes from all the right people. He drinks way too much and has been known to come to work drunk, but gets all the right people to pay for his drinks. He drives like a lunatic, but he has the right kind of car in the minds of the people above him and that’s all that really matters. He’s destined to be promoted to management simply because he’s such a narcissistic asshole who uses and abuses people and never says he’s sorry or admits to being wrong.

He’s a natural.

favorite fucktard car

Ryan drives a silver BMW 525, which Daddy paid for, of course. He wears a $1500 wristwatch which a girl who lives in Florida paid for before sending him photos of herself naked with her new breast implants. He works for a company I'll call Auto Suck (not its' real name.) Ryan, being the sort of guy who uses women and then discards them like trash, happily showed the emailed photos to everyone he works with at Auto Suck, including me.

Normal people get fired at Auto Suck for sending around photos of naked women or coming to work late and drunk. But Ryan smokes and drinks with some of the higher level incompetents, so he can do anything he pleases and get away with it. AutoSuck suspends the rules where Ryan is concerned. He can do no wrong.

I asked Ryan if this naked girl with shiny new plastic breasts was his girlfriend. He said, ‘no, she’s just one of the skank ho’s I fucked. We don’t hang anymore. She keeps calling me at work, but I don’t answer.’

I thought it was odd that Ryan described a girl who treats him so well as a “skank ho” and I asked about that. He said that all the women who hang with him and especially who sleep with him are skank hos. All of them. Every single one.

Ryan smashed up his daddy’s BMW while driving drunk in downtown Memphis at a speed he claims was over 90 mph. He said he had a skank ho in the car with him and they were going to his place so he could fuck her and then throw her ass out. He tried to take a 90 degree turn in the rain while still doing 90 mph and, as you might imagine, did not make it. Not even close.

God chose not to let Ryan be killed in this high speed crash and thus rid the world of him. In fact, Ryan wasn’t even scratched. Isn’t that always the way? All 4 wheels were broken off the car when it went up a curb and slid for a great distance across an empty lot, coming to rest comfortably against a fence. The entire suspension and undercarriage of the car was demolished.
Ryan, being a Clintonesque sort of guy, never even mentioned whether the girl was hurt or not. It just didn’t occur to him to care.

Ryan made a great impression on the guys at the bodyshop who were working to repair the mess he’d made of his daddy’s car. He flashed his jewelry and told them all how great he was and what he thought of them and then expected them to admire him as much as he admires himself. They took extra long to get the job done and kept ‘losing’ parts so that they’d have to reorder. They took over 2 months. Ryan was on the phone with them arguing and screaming every single day. This did not seem to speed things up at all.

For 2 months Ryan had no means of transportation. So he turned to me, being as I was the closest thing to an actual friend that he ever had, and asked me to give him a ride home from work every single day. I stupidly agreed to help him out of the jam he’d gotten himself into, thinking that this is the sort of thing that friends do for one another. I drove him home every single day. He never said ‘thanks’ and only paid me $3 after some of the other people he hung out with called him a cheap, selfish bastard. They were mad at him for not only using them to pay for his drinks, but for wasting the drinks and never saying ‘thanks.’ When they heard how I had driven him home and how he never said ‘thanks’ or paid me anything they began to rag on him.

Every time I drove Rye home after work I learned more about him. Every night Ryan went out on the town in downtown Memphis and got drunk. He likes the Flying Saucer and he really likes the rooftop parties at the Peabody on Thursday nights. He gets to meet a lot of really drunk young girls while he’s out and he gets to take them home and fuck them before they can sober up.

The thing that struck me about Ryan’s Playboy Mansion lifestyle is how he treats the girls after he’s fucked them. Every week, at least once a week, I’d be dropping him off only to see a strange new car parked in front of his place. “Oh fuck,” Ryan would say, “what the hell is SHE doing back here again?!”

Ryan always finds it perplexing why a girl wants to come over and see him again after he’s fucked her. Apparently even he can’t understand why a girl would want to stick around for a guy like him. So, just to drive the point home, when they come back he tells them to ‘fuck off.’ Didn’t they get the hint when he’d said it after fucking them the night before? ‘Why is this so hard to understand? I fucked you and now you’re leaving. Don’t come back.’

I don’t really like either Bush or Clinton all that much. I don’t necessarily hate them either. They’re both a lot like various people I’ve known in the past. George Bush is apparently not very attractive to women, being more like your accountant than your fantasy man. And Bill Clinton, well he’s a lot like Ryan. He fucks you and then tells you to get the fuck out and don’t come back. Then he emails naked photos of you to everyone he knows and refuses to answer your phone calls.

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

I wanna use you and abuse you
I wanna know what's inside you
(Whispering) Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Movin' on!

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

I'm gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside
Gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside you

Oh, and just to finish the story about Ryan and his daddy’s BMW, after waiting the 2 long months to get his car back, Ryan took it the very day he got it back and smashed it into a column in the parking garage at Auto Suck. He was drunk, of course, and security got it all on tape. He wasn’t fired for driving drunk at work, as he is a goldenboy. But all the security people enjoyed a good laugh at his expensive, repeatedly replaying the tape for anyone who wanted to see it. Apparently he doesn’t smoke with them and they don’t like him.
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Grab Life By The Horns

Those marketing people are all going to hell

I need to get a new truck. My minitruck is great on gas mileage and parking in half-sized spaces or spaces that are crowded by inept old ladies in SUVs who take half of the space next to theirs, but otherwise it's just not safe.

Today I noticed that Britney Spears, the tall blonde girlfriend of Jeremy the midnight mechanic, is selling her giant, jacked-up, 4-wheel-drive, V8 powered, Chevy Suburban. It would do nicely for me. But I'd really rather have a Blazer or an extended cab pickup.

The other day I rode to lunch in a 4-door Dodge Ram pickup belonging to The Beautiful Fantasy Art-Looking Woman I work with. The truck is the right size, has plenty of room inside, and is a heck of a lot more comfortable to ride in than my minitruck. Until then I hadn't seriously considered buying a Dodge pickup.

The only Dodge I have ever owned was a 1972 Dodge Polara. It wasn't bad. The brakes would put you through the windshield, the body was indestructible, and the ride was the best of any car I ever owned. But it had it's quirks, to be sure. Anyway, during college my brother got high and spray-painted stupid shit all over it because he was mad at his neighbors. Yeah, painted MY car because he was mad at his neighbors. Listen, when you're stoned this probably makes some kind of sense. I never understood it, but he seemed to feel that it was a perfectly rational thing to do even after he had mostly sobered up.

Anyway, I think I may start looking around for a nice used full-sized, 4-door, 4-wheel-drive, Dodge Ram with a V8 or a turbo diesel. Maybe with the gas crunch people will sell them cheap like Britney is having to do with her horse-trailer-pullin', extreme 4x4 muddin', V8 monster suburban? Who knows? All I know is the Chevy and GMC pickups cost a fortune, even with a million miles on them.
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I'm Coming Up - Let's Get This Party Started!

From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 11:26 AM
To Steve Jones

Subject July & August Parking Not Paid


If you have already paid for July & August please ignore this note.

I have been notified by accounting you have not paid your parking fees for July & August.

Please remit payment to either DM at xxx-xx-10
or give your payment to the Staff Assistant for your floor.

Please notify me once you have paid.

Delaying may cause you to lose your place.
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 11:27 AM
To Admin Sec
cc Alabama Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

I am pretty sure you meant for this email to go to Steven Jones in Alabama. I live in Memphis where parking is free and the deer and the antelope roam.

Steve Jones
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 11:32 AM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Gee, we only have ants, snakes and squirrels here! Thanks for letting me know.

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 11:35 AM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Actually I was engaging in a little wishful thinking. We have a stray cat that no one can catch, a very large red squirrel that we've named Toto, some turtles, and some aggressive geese, but nothing much beyond that. But they all park for free, too. The squirrel has a Humvee.

Steve Jones
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 11:43 AM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Lucky squirrel. I have a Alero, my daughter has worn out and I still have to pay $35.00. Of course the ants, snakes and bats get to park for free! You know it's not what you know but who you know!

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 11:46 AM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

I hear the squirrel is 'connected.' Word is he goes boating down on the river a lot with several of the big boys and girls, but you didn't hear it from me.
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 11:49 AM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Actually you heard wrong. He has started golfing with the big boys! Hangs out smoking and drinking, even drives the cart. He only goes to the river with the girls. I hear they love him down there!

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 11:53 AM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

It's always the smoking thing, isn't it? You have to smoke and you have to smoke with the right people. That squirrel is going to be an executive VP before long and then we'll all be telling people, "I work for a squirrel. He makes over $300k a year and owns a yacht."

It's so unfair.

Memphis Steve
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 12:09 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

And he'll probably marry the bosses daughter, where he can make sure he's in like Flynn. He only makes $300k. I'm shocked, it's not more. He parties so much, he makes the Oil Barrons look like shrimp boaters.

Must be living above his means!

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 12:14 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

He once told me "you have to look successful to be successful." That's how he justifies having a $70k dollar boat, a Rolex, the Humvee, and several girlfriends on the side, all while living in a tree and eating nuts. But if you think about it, he has no mortgage to pay and he doesn't pay for parking, so he's really stashing it away even with all the bling he's constantly flashing.
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 12:31 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Maybe we should relook at his life style! I guess we could live in a tree, after all I always thought living like Tarzan and Jane would be interesting. We could save water when it rains to take a bath. Hey, this is beginning to sound like a great idea. Of course, with my little salary it wouldn't matter, I still couldn't afford the free tree!

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 12:32 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

I don't think he takes baths. It's hard to say for sure, because he always smells like cigarettes, but I'm pretty sure he never bathes.
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 12:33 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Can't go there. I've got to bathe once in awhile!

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 01:16 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

And we all thank you for that. But when you're in with the right people and covered in fur, apparently the rules don't apply to you.

From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 01:24 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

You know women love it when men give them fur and diamonds. What are diamonds, nothing more than hard balls! I wonder if he's willing to give up everything?

Thank You

Admin Sec
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 01:31 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Yes, but what about when squirrels do it? A diamond is a diamond, but when a squirrel brings you a fur coat don't you have to wonder what and where it's from?
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 01:49 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Actually, no I don't wonder where it's from. There are some gifts in life you say thank you and don't ask questions.

Latest rumor is, the squirrel is out and the rats and snakes have moved in. Heard he didn't meet the expectations of the bosses wife. Gee, I wonder what he's going to do know? It seems they enjoy biting and sticking you in the back. They seem to be really in good with the bosses daughter.

Thank You
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 01:53 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Oh, the rats and snakes always rise high, no matter where you work. Don't you hate that?
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 02:16 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

Yep, dang it. It just ain't right.

Thank You
From Memphis Steve 09/06/2005 02:20 PM
To Admin Sec
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

And let's not forget the weasels.
From Admin Sec 09/06/2005 02:45 PM
To Memphis Steve
Subject Re: July & August Parking Not Paid

What a mixture of creatures! Thank you for the entertainment today. I've been busy, but you've sure made it fun...

Thank You
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America In Decline - Teaching Math

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58.

The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her.

She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register.

I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help.

While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s

Teaching Math In 1950:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1960:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1970:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

Teaching Math In 1980:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990:

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)

Teaching Math In 2005:

Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producción es $80 ..
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Happy Labor Day Weekend

Enjoy your 3 day weekend!
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Your String Is Showing

Is this some sort of big red tampon or what?

My truck would be so embarrassed to drive around with its' string hanging out like this.
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