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FYF - Last One This Year
It's the last Fuck You Friday of 2006!
Christmas has passed and New Year's Day is nearly here:
It’s rarely a surprise to see the words “UN” and “fail” in the same sentence.
Search continues for man missing in Ore
He’s not missing. He’s in
NYC health board votes to ban trans fats
And this right after changing the law to make it easier for anyone to declare themselves a transsexual. Apparently NYC is very particular about which trannies it prefers. Transexual = good. Transfat = bad. It all sounds very discriminatory and bigoted to me. You can't judge! Keep your laws off my sandwich! I'm pro-choice and I choose beef! We're here, we're deep-fried, get used to it!
Chavez salutes vote rival for averting bloodbath
A bloodbath that Chavez himself would have brought on had anyone tried to pry him out of power, regardless of how the people actually voted.
Man accused of faking retardation
It was a good racket while it lasted. But after 3 terms as Mayor of New Orleans people began to get suspicious.
Neighbor testifies in 'caged kids' trial
Much like the divorce and child-support rackets, there is good money to be made in taking people’s kids and putting them into cages in foster homes.
MySpace to offer technology to block sex offenders
The scarlet letter ‘A’ now extends to the internet. Except that we don’t tattoo it on adulterers anymore. Hell, adultery and fornication is what MySpace is all about.
Britney Spears tops Yahoo's searches
Word is that someone snapped a photo of her cooter. Since then s/he’s been hotter than ever before. Or at least, her cooter has.
Yahoo partners with Reuters on eyewitness pictures
Reuters, not satisfied with Photoshopped photos from its’ own lying photographers, now wants to let us all in on the charade. Look, here’s me with President Kennedy riding in a limo!
Minnesota deemed healthiest state, Louisiana worst
Apparently the “chocolate city” ain’t such a good place to live. As for
Metrosexuals snap up cosmetics in China
How gay. Or rather, how pseudo-gay.
Officers keep record of beautiful women
I do that. It’s called ‘porn’ and it’s taking up half my harddrive.
Brooklyn sidewalk caves in, swallows woman
No more putting off that diet, bitch. Damn!
Polonium traces found at Arsenal stadium
This is how you know when the Russians were here. After their KGB agents leave, everything glows in the dark.
Study: Holidays can make women eat more
But not men, huh? You didn’t allow any men in your study, did you, bitch?! And fuck you very much for that.
Rapist preys on men in Houston area
Michael Jackson lives in Texas now?
Egg-toss prank turns deadly in Ohio
Dude, how hard did you throw that egg? I think you killed him!
Protective effect from alcohol seen in head injury
Australian Steph could’ve benefited from this study if they’d only done it sooner, the poor girl!
Thieves break into police station
Well sure, that’s where all the best shit is.
"Macaca" named most politically incorrect word
According to Oprah Winfrey the most politically incorrect word is “bitch”, but that crack ho is dumber than dirt.
Marijuana top U.S. cash crop, policy analyst says
That’s only because you can’t grow meth.
Woman tells cop she bought 'bad crack'
The “All About Me” crowd is so caught up in their own little worlds that they don’t even think twice before trying to get their dealers arrested for selling cheap Canadian drugs. Apparently they aren’t very good, eh.
Judge makes 23 spend Christmas in jail
Ho ho hos
Battered wo/men to get "panic rooms
Now that the female supremacists have their own womyn-only branch in the government they are trying to find new and more creative ways to spend other people’s money and thus justify demanding another annual increase in their already enormous misandric-military budgets. Hating males is big business and pays very well. Then again, so did the slave trade. Next year battered wo/men are all getting their own private Hoverounds.
Overweight man sues Air France over seat row
"Votre âne est trop grand." Apparently they told him his fat ass would have to pay for 2 seats because it required 2 in order to fit on their plane. He believes he has the right not to be told he’s fat. Even though he is. The only surprising thing about this is that this self-righteous bitch isn’t an American. He’s French.
Woman tells jury she was posing 'like Charlie's Angels' right before she shot her sister to death
None of the Charlie’s Angels hotties ever shot their sister to death, honey. That's why Cheryl Ladd was able to replace Farrah Fawcett, aka Jill, as hot little sister Chris. Next lesson: how not to shoot yourself while pulling the gun out of your pants.
Most Americans have had premarital sex
Some of us just didn’t have as much of it as we’d have liked. Why is this news? Are they peeking at Santa’s naughty list or something?
Murders are up in New York, other cities
It’s a new phenomenon they’re calling “Elmo Rage.” Several thousand people have been killed in what police are calling “Elmo related attacks” when stores run out of their Elmo stock.
Russia won't transfer space technology
They say they won’t give their space technology to
Woman fakes kidnapping to avoid work
That’s when you know that you really, really hate your job.
Woman crushed by leaping dolphin
Flipper has grown into a real mean bastard in his old age.
Court can't force gay marriage vote
The court has suddenly declared that it cannot, in fact, force legislators to vote or pass specific laws supporting traditional marriage, in a complete reversal of its' ruling forcing and requiring legislators to vote in a law creating gay marriage. Isn't it funny how that worked out?
Top Wall Street jobs still elude wo/men, minorities
And this is considered news because 99 percent of all news editor jobs are currently filled by wo/men. And where is the story about that, you cranky old sexist bi/tches?!
Herpes treatment fails in animal testing
Lab workers are having a hell of a time explaining how all their animals got herpes.
Duke D.A. charged with ethics violations
Apparently even a couple of heterosexual white males have a few rights left. Who knew?
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Pillow Talk
My Wife was being a butt. We were supposed to be going to bed. She was already in the bed, reading a book. I was going in and out of the bathroom, brushing my teeth and doing all the fun and exciting things people do prior to going to bed. Each time I left the bedroom My Wife would throw my pillow into the floor and then start giggling.
"Cut it out!" I protested through mounds of toothpaste foam, as I picked up my pillow for the hundredth time and put it back on the bed.
"Hee hee hee hee!" she replied unrepentently.
No matter where on the bed I put my pillow she would always managed to send it flying into the floor. I even put it at the very end of the bed on my side, but she slid her foot under the blankets and kicked it off and onto the floor.
Finally I had had enough. So I did what any normal, college-graduated, scientist-type husband would do.
I pulled my boxers down just enough to explose my ass. Then I walked calmly around the bed to her side. She ignored me, to her great regret, as she did not see my exposed ass coming her way until it was nearly too late.
"Ugh, don't put you ass in my face!" she cried, as she simultaneously tried to push me away and herself backwards towards the center of the bed.
Having failed in my attempt to press my baby-soft buttcheeks against her smiling face I paused momentarily, examining my options.
Then I sat my bare butt down on her pillow, wallowing just a bit to make myself more comfortable as I sighed audibly. "Aaaaah, this is comfy!"
"GET YOUR ASS OFF MY PILLOW!" she protested like Jane Fonda.
Quickly she jerked the pillow out from under me as I climbed off of it. She turned it around and around until even I wasn't sure which side had once had my bare ass on it. Then she tossed it to the end of the bed while making an unhappy face.
"Aren't you going to sleep on it?" I inquired.
"Ugh, no!" came her pouty reply.
"Just flip it over," I suggested helpfully, ever the problem solver.
"No!"
So I, feeling that I had no choice but to assist her in this crisis, grabbed her pillow and began wrestling with her as I tried to press it over her face.
"You can't sleep without your pillow," I reminded her helpfully.
"Augh! Get that away from me!" she protested as she struggled with her fluffy soft ass-smelling pillow.
Finally she grabbed the pillow and yanked off the pillow case. She threw it in the floor like a dirty diaper. Then she plopped her pillow down in its' place on the bed and laid her head on it.
I reached over and turned out the light.
"Hee hee hee," giggled My Wife in the darkness.
"What's so funny now?" I inquired apprehensively.
"I farted," she bragged. "Hee hee hee." ......... "Ew, it's a stinky one, too."
"Cut it out!" I protested through mounds of toothpaste foam, as I picked up my pillow for the hundredth time and put it back on the bed.
"Hee hee hee hee!" she replied unrepentently.
No matter where on the bed I put my pillow she would always managed to send it flying into the floor. I even put it at the very end of the bed on my side, but she slid her foot under the blankets and kicked it off and onto the floor.
Finally I had had enough. So I did what any normal, college-graduated, scientist-type husband would do.
I pulled my boxers down just enough to explose my ass. Then I walked calmly around the bed to her side. She ignored me, to her great regret, as she did not see my exposed ass coming her way until it was nearly too late.
"Ugh, don't put you ass in my face!" she cried, as she simultaneously tried to push me away and herself backwards towards the center of the bed.
Having failed in my attempt to press my baby-soft buttcheeks against her smiling face I paused momentarily, examining my options.
Then I sat my bare butt down on her pillow, wallowing just a bit to make myself more comfortable as I sighed audibly. "Aaaaah, this is comfy!"
"GET YOUR ASS OFF MY PILLOW!" she protested like Jane Fonda.
Quickly she jerked the pillow out from under me as I climbed off of it. She turned it around and around until even I wasn't sure which side had once had my bare ass on it. Then she tossed it to the end of the bed while making an unhappy face.
"Aren't you going to sleep on it?" I inquired.
"Ugh, no!" came her pouty reply.
"Just flip it over," I suggested helpfully, ever the problem solver.
"No!"
So I, feeling that I had no choice but to assist her in this crisis, grabbed her pillow and began wrestling with her as I tried to press it over her face.
"You can't sleep without your pillow," I reminded her helpfully.
"Augh! Get that away from me!" she protested as she struggled with her fluffy soft ass-smelling pillow.
Finally she grabbed the pillow and yanked off the pillow case. She threw it in the floor like a dirty diaper. Then she plopped her pillow down in its' place on the bed and laid her head on it.
I reached over and turned out the light.
"Hee hee hee," giggled My Wife in the darkness.
"What's so funny now?" I inquired apprehensively.
"I farted," she bragged. "Hee hee hee." ......... "Ew, it's a stinky one, too."
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What Bad Kids Got for Christmas
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Costume Party
A couple was invited to a swanky masked Party. She got a terrible headache and told her husband to go to the party alone. He being a devoted husband protested, but she argued and said she was going to take some aspirin and go to bed, and there was no need of his good time being spoiled by not going. So he took his costume and away he went.
The wife, after sleeping soundly for about an hour, awakened without pain and, as it was still early, she decided to go the party. Since her husband did not know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him.
She joined the party and soon spotted her husband cavorting around on the dance floor, dancing with every nice chick he could, and copping a little feel here and a little kiss there. His wife sidled up to him and being a rather seductive babe herself, he left his partner high and dry and devoted his time to the new stuff that had just arrived. She let him go as far as he wished; naturally, since he was her husband.
Finally, he whispered a little proposition in her ear and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and had a little bang. Just before unmasking at midnight, she slipped away, went home, put the costume away and got into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would make for his behavior.
She was sitting up reading when he came in, and she asked what kind of a time he had. He said: - Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you're not there.
- Did you dance much?
- I'll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the den and played poker all evening. But you're not going to believe what happened to the guy I loaned my costume to.......
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2 Kids At the Hospital (from Stacy PQ's email)
Two little kids are in a hospital, lying on stretchers next to each other outside the operating room. The first kid leans over and asks, "What are you in here for?"
The second kid says, "I'm in here to get my tonsils out and I'm a little nervous."
The first kid says, "You've got nothing to worry about. I had that done when I was four. They put you to sleep, and when you wake up they give you lots of Jell-O and ice cream. It's a breeze."
The second kid then asks, "What are you here for?"
The first kid says, "A circumcision."
"Whoa!" the second kid replies. "Good luck, buddy. I had that done when I was born. Couldn't walk for a year."
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Merry Christmas
Remember the reason for the season.
And have a Merry Christmas!
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Merry Christmas - part VI
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout?
New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: lucky bastards.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket - water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop f***ing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.
New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.
New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. don't want to be on your webcam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.
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Letters To Satan ... I mean ... Santa
deer santa:
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud boy all yeer.
Yer Frend, BiLLy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!
Santa
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love, Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?
Santa
Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love,
Teddy
Dear Teddy,
Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid, fat mother, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead. Maybe you can build yourself a family with those?
Santa
Dear Santa,
I want a new bike, a Playstation, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony and a tuba.
Love, Francis
Dear Francis,
Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays? I bet you're gay.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the back door.
Love, Susan
Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my fucking face when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Two words, Jim Beam.
Santa
Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?
Your friend, Thomas
Dear Thomas,
All the toys are made by little kids like you in China Every year I give them a slice of bread as a Christmas bonus. I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while losing money at the craps table.
Santa
Dear Santa,
Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake, like in the song?
Love, Jessica
Dear Jessica,
Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE PLEASE could I have one?
Timmy
Timmy,
That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting an ugly sweater again. Fuck You!
Santa
Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?
Love, Marky
Mark,
First, stop calling yourself "Marky", that's why you're getting your ass kicked at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a low-rent, ghetto apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom window.
Sweet Dreams,
Santa
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Christmas Letter To God
(Stacy the Peanut Queen sent me this)
There was a man who worked for the Post Office whose job it was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses. One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God. He thought he should open it to see what it was about. The letter read:
Dear God,
I am an 83 year old widow, living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had $100 in it, which was all the money I had until my next pension check. Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends over for dinner.
Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with. I have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope. Can you please help me?
Sincerely,
Edna
The postal worker was touched. He showed the letter to all the other workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few dollars By the time he made the rounds, he had collected $96, which they put into an envelope and sent to the woman. The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends.
Christmas came and went. A few days later, another letter came from the old lady to God. All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened. It read:
Dear God,
How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your gift of love, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift. By the way, there was $4 missing.
I think it must have been those thieving bastards at the Post Office.
Sincerely,
Edna
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Message from Santa
Dear Friends
I have been watching you very closely
to see if you have been good this year
and since you have I will be telling my elves
to make some goodies for me to
leave under your tree at Christmas.
I was going to bring you all
gifts from the 12 days of Christmas,
but we had a little problem.
The 12 fiddlers fiddling have
all come down with VD from fiddling with
the 10 ladies dancing,
the 11 lords leaping have knocked up
the 8 maids a-milking, and the
9 piperspiping have been arrested
for doing weird things to the
7 swans a-swimming.
The 6 geese a-laying,
4 calling birds,
3 French hens,
2 turtle doves
and the partridge in a pear tree
have me up to my sled runners in bird shit.
On top of all this!
Mrs. Claus is going through menopause,
8 of my reindeer are in heat,
the elves have joined the gay liberation
and some people who can't read a calendar
have scheduled Christmas for the 5th of January.
Maybe next year I will be able
to get my shit together and bring you the things you want.
This year I suggest
you get your asses down to Walmart
before everything is gone.
Love,
Santa
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Clueless In Seattle
BWA HA HA HA HA!!!!
(click the image to make the article larger)
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Steve Is Kinda What?
Another fabulous search that led to my blog.
See if you can guess why this caught my attention.
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How Much Is Your Blog Worth?
My blog is worth $36,695.10.
How much is your blog worth?
Huh, I guess if I thought there was actually a market to sell it to I might work harder at getting the value up. Oh well, it's not enough to retire on, but it's nice to think I haven't been totally wasting my time here.
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FYF - Ho Ho Headline News
It's another Fuck You Friday.
The elections are over and Christmas is nearly here:
There are tons of female-only businesses in the
Recliner saves man who was shot in head
His wife tried to shoot him in the head on he/r way out to the women-only gym, but the Laz-E-Boy he was sitting in deflected he/r bullet and saved his life. Men should marry Laz-E-Boys instead of wo/men. This would save us so much trouble. And soon it will probably be legal to do so. At least in
37 percent of U.S. births out of wedlock
But don’t you dare speak out against this because we can’t judge others. Except when they say things that are politically incorrect, like “kids need two parents” or “Merry Christmas” or "God bless you." In those cases we judge like mad and excommunicate the unbelievers immediately.
U.N. says 39.5 million people have HIV
The U.N. says a lot of shit. But when you get past the double-talk and bullshit it all boils down to two things, the U.N. wants more money and the U.N. wants more power. That’s all there is to it.
Being transgender no longer about surgery in NY
No, it’s about politics. Reality doesn’t matter in
Nearly half U.S. abortions are repeats for women: study
Buy one get one free.
Man shows up to DUI hearing drunk
Danny Divito?
Streisand basks in "Happy Days" after Dems victory
Remember when Fonzi jumped a shark on his motorcycle during that last season? Yeah, that was awesome.
Democrats call for ouster of U.S. health official
They want him purged for being an unbeliever. And he’s not a U.S. Health official. He’s a U.S. "Family Planning" official. So you know what this is really about.
Is America ready for a Mormon president?
Sure, why not? If nothing else it would give
NASA's Mars Global Surveyor believed lost in space
Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Dr. Smith is a pedophile and he’s checking out your bunghole!
Cosmonaut set to tee off in space
Yes, because a better game of golf is what space exploration is really all about.
Woman, 92, slain in shootout with police
She was a crack shot, but there were just too many of them and it took her too long to pour in the powder and pack it down between rounds.
U.S. to implement passport requirement
It’s official. You now need a passport to go into or out of
'Nativity' booted from Ill. Christmas fair
What the story actually says is that the city itself said “A public Christmas festival is no place for the Christmas story.” Think about that for a minute.
Rwandans united in anger at France
Yeah, I seem to recall this 'anger at France' going around here in the States one time. It doesn’t do any good. The French don’t give a shit if you’re mad at them.
Zimbabwe army says cellphones danger to security
When a leader is a mass murdering Marxist madman he tends to consider anything that allows people to communicate freely to be a “danger to security.” His security, not theirs.
Flat-screen TVs, game consoles top holiday list
What “holiday” would that be for exactly? Are there a lot of TVs and game consoles being given for Hanukkah? What about the FBI’s own personal “holiday” of
Report says CO2 emissions have doubled
Sorry about that. I get pretty gassy after Thanksgiving. Oops, should I not have said “Thanksgiving?” Should I have said “
Scientists say trained bees can sniff bombs
That’s awesome. So what do they do when they find one, sting it to death?
Bush urges conflict resolution at Russia borders
I was under the impression that the Russians were already trying to resolve it. I was under the impression that they were trying to resolve it by poisoning every single person who disagrees with them or is otherwise in some way, shape, or form inconvenient to their plans.
Wild boars rampage through village
Rosie O’Donnell was in town and looking for a sandwich.
Wo/men 'talk three times as much as men'
They also blog more. But according to Carol Gilligan they mysteriously go silent in school. Apparently Carol never actually went to school.
Owner: Man tried to hide guitar in pants
I’ll bet he could play “Stairway to Heaven” like nobody’s business.
Man accused of spray-painting 3 goats
It’s really hard being a gangbanger in
Court: U.S. discriminates against blind with currency
This is so gay. First they try to get rid of “In God We Trust” and remove “
California sea lions attack humans
Apparently the sea lions saw the weirdos along Venice Beach with their fashionable clothes and pink hair and mistook them for fish.
Police say mother microwaved her baby
Meanwhile, the National Organization for Wo/men is desperately trying to figure out how to make the mothe/r out to be the “real victim” here. If they can find out who the father is there’s a good chance they’ll blame him. After that, we'll see the mothe/r being sympathetically interviewed on "The View." Shortly thereafter, a gang of mothe/rs from Texas will be arrested for beating the living shit out of he/r.
U.S. to unveil new citizenship questions
What is your name? What is your quest? What is your favorite color? OK, off ya go then.
7M in U.S. jails, on probation or parole
And now several of them are in Congress, fighting to be appointed as heads of various committees.
Modest weight loss healthy for older women
More shocking discoveries from a study that didn’t need to be done because we already knew this! It’s interesting that they chose to exclude males simply because the government requires the misandric exclusion in order to receive tax-payer funding. And still the Republicans are wondering why they didn’t get enough votes this time. Hmm, it's a mystery.
Abortion pill thwarts breast cancer gene
So that whole “no link between abortion and breast cancer” is thrown right out the window as they replace it with this “an abortion pill per day keeps the doctor away” argument, eh? That’s lovely.
OK, stick a fork in me. I'm done.
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Seeking Nude Bloggers
Search from My Blog
Take a look at these search terms that led to my blog. See if don't spot one that seems a bit odd.
Do you see a search for a specific blogger we all know? I do.
Someone is searching for nektified photos of Texas' own Kami!
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Merry Christmas - part V
Then one foggy Christmas Eve .... it's really foggy outside today. My cats, apparently convinced that the fog is going to melt their faces off, fought me like lunatics to not go outside this morning.
I won. Yay me!
So right this moment I'm sure my girl cat is still sitting on the kitchen windowsill whining and crying to herself. My boy cat is probably still sitting on the back doorstep, not making a sound because Maine Coons rarely do. And I am sitting here in my non-foggy office typing this whilst farting due to my not having pooped yet this morning.
You knew I was going to mention the pooping, didn't you? Yes you did.
I have My Wife's Christmas present already. I got an Ipod Nano in her favorite color along with the arm band pouch so she can wear it to jog or speed-walk. A coworker then told me I could download something called Shareaza and find all the MP3s she could want and download them.
Shareaza raises an important issue for me. I was setting it up and searching around for this and that, when I stumbled on an old '80s film starring Ginger Lynn. OK, this is porn. Fine, I like '80s "movies" just fine. But the film also supposedly has Tracy Lords in it. I'm no porn expert and I don't remember all the details of everything that went on in the '80s, but I seem to recall while watching Tracy Lords' biography on The Biography Channel that a lot of people got into trouble because of her, but then it was all dismissed. So what does this mean for today?
I didn't get to run yesterday at lunch. My boss is in town and took the team out for lunch. We went to O'Charleys. I can't speak about all the O'Charleys throughout the country, but I can certainly comment on the local one. It sucks. When we first moved to this hole, I mean town, it was one of the few decent restaurants in town. I don't know if someone new bought it or died or became a drug addict or what, but it suddenly went downhill and has never come back uphill again. We had a table of 12 people. We had between us 24 forks and 2 knives. We spent most of our meal this way, despite mentioning to the waiter that we had no knives and needed them. He, not trusting that anyone in the kitchen would supply him with the missing knives, just went around to the other tables and searched the silverware napkins for knives. He brought us two more knives. So that makes 12 people, 24 forks, and 4 knives. Yeah, not gonna work. So as soon as he left I got up and went and stole my own damned knife. At least I had a knife, even if 7 of my coworkers did not. What the hell is wrong with people?
He also got my order wrong. And generally everything about the service was messed up. Last time I ate there with My Wife there was a bunch of broken plastic pieces in her food with her steak. That was never explained.
I might mention that this last time our waiter looked just like Howdy Doody. Yeah, he was before my time, too, but you can still Google him and see my waiter. I swear it's true.
Can you imagine actually being named 'Doody?' I mean, what a living hell your childhood would be. Not that your adult life would drastically improve without a name change.
"Hello Mr. Doody, how are you today?"
"Ted, I'd like to introduce you to my new employee. This is Mr. Doody."
"WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, PRIVATE DOODY?! DID YOUR MOMMA NOT LOVE YOU ENOUGH? I'M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK, DOODY!"
"I now present you with Mr and Mrs Doody."
"And now President Doody is exiting Air Force One and ... oops, he slipped and fell down the stairs!"
Yeah, pure hell.
And here's something new. On StealthBombshell's blog I cannot comment and it does not even offer to let me comment as 'other' or 'anonymous'. It insists that I enter my Google login and password, but it rejects them when I do. Yeeha. This is fabulous.
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Globalization Explained
This is too funny. Look at it closely. This is apparently written specifically for the benefit of the Texas Bitches, but I swear I didn't draw it myself.
Click to see it larger
Click to see it larger
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Merry Christmas - part IV
For those of you who have switched to Blogger Beta, especially those of you named Kami, I seem to be disallowed to comment on your blogs. Apparently it has something to do with the fact that I have just been invited to switch to Blogger Beta, but haven't done so. Whenever I try to comment it asks me to enter my login and my Google/Blogger password. But since my Google account and my Blogger account hasn't been merged, I have no single unified password. Below the login it says I can use my Blogger password. And I do. But it refuses to accept it and let me post my comment. When I search the Blogger page for an email address to use for bringing this problem to Google/Blogger's attention, I find nothing. Those fuckers are hiding from me.
I had to go to a Microsoft convention yesterday afternoon. It was a kind of introduction to the newest tools coming available to developers who use Microsoft's products.
The convention was small, and oddly located in the Malco movie theater, room number 16. In the lobby, where we had to sign in, it was an odd sight. There was a mixture of normal people, mostly young and attractive, who had come to see actual movies. And in the midst of all of them were scattered random computer geeks, mostly badly dressed and wearing glasses.
Computer geeks have a tendency to buy all of their shirts one size too large. I don't know the reason for this exactly, but I used to do it myself without even realizing it. Some computer geeks are grossly overweight, I realize, so the thought of them wearing an oversized shirt means little. But for the most part, your average computer geek is reasonably thin and utterly lacking in muscles. And almost every single one will be wearing a shirt sized extra large. So it just hangs off his shoulders like an afghan, with the short sleaves ending somewhere between his elbow and his wrist, the collar much too large for his skinny neck and making it appear even thinner and more pencil-like. When he tucks it in there is excess shirt hanging all over the place, totally obscuring his belt.
The first thing I noticed was that there was a large number of Indian men there. That's usually the case, but it's always a good indicator that I've come to the right place. There were maybe 2 black guys. And all the rest were white guys.
Oh, there were 3 women. One was Indian and looked to have recently had a child. One was white, blonde, and good looking enough to capture the geek attention. The third woman was an Indian supermodel. Her name was Medulla. Seriously. OK, she may not model, but she could. She was tall and slim and the best looking person in the room. Her apparent boyfriend was a tall Indian guy who appeared to lift weights a lot, probably out of necessity to keep the white guys off his woman.
What we discussed would put most mortal bloggers to sleep. Suffice it to say it was a lot of information about how far behind I will soon be, as if I weren't already trying to catch up in a world in which a C and Unix programmer trying to switch to Microsoft has a great deal of hurdles to leap in the first place. I'm still in the final stages of converting an application someone else wrote into "modern" C# and Visual Studio 2003. If it passes testing and goes into production I have to immediately begin reconverting to Visual Studio 2005, making use of whatever new features are available to improve the performance of the application and make it easier to support. I've been doing Microsoft for almost 2 years now, only just now getting to look at Visual Studio 2005. And just as I get here what do they do? They call me to a conference to tell me about the new shit I will have to learn.
I'm so excited.
So, for the guys who have been working in Microsoft's world for years and years, this is great stuff. They were very excited. For me, still climbing the mountain of new information that I have to learn and master in order to simply do my job, this is a mountain to climb, located just behind the peak of the next mountain I was about to climb.
I nearly died this morning on my way to work when my clutch mysteriously popped while I still had the pedal pressed, sending me launching out in front of a large SUV and stalling my engine. That was just the beginning of my day. I'm hoping it doesn't get worse from there, but we shall see.
And now, as you may have expected, I must go poop.
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Merry Christmas - part III
It's raining outside. Good thing I went running yesterday. I ran 6 or 7 miles. That's the problem with running around and around a park. After awhile you start to forget, "did I run 3 times around or 4?" I think I ran 6 miles, but it may have been 7. Some decent-looking woman who was speed-walking saw me go by several times before finally saying, "you're doing great!"
I don't know what to make of that. What are you supposed to think when a random stranger comments on your workout? Should you think, "I must be a hottie because she wanted to speak to me"?
Or does it just mean that you're so pathetic and handicapped-looking that she thinks you're retarded and in need of someone to push you onward? I never know. All I know is I never yell like that to good-looking women that I see running around the park.
"Nice ass! Keep shakin' it!"
Yeah, but if I did that's probably what I'd say. Maybe it's best that I don't ever speak?
I do nod or wave 'hello' though. I'll do this repeatedly, which becomes uncomfortable after awhile. I mean, at what point do you stop?
I pass the same people over and over again. The first time I wave most people smile and nod or wave back. But since I'm running in the opposite direction as them we'll pass at least twice for each lap I run. On long runs I might pass them 6 or 8 times in a row. How many 'hi's are they entitled to expect? I don't know.
My boss is coming into town today. And I just found out I was supposed to be registered for a big Microsoft event here in Memphis. I frantically got on the phone to try to register, only to be connected to the loudest hold music ever. Apparently most Microsoft programmers are hard of hearing? I can only guess. I lost some hearing at an Iron Maiden concert years ago, but nothing could have prepared me for the blaring Celine Dion that made my ears bleed this morning. I finally found the registration page I needed online and quickly filled it out. The way these things usually go I'll take my registration confirmation form to the event and when I get there they'll stop me and say, "we're all booked up. Sorry."
I'll say, "But I have my registration confirmation, you dipshit."
And he/she/Star Trek will say, "Sorry, there's no more seats available."
And then there will be the most vicious ass-beating the world has ever seen.
Little known fact: most Microsoft programmers and Star Trek fans are not great fighters. They're not even technically 'fighters' at all. They're coders, and that doesn't count for shit in a fight. So anyway, I might get in or I might get arrested, but the thing is I'm registered and I have my confirmation so I'm ready to make trouble if Spock and Xenia try to stop me from getting in.
They've shut down all the strip clubs here in Memphis. Apparently there was a 10 month long sting operation in which Memphis police went undercover into all the top strip joints in town and obtained as many sexual favors as possible. Then, after 10 months worth of blow-jobs, hand-jobs, and straight-up sex, they SLOOOOWLY moved in and closed them all down.
It's things like this that make me regret not having gone ahead and joined my friends in entering the police academy back in college. Sure, I got my degree and might make more money than some of them. But they get paid to get laid and that's hard to argue with, you know what I mean?
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Merry Christmas - part II
We went car shopping this weekend. Actually we went on some errands and ended up spending the majority of the day car shopping. I think My Wife has settled on something The Kept Woman described as boring and lame. We found several models with all the options for a good price and we'll probably buy one. I test drove several things for myself. I have to admit, I like the hemi Dodge Ram quad cab, but 11 mpg is hard to swallow. If I'm going to get 11 mpg then I'm buying the 2003 Mustang Cobra that they had for the same price.
The big problem with the Cobra was that it is all set up to race. That's great while you're racing, but not so nice to drive to and from work. The seat is designed to hug you like a hooker, so getting in and out of the car is an ordeal and once you're in, by God, you're not moving. But it sure is purty! Even the engine was shiny aluminum and cleaner than Britney's missing panties. I know I'd get a lot of tickets if I bought that thing. It's loud and fast and makes a nice healthy rumble. I'll be thinking about it for awhile, but it's really not quite what I need. Well, not unless I was selling my '70 Chevelle anyway.
Someone set something big on fire deep in the heart of Memphis while we were out doing errands. There was a pillar of smoke rising high up into the sky and then blowing across the city. At first it looked like mountains, which gave me a nice feeling because it reminded me of home. But once I remembered that Memphis doesn't have any mountains I began to study it more closely. Black smoke mixed with white smoke. What the hell? It must have been a HUGE fire. I never heard what it was, but it apparently took them all day to put it out.
The car salesman we talked to was a car nut. He was 5'2" and heavily into Fords. He said he's built several hotrod Mustangs and off-road 4x4s that he races. I asked him about all the trouble I've had finding decent mechanics to do some custom work on my Chevelle and my Monte Carlo. "Memphis is not a car town," he said. "It took me awhile to figure that out, but it's true. Everyone here has to do it all themselves 'cause there is no one in this area qualified or interested in doing that kind of work. It takes too much intelligence."
That's what I had suspected, but I was hoping someone out there had discovered the secret hidden cache of decent custom shops around here. I've got the money to spend, but not the garage space to do it myself. There is only so much you can do in your driveway and I've got too much else to work on inside the house. Damn this city!
The weekend was not fun. My battery finally died and I had to replace it. The house is a disaster and the tile guy who was supposed to come and give us estimates on doing the bathrooms blew us off on Friday, not answering his phone or ever calling to give an explanation. We've got other work that needs doing and we're getting sick of trying to hire anyone in Memphis to help with any of it. I talked to a woman in Sunday School who does major remodeling. She said her husband is mostly only doing large hotels and commercial buildings and she is doing the houses, but she is all booked up for months. She also said most of her contractors prefer to only work on new construction or very large houses and don't bother with regular homes. My Wife mentioned having to call halfway through the phone book to get a plumber that actually comes to exisiting homes and does regular plumbing type work. Most of them just want to install new pipes in homes under construction and gladly say so when you call them. Yeeha.
There is a good chance that by the time I leave this city I will be qualified to build my own home, electrical, plumbing and all. And then I'll get started on my Monte Carlo, which is in need of a good performance suspension, and twin turbos with a nice, big intercooler. Hey, if I'm stuck doing everything myself then I'm spending the money I saved on something fun. The Chevelle could use the same suspension mods and a nice new overdrive transmission to help raise my gas mileage a little bit.
Anyway, the day has just started and already I've got emails about system errors, one of which is NOT an error as the user would know if he had bothered to read it instead of just slapping it down on my desk. This looks to be another typical Monday. Hopefully the rain will hold off until after lunch so I can run and possibly blow off some steam.
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Merry Christmas - part I
It's freakin' COLD outside. My truck barely started this morning. I didn't think it was going to make it.
Rrrrrrrrrr - rrrrrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrr-rrr .... Vroom!
My ears nearly froze off. I saw a guy in traffic, he had shaved his head. All I could think while looking at him was how much I wished I'd worn a hat and how glad I am that I have all my hair.
My Wife is currently sitting at home waiting for the Tile Guy to show up. She's been pacing and cursing all morning. He won't answer his cell phone, which is never a good sign. What is it with workers in Memphis who don't want to actually work?
I say this as I sit here in my office writing on my blog.
We've tried to hire several people to work on various things around our house, only to have most of them never show up, or show up way late and do lousy work, or hit us with an estimate that makes it clear they really don't want the job. How do these people eat? I guess that's why God made meth labs, eh?
OK, there is a Christmas quiz that was left on my desk this morning. I'm supposed to fill it out and turn it in for a possible prize. I can only think of smart-ass answers. So let's do it together, shall we?
1. The people who help Santa make toys are called Mexicans.
2. Santa rides a hot Latino hooker on Christmas Eve.
3. Santa keeps a list of who is slutty and disease-free.
4. Santa is also known as Saint Lickalass.
5. Santa lives at the North YMCA.
6. Santa often slides down the woman of a house to deliver presents.
7. Truckstop hookers are animals who help Santa travel on Christmas Eve.
8. Santa gets a lot of porn from children in his mailbox.
9. Santa has a long white muffin on his face.
10. Santa wishes everybody a Merry Christmas!
OK, I'm sorry if that was a bit rough. It was on my desk and they forced me to fill in the blanks. I haven't had my coffee or my poop yet, so my mind is still only half-awake. Yes, I know it was nasty. I apologize.
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Today is
Pearl Harbor Day
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Interesting Morning
It was 7:30 this morning that we heard a knock at our door. We had an appointment with a Tile Man who was supposed to come by and give an estimate on redoing our master bathroom. He was right on time.
My Wife opened the door. I couldn't see who she was talking to, but I could overhear them talking about my security system and whether or not we may have captured images of a car last night. I stepped out into the living room to see who My Wife was talking to, seeing as I couldn't imagine how the Tile Man even knew we had a security system or why he would be asking about it.
Standing there at the door was not the Tile Man. It was a local Police Officer. I recognized him. I had talked to him many times over the past few years about various things. He had helped with the psychopaths attempting to murder me and other random crimes in the neighborhood and I had helped with some of his computer problems. We invited him inside since it was about 20 degrees out.
Just then the phone rang. My Wife answered. It was the Tile Man. He had been robbed and was with the police doing a report. He said this was the second time he's been robbed in the past 6 months.
The Officer explained to me that someone has been driving through Shelby County, and most recently through My Little Redneck Town here, shooting windows out of cars and homes and things. He knew from talking with me in the past that I had a security system which might have captured images of their car as it drove past our house last night. Unfortunately, we have been rearranging my computer room and had temporarily disconnected part of the system. So even if we had been lucky enough for something about them driving past to have triggered anything, I still wouldn't have any of it recorded because it that was turned off. He was disappointed.
Then he mentioned something else.
"Hey, you remember those guys, the fireman and those guys, who you had all that trouble with a few years back? The one guy had the black Ford F150 and lived just up the street from you? Well guess what ...."
I had a feeling this was going to be good.
"We just arrested him. It seems that his girlfriend had left him for an old boyfriend of hers. The old boyfriend had just gotten out of prison and she left the fireman to move back in with him. Apparently the fireman didn't like it so he tried to get her back, only it didn't quite work out. He's going to be going away to prison for a long time."
"What did he do?" I asked as I remembered the black Ford F150 that I had blogged about driving around the neighborhood smashing brick mailboxes and a brick church sign the very first week the fireman had bought the truck.
"Well, it seems he drove out to Raleigh and bought a bag of cocaine and some guns. Then he filed off the serial numbers of the guns. Then he stuck the whole thing in the water meter out in the other guy's front yard and called it in as an anonymous tip. He figured the guy would get put back in jail and he'd get his girl back. But it didn't work out."
"How did it not work out? How did you find out who did it?"
"Well, first, the guy was obviously clueless as to where the stuff came from. And when we asked the girl if she knew anyone who would want to plant the stuff and get them into trouble she mentioned her ex-boyfriend. He was the only person she could think of who would do something like that. Plus, since there were so many felonies here we of course took prints off of everything. The guy was already in the system because he was an ex-con and nothing matched him, but there were prints. And here's the thing. Whenever anyone becomes a city employee, a fireman or a cop, they print us and put us into the system. So right away this fireman's prints match up to the bag of cocaine. It's pretty hard to explain away how your prints got on a bag of cocaine, you know, so we questioned him about it."
"Oh Lord, I'd love to have been there to hear him try to explain this," I replied.
"Well, he didn't try to explain for long before he finally just gave up and admitted to it all. It's a big deal. Filing serial numbers off a gun is a federal offense. He did it twice. And then there's the cocaine. Plus, he carried the drugs in his truck so we confiscated that. And he crossed city and county lines. So he's in a lot of trouble. I don't think you'll be having any problems from him for awhile."
"You know, it's funny because years ago when they first attacked us I had said they would end up dead or in prison. Even when I held off Jeremy and his friend with a gun he screamed at me, "you fucked up when you messed with me. You don't know who I am." I knew he was a criminal punk and after he said that I knew he was a punk who considered himself above the law and untouchable. That's a man destined to get shot and killed or locked away in prison. That's the attitude of a true criminal."
"Things have changed a lot around here since that happened. The whole police department is different and that whole 'old boy' thing is gone, from the chief on down. Morale is good and things are by the book, so you don't get any favors for being a fireman or anything like that. We've been arresting a lot of firemen lately. I don't know what it is with these guys, but we've arrested three just this year. One was a child molestor. One was cooking and selling meth out of his house. His wife was sitting on the couch lighting up when we kicked in the door. And now this. And they aren't even all our firemen. This last guy was a Memphis city fireman. The meth guy was a Shelby County or something. And the child molester was ours. I don't know what it is with the firemen, but something's not right."
"I'd be suspicious of the guys at the top if that's the case, but since you said it's spread around among several different ones I don't really know what to make of that."
"Me either. Anyway, keep your eyes open. We're looking for a gray Dodge Neon. They're shooting as they drive past."
"I sure will."
When we first moved out here to Redneckville, just outside of Memphis' city limits, people said we would be safe. They said everything is fine once you get out of Memphis. I'll say this, things in Redneckville are much better than they are in most other places in this area, but there is still a long way to go, and the crime in Memphis is spilling out here more and more. But it is at least good to know that the old chief and his buddies are gone from the police department. As for the fire departments and their problems, I have no idea what that's about, but it sounds like it may come to a head soon. 3 Memphis city council members have been arrested and charged for corruption. One fought the charges and was found guilty. He just got 5 years. The second one pleaded out and got 2 years last week. The last one, an old black woman who very nearly got away with this shit for her entire career, is fighting it in front of a jury. She seems confident that an old black woman in a black town can sweet-talk a Memphis jury into letting her off. She might be right, but things are changing. So we'll see.
My Wife opened the door. I couldn't see who she was talking to, but I could overhear them talking about my security system and whether or not we may have captured images of a car last night. I stepped out into the living room to see who My Wife was talking to, seeing as I couldn't imagine how the Tile Man even knew we had a security system or why he would be asking about it.
Standing there at the door was not the Tile Man. It was a local Police Officer. I recognized him. I had talked to him many times over the past few years about various things. He had helped with the psychopaths attempting to murder me and other random crimes in the neighborhood and I had helped with some of his computer problems. We invited him inside since it was about 20 degrees out.
Just then the phone rang. My Wife answered. It was the Tile Man. He had been robbed and was with the police doing a report. He said this was the second time he's been robbed in the past 6 months.
The Officer explained to me that someone has been driving through Shelby County, and most recently through My Little Redneck Town here, shooting windows out of cars and homes and things. He knew from talking with me in the past that I had a security system which might have captured images of their car as it drove past our house last night. Unfortunately, we have been rearranging my computer room and had temporarily disconnected part of the system. So even if we had been lucky enough for something about them driving past to have triggered anything, I still wouldn't have any of it recorded because it that was turned off. He was disappointed.
Then he mentioned something else.
"Hey, you remember those guys, the fireman and those guys, who you had all that trouble with a few years back? The one guy had the black Ford F150 and lived just up the street from you? Well guess what ...."
I had a feeling this was going to be good.
"We just arrested him. It seems that his girlfriend had left him for an old boyfriend of hers. The old boyfriend had just gotten out of prison and she left the fireman to move back in with him. Apparently the fireman didn't like it so he tried to get her back, only it didn't quite work out. He's going to be going away to prison for a long time."
"What did he do?" I asked as I remembered the black Ford F150 that I had blogged about driving around the neighborhood smashing brick mailboxes and a brick church sign the very first week the fireman had bought the truck.
"Well, it seems he drove out to Raleigh and bought a bag of cocaine and some guns. Then he filed off the serial numbers of the guns. Then he stuck the whole thing in the water meter out in the other guy's front yard and called it in as an anonymous tip. He figured the guy would get put back in jail and he'd get his girl back. But it didn't work out."
"How did it not work out? How did you find out who did it?"
"Well, first, the guy was obviously clueless as to where the stuff came from. And when we asked the girl if she knew anyone who would want to plant the stuff and get them into trouble she mentioned her ex-boyfriend. He was the only person she could think of who would do something like that. Plus, since there were so many felonies here we of course took prints off of everything. The guy was already in the system because he was an ex-con and nothing matched him, but there were prints. And here's the thing. Whenever anyone becomes a city employee, a fireman or a cop, they print us and put us into the system. So right away this fireman's prints match up to the bag of cocaine. It's pretty hard to explain away how your prints got on a bag of cocaine, you know, so we questioned him about it."
"Oh Lord, I'd love to have been there to hear him try to explain this," I replied.
"Well, he didn't try to explain for long before he finally just gave up and admitted to it all. It's a big deal. Filing serial numbers off a gun is a federal offense. He did it twice. And then there's the cocaine. Plus, he carried the drugs in his truck so we confiscated that. And he crossed city and county lines. So he's in a lot of trouble. I don't think you'll be having any problems from him for awhile."
"You know, it's funny because years ago when they first attacked us I had said they would end up dead or in prison. Even when I held off Jeremy and his friend with a gun he screamed at me, "you fucked up when you messed with me. You don't know who I am." I knew he was a criminal punk and after he said that I knew he was a punk who considered himself above the law and untouchable. That's a man destined to get shot and killed or locked away in prison. That's the attitude of a true criminal."
"Things have changed a lot around here since that happened. The whole police department is different and that whole 'old boy' thing is gone, from the chief on down. Morale is good and things are by the book, so you don't get any favors for being a fireman or anything like that. We've been arresting a lot of firemen lately. I don't know what it is with these guys, but we've arrested three just this year. One was a child molestor. One was cooking and selling meth out of his house. His wife was sitting on the couch lighting up when we kicked in the door. And now this. And they aren't even all our firemen. This last guy was a Memphis city fireman. The meth guy was a Shelby County or something. And the child molester was ours. I don't know what it is with the firemen, but something's not right."
"I'd be suspicious of the guys at the top if that's the case, but since you said it's spread around among several different ones I don't really know what to make of that."
"Me either. Anyway, keep your eyes open. We're looking for a gray Dodge Neon. They're shooting as they drive past."
"I sure will."
When we first moved out here to Redneckville, just outside of Memphis' city limits, people said we would be safe. They said everything is fine once you get out of Memphis. I'll say this, things in Redneckville are much better than they are in most other places in this area, but there is still a long way to go, and the crime in Memphis is spilling out here more and more. But it is at least good to know that the old chief and his buddies are gone from the police department. As for the fire departments and their problems, I have no idea what that's about, but it sounds like it may come to a head soon. 3 Memphis city council members have been arrested and charged for corruption. One fought the charges and was found guilty. He just got 5 years. The second one pleaded out and got 2 years last week. The last one, an old black woman who very nearly got away with this shit for her entire career, is fighting it in front of a jury. She seems confident that an old black woman in a black town can sweet-talk a Memphis jury into letting her off. She might be right, but things are changing. So we'll see.
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Men and Women and Victoria's Secret
I watched the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show on TV last night. My Wife seemed less thrilled and stimulated by it than I had expected. Actually, she seemed threatened by it, which is a totally random reaction on her part. One day she's hot, the next she's cold. Either way, I was watching the damned show.
I could have done without Mr. Millingon, TN, Justin Timberlake. Although I'll have to admit, if he hadn't come on and sang his song I'd still be listening to it on the radio fully convinced that it was Gwen Stefani 'cause that boy sings just like a bitch. I kid you not.
Anyway, I enjoyed the show. Almost all the girls were hotter than July in El Paso and the fact that they were dressed only in their underwear and wings didn't hurt any either.
Yes
No
A man visits his aunt in the nursing home. It turns out that she is taking a nap, so he just sits down in a chair in her room, flips through a few magazines, and munches on some peanuts sitting in a bowl on the table.
Eventually, the aunt wakes up, and her nephew realizes he's absentmindedly finished the entire bowl. "I'm so sorry, auntie, I've eaten all of your peanuts!"
"That's okay, dearie," the aunt replied. "After I've sucked the chocolate off, I don't care for them anyway."
A visitor from Holland was chatting with his American friend and was jokingly explaining about the red, white and blue in the Netherlands flag. "Our flag symbolizes our taxes," he said. "We get red when we talk about them, white when we get our tax bill, and blue after we pay them."
"That's the same with us," the American said, "only we see stars, too."
"Cash, check or charge?" I asked, after folding items the woman wished to purchase.
As she fumbled for her wallet I noticed a remote control for a television set in her purse.
"So, do you always carry your TV remote?" I asked.
"No," she replied, "but my husband refused to come shopping with me, and I figured this was the most evil thing I could do to him legally."
(A MAN'S PERSPECTIVE)
I know I'm not going to understand women.
I'll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax,
pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root,
and still be afraid of a spider.
A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up and down the aisles.
The sales notices him and asks him if she can help him.
He answers that he is looking for a box of tampons for his wife.
She directs him down the correct aisle.
A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cotton
balls and a ball of string on the counter.
She says, confused, "Sir, I thought you were looking for some tampons for your wife?
He answers, " You see, it's like this,
yesterday, I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes,
and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rolling
papers; cause it's sooo-ooo--oo-ooo much cheaper.
So, I figure if I have to roll my own ........... so does she.
A couple drove down a country road for several miles, not saying a word.
An earlier discussion had led to an argument and
neither of them wanted to concede their position.
As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats, and pigs,
the husband asked sarcastically, "Relatives of yours?"
"Yep," the wife replied, "in-laws."
A man said to his wife one day, "I don't know how you can be
so stupid and so beautiful all at the same time."
The wife responded, "Allow me to explain.
God made me beautiful so you would be attracted to me;
God made me stupid so I would be attracted to you!
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And I Ran, I Ran So Far Away
'80s Man
I ran during lunch. First I did some abs and test pushups to see if my shoulder is healed enough to be usable again. It only sort of was. I have no idea exactly how I hurt my shoulder, but it definitely hasn't been happy for awhile.
Anyway, it's somewhere between warm and cold today, depending on the wind and whether or not I'm in the shade or sun. I ran in my old high school track shorts and a standard T-shirt. It wasn't warm to start off, but by the time I got to the park and started trying to do sprints I was hardly concerned with being cold. I was mostly concerned with not throwing up or falling down.
Apparently running without fuel is indeed a great way to lose weight, or at least that's what they tell me. I sure as hell haven't seen any results to confirm that. But one thing it is not, it is not a great way to produce the energy necessary to sprint. I felt like an elephant trying to slam dunk a basketball out there.
I started off just sprinting between light poles. Naturally, all the park employees stopped working to watch me. No, I'm not that attractive. And I assume they aren't all gay. But I run funny, like a lumbering dork. You can't miss me in any race. No matter how fast I go, no matter where I place, I look like a dork when I run.
My Dad described it this way: you don't run like the other runners. You look different.
That's as diplomatic as My Dad ever was. Really. That was holding back in the extreme for him. He took pride in his ability to slam people, especially me.
Anyway, I didn't want to be the entertainment for the park crew, so I jogged over to a soccer field and did more sprints there. I guess I thought if I wasn't continuously running during and between sprints then maybe I would feel less inclined to projectile vomit.
I don't do well on cold windy days. My sinuses and allergy problems dry out my throat and make me prone to hurling. But I run anyway and just hurl when the need arises. If not, I'd never have been able to compete, and I loved to compete. I was good. I'm not now.
On the soccer field I ran as best I could without breaking form, dragging my feet, or pulling a hamstring. I say "as best I could", but to be fair it wasn't very good. I felt slower than a loaded minivan in rush hour traffic. And I probably was, too.
I sprinted until I was wobbling and weaving like a drunk about to pass out and then I jogged the mile and a half back home again.
Just prior to this pathetic workout I had been reading Trojan's blog. Even though I'm quite aware that my workouts are nothing special and certainly nothing to be proud of, after reading what she's doing I felt even worse. She's a machine. And somewhere in between her endless super workouts she finds time to practice singing and acting and being a superstar. You should go check out her blog. She's got a recording of her singing on there from a few days ago. It's really good. It'll stick in your head and make you want to listen to it again.
I sang in the car on the way back to work after showering. It was awful. A woman in a minivan saw me singing and laughed at me. She couldn't even hear me, but apparently I look as bad as I sound. So, with that in mind I promise not to post any recordings of me singing. You should go listen to Trojan's instead. She's good.
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Even More Fascinating Shit About Me
I am an awesome globetrotter, yes I am! Here is a map of all the countries I've been to. I didn't count Mexico even though technically, having been to Texas, I've been there. And Canada is awfully generous with the marking as I've never been to the western half at all. I guess they subscribe to the "if you've been to any part of Canada we'll just call you a Canadian, eh" train of thought?
And why did it ask me about the Caribbean when I don't even see my little individual islands marked? Or am I just not looking hard enough?
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Someone Called While You Were Out
Husband's note on refrigerator for wife:
"Someone from the Gyna Colleges called.
They said the Pabst beer is normal.
I didn't even know you liked beer.
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Tag You're It
I've been tagged by Jack Daniel's Rose.
According to the rules…
Each player of this game lists “6 weird things about you”. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.
1. I don't care if you crash into my pickup truck. It's old and I need to get something newer and life is too short and I just don't care. But I do want it fixed after you've smashed it. I spent enough of my life driving multicolored crap cars that I don't care to do that anymore. Just make sure you have insurance.
2. My left leg is at least a half inch longer than my right. I discovered this when I ran track in high school. It was a serious problem because track meets run counterclockwise and that put my longer leg on the inside of the curve. As a result, while everyone else was able to slingshot out of the curves and pick up speed I was forced to slow down in order to allow my right foot to barely make contact with the pavement and keep me from crashing. I made up the difference in the straightaways, where I beat a lot of people. But I would have been much, much faster if not for the damn leg thing. As it was I was fast enough to go to the State meet every year and rank fairly high. But oh, what might have been!
3. I never leave my cell phone on. You can call it all you want and all you'll get is a notice that I'm not available or have my phone turned off. I know that most people use their cell phones like permanently attached walkie talkies, but I don't. If I wanted to talk to you while I was taking a shit or walking through WalMart I'd call you. Otherwise, call my house and leave a message. Seriously, it can surely wait until I'm done crapping or cruising WalMart, which is basically the same as pooping.
4. For some weird reason my nose runs when I eat out at restaurants or drink beers. If we ever go out and have a beer together you'll see me blowing my nose like 50 times and you'll think "what the hell is up with all the nose blowing?" Yeah, this made my dating life an absolute JOY.
5. I'm addicted to people. The only way I can survive being alone and without human contact for days on end is if I'm totally hooked on some computer game and not eating or sleeping. Otherwise, I have to have people. Sometimes I think this must be why all the Mississippi trailer park people seem so excited when they go to WalMart. It's probably the only human contact they've had in weeks.
6. If there is some stupid rule that could get me into a lot of trouble by breaking it, sooner or later, one way or another, I will end up breaking it.
As per the rules, I will tag…
The Kept Woman
Kami
StealthBombshell
Siren
Biscuit
Steph
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Frozen Friday
I'm stressed to the max with a problem at work. If any of your are experts in javascript, ASP.NET and C# I'd appreciate if you'd come by my office and take a look at this damned error I keep getting. I get no feedback from the debugger on it.
Naturally, as I write this I'm fighting the need to poop. It's freezing outside and yet the ground is warm and the puddles are all still splashy enough to soak your shoes and socks so the wind can freeze them solid around your feet. I'm supposedly giving up coffee and yet I have a cup sitting here on my desk. I haven't touched it, but I'm tired and I have to figure this damned problem out.
Did I mention that I need to poop?
I wonder why I ever tell anyone that? What exactly possesses a man's brain to compel him to blog about needing to poop? I'll bet I've blogged about my poop more consistently than anything else I've ever said.
A coworker turned on the radio in the conference room next to my office and right now Bing Crosby is bellowing a Christmas song. If this were Chicago the Christmas Police would rush in and smash it. They say Christmas is no place for Christmas, you know? Yeah, figure that one out.
Why do we now have pro football on Thursdays, Sundays and Mondays? I realize Disney/ABC/ESPN/GAY bought the rights to Monday Night Football and turned it into a platform for their religious views, but is that the reason Fox created Thursday Night Football? Is there really a big enough audience available for a Thursday night game every week?
Did anyone else notice that on one of the NFL games this past weekend the reporters ran into the locker room filming and showed a player standing there totally stark naked? What the fuck is up with that? First 60 Minutes shows two totally naked men tied to a pole being whipped by women with cat-o-nine-tails, even showing their genitals like some bad network S&M porn flick on prime time, and now the networks are racing into the locker rooms to show naked sweaty men trying to get dressed after a game. What's next?
Some people asked me my zodiac sign after I posted yesterday's zodiac chart. I'm an Aquarius. There's this horrible '60s song about us that I try to avoid as much as possible. I think it's from the movie "Hair" which is another thing I try to avoid as much as possible. Looking at most of the films the Baby Boomers produced during this period makes me wonder how we weren't conquered by the Soviet Union and China during the early '70s. I guess it was the old WWII generation guys still running around or something? I don't know.
So anyway, Aquarius is a water-pourer and is from late January to early February. This is an odd combination of signs and times to me. Maybe whomever created the zodiac lives in Florida or something 'cause in Memphis I can tell you that no one is pouring water outside in late January or early February. It's all frozen. And no way in hell anyone is running around in a toga carrying a jar of it to pour out onto the ground like in all the images I see representing my "sign." It's too freakin' cold for togas or buckets of water and unless you're just trying to freeze the sidewalk to slip up the mailman you won't be pouring any on the ground.
I'm not real into that whole zodiac thing, in case you couldn't tell. But I did get a lovely fortune cookie the other day. It had deep thoughts on one side and lottery numbers on the other side. Yeah, woo hoo! This cookie is gonna make me rich!
So, it's now 10:30 and I still haven't made any headway on my problem. I still haven't pooped. I'm still stressed. And I sure don't want to go into this weekend with this strange error hanging over my head for my boss to ask me about on Monday. This damn thing is driving me crazy.
OK, there is a new Christmas song playing and I have no idea who this is, but it sounds suspiciously like standard old country music to me. I don't feel any connection between country music and Christmas. I just don't. I feel a connection between the music from Charlie Brown Christmas and Christmas, but not country music. Even when Faith Hill or whomever is specifically singing a Christmas song I still don't hear it as Christmas music. I just hear her voice and say "hey, that's Faith Hill. I'd do her." And then I go back to what I was doing, vaguely aware that someone is playing country music in the background.
OK, "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" just came on. This is a real Christmas song. Everyone knows that. So I think now I'll go poop and try to get back to work. Maybe I can get to the potty and back before the song ends?
Naturally, as I write this I'm fighting the need to poop. It's freezing outside and yet the ground is warm and the puddles are all still splashy enough to soak your shoes and socks so the wind can freeze them solid around your feet. I'm supposedly giving up coffee and yet I have a cup sitting here on my desk. I haven't touched it, but I'm tired and I have to figure this damned problem out.
Did I mention that I need to poop?
I wonder why I ever tell anyone that? What exactly possesses a man's brain to compel him to blog about needing to poop? I'll bet I've blogged about my poop more consistently than anything else I've ever said.
A coworker turned on the radio in the conference room next to my office and right now Bing Crosby is bellowing a Christmas song. If this were Chicago the Christmas Police would rush in and smash it. They say Christmas is no place for Christmas, you know? Yeah, figure that one out.
Why do we now have pro football on Thursdays, Sundays and Mondays? I realize Disney/ABC/ESPN/GAY bought the rights to Monday Night Football and turned it into a platform for their religious views, but is that the reason Fox created Thursday Night Football? Is there really a big enough audience available for a Thursday night game every week?
Did anyone else notice that on one of the NFL games this past weekend the reporters ran into the locker room filming and showed a player standing there totally stark naked? What the fuck is up with that? First 60 Minutes shows two totally naked men tied to a pole being whipped by women with cat-o-nine-tails, even showing their genitals like some bad network S&M porn flick on prime time, and now the networks are racing into the locker rooms to show naked sweaty men trying to get dressed after a game. What's next?
Some people asked me my zodiac sign after I posted yesterday's zodiac chart. I'm an Aquarius. There's this horrible '60s song about us that I try to avoid as much as possible. I think it's from the movie "Hair" which is another thing I try to avoid as much as possible. Looking at most of the films the Baby Boomers produced during this period makes me wonder how we weren't conquered by the Soviet Union and China during the early '70s. I guess it was the old WWII generation guys still running around or something? I don't know.
So anyway, Aquarius is a water-pourer and is from late January to early February. This is an odd combination of signs and times to me. Maybe whomever created the zodiac lives in Florida or something 'cause in Memphis I can tell you that no one is pouring water outside in late January or early February. It's all frozen. And no way in hell anyone is running around in a toga carrying a jar of it to pour out onto the ground like in all the images I see representing my "sign." It's too freakin' cold for togas or buckets of water and unless you're just trying to freeze the sidewalk to slip up the mailman you won't be pouring any on the ground.
I'm not real into that whole zodiac thing, in case you couldn't tell. But I did get a lovely fortune cookie the other day. It had deep thoughts on one side and lottery numbers on the other side. Yeah, woo hoo! This cookie is gonna make me rich!
So, it's now 10:30 and I still haven't made any headway on my problem. I still haven't pooped. I'm still stressed. And I sure don't want to go into this weekend with this strange error hanging over my head for my boss to ask me about on Monday. This damn thing is driving me crazy.
OK, there is a new Christmas song playing and I have no idea who this is, but it sounds suspiciously like standard old country music to me. I don't feel any connection between country music and Christmas. I just don't. I feel a connection between the music from Charlie Brown Christmas and Christmas, but not country music. Even when Faith Hill or whomever is specifically singing a Christmas song I still don't hear it as Christmas music. I just hear her voice and say "hey, that's Faith Hill. I'd do her." And then I go back to what I was doing, vaguely aware that someone is playing country music in the background.
OK, "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" just came on. This is a real Christmas song. Everyone knows that. So I think now I'll go poop and try to get back to work. Maybe I can get to the potty and back before the song ends?
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