Wal-mart Greeter

The beautiful Stephanie D. sent me this:

A very loud, unattractive, mean-acting woman walks into Wal-Mart with her two kids in tow, screaming obscenities at them all the way through the entrance. She's dressed in dirty jeans, a greasy t-shirt with holes in it and wearing flip-flops exposing her cracked and filthy toenails. When she yells at the kids, she exposes her yellowed, crooked teeth with more than a few missing.

The Walmart Greeter says, "Good morning and welcome to Walmart. Nice children you've got there. Are they twins?"

The ugly woman stops screaming long enough to say, "Hell no they ain't! The oldest one, he's 9 and the younger one, she's 7. Why the hell would you think they're twins? Do you really think they look alike?"

"No", replies the greeter, "I just couldn't believe someone had sex with you twice."

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Dear Memphis

DEAR MEMPHIS: I never thought I would write to an advice column, but here I am. I found out not too long ago that my husband (who for the longest time was the boy-next-door type) had started having flings with escorts. He's been doing it since last March. He still does it off and on. I confronted him a couple of times, and for a while things will be fine, but he eventually goes back to it again. I believe he's unaware that I know about these more recent trysts.

We have a 7-year-old son, and I don't want him growing up without his father, but then again, I don't want him growing up thinking that it's OK to cheat on his spouse when and if he gets married.

I guess my question is, should I confront my husband about this and try to work it out for our son's sake, or should I just pack my bags and slip away quietly into the night?



How do I put this delicately? When was the last time you and your husband had sex together? Your son is seven and you mention no other children. Why just the one child? I'm guessing your marriage went a little south following the birth of Junior there and you haven't exactly been fulfilling your end of the marital obligation since. I could be wrong, but if I'm right then the way to end the escort problem is simple: start doing with him what married couples are supposed to do together. Otherwise, kiss him goodbye. He's already got one foot out the door.

On the other hand, if you're doing it with him and he's hiring escorts anyway then something else is going on. I think it's called 'cheating.' You need to set things straight if this is the case: "stop it or else." He may be addicted to sex, the kinky kind of sex that men will pay high priced professionals for. To break this may require counseling and a temporary confiscation of the Viagra bottle.

Also, I'd like to ask, does he work for the corporate headquarters of a large bank in Birmingham, Alabama, by any chance? I'm just wondering because that sort of thing goes on a lot there. Well, actually, what goes on there most often is managers and their female team members getting it on for free, followed by the manager promoting the girl to a team lead position, but in this case you said he's actually paying for it. Escorts generally aren't cheap, so I immediately thought perhaps he's in management and making the big bucks.

Anyway, professional escorts are said to be mighty talented and can be addictive for that reason. You may have to make arrangements with the family doctor to slip in something else in place of the Viagra without his knowledge. A few high-priced visits that end in failure might frustrate and embarrass him enough to cool his taste for the exotic sex he's currently paying through the nose for. Just make sure that you're around to cheer him up when he comes home in a deep depression. If he's limp with them, but suddenly finds the juice is back on when he's with you, then he will likely forget about them and never even realize he's been duped. Seriously, we fall for shit like this all the time.


When A Covert Body Search Is the Answer

DEAR MEMPHIS: I am in my late 20s and about to marry a wonderful man who is in the military. I will be moving abroad, and for the first time, I will be more than a couple of hours away from my family.

They are all happy about the marriage, but my sister recently let me in on the fact that my dad, in particular, isn't handling the moving part very well. He hasn't said anything to me.

I'm closer to him than anyone else, and I'm not really sure how to help. I drive up to see them whenever I can (I have two jobs, so it's kind of hard), and he and I e-mail on a daily basis. He'll get to see me a few times a year because he travels to that part of the world for business.

I'm not sure if I can say anything that will make him feel better, but if you have any words of wisdom, I'd sure like to plagiarize them. Thanks!



Your dad is hanging onto you for dear life. You're his angel. You are everything to him. He would kill your future husband and bring you home to live with him in your old room again if he could. Now would be a great time to ask him for a new car. He still wants his little girl the way she was and he can't quite let go. Forget the car, ask for a house while you have the chance. Oh, I don't think he's going to do anything to try to stop the marriage from happening. Shootings at weddings are rare. Part of him knows that the special relationship you two have always had together must end, and he's just happy that you're happy. But part of him is so in love with you that he's absolutely dying inside at the knowledge that his angel is grown up and going away. He may fantasize about strangling the bastard who is taking you away from him, but he won't likely do it. Make sure you dance with him at the reception and let him know that you're still his girl, even if you're technically now your husband's girl. Let him tell you how proud he is of you. He may even let you see him cry for the very first time in your life. You'll probably cry, too. And while you're dancing together, slide your hands around a bit and make sure he isn't armed. Everything should be fine. He just needs a little time.


Dear Memphis is written by Memphis Steve by stealing letters from Ann Landers' daughter, Margo, because her answers were so incredibly stupid and useless. All letters must be sent via e-mail to dearmargo@creators.com in order for Memphis Steve to later steal them and write better answers on this blog. Due to a high volume of e-mail, not all letters will be answered or stolen. To read more about Margo Howard, get off my blog and go find it yourself.

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Rules of Life - for mathematicians

Holly B sent me this.

Whoever thought this one up must work for the government.

This is a strictly mathematical viewpoint...it goes like this:

What Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:



is represented as:

1 2 3 4 5 6.


8 + 1 + 18 + 4 + 23 + 15 + 18 + 11 = 98%


11 + 14 + 15 + 23 + 12 + 5 + 4 + 7 + 5 = 96%


1 + 20 + 20 + 9 + 20 + 21 + 4 + 5 = 100%


2 + 21 + 12 + 12 + 19 + 8 + 9 + 20 = 103%

AND, look how far ass kissing will take you.

1 + 19 + 19 + 11 + 9 + 19 + 19 + 9 + 14 + 7 = 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that While Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Bullshit and Ass kissing that will put you over the top.

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What Was That?


Did anyone watch "Medium" last night? Did you catch the new character in charge of doing autopsies? You know, the black person who showed them the condom with the diamonds in it?

Yeah, what was that? Was that a man or a woman?

I'm serious. I tried to figure it out all night long and I still don't know.

For now I'm just calling it "Pat."

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Random Mental Poop

I have, on occasion, been known to refer to My Wife as "Monkey's Butt" just to rile her. For those of you living in uncivilized parts of the world, such as New Jersey or Leeds, to rile is to agitate or aggravate. Anyway, My Wife thinks this nickname is funny. Today, while stopping at The Redneck Store because a coworker needed to pick up some fertilizer, I stumbled across something that I just HAD to buy for My Wife. Take a look:

"Happy birthday, Sweetie!"

Today at lunch I saw a woman with poofy beehive-like hair, a black dress, and a tiny Barbie pink shiny vinyl coat that looked like something out of an old B-52s music video. I tried to take her photo, in between stifling my laughter, but my coworkers were with me and I don't think they would understand about the whole "fugly" thing. Sorry about that. I so very much wanted to show her to you. You would have laughed.

pink jacket
"I see you checking out my ass, you pervert!"

On the way back from lunch we observed the local Boondocks County Police operating a roadblock on highway 64. They were pulling over every diesel powered vehicle on the road and checking their gas to make sure no one is running any homemade biodiesel fuel, which just happens to burn much cleaner than regular diesel. According to a website for the State of Tennessee, these roadblocks are because the state doesn't get any gas tax out of homemade biodiesel. It does get taxes from the purchase of all of the ingredients used to make it, but apparently that isn't considered relevant in the upside down world of politics and greed.

And in the news today ...

Wednesday, less than one week after Mary Winkler was let off for the murder of her sleeping preacher husband, a man in Ohio was put to death for virtually the very same crime. I just thought the timing of his execution was both revealing and ironic.

By the way, if you didn't know, Mary Winkler lives just over the horizon from where I work and I will almost certainly run into her face-to-face eventually, if I haven't already. Maybe if I see her I'll ask her if she has a blog?

Can you imagine a men's television network that responded to these cases the way the women's networks do? I can see Spike TV right now filming a movie about the poor battered Ohio man, as he cries for justice and is denied. Oh, the inhumanity! "I hope he kills her. Oh snap, he did - you go, boy!"

He should be played by Kevin Bacon. Maybe Kyra Sedgewick could play the abusive wife? Or better yet, Rosie O'Donnell should play her. I hear Rosie is going to be available for free-lance work again very soon.

"Ffffffff--- you!"

And here's a shocker that made me nearly jump out of my seat: yesterday in the Wall Street Journal, a publication not exactly known for being male-friendly, writer Tara Parker-Pope did a huge article on the men's health crisis, detailing the fact that there has been virtually no money spent on men's health research for that past 30 years, resulting in an enormous lack of health care and treatments for males in the United States. She even pointed out the desperate need for a Department of Mens' Health to coincide with the Department of Women's Health that was established by Congress all the way back in 1990. Who saw this coming? Not me, I can tell you that! Her feminist coworkers are probably tying her to a pole and setting her on fire down at the Dow Jones Publishing offices right at this very moment. But as for me, she's my new hero.

Twice yesterday good-looking women walked past my office and smiled a big, friendly smile at me. I don't know what I did right yesterday morning, but I plan to keep doing it, whatever it was. I didn't get to the gym at lunch, so I did a work-out when I got home. Nothing inspires a man like a good-looking woman smiling his way. Except TWO good-looking women smiling his way.

Every day on my way to work and then back home again, I pass a mobile home. I keep trying to take a picture, but the traffic won't allow me to stop and get a good one. This guy, totally breaking with tradition, instead of having a front yard filled with broken down old cars, has a front yard full of riding lawnmowers. WTF?

I believe I've finally acquired every single CD released by Regina Spektor. I feel all proud and accomplished now. She is the oddest musician. She records stuff that reminds me of high school and college, when I used to sit around with my guitar and just make up songs for my own entertainment. She's really good, but I swear it sounds like she's just screwing around for the heck of it and the results are good songs. Maybe that's why more and more people like her music? She's really unique, that's for sure. I added her as a friend on MySpace just so I could use her songs on my page, but then she disabled that option and now you can only listen to her songs on her own page. Dammit.

regina spektor
Regina's Soviet Kitsch

OK, enough rambling. Time to poop and get to work.

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Wordless Wednesday

Virginia Tech
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Tag! Please flush

I got tagged by McEwen.

The tag is simply this: list five blogs that make me think. It doesn't have to be deep thoughts about religion or the economy or gender roles or cleaners that don't scratch porcelain or the coming end of the world due to a global ice age/warming/collision with a meteor or anything like that. It can just be blogs that make me think about things a little more than I otherwise might. So, without further unfocused meandering, here are five blogs that make me think:

1. Stacy the Peanut Queen - Stacy has childhood memories that I wish were my own. If I wrote about most of my childhood memories people would make one of those faces that you do when you see something really awful, like a face-lift being performed where they run the scalpel under the skin and just start raking it around and yanking on the loose flesh. You know - UGH! But Stacy's memories make the world seem right again. When she writes about her problems, you can't help but relate. Her life is real and her good heart is, too. Imagine a world in which people had good hearts like Stacy. I wonder what that would be like? And when she can't think of what to say, the way she tell us about it is somehow relaxing and nice and always brings a smile. I think Stacy could quote the phone book and it would seem relaxing and nice. Stacy just seems like the sort of person that the world needs more of - a lot more of.

2. The Kept Woman - she can write about green poop in a diaper or ruining a new oven with aluminum foil with the same level of skill that John Steinbeck wrote about Oklahoma farmers being persecuted in California ("The Grapes of Wrath," pinhead!) She makes me embarrassed that I came to the blog specifically to practice my writing. And just when you think she can't get any better, she puts up a photo of herself in a bikini! Sometimes she'll even post a photo of just her boobs and fabulous flat tummy. The beauty of it just makes me want to cry. She makes me think, sometimes deep thoughts about the interaction of chemicals and heat required to bond aluminum to an oven, and sometimes about much dirtier, but far more enjoyable things. And unlike me, she's smart enough never to even mention politics. If I were more like her ... well, I'd be a hot chick with some serious writing skills and a kick-ass sense of humor.

3. Steph's Much Ado About Sumthin' - she's funny the way I wish I were funny. She lives a life that involves friends and fun the way I wish I had a life. And friends. And fun. She's sworn off having sex, which is just like being married, let me tell you, only she does it by choice and still gets to go out partying with her awesome friends due to being single. Her ups are a riot. Her downs are a riot. When she falls down, it's a riot. When she makes someone else fall down, it's a riot, too. This girl is like magic with the ease with which she can make the world laugh and smile and fall down. It's no wonder she gets 100 comments per post. She's amazing. And when other bloggers get jealous and put her down, well just you look out, because 100 loyal lovers of that Aussie blonde are going to rampage over there and leave more than a few nasty notes on that jealous person's blog to let them know how much they love Steph. She's young, highly intelligent, beautiful, single, Australian, and blonde. And by God, she can write. What more could a person ask for in life? Or in a blogger? She's a blogger who makes me think about moving to Australia and never coming home again, just so I can see if I could learn to be as much fun as she is.

4. Robin Alexa of A.K.A. Binsk - She's so easy going, and so artistic, you can't help but get caught up in whatever she's doing. She can throw on a pink wig and sing to a CD while videotaping it and you'll find yourself watching it over and over. She's the best friend you wish you could get back in touch with, the girl you tried to date but never had the nerve to ask out, the neighbor you had a crush on, and the quiet girl you had a class with who went on to appear in Playboy and shock everyone. Her writing is just whatever is on her mind, and if it only needs one sentence to say, then one sentence is all you'll get. Other times it's a paragraph about life or a book she loves or her dog. Whatever she has to say, every word is hypnotic. And did I mention how beautiful she is? Wow!

5. Lightning Bug's Butt - Mr. Bug can machine gun through a single post and cover everything you ever needed to know about life, only to come back a few days later with another post that's just as deep and insightful as the last one. He makes me think. He makes me think, damn, why aren't I as funny as that? And the women all love him. They throw themselves at his feet. This has nothing to do with his blog making me think, but it's true all the same. He's a funny guy.

And now for the bad part. If I listed your blog above, then you are tagged to do this same post, but with your own five choices. BWA HA HA!!! Oh, I am an evil man!

And for what it's worth, there are several other blogs I'd mention if we were told to do more than 5, or if I were to do this again. For What It's Worth is one that comes to mind right off. And there are many others.

Rules for participation:
1. If, and only if, you are tagged above, write a post with links to five blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.
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Movie of Your Life


Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

OK, whaaaaaat?

P.S. I stole this idea from my Canadian wife, Binsk

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Dukal - the poopy product

ex lax
Steroids for poop

OK, just as I got here to write my fabulous mental poopery, I observed an ad at the top of my excellent blog for Dukal. When I first saw it I thought to myself, "Dukal? WTF? Is this some sort of laxative or something?"

But no, it's a 'wound care product', as I discovered when I read the rest of the ad, which I am ashamed to admit I did not click on despite it being on my own page and thus sending a tenth of a penny to my account each time some sucker, er, potential customer clicks the link. Ooh, I am a lazy fucker. I robbed myself there.

Last week I heard that the lugly ladies of the American Feminazia Country Club are at it again, with a new Amendment to the U.S. Constitution posing as egalitarianism, but in reality being something dramatically different, and of course, highly lucrative and politically advantageous for themselves.

Those wacky man-haters, always with the joking around!

And right on schedule, the Big Propaganda Machine came rolling out. All day today in the news they're reporting that the feminist organization, American Association of University Misandrists, has released a report "proving" that women are making about 4 cents for every dollar men make. Or maybe it's 40 cents. It varies depending on who is telling the story. It isn't for the same jobs, mind you, but they're trying to maneuver around that little problem now that the ladies of the world have started to catch on to that old trick, by rewording it to make it appear as if they're comparing men and women working in the same jobs, while still not actually doing that.

hair down to there
"... and just by growing my hair very long
I can distract from my camel toe"

Why do they always have to stack the deck in order to make their "gender lens" view of things add up? Have you ever noticed that? If you count 10 beans 100 times and still come up with 10, but your women's studies teacher insists that as a woman you only received 8 beans due to blatant sex discrimination, do you not at some point conclude that the cow with the ugly shoes and bad haircut is either a liar or mathematically challenged and move on?

So anyway, I naturally felt irritated and planned to blog about it. But then I thought better of it. What difference does it make what I say here? Doesn't our very own President Bush have advisers from the Independent Women's Forum already telling him that this is bullshit, and even showing him what the real numbers indicate? And doesn't he ignore them every single time?

rice and the iwf
"For some reason, he only listens
to women who didn't vote for him,
so we have a bit of a challenge here."

Yes, in case you didn't know the answer. Yes, he does. He has women advising him, women from a women's organization that actually knows how to count and is headed by a woman with a PhD in economics, so she knows how much one dollar is, and yet he still ignores them and listens instead to the heads of the Republican Party as they say, "it doesn't matter what the truth is. It only matters that we win the vote of young, single, college-aged girls. So go with the bullshit and ignore your married and highly educated female advisers. As a bonus, maybe some hot college girl will do you like Bill Clinton."

Yes, that's how this conversation between Bush and his advisers plays out in my head. "maybe they'll do you." It just makes the whole thing more interesting to me. Sorry for that.

So, with that in mind, let's talk about the fucking ants that have invaded my house. They started off in the master bathroom. Why the master bathroom? Do I keep Snickers bars in there so I can eat while I poop?

No, I don't. I have no idea why they're in there. But they gradually migrated through the master bedroom to the hallway bathroom.

Again with the bathrooms! Why? There is nothing in any of those rooms for ants to eat or otherwise entertain themselves with.

So, the pipe in the master bath wall sprung a leak. Oh, thank God there was already a big-assed hole where the previous leak was, so we can get to it without cutting into the sheetrock.

But no, it was over from that, behind more sheetrock. Which meant cutting into the wall in a different spot. YAY!

With that fixed, I could turn again to the ants who were by now legally squatters, as they had been living here long enough to have tenants' rights.


But just as I turned to them, another leak sprang up in the master bath. DAMMIT!

And oh God why do you hate me, this one required cutting the opposite wall, in the hall bath.


"Why does it matter if I pee in the shower?
It's all just pipes."

While in the wall replacing pipes, it was observed that some Bubba who previously owned this house must have at some point pulled the tub in the master bath and replaced all the sheetrock around it. And not knowing what he was doing, he sheetrocked behind the tub before reinstalling it.

I'll bet he had a FABULOUS time getting the tub to fit back in there after he put in sheetrock where NO SHEETROCK IS SUPPOSED TO BE!

I say 'he', but in the interests of being totally pathetic and thus suitable for ESPN, perhaps I should say "he or she", or the newly Lesbian-Approved "s/he" instead?

Nah, fuck it.

So, this sheetrock that shouldn't be there, which also doesn't appear to be the proper kind of sheetrock to put in a tub and shower, has black mold on it.

Oh lovely happy day, I am so highly allergic to that shit, I just can't tell you how happy it makes me to find a big old wad of it in my walls after having to carve the whole house up and battle with giant Japanese radioactive ant armies who landed in flying saucers in the middle of the night as the National Organization for Women was plotting to take over the world via the United Nations and the local Public Broadcasting Network is pushing bullshit TV in my living room while My Wife's car begins acting up again. Happy, happy day!

So I put out poison for the ants, who OF COURSE are completely immune to the toxic effects of mold, even as I am choking and gasping for air in my own bedroom as I try to sleep each night. The ants like the poison. They call their friends.

"Dude, check it out. Guess where I'm calling you from? Dude, there is some GOOD SHIT over here at this guy's house. Let's have a PAAAAAAARTY!"

So the ants are swarming the shit. I'm reading the label to make sure it is in fact a kind of ant poison and not just pure liquid sugar in a fancy plastic container. After about 12 hours of Ant Party 2007 I decide I'd like to go to bed and not have a steady march of ants slam-dancing on my windowsill right next to me and occasionally on me. So I take the 'poison' and put it out in the garage. Then I spray the remaining Ant Dancers with different poison, and go to bed.

This morning, the Ant Party was gone, except for a few stray hangovers wandering here and there. So I started getting ready for work, like always. Yay Monday.

As I was leaving for work I walked by the cat's food dish in the laundry room, at the opposite end of the house from the master bedroom.

Ants, all in a row, marching in from under a wall, and diving headfirst into the cat's food dish.


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So, Your Birdfeeder Attracts Squirrels, eh?

lawn rat
Squirrels are for pussies

This is what appeared in my backyard yesterday, digging for birdseed and eyeing me as best he could while he raided my backyard in broad daylight. My cowardly cat, Eliza, refused to go near him, as he was slightly bigger than she is.
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The Mystical Mr. Memphis Sees the Future and Knows All

matthew winklermary winkler

Several months ago I casually mentioned on this blog that a preacher's wife had just murdered her husband. I predicted that her lawyers would claim she was the "real victim" and that she had been abused and was thus not responsible for blowing him away in cold blood. I believe I also predicted a nearly all-female jury which would buy into every bit of the horse shit defense, I mean, shocking story of her tragedy.

Several months went by and the story went quiet while she said absolutely nothing. Then suddenly it came time for her trial. She appeared with the 2 top defense attorneys in Memphis. These men cost more than most anyone can afford. I thought it odd that she was able to afford not only one of them, but two.

It turned out, of course, that they were doing her case for the awesome free publicity, I mean, for free out of the goodness of their hearts.

They hadn't been her attorneys for all of five seconds before the tired and worn out claim of "she's the real victim" began. "He abused her. He called her fat and one time she had a black eye. Thus, she didn't know what she was doing when she pulled out his shotgun from the closet, aimed it squarely at his back while he lay sleeping, much as Brinn Hartman did when murdering her husband, Phil Hartman, who as we all know because of his death was an abusive bastard who deserved to be murdered in cold blood, and she accidentally and somehow without knowing what she was doing pulled the trigger or maybe it just went off by itself without anyone pulling the trigger just like Lorena Bobbitt with the magic "I was crying and I don't remember" knife. Either way, she is the real victim here, not the father of her children whose blood was sprayed across the bedroom wall like a firehose and who was murdered virtually right in front of those children by the mysterious dazed woman holding the shotgun who may or may not have been my client, but was most certainly abused and not responsible either way."

I paraphrased just a bit, but it doesn't matter because nothing I say here is going to change anything anyway.

Even before the case began, the grrlz of the press were interviewing the woman on the street. Every single one of them, without a single exception, said "I heard she might have been abused, so I think she's innocent." This was without hearing a single piece of evidence in the trial itself and only having the word of Oprah Winfrey and the latest issue of any of the host of women's magazines out there. Yes, they had heard somewhere, and most said they couldn't even recall where, that she may have been mistreated in some way, shape or form. Thus, evidence and justice be damned, she must be set free.

Ah, The Matriarchy, where rules are ever-changing and The Law is only a vague suggestion.

When it was time for jury selection I noticed that the news around here failed to mention the makeup of the jury. Thus, I assumed 12 women, as the law allows discrimination against males without reason or explanation, but not females. Also, whites, but not blacks, although this is not really relevant to this case.

The case didn't last long, which is unfortunate for her 2 high-powered attorneys, both of whom would bankrupt OJ Simpson in a heartbeat if he were to ever need them and have to pay for them himself. Not to worry, though, because every guilty person in Memphis knows that if the evidence shows you did it, you must call Mr. Leslie or the other guy. I have no plans to commit any crimes, but should I ever be accused of something you can rest assured I'm going to try to hire Mr. Leslie. He's the preferred attorney of Memphis cops and politicians and that's good enough for me.

Today on the radio they interrupted my serenity to play a recording of the verdict. I listened intently as the judge asked "madame juror have you reached a verdict? Madame juror have you ... madame juror ... madame ..." and on and on until he reached what I believe was the lone male on the jury.

The judge, I believe, read the verdict. Guilty ...... of manslaughter.

Doh! The lone man threw a wrench in the works. If not for Dude the bitch would have walked out the door scott free.

I make rude assumptions here. It is as possible that one woman on the jury is as sick of this shit as I am and held out while the dude was a total pussy and caved completely. As it is, Madame Murderer gets maybe 3 years, with time off real soon if not an outright pardon tomorrow morning as soon as the Governor of Tennessee, Mr. Bredesen, has his morning toast and picks up a phone to sing "Free free, set them free," because you know our governor is a big Sting fan, as am I.

There was a lawyer on the radio who is supposed to be some sort of veteran and expert. He was shocked by the verdict and complained how it sends a message that it is open season on husbands who call their wife fat or otherwise mistreat them. He complained that this is a horrible injustice and virtually invalidates our entire system of law. All I kept thinking is, where the hell has he been since the Violence Against Women Act was written and breezed through a Republican-controlled Congress in 1996 or '94 (I can't remember which anymore.) It flat out instructs cops, judges, prosecutors and jurors to ASSUME that any woman who abuses, attacks, or even murders a man who is in any sort of relationship with her must be "acting in retaliation for years of abuse" by the victim, The Man, who if not murdered, must be arrested and charged with her crime. She must be presumed not merely innocent, but the victim, while the victim must be presumed guilty.

PooYA! Take that, Justice! Right in the nuts!

Hell man, this isn't new. It's been over 10 years now. Wake up!

Yeah, I won't be hiring that guy on the radio as my attorney if I ever need one. I wish I had written down his name. He's been sleeping on the job.

So anyway, I'm patting myself on the back here, in case you're wondering why I'm writing this. I predicted this the second it was reported that the preacher had been murdered and his wife was oddly absent. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what her defense would be. If I had been her lawyer I would have claimed the same old bullshit. Whatever the facts are, they can't possibly be as effective at getting a killer back out on the streets as the old "he abused her" claim. It's better than a "Get out of jail free" card in Monopoly. Better because it comes with rights to the story and a guaranteed pot of gold at the end of the Rainbow Coalition that rules the entertainment industry and is even now no doubt ringing her phone off the hook trying to buy the rights to her story, if in fact, they haven't gotten it already.

Who says crime doesn't pay?


mary mary quite contrary
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
soon to be richer than God
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Thursday Things To Think About


I planted some bird seed. A bird came up. Now I don't know what to feed it.

I had amnesia once -- or twice.

Protons have mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic.

All I ask is a chance to prove that money can't make me happy.

If the world were a logical place, men would be the ones who ride horses sidesaddle.

What is a "free" gift? Aren't all gifts free?

They told me I was gullible and I believed them.

Teach a child to be polite and courteous in the home and, when he grows up, he'll never be able to merge his car onto the freeway.

Experience is the thing you have left when everything else is gone.

One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people.

My weight is perfect for my height -- which varies.

I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.

The cost of living hasn't affected its popularity.

How can there be self-help "groups"?

Show me a man with both feet firmly on the ground, and I'll show you a man who can't get his pants off.

Is it me--or do buffalo wings taste like chicken?

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I watched the news in shock on the day the Virginia Tech lunatic went on a rampage. At the time they reported 30 people dead. I couldn't believe it. Our world has gone to hell. I thought I'd write something deep and meaningful about it. But I couldn't come up with any words to say. I don't know what to say. And I don't know why. So, that's really all I have to say.
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The Most Hated Man In America?

Despite the recent murders at Virgina Tech (which oddly are being referred to in the media as "tragedies" instead of "mass murders", as if we needed further proof that we now live in a nation of freakin' Oprah Winfrey grrlz who hold no one accountable for their actions instead of real men), and despite the recent reappearance of infamous racists/extortionists/clowns Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson on the TV screen, and despite Don Imus' odd apology for the weakest and least offensive "insult" since my nephew called me a "poo poo head" many years ago, Sanjaya still manages to remain The Most Hated Man In America.

Anyone disagree? Can you think of someone more widely and vehemently hated than Sanjaya?

Yes, I have seen the screaming monkeys demanding the impeachment of George Bush, but they do this with all Republican presidents so that doesn't count for much. It's like PETA throwing paint on random passing millionaires in New York City for wearing fur, it's not personal, it's political.

Yes, I know Jennifer Lopez was also recently on "American Idol" as a guest, but for every person who cringes whenever she sings or tries to act or just talks in general, there is someone else who wants to "do her" in a big way, so she gets a pass. I mean, hell, she's even in my IDH list and I turn off the sound whenever she opens her mouth.

Yes, I am aware of the vast network of Muslim terrorists in this country plotting to kill us all, but you know, I believe with all my heart that even they hate Sanjaya more than they hate most Americans. He's not just an infidel, he's an infidel who can't sing and makes Richard Simmons look like a macho, macho man. Seriously.

So, what do you think?

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Beware: Sour Cream and Onion Revenge

poopie chips
Death in a shiny green bag

Did you know that it's actually dangerous to eat Lay's sour cream and onion potato chips? It's true. I found out the hard way. Or rather the semi-hard way.

I went to church this morning because, contrary to what you might think, I'm not a screaming, pornographic, college-girl molesting, drunken, brawling pagan. Afterwards I talked some guy's head off about taxes and budgets and things of which I knew little and he knew a great deal. So of course I said a lot of stupid shit and was wrong all the time. That's always fun.

After that I went home and ate lunch. It was nothing special, but with my boring sandwich I had some potato chips. Not just any old chips, oh no, I had Lay's Sour Cream and Onion potato chips. And I had lots of them.

About an hour or two after eating, I went to Home Depot to buy some crap to deal with yet another damn leak in the very same pipes the plumbers just worked on. Being the typical trip to Home Depot, I was there for at least an hour. And while I was there something strange began to happen. I was standing there in the isle, holding an armload of tape and putty and crap when suddenly my intestines began to talk to me.

They said, "Hey, wanna see me poop right here in the isle at Home Depot?"

And I said, "No, I really don't want to see that."

But they kept coming back and insisting, "no really, I can do it. Watch!"

Just as this was occurring, I found a Home Depot person to help me with my search for plumbing supplies and ant poisons. The problem was, she talked my head off. It was an interesting conversation, and I didn't want to leave, but the entire time she was talking to me my butt was talking too. And my butt was louder than she was.

She'd say, "I got 20 acres about an hour and a half from here for a decent price."

And then he'd say, "I'M GONNA BLOW!!!!"

Then I'd say, "An hour and a half, eh?" as I moved my body around in various ways in an attempt to silence the avalanche of poo that was trying to build a bomb inside of me. I was gradually being transformed into one of those suicide bombers, except that instead of a belt of C4 and some shrapnel, I had an ass full of semi-liquid shit.

By the way, did you know that "shrapnel" was a man who invented a type of cannon ball which was intended to be shot high up in the air over the heads of enemy troops so that it exploded above their heads and sent hundreds of tiny metal balls shooting into them, tearing them to shreds? It's true. He was Lord Shrapnel or Baron Shrapnel or something, and his invention was considered revolutionary to warfare. I learned that today while sitting on the couch eating those damned potato chips and watching the History Channel.

So anyway, this cute 25-year-old girl was talking to me for at least 30 minutes about plumbing, ant poison, buying land at a price normal human beings can afford around here, and all the associated hassles that go with trying to buy land and then build a house on it later, even as my ass was boiling and toiling like a witch's cauldron outside on the lawn of a falsely accused Duke University Lacrosse player's house while feminist bigots chanted "castrate him" over and over, without caring that he was actually innocent and without ever apologizing or expressing the slightest ounce of regret for it. Yes, my ass was acting just like that. I expect my ass to be receiving a notification of tenure approval from Duke any day now, actually. And then my ass can begin teaching women's studies there. But I digress.

So there I was, squeezing my ass cheeks as tight as I could, hoping against hope that I didn't squeeze a tiny missile turd out due to the extreme pressure, and all the while I was wondering, "What the hell caused this?"

That's when I remembered the chips. "Damn sour cream and onion!" I shouted in my head, even as I smiled to the girl and nodded along. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That's great. I gotta go. See ya."

And then I did that ass-squeezing rapid waddle-walk that people do when their ass is trying to launch a ship and they are trying to prevent it. I went to the register, glanced at the lines and the cashiers looking for one that looked fast, competent, and not busy, and finally ended up racing to the do-it-yourself checkout. I was through the checkout in record time and racing out into the parking lot as quickly as I could.

When I got home I came through the door, dropped the bags in the floor as I raced through straight to the bathroom. I nearly couldn't drop my pants fast enough, but I made it. And just in time. The resulting explosion nearly lifted me off the toilet completely. I think I crapped for 10 straight minutes without stopping before I was done. Afterwards I looked down and saw that I had filled the toilet up, above the water and everything. It was a nasty sight.

And then, when I flushed the toilet, of course, it overflowed.
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Still Friday

Mister BurnsMr Burns
Homer Simpson's boss, Mr. Burns

Ever had one of those poops that piles up above the surface of the water in the toilet and stinks like ... like ... turbo-charged shit? Yeah, that was my daily poop this lovely Friday the 13th.

But as I have virtually no sense of smell anyway I didn't care. It doesn't bother me. Everyone else, though, seems heavily affected by it. Especially the person who needed that toilet after me.

Sorry dude.

So anyway, that house and land is a lot of money and I have some strong reservations. Like, floors that aren't level and a vent that leads to nowhere. The workshop only has room for one car and I have 2 in need of a place to be hotrodded. Anyway, The Wife and I will have to look it over together before I cross it off.

I have a business trip next month. First we go to Little Rock. Then it's off to Dallas. I wonder if Kami would be surprised if I suddenly showed up on her front porch unannounced? I'm thinking so.

Actually, I have no idea if I'll get a chance to wander off and see anyone or if it's going to be all business and no free time.

Anyway, all the Texas ... um .. Ladies are going to be in Houston in about 2 weeks and I thought I might get to run and surprise them, but it isn't looking likely right now.

The album I was listening to just ended. I guess I'm done then.
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Friday the 13th

It's Friday. Friday the thirteenth, in fact, a day of potential doom and gloom and disaster. I was just reading the blog of an old high school friend. It made me sad. Or maybe I already was sad and just didn't know it until I read what he had to say. He seems sad, although he says he isn't.

I'm supposed to go look at a house during my lunch hour. It's a big house with a lot of land and costs way more than we can afford, yet I'm looking at it anyway because it's what My Wife wants. But she'll never agree to pay that much even though I'll be the one doing the paying. It's in the middle of nowhere, with 10 acres of land, and seemingly nobody around for miles. That's what she wants. Me, I'm a people-person, believe it or not. I love people. But I love My Wife, too, and she wants isolation and land. So I'm working on achieving that. In return you might think she'd finally give me kids, eh? But no, I don't think she ever will. I think we're going to be alone forever. And that makes me very sad.

My friend was blogging about not understanding Christianity and how Christians are to blame for persecuting Jews and things. That's actually a European thing, not a Christian thing. The Bible, both in the Old Testament and the New Testament, talks about how the Jews will be persecuted and it has nothing to do with whether or not a person is a Christian. It's simply going to be. Europe is hardly Christian today, but there is no mistaking that they hate Jews over there. They make that as openly clear as the blacks do of their hatred of whites in places like Georgia and North Carolina. And believe me, you haven't seen overt racism until you've walked around as a white person in Atlanta or Durham, North Carolina.

Anyway, the thing about blaming Christianity for things political leaders and cult personalities did is that it is wrong. Christianity, during the time that it is popular with the majority, has often been used as a tool by sociopaths and narcissists, just like any other major movement that gains popular acceptance. Today, with the shift in power from a God-based religion to a self-based socialist religion, commonly called "social justice" or "progressivism", the majority of the sociopaths and narcissists are racing to jump on board and declare themselves as faithful leaders in the "new" religion as fast as they can.

Just 50 years ago these same people would have been fighting with one another to be deacons in the largest local church they could find, or to be preachers, or music ministers - any position that would enable them to stand in front of a large crowd of people and puff themselves up with pseudo-importance. These are the people who bring scandal to movements of all sorts, whether they be altar-boy molesting priests or page-boy molesting politicians. These are the people who have taken the women's movement and turned it into a movement about total female narcissism rather than about any pretense of equal rights, much to the frustration of women who truly only want equality and fair play. These are the people who turned the black civil rights movement into a circus of racists and bullshit-artists. These are the Jesse Jacksons, the Al Sharptons, the Hillary Clintons, and the George Soros of the world. These are people whom the Bible says will be thrown out of Heaven on the Judgement Day, even as they protest, "but I did good things in God's name!"

Yes, there will be preachers and pastors and priests and nuns in Hell. The Bible says so, and the older I get the more I understand. There are people that simply cannot be "saved", who will never be Christians no matter what they say or do, because their hearts are black and selfish and rotten to the core. The Bible warns about this, and for most of my life I didn't understand how this could be. But I think I do now.

I'm in a funk today. I don't know if my old friend's blog is the reason or if this was already here. Either way, it doesn't matter. I was just watching the circus of bullshit surrounding the Don Imus Nappy-Headed Ho scandal and observing the hoards of sociopaths and narcissists who used it for personal gratification, fame, and fortune. I listened to the reporters mindlessly parroting the line about his comments being "racial" and "sexist" and I can't get past the fact that nothing in the term "nappy-headed ho" specifies or even implies a race. And in fact it doesn't even specify a sex, although most people think of women when they think of 'hos' just because most prostitutes are female. But are most of them black? Are we to assume he meant only the black girls on the Rutgers team because most hookers are black? If that's true then I had no idea. Most of the prostitutes I've seen in Memphis were white. Either way, it was educational to watch as they nailed him to a cross for saying something that was rude and a cheap shot, but otherwise not that big of a deal.

Anyway, it's Friday the Thirteenth. The real estate guy should be here at any moment to drive me out to the place that we can't really afford. And my mind is a million miles away. Oh, and the pipes in my master bathroom wall are leaking again. I just had the plumber at the house for this last week. Yay.
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Don Imus - Pussied to Death

imus on msnbc
Mr. Nappy on MSNBC

NBC announced today that they are dropping Don Imus' apparently irrelevant talk show over "racial remarks." This is revealing in that nothing Don Imus said was in any way, shape, or form racial.

Well, that is, unless you yourself picture a black woman whenever you hear the term "nappy-headed ho." But then that doesn't make Don Imus a racist. It makes you one.

From the article by Bill Carter and Louise Story:

"NBC News dropped Don Imus yesterday, canceling his talk show on its MSNBC cable news channel a week after he made a racially disparaging remark about the Rutgers University women's basketball team."

Mr. Imus didn't make any racial remark of any kind. Nothing he said was racial in any way, shape, or form. But in the Oprah Winfrey feminist world in which we now "live", facts don't matter. Screaming irrational emotion is all that matters. And then only if it comes from the "right" race and the "right" sex. Don Imus is the "wrong" sex and the "wrong" race, so he's screwed no matter what. He just didn't know it until now.

isaiah washington
Nappy Headed Bo

It's important that Mr. Imus didn't limit his insult to the black women on the Rutgers team. It's a fact that he insulted them all as a group. This includes the white women, who apparently are just now discovering that as whites, like Patrick Dempsey being choked by Isaiah Washington, they have no rights, but not to worry because Rutgers and Al Sharpton have effectively declared them to be black, thus increasing their standing among the Affirmative Action Country Club Elite from the Almost-Perfect level 2, as women, to the Super-Perfect level 1, as black women. If they declare themselves to be lesbians they can leap to the Super Elite Top Dog Affirmative Action Bonus Level and receive an immediate appointment to the board of directors at CBS as well as tenure at the infamously misandric Rutgers University. No college degree or job experience is required for either position when you're a Super Elite Top Dog of affirmative action.

It's also worth noting that everyone seems to be assuming Rutgers has an all-black girls basketball team, even though Rutgers is not a majority black school. Isn't that racism? If sex discrimination in sports (only when it affects women, of course) is wrong, then isn't race discrimination just as wrong? Isn't it a crime for a mostly white school like Rutgers to have a nearly all black basketball team? Isn't that promoting racist stereotypes? Doesn't that say to all black women everywhere that they will only be acceptable to the white liberal elitists at Rutgers if they can play them a fine game of B-ball? Why isn't Al Sharpton screaming mad about this? Where is Jesse Jackson on this issue? Why hasn't the National Organization of WeHateAllMales jumped all over this obvious statement of blatant racism and sexism at Rutgers?

Oh yeah, Rutgers is one of the most sexist, anti-male, state-funded universities in the United States. So they get a pass. In fact, NOW is heavily dependent on Rutgers staff and alumni for its members. Rutgers is virtually nothing more than a tax-payer funded recruiting ground for NOW. So of course they get a pass.

See how this works? Follow the money.

Again, quoting from the article:

"NBC said the cancellation was effective immediately. Mr. Imus was scheduled to be the host of a telethon today and tomorrow on radio station WFAN and simulcast on MSNBC to benefit three children's charities. The network will instead program three hours of news coverage. Mr. Imus did not respond to telephone messages last night. But Bo Dietl, a security expert who is a frequent guest on Mr. Imus's show, said last night that he had just talked by telephone with the host, and that his mood was "very down, very upset about what occurred with MSNBC. I said to him that they didn't even give him time to talk to the victims," Mr. Dietl said. "He agreed with me." "

Victims? There were victims? What victims? I mean, besides the children of the now neglected children's charity. Oh wait, I'm forgetting that we're supposed to be pretending that words are the same as physical violence, and thus, Mrs. Imus is supposed to be presumed a woman batterer by virtue of having used a word that Oprah Winfrey dedicated an entire show to bitching about: "ho". And when Oprah Winfrey speaks, irrational feminists listen. And I'm including Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson among the irrational feminists because, lets face it, these men have no balls, but they bitch a lot.

And OF COURSE they didn't let him talk to the "victims." In a feminist world men have no rights. And you NEVER get to face your accuser. Never for any reason. They say this further victimizes the woman by virtue of her having to deal with a man. As men are classified as lower than pigs, this would of course be a horrible thing. Generally a man should consider himself lucky if he even knows what it is that he's been accused of. Many witch-hunts, I mean, social justice crusades such as this one don't even bother to tell the white male target what it is that he's specifically supposed to have done and to whom he's supposed to have done it.

As for CBS' response, I found it enlightening that there is a former head of the NAACP on their board of directors, one who is screaming for Don Imus' head and calling him a racist even though what he said didn't specify race. CBS has been the most sexist and racist network of the Big Four for quite some time now. They say "CBS Cares" even as they vomit their hatred of white males in show after show, night after night. I blog about it all the time. So now I wonder, if their board of directors includes a militant black racist from the NAACP, a clearly political appointment to gain favor and hold off extortion demands, who are the other board members and what politically powerful hate-groups did they come from? How many former heads of NOW and the Feminist Majority and the host of other misandric female-supremacist hate-groups are on that board? And wouldn't this explain oh so much about CBS and it's campaign of bigotry?

Yes it would.

So thank you, Don Imus, for bringing this to light. If not for you, I would never have thought to examine the membership of the board of directors at any of the major television networks, CBS included. But now, thanks to your recent crucifixion, I have been enlightened.

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Memphipedia: Sucks Ass

Where did the phrase "Sucks Ass" come from? I apparently used this in a previous blog post and Marlayna pointed it out. What an odd phrase. Can you really suck someone's ass? Does anyone do this? I know some of you out there are real sexual pioneers and can surely tell me if anyone is really and truly sucking ass.

Where do you suppose this phrase came from? I theorized that Richard Gere came up with it, as he is known to be something of a super-freak in the bedroom according to both his ex-wife, Cindy Crawford, and his ex-girlfriend whom he cheated on Cindy Crawford with, Uma Thurman. So, do you think Richard Gere really did originate the phrase "sucks ass" or do you think perhaps it's an old Gaelic term going way back to King Arthur times? You know almost all the best curse words and nasty phrases came from the English, Irish, Scots and Welsh at some point in time. Yes, it's true. My ancestors curse better than anyone else in the world. Get over it. Can't you just see the other Knights of the Round Table dissing old Lancelot as he's busy hitting on some busty teenage girl?

"Lancelot sucks ass."
"Yeah, your wife told me."
"Nothing. Forget I said that."

So, search your memories, bloggerites and bloggerettes, and try to remember the first time you heard this phrase, "sucks ass." Where did it come from? Can you find it on the internet? Is it in a book of origins? Or can we make up a plausible story of our own to pass on as a typical "well known fact" of the internet, your typical bullshit, to convince the rest of the world of?

And while we're on the subject, do you REALLY believe that Richard Gere stuck a gerbil up his ass or do you think this is another one of those bullshit "everybody knows" stories from the internet?

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Fucked Up Blogger

I have no idea what exactly is wrong with New Blogger, but something sure as hell is. Every so often, when I put out a new post, or edit an old one, Blogger will change the settings without my telling it to, preventing anyone from leaving comments or other equally important and annoying changes I didn't ask for.

Thanks New Blogger. You're a pain in the ass.
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Nappy-Headed Hypocrisy

don imus
Don "nappy-head" Imus

For days now I've seen headlines passing by about Don Imus apologizing for something or other. He's saying "I am not a racist" and shit like that. A day doesn't pass by that some white male heterosexual isn't attacked and called "racist" or "sexist" or "Christian" or some such thing, so I mostly ignored it. But now the morning radio shows are making jokes about the grrlz of the Rutgers basketball team and their tattoos and I had no idea what they were talking about.

So today, finally, I caved in and looked at the articles hoping to find out what the hell Don Imus did or said that got him into so much trouble. I was expecting him to have called someone a "nigger" or a "faggot" or "fat dyke bitch" or something.

But no, he didn't say any of that. In fact, he didn't say anything of any significance at all.

Do you know what he said?

He said the Rutgers women's basketball players were rough-looking and appeared to be some "nappy-headed hos."

rutgers nappy heads
Nappy-headed hos

Oh shit, call up the Marines! Get the President on the phone! Someone report this to the Department of Homeland Security! Holy Oprah Winfrey, Batman! Nappy headed hos, stop the presses!

So, despite the fact that this comment is totally insignificant and doesn't even indicate a particular race, the usual sociopathic suspects in the black political community are all up in arms. The National Organization of WeHateAllMen are calling for his termination, declaring that the term "hos" is so offensive to 'womyn' as to be the equivalent of a violent physical assault. Yeah, because this is what they mean when they cry about the "epidemic of violence against womyn." They're talking about words.

nappy headed katie couric
Nappy-headed feminist

Nevermind the fact that feminists who declare words they dislike to be the equivalent of a violent assault are straight up narcissists who regularly spew hatred of all males and Christians that pales in comparison, and yet NEVER apologize or express the slightest regret or feelings of remorse. Nevermind the fact that Al Sharpton proved himself a racist during the Tawana Brawley case, and several times thereafter. Nevermind the fact the Jesse Jackson is nothing more than a corporate pirate who robs companies for fun and profit under the unholy pretense of being a man of God.

nappy head al sharptonnappy headed jesse jackson
Nappy-headed racists

No, nevermind all of this, because all of this is nothing new.

What gets me about this whole thing is not the whiny, pussified, knee-jerk reaction of the Leftists. What gets me is the whiny, pussified reaction of Don Imus himself.

He apologized.


This is supposed to be a man who makes controversial remarks about the passing scene. This is supposed to be a man who stands up and dishes it out as well as he takes it. This is supposed to be A MAN.

To be fair, I never listen to Don Imus. I've never heard his show. If he writes any articles, I've never read them. I have no idea exactly where he stands, but I gather from his recent crucifixion that he's perceived to be some kind of conservative. Thus, he's fair game and won't receive the slightest ounce of support from Republicans or other supposed conservatives, because for reasons unknown to me, today's conservatives always abandon their own to be slaughtered by the pack of vicious wolves that make up the militant Marxist Left.

Go figure.

Anyway, Mr. Imus, who said nothing of any significance in calling the Rutgers players "nappy headed hos", is crawling on his hands and knees, declaring that he needs to be spanked, and "thank you, Mistress, may I have another" to the nappy-headed sexist bitch who runs CBS where his show is aired, and on and on. And all I can figure is that he's gotten so comfortable with his fat paycheck and his corporate sponsors that he feels the need to maintain the status quo, and thus he is useless as a spokesman for anything that is worthwhile, if indeed he ever did say anything worthwhile in the first place. And again, I never listened to him so I don't know.

My point is simply that I'm fed up with men who aren't men, who crawl at the slightest hint of controversy instead of standing up for themselves and their rights, who beg forgiveness for "sins" from the biggest haters this country has ever seen, and who give blowjobs to screaming Nazis like Jesse Jackson and the National Organization for Women in exchange for 'absolution' from the rainbow goddess of narcissism, the church of "all about me."

gay worship
Nappy-headed state church

They say "Religious Right." I say "yeah, right." It's obvious who runs the official State Church in this country. Don Imus' groveling and begging for forgiveness for his "sins" from these hypocritical hate mongers is simply further proof of that.

What a nappy-headed pussy.

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That Was Unpleasant

roman nail

Friday we experienced a freeze overnight. It dropped to 29. Saturday night it dropped to 27. Of course, all the plants were green and blooming because it's Spring, for cryin' out loud. My Wife, the gardener, is busy with tax season. I was home with a plumbing nightmare and a bad cold, so it was up to me to deal with the plants.

I put black garbage bags over as many as I could. I wrapped everything else in weed block material, which breathes but keeps frost off. I took bricks from our brick pile (why we have a brick pile I can't even recall. I think the bricks were here when we moved in, but at this point only God knows) and placed them on the edges of the material to keep it from blowing away.

As I was reaching to take some bricks from a low spot against our fence I felt wood splinters from the fence board jam up underneath my fingernail.

"Aaaaaaaaah, mother FUUUUUUCK!" I politely expectorated in true Easter spirit.

wrist crucify

You know how when you hurt something really badly it shakes uncontrollably? Yeah, I was looking at my index finger with these wood splinters sticking out from under my nail and my hand was shaking. That made it twice as fun to try to pull the splinters out, as I had to chase my own hand around with my other hand.

I managed to pull out what I could see, but it still hurt.

I looked under the nail, wondering if the pain I was still in was indicative of more splinters or just the pain of the big bleeding hole I had made. I couldn't tell.

All night my finger hurt. But I'm sick, as I said, so I was already feeling a general misery. Maybe I was just extra sensitive and pussy-like because of that? It was hard to tell.

Sunday my finger hurt all day, but I was busy dealing with my cold, so I didn't have much time to worry about it. Also, I couldn't tell if anything was under my nail or not. So what was I going to do anyway? I had just been to the doctor for a minor surgery to remove a splinter from my heal about 2 weeks ago and I didn't enjoy the thought of going back for more of that.

Monday came and my finger still hurt. The mail came and I got a notice from my health insurance company that they didn't feel like paying for the minor surgery to remove the splinter from my heal. BITCHES!!!!

Tonight, as the King of Queens was ending, and I was washing the dishes (yes, I do that shit, you bitches. You KNOW you wish your husband would do that shit for you. ADMIT IT!!) I held my aching finger under the steaming hot water. Yeah, it made sense at the time somehow, causing myself still more pain for reasons I can't quite comprehend now.

Anyway, I pulled my finger out and looked at it again. It hurt, but that was all I could tell. So I came into the living room to blog. Then I looked at my finger again. It looked funny, so I tried reaching under the nail with my other index finger and thumb nails. Lo and behold, I pulled out two splinters as long as a thumbtack. Yeah, it hurt, but it doesn't now.

Pooya! Free at least, I'm free at last! I thank God I'm free at last!

I sure hope that was all of them.

roman grave crucifixion victim

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Happy Easter!

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Thursday Things To Think About

And now for more Thursday things to think about:

"What a child doesn't receive he can seldom later give."
P.D. James, British scribbler

"Wisdom doesn't automatically come with old age. Nothing does - except wrinkles. It's true, some wines improve with age. But only if the grapes were good in the first place."
Abigail Van Buren, gossipy pre-Oprah person

"Misfortune reveals those who are not really friends."
Aristotle, smarty-pants man

"A stupid man's report on what a clever man says can never be accurate, because he unconciously translates what he heard into something he can understand."
Bertrand Russell, math guy

"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles."
Charlie Chaplin, funny guy

"I prefer the company of peasants because they have not been educated sufficiently to reason incorrectly."
Michel de Montaigne, fancy scribbler

"Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight."
Benjamin Franklin, founding father and party animal

"Our goals can only be reached through a vehicle of a plan, in which we must fervently believe, and upon which we must vigorously act. There is no other route to success."
Pablo Picasso, artsy fartsy

"No government is ever perfect. One of the chief virtues of a democracy, however, is that its defects are always visible and under democratic processes can be pointed out and corrected."
Harry Truman, 33rd man to sleep in the President's bed

"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest."
Mark Twain, snarky scribbler

"This is as true in everyday life as it is in battle: We are given one life, and the decision is ours whether to wait for circumstances to make up our mind or whether to act and, in acting, to live."
Omar Bradley, professional killing machine

"The world hates change, yet it is the only thing that has brought progress."
Charles Kettering, tinkerer

"To be persuasive we must be believable; to be believable we must be credible; to be credible we must be truthful."
Edward R. Murrow, journalist who apparently never heard of feminism

"Dreams do come true, if we only wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it."
J.M. Barrie, overactor

"Education is like a double-edged sword. It may be turned to dangerous uses if it is not properly handled."
Wu Tingfang, man with funny name

"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it."
Salvador Dali, painter with goofy mustache

"It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change."
Charles Darwin, controversial smartypantsman

"The man who has no imagination has no wings."
Muhammed Ali, stumbling boxer who punched to the neck a lot

"Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous."
Confucius, often misquoted Chinese dude

"A wise man will make more opportunities than he finds."
Francis Bacon, thinker and breakfast food made from pork

"Those who corrupt the public mind are just as evil as those who steal from the public purse."
Adlai Stevenson, man who apparently doesn't like CNN

"You are younger today than you will ever be again. Make use of it for the sake of tomorrow."
Norman Cousins, editor

"It is not impossibilities that fill us with deepest despair, but possibilities that we have failed to realize."
Robert Mallet, rhyming ladies man

"The conventional view serves to protect us from the painful job of thinking."
John Kenneth Galbraith, money watcher

"Propaganda ends where dialogue begins."
Marshall McLuhan, former professor who would not be welcomed at Harvard anymore

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Wordless Wednesday

boob watching
Mmmmm, boobies!
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When Girls Don't Put Out

I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.


One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.

Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me."

I said, "WHAT??!! What was that?!"

So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear ...

"You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."

She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"

Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, "Lets get a pair for each outfit."

We went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you ... she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis.

I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey."

She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier."

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it."

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, "WHAT?"

I then said, "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman."

And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"

Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either ... but at least that bitch knows I'm smarter than her.
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The Family Circus

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Um ... Um ... Um

gagged generic
I got nuthin'

It must be spring fever or something. I don't know what it is. I've been outside sweating and digging in the yard or changing spark plugs in the driveway or just anything, but I haven't been on the internet much. I thought I was just busy, but when I sat down to blog I couldn't come up with a thing to say.

I thought I'd cure my problem by rolling over to Steph's Banality Australian Style and see what she was up to. She was commenting on things women do, but won't admit to.

I tried to leave a snarky comment.

I got nuthin.

I wrote something, but it was .... lame.

I came back here to my own blog and tried to write again, but I couldn't come up with anything to say. I just don't know what TO say. Nothing is really going on. I'm trying to learn a lot of new things at work, so I'm never on while I'm there. And when I come home I'm just ... not really busy so much ... just not here.

I mean, I've probably been by your blog, but when it comes time to leave my typical "oh, if you think that's gross just listen to this" comments, my mind is a blank.

What's up with that?

I found a new gym the other day. I went in on Friday at lunch and tried to make up for lost time. I did 6 sets of squats just to get things rolling. After that I did a bunch of the usual manly stuff, like bench press and crap like that. Yeah, I knew better, but I did it anyway. I haven't been in the gym for a year now and I started off with 6 sets of squats. Today I can barely walk. I knew this would happen. Yet I did it anyway.

On the plus side, this gym is my dream come true. I was one of four people in there working out. While I was squatting, two of them left. Some REALLY good-looking woman came in while I was showering. I saw her on my way out, as I staggered towards the door. In one way I was sorry I hadn't been working out when she was, just because good-looking women make men feel happy somehow. In another way, I was glad to avoid her. I don't want a gym with drama. I want to be left alone to sweat and grunt and get my shit done so I can get the hell out, like I did at my old gym before the mega-gyms put it out of business and forced me into the drama-mama mecca of sweat, spandex, and titties. So anyway, that was the most exciting thing to happen all week, really.

I Googled the word "gagged" so I could find a photo for this post that accurately reflected my lack of things to say. All I was looking for was a photo like the one above. Almost all I got, though, were photos like the one below. And holy FREAKIN' cow, this one is the tamest of them all. Good God Almighty, there is some freaky stuff out there on the net! Try it yourself, with your porn filter turned off. Google "gagged" and see what you get. Wow!

gagged fetish
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