Have You Ever Noticed...

...the sexual innuendos involved in cooking?

I don't cook much anymore, nor do I have sex, so I'm not sure why I'm even writing about this. But there's always hope on the horizon. Being the shut-in that I am, I was watching the babes cook on the Food Channel this morning and some phrases used peeked my pork loin, so to speak.

For instance...

• Is this not the best looking piece of meat you've ever seen?
  
  
• You don't want to beat this meat too hard.
  
  
• I think I could eat this meat raw, it looks so good.
  
  
• Always make sure you tenderize your meat before you stick it in your oven.
  
  
• After that trip in the oven the meat might shrink.
  
  
• Don't go anywhere, because when we come back I'm gonna show you my rack.
  
  
• Doesn't that meat look good in my rack?
  
  
• I love getting my hands all wrapped into this meat.
  
  
• You want to make sure the meat isn't too hot before you put it in the oven. It might overcook too soon.
  
  
• You could put this sauce over almost anything, even meat.
  
  
• Sometimes your meat will cook too quickly, so work with it gently.
  
  
• OHHH, look at this meat. Yummmm.
  
  
• I'm cooking a special dinner for my sister's husband, because I know he loves my meat.
  
  
• Don't let the smell of the clams deter you. It tastes great.
  
  
• Just give it a little wiggle before you take it out.
  
  
• Make sure you roll the nuts in your juices, then spread them all over your rack.
  
  
  I'm off to get a burger, or something...
  

Inga...AHH...Inga...

...how I do thank you so.

We all have stories of our first time. It's usually an awkward, drunken, moment with a date when we're in high school. Especially back in my day, when it was unheard of to even think about getting in a girls britches.

I was no ladies man, so I had nothing to gauge myself against other than the stories my friends would convey to me about their conquests. I was only seventeen, and gullible enough to believe them, so I figured I was the only one not getting laid. It didn't set well with me, but I was, after all, a realist, and knew that this could be a trend. As it turned out, it has been.

In the summer of my 17th year, when I was full of piss and vinegar, and not much else, I ventured to New Hampshire to play in a series of tennis tournaments. I flew into Boston(first plane flight)and the wife of a business associate of my Dad, and her sons, picked me up at the airport. We then drove to their oceanside home in in NH. What a place! I had never seen anything like it. This was the cat's ass. They even had two Swedish servants/maids.

Remember, now, this was back in 1971, so there wasn't any politically correct kinda bullshit going on. They were there for one thing, and they knew it. It was America, which is where they wanted to be. And they were two of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I have no idea how old they were, nor did I care. They were just very easy on the eyes. But they never exuded any kind of sexuality. They wore the typical uniforms, spoke when spoken to, and went about their business.

I played in several local tournaments for three days, displaying some magic in some, but never really distinguishing myself, other than a finals win in doubles on grass. After the ceremony, one of the sons of my host asked me if I wanted to smoke some grass. Now I had heard of it, and knew my eldest brother was involved with it, but I never thought I would partake. But I succumbed.

That, and a few beers, and my lights were quickly fading. We got back to the house and I immediately took a shower and went to bed. Next thing I knew, Inga was hovering over me, asking me if I was OK and if I needed anything. I guess I had been asleep for almost two hours. The family had a social obligation, so I had the place to myself, and Inga wanted to know if I wanted anything for dinner.

I told her I was fine for the moment. I just wanted to wake up. Keep in mind, I was a seventeen year old and the only tit I had ever seen was in a Playboy. The next thing I knew, she drew the covers back, disrobed, and took me into a place I don't think I've been since. I was transfixed in the moment. The sensuality was overwhelming. I never expected such a thing, nor did I encourage it. It just happened.

She looked just like the woman in the pic, who was the Playboy playmate in January of the following year. It gave me pleasure for years to come, so to speak.

Why do I convey this? Expiration date.

GuyK And His Lovely Missus...

...are on a road trip. Have a read, because it should be interesting. I don't know if Guy will be encountering nekkid women in the camp site showers, and if he does I doubt he'll fess up to sweetthing, but I'm sure Miss Sassie Poodle will squeal on his ass if he does. I guess he could tell them he has five rods, but the look on their faces might be enough to give the poor bastard a heart attack. Keep it between the lines, Guy, and have a good journey.

Why Is It...

...that sinus infections are always worse in the morning and the evening?

I woke up Monday morning feeling like someone had poured concrete up my ear canal and it settled in my nasal cavities, with the residual settling in my throat. I had to bail work early, even though I'd already put in 8 hours, and I slept for the entire day on Tuesday.

I've been getting better by the day, with the help of some OTC decongestant, but damned if this shit doesn't strangle your ass in the AM and the PM. And it makes your blood pressure go through the roof.

I'll quit bitchin' now. Just wondering.

Now Here's The Kinda Shit...

...that makes me glad I didn't go into education. This lady resigned today as Admissions Director at MIT.

She's worked there for 28 fucking years and has been AD since 1997 and has spent countless number of hours speaking to high school students about the pressures of admission and the like. But, as it turns out, she herself embellished her own resume way back when.

Who gives a shit? She's earned the best degree you can have. Living life and helping people. We need to get rid of this notion that to make it in life you have to have a college degree. I have one and it hasn't done a damned thing for me, other than to recognize this as just bullshit. Ivory towers are just that. Soap. And it may clean your ass, but not your innards. I hope someone recognizes that and hires her. She's needed.

Where Are These Racist....

...mother fuckers and the drive-by-media when something like this happens. I never once heard anything about it. Someone should castrate these dipshits.

Soooo, They're Giving The Global Warming Religion...

...some new ammo. A NEW planet. Well, it's 20 light years away, and I'm not a scientist, but that hardly makes it new.

But it will add fodder to their desire to proclaim that we have a "second chance". They'll just ship everyone up there to start over. All pristine and shit. Kind of a Noah's Ark thingy. I hope a black hole or a quark eats their asses up on the way.

I'll Be The First To Admit...

...that when I escaped the amniotic fluid of my mother's womb the attending physician and nurses must have been slugging down some scotch and waters and inadvertently left me there to lay a squallering for a few minutes as my brain slowly succumbed to the deprivation of oxygen.

So it's often been the case that I'm slower than most when it comes to things that I initially see and try to wrap my head around. A local medical university here in the neighborhood, that also happens to be where I go, started a new program today that has something to do with walking a mile-a-day. Now mind you, I'm all for people getting in shape and such. But one would think that if you worked for one of the top five hospitals in the country that health would just be something that entered your head via osmosis. But the news did a story on it and for the love of fatback and collards, these people were all at least 30 pounds overweight. How does that happen when you work around the medical profession? I mean, there are MD's there, no? Wouldn't you think they'd say "Hey honey, your ass is WAY too big." Or maybe, "Hey, Jimbo, when's the last time you saw your penis?" I try to make sure I park far enough away at stores I go to so I have to walk at least 100 yards to get to the entrance. I don't have an ass and my semen stick left me years ago. But they interviewed some woman whose a heart disease survivor(there we go again with that survivor BS) and she said make sure you walk at least 12 minutes a day. 'Cuse me? I burn more calories wiping my ass than I would walking for 12 minutes.

Like I said, I was born somewhat depraved, so my brain is missing some synapses and neurons, and the ones that survived have been systematically destroyed through my own debauchery. But I'm pretty sure I could keep a plane from bouncing off the roof of my truck.

There Will Only Be 49 Contestants In The Miss Black America Contest

...this year, because no one wants to wear the banner that says.......IDAHO.

Don Imus

Sheryl Crow Wants Your Fingers...

...to get poopy on them.

She wants the government to enact a law that would limit the amount of toilet paper you can use when you're done evacuating your asshole to one sheet. A LAW. FOR ONE SHEET. I don't know about you folks, but I've been wiping my ass for 54 years and I'm pretty sure this isn't going to work for me. I shit jet fuel and IED's. I may max out at ten per wipe and follow up with a Cottonelle, but how does she expect anyone to cleanse their tooshy with one sheet? And she's obviously never wiped a baby's butt after a meal of creamed corn and split peas.

This is the outcome of someone convincing a talentless musician that she can sing, which in turn provides her a platform to spew all her intellectual and global warming bullshit. And just how is this law supposed to be enforced? Are there going to be potty cops? Will someone actually be watching us when we wipe? Will they open a safe and pull out the one sheet and take their leave? What if you use two-ply? Do we have to separate them? Lots of questions involving this well thought out plan.

I Don't Believe...

...I'd be getting this female marine pissed off anytime soon.

I Think Maybe I Get It Now...

...but my perception of things has been skewed lately. But I'm all for open forums.

Women like the "bad boy" for the persona they convey. And with it comes great "bad boy sex". But in the morning they'd just as soon his ass be out the door, because he isn't going to help them do anything, other than come back later in the day and fuck them again. It is what it is. Nuff said!!

Here's My Complaint...

..with nightly anchors. They just read the news. Which has always been the case.

Before we had local news we had to rely on Murrow (yes, I do remember), Cronkite and Huntley and Brinkley. Not much to look at but you got the news and they didn't mumble all over their words.

Tonight, this woman, and as much as I'd like to bone her, because she is attractive and has huge tits, couldn't get the word cathartic out no matter how hard she tried. Finally, her male co-anchor came to her rescue and bailed her ass out.

Now I'm sure one doesn't sit in an anchor seat on a local news show without some sort of education, but please tell me that somewhere along the line she ran into that word. And don't you for one minute think that she was hired for her looks and her ethnicity. If you think that way, you are a nappy-headed...well, never mind.

They Claim That Right Before You Die...

...your life passes before you. I'm not sure how they determine that scientifically. I'm no scientist, and I didn't spend the night at a Holiday Inn, so I should recuse myself from the discussion.

Be that as it may, I have been freaking my own skinny ass out lately. For instance, I'm not a "remember" dreamer. I know we all dream. But I never remember any of mine. I have as of late, and they revolve around situations in my life. I walk down the halls at work and see people from my past and it conjures up memories. That kinda freaks my ass out. I usually chalk it up to being psychologically challenged, but I've been that way for 50 years, so that won't pass muster.

So, in my deranged state of mind, I'm wondering if it's possible that we can anticipate our own demise? The onset of sudden death doesn't give one much time to do so. But what if you knew death was creeping up on you? You can't do anything about it, because the scythe has already been swung, but it's in slow motion.

Just wondering...and if it comes to fruition, if you'd like to take over this blog, e-mail me and I'll set you up.

There Are Some Blogs...

...I come across and forget to bookmark, mostly because I'm pretty much brain-dead. Thankfully Babs reminded me of this one.
I recommend at least a short visit. It won't remain short, believe me, because not only does he write well, his ass is funny as can be and he's in a profession that only lends itself to the humor. Go have a read. It's worth it.

I Love A Good Story...

...especially when it involves nekkidness .

But folks, some common sense, please. If you're gonna take compromising pics of yourself, which also happen to include your face, ya might wanna store them on some other medium OTHER than your hard drive. There are people out in the web-o-sphere that can break into your computer quicker than you can unlock your door.

I'm not sure why one would need to take pics of the progress of one's pregnant wife. I mean she's right there with you. You can look anytime you want to. But mind you, I'm not complaining. It's nice to know we have some people in the government that aren't stuffed shirts (or blouses, as the case may be). And if you don't think there aren't a thousand more out there of other women, think again. I admit to my depravity. Most don't.

I Try To Keep This Blog A Mix...

...of current events, some sex, humor and just random thoughts.

I'm not afraid to tackle complex or sensitive issues. But for the most part I'm not going to go on a diatribe about any specific issue.

I do, however, question things, as do we all. And one thing that puzzles me is how proponents of abortion can feign sorrow at the deaths that occurred at VT. If you mourn a life taken way too early, doesn't this picture qualify? Aristotle talked about potentiality and actuality. A fetus isn't a bunny, it isn't a turtle and it isn't a nuisance. It has the potential to be what it was destined to be and would do so if it were actualized.

I understand the self-serving argument that a woman has the right to do what she wishes with her body, but I've always wondered how they reconcile the fact that the thing growing in their uterus is their body. It's their child's body, living in their house for a short time.

I've never understood why someone that engages in sex, with the knowledge that the outcome might produce a child, so cavalierly discards it. There are so many couples that pang for the chance to adopt. Would it be so hard to carry it to term and give the child a chance to live up to its potential?

I know, I'm a man and I don't understand the ramifications of an unwanted pregnancy. But I am a father, a very proud one, and I know in my heart that the world would be a worse place were my sons not in it. I would have had five kids had my economic and marital situation been different. As it is, I have what I have and I am blessed.

Maybe it's time we start reading Aristotle again. Potential and all that shit, dontcha know.

I Don't Begrudge Anyone That Has Worked...

...hard enough to make alot of money, even if they did do it as an ambulance chaser. It is America, afterall.

But this egocentric presidential wannabe ought to be disqualified simply on the basis that he spent 400 fucking dollars on a haircut. A MAN'S haircut. How in the hell are you gonna run a country when you're too damned busy getting your hair coiffed? I bet he wears pink, crotchless panties, he douches and his nipples are pierced.

Hey Fred Thompson!! You gotta run, man. You ain't got no hair.

I've Always Considered Myself...

...an admirer of beautiful women. The ex was a knockout and the almost second wasn't too damned bad her own self. So apparently I'm in need of some serious help, because when this starts looking good I might as well start shoving cucumbers up my rectum...

Now Who'd A Ever Thunk...

...that ole Jenna
was busy going to communion and confession while she wasn't busy fucking in all her porn films. Why couldn't I have married a good Catholic girl like her? Come to think of it, I didn't KNOW there were any Catholic girls like her. I once inadvertently grabbed a girls crotch when I was about eight and I went to the confessional for three months lamenting my errant ways. Turns out I wouldn't have needed to put myself through all that mea culpa'ing if I'd only known girls like Jenna were around. Why is it I'm always one step behind?

There Was But One Thing I Wanted To Be...

...when I was in my late twenties and early thirties. That would be a father.

This will be the last thing I have to say about killing our young. But I want to offer my perspective on parenthood.

My childhood wasn't perfect, by any means, but it was close enough for a kid in the 50's and early 60's. But my parents never had to worry about us much, as far as outside influences taking our asses out. We could ride our bikes for miles, walk for days, stay out all weekend in the woods and they never had to think twice about it. Of course we were out there raising hell, as youngin's are wont to do. Blowing up gas tanks, stringing tape across stop signs. YES, we were hellions, but with good hearts. If we blew up a mailbox, we would replace it.

I wanted my kids to have that experience, but the frigid ex decided that it wasn't in the cards, so I missed the one thing I wanted to do the most. But I survived. And so have they. I made a point of making sure that I was able to spend as much time as I could with them. And I tried to stay as parental as I could so they would have a sense that they have a responsibility to make sure that they can make their own way and do so on their own terms.

Does it piss me off that the ex cut it all short? You betcha. Did she do it for a good reason? Not in my opinion. She had it made. Guess that was my fault.

Point of all this? Not to bash the ex. That's long done with. I got an e-mail from the youngest today confirming they got the money I sent them. Some parents at VT weren't that lucky. It's about perspective, folks, perspective. When I got that e-mail it made my day.

This Whole Tragedy At VT...

...is already being spun by the drive-by-media into a political confrontation about gun control.

This incident has nothing to do with gun control whatsoever. The perpetrator of this heinous act jumped through all the hoops the state of Virginia required. He had one thing in mind; to kill as many people as he could. There isn't any way the laws of Virginia could have stopped this short of doing a COMPLETE psychological workup of this maniac. Which would be a waste of time and money and make the whole process of obtaining a weapon cost prohibitive.

When things like this happen people seem have developed this mindset that there must be a myriad of people to blame, from the President of the US, to the President of the College, to law enforcement and on and on. Folks(Babs, hope I don't get fired from this blog for this reference), there is only one person to blame for this and it's the batshit crazy Korean that pulled the trigger. Crazy guns do NOT kill people, crazy people do.

The second amendment provides us the right to bear arms. ALL of us, which includes the crazy ones. Despite the efforts of the drive-by-media and the dimmowits to make this about gun control, it will never happen. Will things like this happen again? Of course. It always does. The world is wrought with crazy ass motherfuckers. Always has been. Seems to me that maybe we're looking under the wrong rock for the solution. But of course, I just ordered a bunch of stuff from Cabela's, so what do I know. But PLEASE, don't drag this shit on for the next four weeks. Maybe they can catch someone having sex with Anna Nicole's corpse. That might do it.

I'M Not Much On Science...

...but this sounds about right.

The recent hurricanes and skyrocketing oil and gasoline prices helped to prove the existence of a new element. In early October 2006, a research institution announced discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science.

The new element has been named "Governmentium."

Governmentium (Gv) has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called 'morons' which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called 'peons.' Since Gv has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Gv causes one reaction to take over four days to complete, when it would normally take less than a second!

Gv has a normal half-life of 4 years; it does not decay; but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming 'isodopes.' This characteristic of moron promotion leads most scientists to believe that Gv is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as 'Critical Morass.'

When catalyzed with money, Gv becomes "Administratium' (Am) - an element which radiates just as much energy as Gv, since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

So What The Hell Does One Do...

...when you start bleeding out of every orifice of your body.

Well, you watch your first episode of Dancing With The Stars. Me thinks I'll go back to crises control. I'll give myself an 8.

Anyone In The Dental Profession...

...out there? Have you ever gotten one of those little white things that just suddenly show up on your tongue?

Damned if those bastards don't hurt. Anyone know what causes them and how to get rid of them?

It Always Befuckles My Ass...

...when things like the slaughter at Virginia Tech surprises us. It's almost common place now, in one way or another.

Any school campus is an easy target, but particularly colleges. Open air, open dorms and the like. I love the bullshit they pass on that they had an emergency action plan. What the fuck good is that when the shooter has already commenced with his rampage?

The thing I'm convinced of is that we have some serious mental health issues in this country that we are failing to address. Kids, and yes, I mean kids in college, aren't supposed to go blowing the hell out of one another. It's supposed to be a time of investigation, learning, self-improvement and enlightenment. I'm pretty sure Aquinas didn't wield his quill in an effort to puncture the hearts of his classmates.

This type of thing alarms me not only as a parent, because I have two college-aged children, but as a human being. What the hell has happened to our society? My guess is parenting. We suck at it, and if parents suck at it, then their progeny will suck at being people. And then they do shit like this, because their parents never gave them a hug or showed any attention to them, or they put vinegar in their oatmeal or for the most part conveyed the fact that it would really be easier if the kid just let the parent live their life and somehow develop skills at the age of ten to take care of themselves.

Am I surprised by this? Not at all. Will it happen again? Yeppers. They speculate that the shooter was pretty good with small arms, but it doesn't take much to fire a 9mm into a room full of people. That's chickenshit in my book, but his backup was a .22 caliber. Puzzled by that one as well. Neither takes much as far as marksmanship. Point and shoot. Something will get in your way.

We send our kids off to get educated, have a good time, drink some beer, wear some togas and come home with a diploma before they go off to enter the "adult world". Problem is they are still children. The adult brain doesn't mature until it's 25, so we are sorely lacking in this regard.

Ah well, who gives a shit. Nothing will change. Life goes on. People die. It's the way the world stays in balance. We can't all live for a long time. It would get crowded. Some people have to give up the ghost to keep the balance.

The Babster Poses...

...a very interesting question. Although she is a cunning smart ass, she does pose a question for which unfortunately I have no answer.

I have used that phrase many times in my life, under all sorts of circumstances, amongst both races. It never got my ass in trouble. I seriously doubt I would use it now, but then again, I don't talk to anyone. But it leads me to wonder just how long our Caucasian race is going to have to pander to the likes of Sharpton and Jackson just so we don't offend the entire black race. If Babs got into that trouble back then, I can't imagine what it would be like today. I usually don't like to mince my words and walk on eggshells, but the times, they are a changing. For the worst, I fear. I blame Oprah. Black assed bitch.

Just For Shits...

...and giggles. Click to engorge.

Someone, Please...

give this women the tainted wheat gluten.

Given The Fact That I Don't Give A Shit...

...but nonetheless realizing that some do.

I haven't kept up with Dancing With The Stars, because it's inane and stupid. But if she has the stones to do it, rock on. I hope she wins. Those are some tits to die for. Paul, what the hell were you thinking?

For Every Action...

...there is an equal and opposite reaction. Ain't it so.

One of my heroes in my youth was Arthur Ashe. He seemed to be down with us whiteys. He didn't exploit the fact that he was black, he didn't raise social issues, initially. And he was low key. At the beginning. Then he turned somewhat radical, in the sense that he grew an afro, spoke out about apartheid and took up black causes. I was all for it. He was a good spokesman for the black community and an advocate for the plights that affected them.

But some black leaders at the time were calling him a disgrace to the race because he wouldn't spew venom about how the "whiteys" were keeping the blacks down. That wasn't his style, which is why I admired him. He died way too young, and would have been a good catalyst for the recent uproar about Imus. He wouldn't have tolerated the lynching that Sharpton and Jackson instigated.

I also had a black roommate when I was in college. Never bothered my ass. We'd go out and have a few beers, stay up late and talk about shit. Of course, he was frustrated by the perceptions people had of him, but we'd go workout, or run, and I tried to convince him that one day it would change.

I have no idea where he is today, but I am ashamed tonight to admit that I am now a racist. All because of people like Sharpton. The way the whole Imus thing went down, the way people abandoned him, the way people like Harold Ford scooted when times were tough. It sickens me.

So what does this have to do with handicapped parking, you might ask? I went to deposit my check after work tonight at my bank, which is in a Harris Teeter, and there is one handicapped parking space in the whole lot, which encompasses many shops. Out steps an apparently agile women, no gimp, no limp, no missing appendages and not a care in the world as she struck up a conversation with someone. And it was at that point in time that I came to despise black people. They think just because they're black that they can do as they please. This thing has to work both ways. She came into the bank where I was depositing my meager sums and I asked her why she parked in the handicapped spot since she didn't seem to have a problem. She said it was her mother's car. I wanted to axe her why she didn't walk her fat black ass a few hundred feet.

Nuff said...

Works For Me...

...and other gun owners, I would imagine.

I Call Bullshit...

...on a few things tonight.

• MSNBC announced a few minutes ago that they are dropping their simulcast of the Imus program. I'm sure the radio program isn't far behind. All because of some "nappy-headed ho's" comment he made. Face it folks, this country is going down the tubes. Twenty years from now you won't even recognize where you are living. This liberal, whiny ass shit will have men wearing thongs and shaving their legs and underarms, and women, well, they'll have a hard time finding the "bad men" they so sorely look for. I feel sorry for him, if only because he was reduced to groveling for his job. Wasn't very becoming. My guess is he didn't really feel that way, but what the hell. He has more money than God. But I bet that sexy young wife will tire of him when the spotlight fades. Shit happens. All the time.
  
  
• Let me state this as succinctly as I can. This is my blog. If you don't like some of the stuff I put up here, get over it and don't read it. Don't even think about telling me you are disappointed in me because of something I've said or done, especially questioning my morals. I ain't out there fucking every bad boy that happens to suit my fancy. And don't feign friendship because I've happened to lend an ear in times of trouble. That stops now. Go find your bad boys and let their intellect meld with yours. Shouldn't take too long.
  
  
• The DOD today announced that they are extending the tours of duty for deployed forces in Iraq from 12 to 15 months. What's the DBM reporting. What a travesty it is and how it will affect morale and the like. Look, they signed up with the knowledge that, what, they'd be swimming laps? It is what it is. You made your bed. Pull up the covers.
  
  
• The AG of NC dismissed the sexual assault and kidnapping charges against the Duke Lacrosse players, which should have been done about two hours after the initial investigation. Again, another instance of self-promotion on the part of a white person on behalf of blacks, and the blacks activists calling foul on everything. I hope they sue the bejesus out of this Nifong buttwipe. He deserves it.
  
  
  

OK Folks, I Was Born In The Morning...

...but I wasn't born yesterday morning. I kinda have a handle on the way things work.

This Lily Munster looking asshole is going to moderate the meeting between Imus and the Rutgers women, whom during their press conference today were whining because the spotlight had been taken off their effort in the final game and somehow shifted to Imus' remarks, which denigrated them and their very heroic effort.

Let's get one thing straight. It was a basketball game, not life, as their coach so much wanted to make it about. And I can goddamn guarantee you that those woman talk the same way when they are living their "lives" as Imus did when he was trying to be funny. We just never hear it. And quit this bullshit of proselytizing your views of the world. You finished second and nobody likes losers. You lost. Get over it.

Now this Rev. is going to "moderate" the meeting. Moderate? Hell, the dumb fucker said that we can't live in a civilized world unless we have moral consensus and defend these poor woman. HUH? When the hell have we ever had a moral consensus at anytime? That's why these liberal little chickenshits just infuriate my ass.

We have lost our ability to laugh at ourselves and others. And when did we become so thin skinned? The Imus show lost two huge sponsors today; Staples and Bigelow Tea. The latter is enormous because they have been with him forever. I expect more of this as the corporate bigwigs cow tow to the pressure from shareholders and the like. Imus doesn't have to work, but MANY organizations rely on his ability to raise money for their pet projects, most of which are extremely worthwhile and help millions of people. It will be interesting to see what happens when they lose this gravy train. Know why they kept him on until Monday. They have a fund raiser coming up Thursday and Friday, which they have every year, and which raises millions. Did he ask to remain to finish it out? He claims not. I believe him. Because WFAN and its sponsors would lose millions if they kicked him off beforehand. If that isn't a double standard I don't know what is. It will be interesting to see what happens if he leaves the air and they can no longer use his ability to stuff their coffers.

I Will Comment On This Stupid Lynching...

...only because I happen to think it is just that, a lynching.

Before 1997 I had never heard of the Imus In The Morning show. For those of you unfamiliar, it's a radio program that is simulcast on MSNBC. I've been hooked ever since. I've watched it first thing in the morning for the past ten years. It's sophomoric and irreverent, but at the same time politicians love to appear on it as do the drive-by-media.

His comment about the Rutger's women's basketball team being some "nappy headed ho's" isn't any more offensive, if even less so, than the stuff rappers spew on their songs, but you never hear any outrage about that. People like Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson like to go for the big fish so they can stay in the spotlight. Was it a stupid comment? Of course so. Was it delivered in malice? I don't think so.

This guy has raised more money for more charities than most could. I have contributed to his ranch for kids with cancer. As of tonight he has been suspended for two weeks, starting Monday. This will change the whole dynamics of his program, which will result in a dwindling of those that want to appear, because of the fallout. In essence, it will be the death of the program. MSNBC will drop it because they need to stay away from the controversy and WFAN is a sports station, so they it's hard to say what they will do. He brings in a lot of revenue for them. He might as well sell the apartment in Manhattan and the house in Connecticut, move to the ranch full time and help the kids.

We have become such a psychologically pussified people that one can't even sneeze without being accused of spreading a deadly virus. I didn't always agree with what he said or what he did, but I didn't have to. I could have changed the channel. It was my choice to watch. I hope he hangs in there, but if it were me, I'd pack it in and head west. Who needs the shit he's gotten over the past few days.

Knock, Knock, Knockin'...

...on heaven's door.

Sorry, we're busy here. Always so very busy. We can't accommodate you at this time. Of course, if we need you, we expect an immediate response. Pronto. And a solution, if necessary. You need us, fuck you. We'll get to you in due course.

It is, when it's said and done, all about ME, isn't it? I mean, I am the most important thing in the world, no? Your needs are necessarily subservient to mine. I will get around to you when I can, if ever.

Happy Good Friday...

On Friday, He Was Crucified, Died And Was Buried...

...and on the third day he rose again from the dead.

This is the kinda shit that used to get my tit in a ringer when I was at the monastery. Especially when we were at the UnStable slopping beer and discussing what now seems like totally esoteric bullshit.

One year I was unable to go home for the holiday, so I stayed on the boat, so to speak. Weren't many of us there. And there wasn't much to do. As a matter of fact, I just looked at and read playboy's all weekend. Yeah, yeah, I should have been reading the bible and doing the stations of the cross, but their were titties to be looked at. At midday I went down to the local pub, one of my of favorite places, appropriately named "Mom's", because it was like home, for me anyways. I sat there and drank with the locals, with whom I had a relationship, having helped them in their silos and such, and just shot the shit.

Of course, as lore has it, the baby Jesus was crucified at 12 PM and died at 3 PM, so I felt compelled to go participate in the mourning prayers. Which I did. Had to piss like a race horse halfway through, but I sang the psalms and lit my candle and when all was said and done, the baby Jesus was still dead and I could go piss. Nowadays, I have to pee every five minutes. Karma sucks.

That night, those of us left behind had unlimited access to the UnStable, as well as those that had come for the weekend resurrection festivities. Now, you have to remember I am not a talkative person when I'm around a group of people. But we were at the table I helped build, and some people were talking about the holy day. Seeing that I still had a buzz from my escapades earlier in the day, I was getting somewhat agitated by a particular woman that had joined us saying how special the three days were.

Keep in mind this is Good Friday. The baby Jesus had just died (figuratively, of course) and was entombed in some mountain. The table was made to seat eight, but we were trying to squeeze 12 into the mix because we should be feeling grief and such.

She was a fairly attractive woman, probably a frigid woman whom would have taken my 9 inches willingly, but she wasn't prepared for my onslaught. I asked her why Easter wasn't celebrated on Monday. She looked at me somewhat quizzically and asked what I meant. I asked her what day it was. She responded Friday. I asked her what time it was. She responded 10:45PM. Next question; "What time did Jesus die?" Her answer; 3:00 PM.

Hooked. So I asked her how was it that the baby Jesus died at 3 and the bible tells us he rose on the third day, which would make it Monday.("And on the third day he rose again from the dead") That would be Monday, no? Of course the dean of student affairs and Fr. Killian just looked at me with that little twinkle that said let if go. She can't understand that it's an allegory and metaphor. I think her husband got pissed off because he quit buying the beer. She did unbutton one of the buttons on here blouse, but I think that was for Jorge playing "Oye Como Va" on the stage.

Good thing about all of that experience? I slept well that night and didn't get my ass reemed the next day.

A Doctor was addressing a large audience in Vancouver. "The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here. Years ago. Red meat is awful. Soft drinks corrode your stomach lining. Chinese food is loaded with MSG. High fat diets can be disastrous, and none of us realizes the long-term harm caused by the germs in our drinking water. But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all. And we all have, or will, eat it. Can anyone here tell me what food it is that causes the most grief and suffering for years after eating it?" After several seconds of quiet, a 75-year-old man in the front row raised his hand, and softly said, "Wedding Cake."

I Just Heard A Rather Odd Fact On The News...

...that involved a coyote in a Quizno's sub shop in Chicago.

I have no experience with a coyote. This gentleman does, however. He doesn't have links to his most recent posts, so you'll have to hunt for it, but trust me, hee used to shoot them. I hope they didn't look like the one in the pic. That would have been a terrible waste of coyote meat, seems to me.

Nevertheless, I found it somewhat comical that a beast as fierce as a coyote would wind up in Chicago. Where the hell would they come from? And the authorities suspected it walked in the door as it was propped open. Doesn't one notice a coyote walking down the streets of Chicago, I ask? And why Quizno's and not Subway. Picky, picky coyote.

I've never seen a coyote because I've never been west of the, well, the county line. I've known some women that exhibit the same behavior, so that's all I have to go on. They found the one in Chicago huddled in the drink cooler. Perhaps thirsty from its trek through the throngs of deviants, longing for a Corona and whetting its appetite for a slab of garlic beef. I suspect the one's I've known would have been huddled over me with a butcher knife and my balls in their hands, but that's just me being Marlin Perkins...

There Are Some People That Just Confound My Ass...

...with the aires they put on under the guise of helping or enlightening people.

Any observant person would recognize right out of the box that they do so only for their own gratification and for the attention it will give them. But in my stupid book it's about as useful as digging in the garden with just the shovel handle. Useful for some things, but not the issue at hand. I'd rather they go out and buy me the square head I need for the shovel rather than showing me a better way dig in the dirt with a fucking piece of wood.

Of course, this might be overkill when I want my butt wiped...

Just Had A Call From The Eldest ...

...and he has taken up one of my psychological passions when I was his age. Running.

Of course he weights about 50 pounds more than I did in my prime, but it shouldn't matter. It will be harder on his knees, but did you know that when you run you develop new capillaries that run from your heart and can protect you from a heart attack?

Enough of that. I took up running to try and protect myself from leaving the comforts of college. Easy life, no real responsibilities. But you throw in the reality shit and my mind just shit the bed. I would cut classes to get the 10 miles in then go study and then go slop beer for three hours. I'd end up pissing in all sorts of places and not even know I was doing it. My psyche was fractured.

I continued running at an even greater pace when I graduated, and got up to 20 miles. I would set out at 4 in the morning and transverse my way around the city. I'd cough up shit during the run that should have been designated as toxic waste. But on I went. Everyone said how well I looked and the like. And I felt good. But I knew there was some underlying unpleasantly going on. And the author of the book dropped dead.

Once I got married I sporadically kept up the running, just because it helped deal with the stress of being married to someone that didn't really love you.

I ran three miles two years ago. Not sure I could do it today. Point? I have none. End of post.

I Don't Get Excited About Much Of Anything Any Longer...

...a call or visit from the kids will do it, an IRS refund and perhaps an exposed nipple.

But it is Masters week, and though I don't get "excited" about it, I do look forward to it. If you saw Tiger's chip on the 16th in '05 and didn't get some giddy up going, then there's something wrong with you. If Tiger isn't in the hunt on the weekend then I'll go back to reading the Dead Sea Scrolls and stalking Easter Bunnies that have been left vulnerable. Animals, remember?

I won't watch either of the NCAA B-Ball finals this week. I'm always in bed by then. And I don't have the constitution but for so much excitement in one week. Ya never know when there's a nipple lurking out your window. I have to save my strength.

From The Annals...

...of Bane.

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are very passionate and quite temperamental. While you can be moody, you always crave comfort. You are a very grounded, responsible, and realistic person. People may not want to hear the truth from you, but they're going to get it. You believe that people see you as larger than life and important. While this is true, they also think you're a bit full of yourself. Your near future is calm, relaxing, and pretty much what you want. And it's something you've been anticipating for a while now. For you, falling in love is all about flirting and feeling playful. You couldn't fall in love with someone who took life too seriously.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

Huh??

A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.

A cat's urine glows under a blacklight.

A cockroach will live nine days without it's head, before it starves to death.

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.

A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.

A dragonfly has a lifespan of 24 hours.

A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds.

A pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes.

A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.

Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer.

All 50 states are listed across the top of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the $5 bill.

All of the clocks in the movie "Pulp Fiction" are stuck on 4:20.

Almonds are a member of the peach family.

Americans on the average eat 18 acres of pizza every day.

Amount American Airlines saved in 1987 by eliminating one olive from each salad served in first class: $40,000.

An ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain.

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour

Chances of a white Christmas in New York: 1 in 4.

Chances that an American lives within 50 miles of where they grew up: 1 in 2.

City with the most Rolls Royce's per capita: Hong Kong.

Coca-cola was originally green.

Did you know that you are more likely to be killed by a champagne cork than by a poisonous spider?

Dreamt is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt."

Elephants are the only animals that can't jump. (thankfully)

Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than for the US Treasury.

Every time you lick a stamp, you're consuming 1/10 of a calorie.

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.

If you fart consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days, you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.

In England, the Speaker of the House is not allowed to speak.

In ancient Egypt, Priests plucked EVERY hair from their bodies, including their eyebrows and eyelashes.

In most advertisements, including newspapers, the time displayed on a watch is 10:10.

It's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. (DON'T try this @ home!)

I Could Be Specific...

...about two people I happen to care very much about. For various reasons. They may seem puzzled as to why I do, but that's for another post.

They have both been hit this week with things that they shouldn't have to deal with, because in my heart of hearts, I know they don't deserve it. Do I play any part in either of them? Nope.

Do they bring said things upon themselves? Not for me to say. My intellect tells me no. It's more about control and how people use it to manipulate others. We are all suspect to the manipulation of others. It's the way of the world. Some may say it's more of a man-woman thing, but it works both ways. Why it happens befuckles my ass. I just like to offer my ear when they need to talk.

I have done so this weekend and will always continue to do so. Because I care, in a roundabout way. Life isn't about "ME". Or it shouldn't be. So B and B, if you need an ear, you always have mine.

We All Have Issues...

...which we deal with as best we can.

I've never shit in someone's kitchen. I'm not sure how one even conceives of doing that. I've had some bad meals that made me think I needed to, but I thought better of it. It would have been rude and uncouth, doesn't one think?

I once made out with my Dad's secretary in their kitchen at the company Christmas party. She was drunk and needed some loving. Her husband was even more inebriated and walked in to get a refill and walked right past us. Never said a word. She had some huge titties. I put vanilla on her nipples. Well, it was right there in the cupboard. What's one to do?

The ex and the boys came up one weekend for a family wedding. Their family, not mine. Her twin sister threw up all over my kitchen wall two minutes after see walked in the apartment. That was back when she was drinking 24/7. She never offered to clean it up. Just kept on drinking and went out on the porch to admire the lake. Nor did her husband. I have a pretty strong constitution, so cleaning it up wasn't an issue. Just glad she didn't shit.

And you thought kitchens were just for cooking.

Since I Apparently Have Some Major...

...character flaw that prevents me from attracting someone of the opposite sex, I've put my mind into high gear looking for alternatives.

Obviously, farm animals would be high on the list. But I don't really find sheep all that attractive. They are supposed to be the most similar to the female anatomy, but it's been so long for me that I'm not sure I'd recognize it when I saw it. The important part, not the sheep. I know a sheep when I see one. Maybe I could just use one of my wool sweaters. There's an idea.

I've given serious consideration to one of these. They are a bit pricey, however. I've never paid for sex, outrightly anyways. We all have to some extent or another. But the options seem good. She wouldn't ever tell me to slow down, ask me is that all there is, wonder why I passed out or various and sundry other things. And I could stuff her in the closet when I was finished.

Then there's always the fruit route. I think of this as my best option, but it would be seasonal. Melons are hard to come by in the winter. I could go with broccoli or cauliflower, and maybe some cheese sauce. There might be a Food Network series in this whole idea.

Ahhh, well, back to what I do best.