In the news today, they declared Barack Obama the likely Democratic nominee to face John McCain in November. This is very disturbing! Most of the people who say that they are voting for Senator Obama do not know the REAL Obama, rather, they are jumping on the bandwagon and are simply voting for the man simply because it’s “cool” right now.
If you knew the REAL BARACK OBAMA, you’d be worried. VERY WORRIED!
Mr. Obama has been a “Junior” Senator for four years, not a “Senior” Senator. Do you know what that means? He’s been held back FOUR TIMES. Do we want an underachieving president?
Senator Obama has said outright that he opposes the Iraq war. Do we really want a president that opposes war? Most countries fear us because if they were to get on our bad side, we’d spend every last dollar we had, then borrow more dollars, to declare war on them! That’s our thing! We’ll declare on anyone or anything! (Iraq, illiteracy, drugs, Afghanistan, etc.) But high and mighty Mr. Obama wants to take that away from us.
John McCain admitted to having a fascination with mystery novels. His favorites? The Hardy Boys. Obama also declared his love of mystery novels. His favorites? Sherlock Holmes. Just so you know, the Hardy Boys are from mid-western America. Sherlock Holmes? He is from Great Britian. NOT THE USA!
Did you know that Mr. Obama is black? I checked and it turns out HE IS! He doesn’t like to share this little nugget of information with the public. And it doesn’t end there. His wife? She’s black, too! How dare he?
In the Muslim playbook it says, “The Quran shall lead us over the infidels, with their loud clothes and brash style, with the help of a dark man of eloquence.” Infidels. That’s what the Muslims call us. Did you know that Barack Obama’s favorite band is Dashboard Confessional? Did you know that, arguably, their biggest hit was “Screaming Infidelities?” At first listen you might think that the song is just about a chick cheating on this dude, but after really pondering the lyrics you realize that the song is about Americans and how stupid they are. Shame on you, Barack Obama!
And if the Quran isn’t your thing, what about the Holy Bible? It says in Revelations, section 9, verse 12, “Behold, a dark man shall rise from the masses and lead the people. Be not fooled as he will totally make sense; then he’ll bring death and destruction.”
Did you know that in addition to not saluting the flag, Mr. Obama also leaves the toilet seat up? (this one should inspire ire, ladies!) He also has been known to leave the cap off the toothpaste, he rarely uses his turn signals and his headline on his MySpace page reads: “Muslims do it better.”
Did you know that Senator Obama’s last name rhymes with Osama bin Laden’s first name? It may seem like just a coincidence until you realize that our current President Bush’s name, “Bush” rhymes with “Tush,” a popular classic rock song from the 70’s by ZZ Top. ZZ Top is from Texas. President Bush also hails from Texas. There is no such thing as coincidences. Therefore Barack Obama is going to lead us into death and destruction because, as you can see, his name rhymes with someone else’s.
John McCain has said he’d be fine with having troops in Iraq for 100 years. Mr. Obama has advocated bringing the troops home to their families. They’re “troops.” That what they do! Under Obama? Unemployed. Under McCain? Job security for at least 100 years.
A recent poll showed that gas prices of the US are paramount on most voters’ minds. If you know anything about money matters, the reason gas prices are so high is because of simple “supply and demand.” It’s elementary school economics. Sure, the “demand” really kicked in when we invaded Iraq to oust Saddam Hussein (Barack’s middle name, by the way) even though Iraq didn’t really attack us, but still, they had an evil dictator, and then Americans started to really demand gas when the war began (a war which Obama was publicly against), and since 9/11 we’ve seen that we need to do ANYTHING to protect ourselves, and then… then… I forgot what my point was... Oh! The point is that Barack Obama will lead into death and destruction.
“Hope in the face of difficulty, hope in the face of uncertainty, the audacity of hope: In the end, that is God's greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation, a belief in things not seen, a belief that there are better days ahead.” – Barack Obama
Okay, THAT made sense, but the rest of what he has to say? Lies, slanders and half-truths!
Forward this to everyone you know and let them know who Barack Obama REALLY is. Also make sure they know he’s black. That might sway them.
BUT FORWARD THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW!!!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I'm Having a Hard Time Sleeping
I’m Having a Hard Time Sleeping. It's no secret that I have a hard time sleeping. I just can’t get it down right. You lie down, get under the covers and… then what? I don’t know. I screw it up somehow and I get zero sleep. I just can’t get a good night's rest. What I did notice is the odd things I think about while attempting to get slumber. Then I think How in the hell did I get on this topic of thought? Then I trace back from what I was thinking at first up to what I'm thinking now and I slowly trace it back. How does this happen? I sat down and figured it out. Here's how I started:
You know what pisses me off about George Clinton & the Parliament Funkadelic? They "want the funk" but they aren’t prepared to “earn it.” I guess they just want it handed to them. I wonder if they ask for "funk" in their prayers?
Prayers.
If you could e-mail prayers instead of just saying them silently, it may be a better system. Within 24 hours, you'd know the status of your prayer. If something happened or more likely, didn't happen, and you wondered why your prayer wasn’t answered? You'd receive this:
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification:
THIS IS A WARNING MESSAGE ONLY.
YOU DO NOT NEED TO RESEND YOUR PRAYER.
Delivery to the following recipients could not be reached/has been refused: prayer-wish-hope@god.org. How hard is that? It's a good system I think. Of course you can’t pray for girls you’d like to bed. For that you have to eliminate God and implement Barry White to ensure success.
Barry White.
Who does Barry White listen to when trying to get laid? Probably Sinatra. Or Clay Aiken. Or David Archuleta. I hate these new singers.
Kevin Federline.
I can’t wait for the new Kevin Federline CD. It's going to be good. I imagine it'll be the "Abbey Road" of 2009. If someone’s feeling down, if there’s a great beach party or if someone is having a bad trip and needs to be talked down, put on some Federline, yo. And let the healing begin. Then he can disappear like all of the other Hollywood people you used to see all of the time but don't now, like John Goodman.
John Goodman.
I haven't seen John Goodman in two years. If he hasn't lost weight or shaved the beard, I'll bet he looks like a mountain man.
Mountain men.
I'll bet if you're a mountain man and you wear a coon-skin cap and full buckskins and live in a cabin in the forest you probably don't give a fuck about the Oscars. Or Christmas. But who doesn’t love Christmas?
The Jehovah's Witnesses.
I wonder if they ever have a hostile witness in the Jehovah's Witnesses? And is there a Jehovah's Witness relocation program? I'd hide them in the South. No one looks there.
The South.
A lot of Skynyrd fans claim that the "South Will Rise Again." They even have posters and license plates that say so. So far? I haven't heard boo. What are they waiting for? Now is the time! But I wonder, when they do rise again what will they do when they rise? Take over? They can't. They're not smart. Why do you think they lost the Civil War? They didn't have inferior muskets; they had a lack of knowledge and common sense. I'll bet they even parked their wagons on the lawn. For their own good I think that if they should rise again, they should just nod and smile at everyone and perhaps wave. And then go back to being the Jerry Springer population that we're used to. No one wants change, except 50 Cent.
I can just feel that 50 Cent is gonna change his name to something else any day now. 50 Diddy, 50 Daddy, you know it'll be something stupid like that. Like Prince or symbol like © or something. You give these guys a few bucks and they turn into an asshole. Like Paris Hilton. Not Nikki Hilton, but Paris.
Paris Hilton.
What does she do exactly? She's like an Abbott and Costello routine:
"What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
"Really? What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
"I know, but why? What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
In a way, it makes me miss old girlfriends. They changed as well and turned into every negative stereotype about girls that you could ever imagine. But for a time, they weren’t famous, evil, negative, right, too young, too old or too busy. They were just there. For me. For a while. Then they changed their name to © and left me.
Me.
I hate myself more than the people that hate me. But I think that's from the lack of sleep. Normally, I'm an attractive individual. But not tonight.
I want the funk. I need the funk. I want the funk and I have absolutely no idea in hell of how to get it.
You know what pisses me off about George Clinton & the Parliament Funkadelic? They "want the funk" but they aren’t prepared to “earn it.” I guess they just want it handed to them. I wonder if they ask for "funk" in their prayers?
Prayers.
If you could e-mail prayers instead of just saying them silently, it may be a better system. Within 24 hours, you'd know the status of your prayer. If something happened or more likely, didn't happen, and you wondered why your prayer wasn’t answered? You'd receive this:
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification:
THIS IS A WARNING MESSAGE ONLY.
YOU DO NOT NEED TO RESEND YOUR PRAYER.
Delivery to the following recipients could not be reached/has been refused: prayer-wish-hope@god.org. How hard is that? It's a good system I think. Of course you can’t pray for girls you’d like to bed. For that you have to eliminate God and implement Barry White to ensure success.
Barry White.
Who does Barry White listen to when trying to get laid? Probably Sinatra. Or Clay Aiken. Or David Archuleta. I hate these new singers.
Kevin Federline.
I can’t wait for the new Kevin Federline CD. It's going to be good. I imagine it'll be the "Abbey Road" of 2009. If someone’s feeling down, if there’s a great beach party or if someone is having a bad trip and needs to be talked down, put on some Federline, yo. And let the healing begin. Then he can disappear like all of the other Hollywood people you used to see all of the time but don't now, like John Goodman.
John Goodman.
I haven't seen John Goodman in two years. If he hasn't lost weight or shaved the beard, I'll bet he looks like a mountain man.
Mountain men.
I'll bet if you're a mountain man and you wear a coon-skin cap and full buckskins and live in a cabin in the forest you probably don't give a fuck about the Oscars. Or Christmas. But who doesn’t love Christmas?
The Jehovah's Witnesses.
I wonder if they ever have a hostile witness in the Jehovah's Witnesses? And is there a Jehovah's Witness relocation program? I'd hide them in the South. No one looks there.
The South.
A lot of Skynyrd fans claim that the "South Will Rise Again." They even have posters and license plates that say so. So far? I haven't heard boo. What are they waiting for? Now is the time! But I wonder, when they do rise again what will they do when they rise? Take over? They can't. They're not smart. Why do you think they lost the Civil War? They didn't have inferior muskets; they had a lack of knowledge and common sense. I'll bet they even parked their wagons on the lawn. For their own good I think that if they should rise again, they should just nod and smile at everyone and perhaps wave. And then go back to being the Jerry Springer population that we're used to. No one wants change, except 50 Cent.
I can just feel that 50 Cent is gonna change his name to something else any day now. 50 Diddy, 50 Daddy, you know it'll be something stupid like that. Like Prince or symbol like © or something. You give these guys a few bucks and they turn into an asshole. Like Paris Hilton. Not Nikki Hilton, but Paris.
Paris Hilton.
What does she do exactly? She's like an Abbott and Costello routine:
"What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
"Really? What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
"I know, but why? What do you do?"
"I’m famous."
In a way, it makes me miss old girlfriends. They changed as well and turned into every negative stereotype about girls that you could ever imagine. But for a time, they weren’t famous, evil, negative, right, too young, too old or too busy. They were just there. For me. For a while. Then they changed their name to © and left me.
Me.
I hate myself more than the people that hate me. But I think that's from the lack of sleep. Normally, I'm an attractive individual. But not tonight.
I want the funk. I need the funk. I want the funk and I have absolutely no idea in hell of how to get it.
Phrases, Revisited
So I’m at a funeral the other day. This trixie goes up to the (new) widow and says, “I am so, so, sorry.” I caught up with her and asked her, “Why did YOU say ‘I’m sorry’? You didn’t kill the guy. It was just auto-erotic asphyxiation gone bad.”
She just looked at me and said blankly, “It’s just something you say at funerals.” Just something you say. Man, these phrases nowadays are too commonplace. Some of them just don’t make sense.
Like when someone says, “Here, let me show you a little trick…” Usually, they don’t show you a trick; they just show you how THEY perform the task or duties. A trick? They pretend to be Lance Burton but usually, just come off as an asshole.
Lost and Found. If you lose your cell phone, you go back to Red Robin and ask if they have a cell phone in their Lost and Found. Why is it a “lost and found”? If you went to the Lost and Found and asked to see an item you lost, it won’t be there. You lost it. Rather, you’re hoping that someone, perhaps more sober than you were, found it. It should just be called a “Found.” You don’t turn in things that you lost.
Have you noticed that (especially dramatic) girls will always announce their premise by saying, “Well, it’s official!”? Like they might say, “Well, it’s official! I now have more damage and loose ends than New Orleans!” No. It might be unfortunate. It might be unlucky. It might be ironic. But it’s not “official.” Not even close.
Ever have that friend, usually and asshole, who says, “That’s what I’M talkin’ about”? Most likely they weren’t talking about anything; they just want to somehow take credit for a fortunate occurrence that happened apropos of nothing. (A footnote to these types of people: they will also tell you that “that’s how they roll.” A fun thing to do when this occurs is to ask them to be more specific. ‘How one rolls’ can be a rather difficult subject to articulate. Especially for Utahns.)
I hate phrases. But every citizen, it seems, just kind of goes along with them like they understand them. Did you know that Super Delegates do not, in fact, wear capes and fight crime? What makes them “super?” Did you know that “waylaid” means “to lie in wait for or attack from ambush”? Man, was my face red when I found this out! I thought it was just a dude who got a whole bunch of action from some trixie(s).
Maybe it’s me? The National Enquirer always says that Britney Spears or Paris Hilton was spotted “canoodling” with some random guy. Okay, I’ve done it in every position possible. Really. And I yell out each one like a good aerobics instructor, but I could not, with 100% certainty say that I have “canoodled.” I’m even embarrassed to ask…
America is getting worser and worser and people are accepting it! Like mosquitoes? Why can’t we just kill mosquitoes… for good? We get them down, almost gone, and then we let up on them like George Bush, Sr. did with Iraq in ‘91. Doesn’t make sense. No one wants mosquitoes, especially me.
But I digress. I have to stop using phrases that don't make sense. I just like certain phrases that have that certain je ne sais quoi. But that's just me. Speaking of me, I think I’ll have one more scotch and then go to bed. That’s how I roll. I’m just saying…
She just looked at me and said blankly, “It’s just something you say at funerals.” Just something you say. Man, these phrases nowadays are too commonplace. Some of them just don’t make sense.
Like when someone says, “Here, let me show you a little trick…” Usually, they don’t show you a trick; they just show you how THEY perform the task or duties. A trick? They pretend to be Lance Burton but usually, just come off as an asshole.
Lost and Found. If you lose your cell phone, you go back to Red Robin and ask if they have a cell phone in their Lost and Found. Why is it a “lost and found”? If you went to the Lost and Found and asked to see an item you lost, it won’t be there. You lost it. Rather, you’re hoping that someone, perhaps more sober than you were, found it. It should just be called a “Found.” You don’t turn in things that you lost.
Have you noticed that (especially dramatic) girls will always announce their premise by saying, “Well, it’s official!”? Like they might say, “Well, it’s official! I now have more damage and loose ends than New Orleans!” No. It might be unfortunate. It might be unlucky. It might be ironic. But it’s not “official.” Not even close.
Ever have that friend, usually and asshole, who says, “That’s what I’M talkin’ about”? Most likely they weren’t talking about anything; they just want to somehow take credit for a fortunate occurrence that happened apropos of nothing. (A footnote to these types of people: they will also tell you that “that’s how they roll.” A fun thing to do when this occurs is to ask them to be more specific. ‘How one rolls’ can be a rather difficult subject to articulate. Especially for Utahns.)
I hate phrases. But every citizen, it seems, just kind of goes along with them like they understand them. Did you know that Super Delegates do not, in fact, wear capes and fight crime? What makes them “super?” Did you know that “waylaid” means “to lie in wait for or attack from ambush”? Man, was my face red when I found this out! I thought it was just a dude who got a whole bunch of action from some trixie(s).
Maybe it’s me? The National Enquirer always says that Britney Spears or Paris Hilton was spotted “canoodling” with some random guy. Okay, I’ve done it in every position possible. Really. And I yell out each one like a good aerobics instructor, but I could not, with 100% certainty say that I have “canoodled.” I’m even embarrassed to ask…
America is getting worser and worser and people are accepting it! Like mosquitoes? Why can’t we just kill mosquitoes… for good? We get them down, almost gone, and then we let up on them like George Bush, Sr. did with Iraq in ‘91. Doesn’t make sense. No one wants mosquitoes, especially me.
But I digress. I have to stop using phrases that don't make sense. I just like certain phrases that have that certain je ne sais quoi. But that's just me. Speaking of me, I think I’ll have one more scotch and then go to bed. That’s how I roll. I’m just saying…
I Kinda Miss River Phoenix
No one's really died lately. Not that I look forward to things like that, I'm not morbid. But back in the day, that shit used to happen all the time. I was in college when River Phoenix died. He was pretty famous, I guess. I found him interesting in that he was a staunch vegetarian. He wouldn't get within 5 feet of a steak, but he'd do a gram of the horse you rode in on. Sometimes it was coke. Or heroin.
"What am I in the mood for... coke? Or heroin? Hmmm.... coke, heroin, coke, heroin... fuck it, I'll do both."
"You sure?"
"Fuck yeah, I'm sure."
"As long as you know what you're doing."
"Of course I know what I'm doing! I'm River Phoenix! Now hurry up with that shit. There's a killer band playing tonight at the Viper Room."
Then there was Kurt Cobain. I have pretty much every Nirvana CD, but I never got the whole “Kurt” thing. The guy hated press, hated corporate rock and hated promoting his art. What he didn’t hate was the 98% pure China White he was now able to afford thanks to press, the record companies and sold out arenas making him rich and famous. He got so mad at the world, he shot himself. Or more likely, Courtney shot him. But that's neither here nor there.
I remember one day I, myself, was kicking back doing a speedball of coke and heroin when it came on the news that Chris Farley died of a speedball of coke and heroin. Man, what a buzz kill! He was talented, I'll say that. But his death made me stop doing speedballs. You'd have thought I would have learned from River Phoenix but I just figured he couldn't handle it because all he ate was lettuce and Tofu. Now Chris Farley obviously ate a wide variety of food groups. So, I stopped. Those speedballs can kill ya!
That lead singer of Blind Melon? Aahh, I didn't really like them. But he died of an overdose. The most senseless part about his death? 10 years later they released Blind Melon's Greatest Hits. They only recorded 8 songs ever! And now they're going to sift through their catalog to find the best of the 8? Cripes.
You look at Jimi, Janis and Jim Morrison and yeah, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that were pretty much doomed. You knew that by the time their second album came out. You just knew these people were living on borrowed time.
Okay, so why do we still have Keith Richards, Iggy Pop and Ozzy Osbourne. Don't they know that they'd be so much cooler dead? Why aren't the cool people dying anymore? Doesn't make sense. Okay, Dimebag Darrell was shot on stage. That was kind of a surreal thing to happen, kinda cool, but really, the only people who were dramatically affected were the people who sell you pot and the kids that carve shit in their school desks.
There's no more Buddy Holly, John Lennon, Jim Croce, Bob Marley, Keith Moon, Brian Jones, Elvis or River Phoenix. What happened? Why has it stopped?
Where are all of the deranged gunmen who think the White Album was talking to them? I think we need to weed out a few pop icons to make way for a new breed. But who? Obviously not 50 Cent because he's already been shot a handful of times. We don't wanna fuck with his streak. Probably not Michael Jackson because I have a bet with my buddy Dave that he will look like Gollum within the next ten years. Not Brad Pitt because look at the genes! He and Angelina? Damn. Hell Hitler would be proud of their stock! But I digress.
I guess if we need to sacrifice someone to the Entertainment gods it should be someone...oohh, I don’t know... someone like:David Schwimmer (annoying), both Eglesiases (suave? I'll show ya suave!), Hasselhoff (we’re not German), Adam Corolla (sorry, Jimmy), Usher (one word song titles are annoying), P Diddy (anyone who changes their name more than once? Pretentious corksoaker), Prince (see P Diddy), David Caruso (is that really acting? Seriously? It is? Wow), Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas (I'll choose my own fucking cell provider, thank you very much), Andy Dick (he's had it coming since ‘98), D.L. Hughley (maybe political comedy is not your thing, you Marxist with dreads), Larry the Cable Guy (the worst thing to happen to white people since Michael Jackson), Jeff Foxworthy (you know how when you're in a barn makin’ it with your cousin from behind and someone walks in on you and you pretend you were givin’ the Heimlich? No, Jeff, I don’t, you inbred hillbilly), John Madden (quit telling me what happened with the drawings! Have the heart attack that everyone is expecting. John Candy is still in better health.), Tom Cruise (Katie was mine, you bastard! MINE!), Rene Zellwegger (I don't know. Just don't like her.), Jim Carrey (it's time), George W. Bush (the guy will just not admit failure. It's like Ike telling Tina that their marriage is solid as ever), Jay Leno (“well let me ask you this? Have you spent any time in the Sudan with someone you care about recently and had problems with the language?” “Wow, it’s funny that you mention the Sudan, Jay, because my boyfriend and I were just there recently and we couldn't understand a word they said and it was so funny because...” Jays interviews are about as spontaneous as Greta Garbo.), all members of KISS (hopefully the next time they all wear the makeup, it’s applied by a mortician.), and Anthony Hopkins (I don't know. Every character has a British accent? Even in Zorro? Not believing it.)
Well, that should get the ball rolling. There are plenty more who could and should be added to the list but, hey, it's Christmas. Christmas is always a melancholy time. And I have no money. And I really, really, miss River Phoenix.
"What am I in the mood for... coke? Or heroin? Hmmm.... coke, heroin, coke, heroin... fuck it, I'll do both."
"You sure?"
"Fuck yeah, I'm sure."
"As long as you know what you're doing."
"Of course I know what I'm doing! I'm River Phoenix! Now hurry up with that shit. There's a killer band playing tonight at the Viper Room."
Then there was Kurt Cobain. I have pretty much every Nirvana CD, but I never got the whole “Kurt” thing. The guy hated press, hated corporate rock and hated promoting his art. What he didn’t hate was the 98% pure China White he was now able to afford thanks to press, the record companies and sold out arenas making him rich and famous. He got so mad at the world, he shot himself. Or more likely, Courtney shot him. But that's neither here nor there.
I remember one day I, myself, was kicking back doing a speedball of coke and heroin when it came on the news that Chris Farley died of a speedball of coke and heroin. Man, what a buzz kill! He was talented, I'll say that. But his death made me stop doing speedballs. You'd have thought I would have learned from River Phoenix but I just figured he couldn't handle it because all he ate was lettuce and Tofu. Now Chris Farley obviously ate a wide variety of food groups. So, I stopped. Those speedballs can kill ya!
That lead singer of Blind Melon? Aahh, I didn't really like them. But he died of an overdose. The most senseless part about his death? 10 years later they released Blind Melon's Greatest Hits. They only recorded 8 songs ever! And now they're going to sift through their catalog to find the best of the 8? Cripes.
You look at Jimi, Janis and Jim Morrison and yeah, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that were pretty much doomed. You knew that by the time their second album came out. You just knew these people were living on borrowed time.
Okay, so why do we still have Keith Richards, Iggy Pop and Ozzy Osbourne. Don't they know that they'd be so much cooler dead? Why aren't the cool people dying anymore? Doesn't make sense. Okay, Dimebag Darrell was shot on stage. That was kind of a surreal thing to happen, kinda cool, but really, the only people who were dramatically affected were the people who sell you pot and the kids that carve shit in their school desks.
There's no more Buddy Holly, John Lennon, Jim Croce, Bob Marley, Keith Moon, Brian Jones, Elvis or River Phoenix. What happened? Why has it stopped?
Where are all of the deranged gunmen who think the White Album was talking to them? I think we need to weed out a few pop icons to make way for a new breed. But who? Obviously not 50 Cent because he's already been shot a handful of times. We don't wanna fuck with his streak. Probably not Michael Jackson because I have a bet with my buddy Dave that he will look like Gollum within the next ten years. Not Brad Pitt because look at the genes! He and Angelina? Damn. Hell Hitler would be proud of their stock! But I digress.
I guess if we need to sacrifice someone to the Entertainment gods it should be someone...oohh, I don’t know... someone like:David Schwimmer (annoying), both Eglesiases (suave? I'll show ya suave!), Hasselhoff (we’re not German), Adam Corolla (sorry, Jimmy), Usher (one word song titles are annoying), P Diddy (anyone who changes their name more than once? Pretentious corksoaker), Prince (see P Diddy), David Caruso (is that really acting? Seriously? It is? Wow), Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas (I'll choose my own fucking cell provider, thank you very much), Andy Dick (he's had it coming since ‘98), D.L. Hughley (maybe political comedy is not your thing, you Marxist with dreads), Larry the Cable Guy (the worst thing to happen to white people since Michael Jackson), Jeff Foxworthy (you know how when you're in a barn makin’ it with your cousin from behind and someone walks in on you and you pretend you were givin’ the Heimlich? No, Jeff, I don’t, you inbred hillbilly), John Madden (quit telling me what happened with the drawings! Have the heart attack that everyone is expecting. John Candy is still in better health.), Tom Cruise (Katie was mine, you bastard! MINE!), Rene Zellwegger (I don't know. Just don't like her.), Jim Carrey (it's time), George W. Bush (the guy will just not admit failure. It's like Ike telling Tina that their marriage is solid as ever), Jay Leno (“well let me ask you this? Have you spent any time in the Sudan with someone you care about recently and had problems with the language?” “Wow, it’s funny that you mention the Sudan, Jay, because my boyfriend and I were just there recently and we couldn't understand a word they said and it was so funny because...” Jays interviews are about as spontaneous as Greta Garbo.), all members of KISS (hopefully the next time they all wear the makeup, it’s applied by a mortician.), and Anthony Hopkins (I don't know. Every character has a British accent? Even in Zorro? Not believing it.)
Well, that should get the ball rolling. There are plenty more who could and should be added to the list but, hey, it's Christmas. Christmas is always a melancholy time. And I have no money. And I really, really, miss River Phoenix.
Not Jay Leno
First of all, this is kinda long now that I look at it. Feel free to delete it, especially if you’re at work. I would. But I keep getting this e-mail. I get this at least 2 times a month. Sometimes it’s written by George Carlin, sometimes some other comedian. This one is by “Jay Leno.” But I doubt it. Anyway, I don’t know whoever wrote this, their heart is in the right place, or I guess I hope it is, but it’s too cut and dry. For me. Is the United States the greatest country in the world? Potentially? Maybe. But just because you want your country to be better, does that make you un-American? God gave you a brain. What are you going to do with it?
Jay Leno (but probably not) wrote this: "The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true, given the source, right? The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President. In essence, 2/3's of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.So being the knuckle dragger I am, I started thinking, what are we so unhappy about? Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?"
Okay, so we have water and electricity and that therefore refutes any complaints we have about the direction of our country. “Our” country. Okay. Forget about the myriad of problems facing the U.S. because of utilities. Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? It could be the air conditioning but probably more so because of all-time high gas prices. I’d probably go with that over air conditioning.
"Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?"
So we’re better than Darfur so we should shut up about everything? Why don’t we just change our motto to “The USA: We’re better than Darfur.”
"Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state?"
Or, we could fly. That’s an option. I mean hell, with gas prices so high (but I’m not complaining) it’d most likely be the sensible transportation.
"Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter?"
Motels? Clean and safe? Then why do they even HAVE a safe? You mean I need to put my valuables in a safe? Are people dishonest? And those sheets? They look like a Rorschach tests.
"I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital."
Okay, you got me on this. I was extricated about a year ago and they did a good job. I’m alive. Except they cut my jacket off with an Exact-O knife. Ever heard of a zipper people? That jacket, not my personality, was responsible for my way with the ladies. But I digress…
"Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings."
Okay, 70% may own a home, but how many are going to have it next year because the economy is shite? More people have lost their home in the past year than those who voted for Kady Malloy on American Idol. And fire fighters do their job partly to save you, partly to try and get on that damn “hunk” calendar.
"Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss."
A policeman might lose his life or a burglar might lose his because of fancy electronics? Wow. The U.S. is kinda materialistic. But I won’t rush to judgment. I’ll wait til’ Christmas to see.
"This is all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers."
90% of teenagers pay their own cell phone and internet bill? Cool.
"How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world?"
So Mormon missionaries can deface a Catholic statue or a Catholic priest can have his way with you? That’s tolerance.
"Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy. Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S., yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. Themost blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have, and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here. I know, I know."
What about the President who took us into war and has no plan to get us out?
"The President who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same President who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The President that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled ungrateful brats safe from terrorist attacks?"
Are you kidding me? Guided the nation? Or more so he happened to be president when the worst attack on American soil happened? He also kicked ass in Katrina. Just ask everyone in New Orleans. And the president brought the economy out of recession? For what, 5 minutes? What is the deficit now, 4 Kazillion dollars? Ironically, he was called “every name in the book” from a book with passages he has to “sound out.” But, his good friends in Texas are doing quite well, fiscally, even though Americans die every day because a roadside bomb or something equally as devastating. I know Saddam was a bad guy but why trade 4,290 American lives for one Iraqi bad one? I hope it’s not for oil. I think our soldiers over there are incredible. Absolutely. And not just in Iraq. The ones all over the world. They do what is asked and they perform unbelievably. I could never do what they do. But when they get blindsided and die, I can do nothing but pray for them. And it’s frustrating.
"The Commander-In Chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me? Did you hear how bad the President is on the news or talk show? Did this news affect you so much, make you so unhappy you couldn't take a look around for yourself and see all the good things and be glad? Think about it... are you upset at the President because he actually caused you personal pain OR is it because the "Media" told you he was failing to kiss your sorry ungrateful behind every day?"
No, I am upset at the president because Americans die almost every day in Iraq, the economy is crap, people are losing their houses, and gas is headed to $4 a gallon. We are unsafe visiting a myriad of countries abroad, the deficit… I’m just glad I don’t have kids, they’d be faced with a *$^#@ of a bill! In the U.S., the dollar can buy you anything (and yes, I do mean anything), we’re daily losing the freedoms that we are so proud of but invade other countries to establish, our drinking water has more pharmaceuticals than David Crosby’s coffee, we’re tired, negative, hurt, we have little-to-no say in the goings-on of our country and we are hated by most of the places I’d love to visit.
"Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases may have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go."
They died for my freedom? So I wasn’t free before?
"Then why did they hate us? They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig. So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells, and when criticized, try to defend their actions by "justifying" them in one way or another. Just ask why they tried to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book about "how he didn't kill his wife, but if he did he would have done it this way"...Insane!"
So I guess America is great because of its democracy and principles. Like presuming O.J. is guilty even after being pronounced innocent by a jury of his peers. Democracy. This is why we’re proud, right? Isn’t democracy is what we’re all about? Do I think he did it? Hell, I don’t know! All I know is what the 1,205,875,003,203 people have told me about it. Apparently they do know. I do agree with the media being too invasive. Poor Britney can’t drop a deuce without there being photos in the Enquirer or Star. But the Enquirer or Star wouldn’t even exist without readers. Or lookers. People love bad news, especially celebrity bad news. Celebrities are famous. That’s so cool.
"Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.We are among the most blessed people on Earth and should thank God several times a day or at least be thankful and appreciative."
Yes, we should.
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"
Okay, this is dangerous ground here. Hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, and severe thunderstorms are all acts of God. I don’t think any of the “unhappy Americans” are unhappy with Him. No, I don’t think we should blame Him. I’m thinking Republicans, Democrats, cheating governors, oil companies, plain people who love money, who love gossip, love failure and people who don’t put their cart back in the return stall at the supermarket just because no one is watching. That and $3.50 for gas just burns my chaps! And yes, I have chaps. They’re really awesome chaps. I’m just saying…
Jay Leno (but probably not) wrote this: "The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true, given the source, right? The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President. In essence, 2/3's of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.So being the knuckle dragger I am, I started thinking, what are we so unhappy about? Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?"
Okay, so we have water and electricity and that therefore refutes any complaints we have about the direction of our country. “Our” country. Okay. Forget about the myriad of problems facing the U.S. because of utilities. Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter? It could be the air conditioning but probably more so because of all-time high gas prices. I’d probably go with that over air conditioning.
"Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job? Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?"
So we’re better than Darfur so we should shut up about everything? Why don’t we just change our motto to “The USA: We’re better than Darfur.”
"Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state?"
Or, we could fly. That’s an option. I mean hell, with gas prices so high (but I’m not complaining) it’d most likely be the sensible transportation.
"Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter?"
Motels? Clean and safe? Then why do they even HAVE a safe? You mean I need to put my valuables in a safe? Are people dishonest? And those sheets? They look like a Rorschach tests.
"I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital."
Okay, you got me on this. I was extricated about a year ago and they did a good job. I’m alive. Except they cut my jacket off with an Exact-O knife. Ever heard of a zipper people? That jacket, not my personality, was responsible for my way with the ladies. But I digress…
"Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings."
Okay, 70% may own a home, but how many are going to have it next year because the economy is shite? More people have lost their home in the past year than those who voted for Kady Malloy on American Idol. And fire fighters do their job partly to save you, partly to try and get on that damn “hunk” calendar.
"Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss."
A policeman might lose his life or a burglar might lose his because of fancy electronics? Wow. The U.S. is kinda materialistic. But I won’t rush to judgment. I’ll wait til’ Christmas to see.
"This is all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers."
90% of teenagers pay their own cell phone and internet bill? Cool.
"How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world?"
So Mormon missionaries can deface a Catholic statue or a Catholic priest can have his way with you? That’s tolerance.
"Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy. Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S., yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. Themost blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have, and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here. I know, I know."
What about the President who took us into war and has no plan to get us out?
"The President who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same President who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The President that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled ungrateful brats safe from terrorist attacks?"
Are you kidding me? Guided the nation? Or more so he happened to be president when the worst attack on American soil happened? He also kicked ass in Katrina. Just ask everyone in New Orleans. And the president brought the economy out of recession? For what, 5 minutes? What is the deficit now, 4 Kazillion dollars? Ironically, he was called “every name in the book” from a book with passages he has to “sound out.” But, his good friends in Texas are doing quite well, fiscally, even though Americans die every day because a roadside bomb or something equally as devastating. I know Saddam was a bad guy but why trade 4,290 American lives for one Iraqi bad one? I hope it’s not for oil. I think our soldiers over there are incredible. Absolutely. And not just in Iraq. The ones all over the world. They do what is asked and they perform unbelievably. I could never do what they do. But when they get blindsided and die, I can do nothing but pray for them. And it’s frustrating.
"The Commander-In Chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me? Did you hear how bad the President is on the news or talk show? Did this news affect you so much, make you so unhappy you couldn't take a look around for yourself and see all the good things and be glad? Think about it... are you upset at the President because he actually caused you personal pain OR is it because the "Media" told you he was failing to kiss your sorry ungrateful behind every day?"
No, I am upset at the president because Americans die almost every day in Iraq, the economy is crap, people are losing their houses, and gas is headed to $4 a gallon. We are unsafe visiting a myriad of countries abroad, the deficit… I’m just glad I don’t have kids, they’d be faced with a *$^#@ of a bill! In the U.S., the dollar can buy you anything (and yes, I do mean anything), we’re daily losing the freedoms that we are so proud of but invade other countries to establish, our drinking water has more pharmaceuticals than David Crosby’s coffee, we’re tired, negative, hurt, we have little-to-no say in the goings-on of our country and we are hated by most of the places I’d love to visit.
"Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases may have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go."
They died for my freedom? So I wasn’t free before?
"Then why did they hate us? They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig. So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells, and when criticized, try to defend their actions by "justifying" them in one way or another. Just ask why they tried to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book about "how he didn't kill his wife, but if he did he would have done it this way"...Insane!"
So I guess America is great because of its democracy and principles. Like presuming O.J. is guilty even after being pronounced innocent by a jury of his peers. Democracy. This is why we’re proud, right? Isn’t democracy is what we’re all about? Do I think he did it? Hell, I don’t know! All I know is what the 1,205,875,003,203 people have told me about it. Apparently they do know. I do agree with the media being too invasive. Poor Britney can’t drop a deuce without there being photos in the Enquirer or Star. But the Enquirer or Star wouldn’t even exist without readers. Or lookers. People love bad news, especially celebrity bad news. Celebrities are famous. That’s so cool.
"Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.We are among the most blessed people on Earth and should thank God several times a day or at least be thankful and appreciative."
Yes, we should.
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"
Okay, this is dangerous ground here. Hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, and severe thunderstorms are all acts of God. I don’t think any of the “unhappy Americans” are unhappy with Him. No, I don’t think we should blame Him. I’m thinking Republicans, Democrats, cheating governors, oil companies, plain people who love money, who love gossip, love failure and people who don’t put their cart back in the return stall at the supermarket just because no one is watching. That and $3.50 for gas just burns my chaps! And yes, I have chaps. They’re really awesome chaps. I’m just saying…
I Don't Know About Wells Fargo
I don’t know about my bank. Strange things afoot at Wells Fargo.
Okay, the candy: can they change the type every now and again? State Bank has a variety of hors d'oeuvres and foie gras for their customers. Zion’s bank features chili and beer in a can to remain “in touch” with their slack jawed yokel customers. But Well Fargo? That same damn candy. I Googled the candy and each piece contains 150 gm of fat, 728 calories and a pinch of evil.
Last time I was in there, I asked the girl why they don’t vary from that particular candy. Without batting an eye she said, “We hope all of our customers either lose their teeth and/or die.” Apparently if you pass, Wells Fargo just keeps your money and buys lunch for the staff on Fridays.
Strange things happening at Well Fargo. They open at 9 am. I showed up at 8:58 (so I’m overly punctual. Sue me) They were chanting and humming and had a makeshift pentagram on the ground made from magazines, sticky notes and deposit slips. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were chanting but I caught the words “Satan” “Oprah” and “William Shatner.”
And the e-mails! I used to get the typical ones, you know, “Start planning your retirement now” or “You’re two clicks away from financial freedom!” Now I get Fwd: FW: Hilary naked! Or Fwd: FW: Obama is gonna get us! (You know, the one where they remind you that his middle name is Saddam and his uncle works for al-Qaeda in the meat department).
And the tellers! You’ve seen Dukes of Hazzard, right? Jessica Simpson as Daisy? Yeah, these girls look more like Uncle Jesse. Or Cooter, maybe. That one loan officer used to babysit Strom Thurmond.
My friend Cade banks there. They called his wife to verify “mysterious charges” to the Dew Drop Inn off 89. Also, it appears that he bought a nightgown from Christensens in January and they just wanted to make sure it was, in fact, for his wife. Apparently, Wells Fargo is also into c@ck-blocking.
I don’t know. Maybe, as usual, I’m over-analyzing things. But they could change that damn candy. I’m just saying.
Okay, the candy: can they change the type every now and again? State Bank has a variety of hors d'oeuvres and foie gras for their customers. Zion’s bank features chili and beer in a can to remain “in touch” with their slack jawed yokel customers. But Well Fargo? That same damn candy. I Googled the candy and each piece contains 150 gm of fat, 728 calories and a pinch of evil.
Last time I was in there, I asked the girl why they don’t vary from that particular candy. Without batting an eye she said, “We hope all of our customers either lose their teeth and/or die.” Apparently if you pass, Wells Fargo just keeps your money and buys lunch for the staff on Fridays.
Strange things happening at Well Fargo. They open at 9 am. I showed up at 8:58 (so I’m overly punctual. Sue me) They were chanting and humming and had a makeshift pentagram on the ground made from magazines, sticky notes and deposit slips. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were chanting but I caught the words “Satan” “Oprah” and “William Shatner.”
And the e-mails! I used to get the typical ones, you know, “Start planning your retirement now” or “You’re two clicks away from financial freedom!” Now I get Fwd: FW: Hilary naked! Or Fwd: FW: Obama is gonna get us! (You know, the one where they remind you that his middle name is Saddam and his uncle works for al-Qaeda in the meat department).
And the tellers! You’ve seen Dukes of Hazzard, right? Jessica Simpson as Daisy? Yeah, these girls look more like Uncle Jesse. Or Cooter, maybe. That one loan officer used to babysit Strom Thurmond.
My friend Cade banks there. They called his wife to verify “mysterious charges” to the Dew Drop Inn off 89. Also, it appears that he bought a nightgown from Christensens in January and they just wanted to make sure it was, in fact, for his wife. Apparently, Wells Fargo is also into c@ck-blocking.
I don’t know. Maybe, as usual, I’m over-analyzing things. But they could change that damn candy. I’m just saying.
Really Interesting Facts
I just got an e-mail from a friend that had a whole bunch of unique "facts." I've actually got the e-mail a few times. Since it's in an e-mail, I guess all of these facts are true. It's written. But it made me wonder, what if I were to do this? You know, I know a lot of "stuff." Some people call it useless knowledge, some call it trivia. Whatever you call it, here are just some nuggets of my knowledge:
· Jennifer Lopez's proctologist could charge twice as much—but he doesn't. He's a good guy.
· 82% of men like to think of cool or funny personalized license plate ideas during sex.
· Al Qaeda turns down 10,000 applicants a year because of whom they voted for on American Idol.
· Most intellectual children are also afraid of the light.
· The Marines also discourage Private Displays of Affection.
· Most proctologists have expressed an interest in the ass from a very young age.
· 93% of males wished there was a Nintendo Wii game where you could hit a guy (preferably a friend) in the balls.
· Even Leonardo DiCaprio himself can't believe girls find him sexy.
· Al Gore still orders his Big Macs in the Styrofoam container.
· Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan are really, really smart.
· New York City takes a cat nap from time to time.
· J.R.R. Tolkien didn't write Lord of the Rings—he sent a text to this chick in New York, trying to impress her. She printed in out and had it published, introducing the world to Orlando Bloom.
· Almost all dogs are bad dogs.
· The 80's were just there as a joke.
· Mike Huckabee's grandfather was named Herschel Huckabstein.
· Most editors of newspapers reject letters to the editor start begin with, "Dear Editor, I never thought this would happen to me, but…" Learned THAT one the hard way.
· The Spice Girls listen to Neil Young's "After the Goldrush" on their tour bus.
· Dane Cook's mom doesn't think he's funny at all. Neither do I.
· The earth is bi-polar.
· Cell phones cause cancer, lymphoma and diarrhea. They do, however, enable you to find out what activity other people are currently engaged in while you are at Happy Hour.
· Left handed people are smarter than right handed people, but only in theory.
· South Americans don't find "Lake Titikaka" funny at all.
· William Shatner was turned down for the lead role in "Titanic." DiCaprio did a good job though…
And finally…
· Most women strippers that are putting their way through college are studying to be a cashier.
So, forward this to everyone you know, almost to the point of annoyance. People need to know this stuff. This is just some intimate knowledge of mine, not just something you'd read in an almanac. And it's all true. All of it. I'm just saying…
· Jennifer Lopez's proctologist could charge twice as much—but he doesn't. He's a good guy.
· 82% of men like to think of cool or funny personalized license plate ideas during sex.
· Al Qaeda turns down 10,000 applicants a year because of whom they voted for on American Idol.
· Most intellectual children are also afraid of the light.
· The Marines also discourage Private Displays of Affection.
· Most proctologists have expressed an interest in the ass from a very young age.
· 93% of males wished there was a Nintendo Wii game where you could hit a guy (preferably a friend) in the balls.
· Even Leonardo DiCaprio himself can't believe girls find him sexy.
· Al Gore still orders his Big Macs in the Styrofoam container.
· Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan are really, really smart.
· New York City takes a cat nap from time to time.
· J.R.R. Tolkien didn't write Lord of the Rings—he sent a text to this chick in New York, trying to impress her. She printed in out and had it published, introducing the world to Orlando Bloom.
· Almost all dogs are bad dogs.
· The 80's were just there as a joke.
· Mike Huckabee's grandfather was named Herschel Huckabstein.
· Most editors of newspapers reject letters to the editor start begin with, "Dear Editor, I never thought this would happen to me, but…" Learned THAT one the hard way.
· The Spice Girls listen to Neil Young's "After the Goldrush" on their tour bus.
· Dane Cook's mom doesn't think he's funny at all. Neither do I.
· The earth is bi-polar.
· Cell phones cause cancer, lymphoma and diarrhea. They do, however, enable you to find out what activity other people are currently engaged in while you are at Happy Hour.
· Left handed people are smarter than right handed people, but only in theory.
· South Americans don't find "Lake Titikaka" funny at all.
· William Shatner was turned down for the lead role in "Titanic." DiCaprio did a good job though…
And finally…
· Most women strippers that are putting their way through college are studying to be a cashier.
So, forward this to everyone you know, almost to the point of annoyance. People need to know this stuff. This is just some intimate knowledge of mine, not just something you'd read in an almanac. And it's all true. All of it. I'm just saying…
Honesty
Every time a friend, man or woman, tells me that they’re going to give his/her relationship another chance, I always say, “Really??!” I need to stop doing that. But it breaks my heart when they think that the key to forever is honesty. A Bee Gees album works better than honesty as far as relationships go.
Breakups. It makes me laugh when someone says, “At least they were honest.” No they weren’t. “Dating” people are like college coaches out there. If they were honest they’d say, “I found a better draft pick than you.” Even if they AREN’T leaving you for someone else they’d say, “I’m leaving you on the off hand chance that I will find somebody better, and when that someone comes along, I don’t want to be obligated to you.”
Honesty. Right. They probably used the old, “I wanna just be by myself for a while.” Translation: “I would rather be alone than be with you.” Or maybe they used, “I’m just trying to be realistic with my life right now.” Translation: “You REALLY need to make more money. Seriously.” Another? “I just don’t think we’re right for each other.” Translation: “I can totally find a better looking guy.” My favorite? “I think we’re better off as friends.” Translation: “You wouldn’t believe the parade of guys I have to think about when we do it. That’s why I close my eyes. I’m not really getting into it. I just don’t want to look up and see you and ruin it.”
Girls often accuse me of not being romantic. Maybe. I guess I can see that. But girls think they are way more romantic than they actually are. They like all the stories of people who would do anything for love, or the woman who pass up a truckload of money and comfort for love. When I tell a chick that I don’t have a lot of money, they think it’s cool to say, “I don’t even care about that. I love you.” Yeah, well, what they’re really saying is, “You have no money, you’re not that good looking, obviously you dress poorly as a result of having no money… there no earthly reason to be with you… but I’m USED to you. And you know all my friends. And I really don’t want to train a new guy.”
It’s a wonder couples ever make it to the marriage stage. The first date. Time to check your honesty at the door. The guy can’t say, “I’m going to try really hard to impress you so that you’ll think I’m this ideal guy and hopefully I will end up having sex with you. Tonight.” The girl can’t say, “I’m going to try to remind you of a super model and seem incredibly sincere and hot, yet down-to-earth so I can pretend I never do this and hopefully, you will end up having sex with me. Tonight.”
Where do you go for the first date? The guy always says, “What are you in the mood for?” Then the girl says, “Oh, I don’t care. What sounds good?” If both parties were honest, the guy is thinking, Hamburgers, steak, Mexican, Thai, Italian… doesn’t matter where we go as long as it serves alcohol because baby, I’m gonna get you drunk! The girl? Doesn’t matter where we go because I’m going to only have a salad and pretend I have the appetite of a supermodel for at least the first three dates and most likely? I’m gonna pretend to be drunk!
Why does a guy think he has to use money to impress women? It’s not like they’re going to think, Man, I’ll bet if I get naked and rock his world, I’ll bet he’ll use his money on me. Or maybe let ME spend some of it. Yeah, that’s gonna happen.
Inevitably, friends ask about whom you’re seeing. What they’re really saying is (guys) did you do it? (Girls) Is he marriage material? Anymore, it’s easier to get into Harvard than to pass a girls’ marriage test. And yes, they do have a checklist. Some are short and to the point. Any diseases? No? Both legs functional? Yes, okay. And……you worked… once, cool, good enough for me!
Then there’s the high maintenance questionnaire. What color is your car? Do you belong to at least two or more clubs that I can brag about? Do you make more money than my parents? Do my friends want to sleep with you? You know, it all factors in.
The truth is that the minute men and women start telling the truth, they’re doomed. Over. Sayonara. Bye, bye.
One of my girlfriends had a quirk. I’d ask her a serious question and before she would give her answer she always start with, “Honestly?”
What did she expect? No. Not honestly. I hate that. Especially if it’s going to be something I don’t want to hear, need to hear or something that would hurt my feelings. Never be honest with me. Ever. Can you imagine if honesty infiltrated wedding vows? That wouldn’t be good.
“I’ve loved you ever since the day you told me that we were expecting. Your smile, your eyes and your personality are… something I can learn to live with. When I think of you and then think of every other woman out there… I get jealous. Of almost everyone. But I guess I made my bed and… and I’ve learned through a deep personal search that I’m not getting any younger.”
Honesty is a horrible policy. No one is honest. TV ads? Not honest. They say that everyone is talking about “Emily’s Reason’s Why Not.” They lied. It was canceled 5 minutes into the first episode. Undercover cops who want to buy a dime bag? Lying. The Clintons (male or female)? Liars. My mom? I am NOT special! Liar! Weathermen? Almost always liars. The chef at Wingers who claim their meat is “grilled to perfection”? Liars. The host of Saturday Night Live who always tells me, “we’ve got a great show for you so stick around!” Liars. Most of the time.
It seems girls are more likely to lie to boys and vice versa. Lying has been around for ages, although in Columbus’ day it was probably way easier to say, “Yeah, babe, I’ll totally call you.” You probably didn’t even have to make up excuses about switching phones with someone else at the club. You could just say, “Oh, babe, yeah, I was at a pub, but it was so loud in there! Some servant came in and read a parchment, but I couldn’t hear a word he said.”
Honesty has never worked in foreign relations, US candidacy, buying a dime bag or at the very least, a relationship. Honesty is the reason for Prosaic, Xanex and beer. No one expects it, but everyone asks for it. Think about it when you lock your car. When you lock your front door. When you set your alarm or when you say to a friend, “Really?” You don’t believe anyone. You expect the worst, and when you lose something, do you expect to get it back? Yeah. Right. You have a better chance of getting your virginity back better than the cell phone you left at Chilli’s.
I’m just saying…
Breakups. It makes me laugh when someone says, “At least they were honest.” No they weren’t. “Dating” people are like college coaches out there. If they were honest they’d say, “I found a better draft pick than you.” Even if they AREN’T leaving you for someone else they’d say, “I’m leaving you on the off hand chance that I will find somebody better, and when that someone comes along, I don’t want to be obligated to you.”
Honesty. Right. They probably used the old, “I wanna just be by myself for a while.” Translation: “I would rather be alone than be with you.” Or maybe they used, “I’m just trying to be realistic with my life right now.” Translation: “You REALLY need to make more money. Seriously.” Another? “I just don’t think we’re right for each other.” Translation: “I can totally find a better looking guy.” My favorite? “I think we’re better off as friends.” Translation: “You wouldn’t believe the parade of guys I have to think about when we do it. That’s why I close my eyes. I’m not really getting into it. I just don’t want to look up and see you and ruin it.”
Girls often accuse me of not being romantic. Maybe. I guess I can see that. But girls think they are way more romantic than they actually are. They like all the stories of people who would do anything for love, or the woman who pass up a truckload of money and comfort for love. When I tell a chick that I don’t have a lot of money, they think it’s cool to say, “I don’t even care about that. I love you.” Yeah, well, what they’re really saying is, “You have no money, you’re not that good looking, obviously you dress poorly as a result of having no money… there no earthly reason to be with you… but I’m USED to you. And you know all my friends. And I really don’t want to train a new guy.”
It’s a wonder couples ever make it to the marriage stage. The first date. Time to check your honesty at the door. The guy can’t say, “I’m going to try really hard to impress you so that you’ll think I’m this ideal guy and hopefully I will end up having sex with you. Tonight.” The girl can’t say, “I’m going to try to remind you of a super model and seem incredibly sincere and hot, yet down-to-earth so I can pretend I never do this and hopefully, you will end up having sex with me. Tonight.”
Where do you go for the first date? The guy always says, “What are you in the mood for?” Then the girl says, “Oh, I don’t care. What sounds good?” If both parties were honest, the guy is thinking, Hamburgers, steak, Mexican, Thai, Italian… doesn’t matter where we go as long as it serves alcohol because baby, I’m gonna get you drunk! The girl? Doesn’t matter where we go because I’m going to only have a salad and pretend I have the appetite of a supermodel for at least the first three dates and most likely? I’m gonna pretend to be drunk!
Why does a guy think he has to use money to impress women? It’s not like they’re going to think, Man, I’ll bet if I get naked and rock his world, I’ll bet he’ll use his money on me. Or maybe let ME spend some of it. Yeah, that’s gonna happen.
Inevitably, friends ask about whom you’re seeing. What they’re really saying is (guys) did you do it? (Girls) Is he marriage material? Anymore, it’s easier to get into Harvard than to pass a girls’ marriage test. And yes, they do have a checklist. Some are short and to the point. Any diseases? No? Both legs functional? Yes, okay. And……you worked… once, cool, good enough for me!
Then there’s the high maintenance questionnaire. What color is your car? Do you belong to at least two or more clubs that I can brag about? Do you make more money than my parents? Do my friends want to sleep with you? You know, it all factors in.
The truth is that the minute men and women start telling the truth, they’re doomed. Over. Sayonara. Bye, bye.
One of my girlfriends had a quirk. I’d ask her a serious question and before she would give her answer she always start with, “Honestly?”
What did she expect? No. Not honestly. I hate that. Especially if it’s going to be something I don’t want to hear, need to hear or something that would hurt my feelings. Never be honest with me. Ever. Can you imagine if honesty infiltrated wedding vows? That wouldn’t be good.
“I’ve loved you ever since the day you told me that we were expecting. Your smile, your eyes and your personality are… something I can learn to live with. When I think of you and then think of every other woman out there… I get jealous. Of almost everyone. But I guess I made my bed and… and I’ve learned through a deep personal search that I’m not getting any younger.”
Honesty is a horrible policy. No one is honest. TV ads? Not honest. They say that everyone is talking about “Emily’s Reason’s Why Not.” They lied. It was canceled 5 minutes into the first episode. Undercover cops who want to buy a dime bag? Lying. The Clintons (male or female)? Liars. My mom? I am NOT special! Liar! Weathermen? Almost always liars. The chef at Wingers who claim their meat is “grilled to perfection”? Liars. The host of Saturday Night Live who always tells me, “we’ve got a great show for you so stick around!” Liars. Most of the time.
It seems girls are more likely to lie to boys and vice versa. Lying has been around for ages, although in Columbus’ day it was probably way easier to say, “Yeah, babe, I’ll totally call you.” You probably didn’t even have to make up excuses about switching phones with someone else at the club. You could just say, “Oh, babe, yeah, I was at a pub, but it was so loud in there! Some servant came in and read a parchment, but I couldn’t hear a word he said.”
Honesty has never worked in foreign relations, US candidacy, buying a dime bag or at the very least, a relationship. Honesty is the reason for Prosaic, Xanex and beer. No one expects it, but everyone asks for it. Think about it when you lock your car. When you lock your front door. When you set your alarm or when you say to a friend, “Really?” You don’t believe anyone. You expect the worst, and when you lose something, do you expect to get it back? Yeah. Right. You have a better chance of getting your virginity back better than the cell phone you left at Chilli’s.
I’m just saying…
Some Phrases Don't Make Sense
I was talking with my mom last night. I must have been feeling sorry for myself because she told me, "Life is what you make it." Is this true? Oh, no! I'm screwed. Life is what I make it? I can't even make macaroni & cheese, let alone design an enjoyable life for myself. She said that's "just a phrase." Apparently, a lot of people say that. I think that just because people say things, doesn't make them true.
Like "thoughts and prayers." The president uses this one a lot. "Mr. Ledger's family is in our thoughts and prayers." That's nice. But isn't it a bit redundant? Thoughts and prayers? Isn't prayers enough? Who prays for someone without thinking about them first? No one! Well, I guess unless it's a Freudian slip. You're just praying along and then all of the sudden a name just slips out. You think "Who do I just pray for? Man, I haven't thought about her in years!"
"Drinker." My mom uses this a lot. "Oh, you can tell. He's a drinker." So? We all are. We have to be. If you don't eat and drink at least a few times a week, you'll die. Even if you eat but don't drink, you're gone. You have to drink. We learn it from birth. Look at babies. When they want a drink, they cry and cry until they get one! I have an uncle like that…
"International Incident." It sounds so dramatic. Until you think about it. Everything is an international incident. Really. If it happens anywhere in the world, it's international. If it's… anything, it's an incident. That time you were in Tijuana and you had to pull over along the side of the road and drop a deuce because you ignored the warnings and drank the water? That was an international incident! Move over Britney, we have an international incident here!
I don't know. Maybe I think too much. Or not enough. Last night when I was talking to my mom, she told me not to let things bother me and for heaven's sake stop e-mailing people. "Life is short," she said. Life is short? No, it isn't. My life is not short. At all. As a matter of fact, I think this is the longest thing I've ever been through in my life. It just drags on. And on. It's just so arduous and boring, I just want to skip to the end and find out how it ends. I'll bet it has something to do with Delta Airlines…
But I digress. But I have stopped using phrases that don't make sense. I just like certain phrases that have that certain je ne sais quoi. But that's just me. Speaking of me, I'd better go see about doing something with my life because apparently it's whatever I make it. Great. Good thing it's short.
Like "thoughts and prayers." The president uses this one a lot. "Mr. Ledger's family is in our thoughts and prayers." That's nice. But isn't it a bit redundant? Thoughts and prayers? Isn't prayers enough? Who prays for someone without thinking about them first? No one! Well, I guess unless it's a Freudian slip. You're just praying along and then all of the sudden a name just slips out. You think "Who do I just pray for? Man, I haven't thought about her in years!"
"Drinker." My mom uses this a lot. "Oh, you can tell. He's a drinker." So? We all are. We have to be. If you don't eat and drink at least a few times a week, you'll die. Even if you eat but don't drink, you're gone. You have to drink. We learn it from birth. Look at babies. When they want a drink, they cry and cry until they get one! I have an uncle like that…
"International Incident." It sounds so dramatic. Until you think about it. Everything is an international incident. Really. If it happens anywhere in the world, it's international. If it's… anything, it's an incident. That time you were in Tijuana and you had to pull over along the side of the road and drop a deuce because you ignored the warnings and drank the water? That was an international incident! Move over Britney, we have an international incident here!
I don't know. Maybe I think too much. Or not enough. Last night when I was talking to my mom, she told me not to let things bother me and for heaven's sake stop e-mailing people. "Life is short," she said. Life is short? No, it isn't. My life is not short. At all. As a matter of fact, I think this is the longest thing I've ever been through in my life. It just drags on. And on. It's just so arduous and boring, I just want to skip to the end and find out how it ends. I'll bet it has something to do with Delta Airlines…
But I digress. But I have stopped using phrases that don't make sense. I just like certain phrases that have that certain je ne sais quoi. But that's just me. Speaking of me, I'd better go see about doing something with my life because apparently it's whatever I make it. Great. Good thing it's short.
Columbus, the Pothead
Hello friends!
I just wanted to tell everyone that Dave Madden is doing well. Very well. He just bought another plasma screen TV, a $25 bottle of Pinot Noir, his cable hasn’t been shut off yet, and he won “Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence” this year at the Expedia employee appreciation dinner. Not too shabby for an Administrative Assistant in the greater Seattle area.
So why isn’t he happy? I’ll tell you why. Historians have now advanced the theory that Christopher Columbus was a recreational pot smoker.
“He wasn’t a pothead, Donald!” he warns me. “Sure, he might have had a glass or two of scotch, you know, just to get ready for bed, but he didn’t puff the cheeba!” Dave has been getting pretty worked up about the subject.
As you may or may not know, Dave just loves Christopher Columbus.
As historians come forward with new theories concerning Columbus and Cannabis, Dave has been beside himself with anger. He probably calls me three times a week to explain his views. “There’s no way he could have discovered the new world if he was hitting the chronic. He would have got bored and turned his fleet of ships around after the first day of sailing.” Dave is very adamant that Columbus couldn’t have been a garden gnome. “He didn’t even go to college!” he theorizes. Although Dave is a good friend and I want to support him, the historians have made several valid points.
In Spanish, a “Pinta” is a spliff. Apparently “Niña” translates to fire and “Santa Maria” was this hippie chick from Genoa, Italy that sold fat sacks of the sticky-icky-icky to explorers to pay for her three slaves that helped her with her crops.
Another theory has also been advanced that Columbus was NOT looking for a new route to Indies, but rather he was looking for a solid Kind connection in the new world so that Queen Isabella of Spain could leave the schwag of Europe to the peasants and she and her subjects could perhaps split a bag of Sao Paulo North Slope Trip Weed.
“Not true!” says Dave. “They’ve found the remains of the Niña, the Pinta and the Santa Maria and not one blunt found! Not one! Columbus was ‘saying no’ to drugs 500 years before Nancy Reagan made it cool. He was a visionary, I tell you. What would our life be like if there had been no Columbus??”
“Well, for one,” I said, “we wouldn’t have any Columbian coffee—” Of course I was just joking, but Dave hung up on me. Seriously. I haven’t heard from him in a week and a half. Apparently, I underestimated Dave’s anger at Columbus’ historical achievements and reputation.
But just because I haven’t heard from Dave doesn’t mean that he’s given up on preserving Columbus’ legacy. No, far from it. His wife, April, says he stays up until 3:00 am, just sitting at the computer, updating the Wikipedia entry for Columbus. He deletes any references to giggle weed, hookah, 4:20, boom, dope, gangster, ganja, grass, hash, herb, pot, reefer, sensimilla, skunk, and last dance with Mary Jane.
But whether or not you believe the historians, you have to admit, Dave Madden always stands behind his friends. And we should to. This is Dave’s day. So send Dave a “Happy Columbus Day” e-mail at dmaddend@expedia.com just to let him know that we’re in his corner. All this worrying can’t be doing his health any good. And at his age, he needs all the help he can get.
Thank you and God bless.
(If he does respond, tell him to call me. Tell him I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!)
I just wanted to tell everyone that Dave Madden is doing well. Very well. He just bought another plasma screen TV, a $25 bottle of Pinot Noir, his cable hasn’t been shut off yet, and he won “Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence” this year at the Expedia employee appreciation dinner. Not too shabby for an Administrative Assistant in the greater Seattle area.
So why isn’t he happy? I’ll tell you why. Historians have now advanced the theory that Christopher Columbus was a recreational pot smoker.
“He wasn’t a pothead, Donald!” he warns me. “Sure, he might have had a glass or two of scotch, you know, just to get ready for bed, but he didn’t puff the cheeba!” Dave has been getting pretty worked up about the subject.
As you may or may not know, Dave just loves Christopher Columbus.
As historians come forward with new theories concerning Columbus and Cannabis, Dave has been beside himself with anger. He probably calls me three times a week to explain his views. “There’s no way he could have discovered the new world if he was hitting the chronic. He would have got bored and turned his fleet of ships around after the first day of sailing.” Dave is very adamant that Columbus couldn’t have been a garden gnome. “He didn’t even go to college!” he theorizes. Although Dave is a good friend and I want to support him, the historians have made several valid points.
In Spanish, a “Pinta” is a spliff. Apparently “Niña” translates to fire and “Santa Maria” was this hippie chick from Genoa, Italy that sold fat sacks of the sticky-icky-icky to explorers to pay for her three slaves that helped her with her crops.
Another theory has also been advanced that Columbus was NOT looking for a new route to Indies, but rather he was looking for a solid Kind connection in the new world so that Queen Isabella of Spain could leave the schwag of Europe to the peasants and she and her subjects could perhaps split a bag of Sao Paulo North Slope Trip Weed.
“Not true!” says Dave. “They’ve found the remains of the Niña, the Pinta and the Santa Maria and not one blunt found! Not one! Columbus was ‘saying no’ to drugs 500 years before Nancy Reagan made it cool. He was a visionary, I tell you. What would our life be like if there had been no Columbus??”
“Well, for one,” I said, “we wouldn’t have any Columbian coffee—” Of course I was just joking, but Dave hung up on me. Seriously. I haven’t heard from him in a week and a half. Apparently, I underestimated Dave’s anger at Columbus’ historical achievements and reputation.
But just because I haven’t heard from Dave doesn’t mean that he’s given up on preserving Columbus’ legacy. No, far from it. His wife, April, says he stays up until 3:00 am, just sitting at the computer, updating the Wikipedia entry for Columbus. He deletes any references to giggle weed, hookah, 4:20, boom, dope, gangster, ganja, grass, hash, herb, pot, reefer, sensimilla, skunk, and last dance with Mary Jane.
But whether or not you believe the historians, you have to admit, Dave Madden always stands behind his friends. And we should to. This is Dave’s day. So send Dave a “Happy Columbus Day” e-mail at dmaddend@expedia.com just to let him know that we’re in his corner. All this worrying can’t be doing his health any good. And at his age, he needs all the help he can get.
Thank you and God bless.
(If he does respond, tell him to call me. Tell him I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!)
Taxes
I just finished doing my taxes. Okay, Dave just finished doing my taxes. I just don’t have the mind for that kind of thing. See, I was in an accident about a year ago…
Anyway, I don’t have to pay “in” this year. Not that I get money back, but I don’t have to pay in. Usually, when I have to pay in, I send my money in the form or Euros or Canadian money just to mess with them. Now? I wish I had some Euros or some Canadian money. It seems like our dollar is worth less than Monopoly money at a strip bar.
As most people do during tax time, I checked to see what my taxes do. Where they go. I was a little taken back to find that we are spending $1,000,000,000 on the war in Iraq. President Bush says “they hate our freedom.” I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to wage a war on a country because of their dislike of our governmental structure but, hey, we can’t allow haters.
As I was Googleing, (you should try it. It’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on) I thought, man, I can’t wait until we win the war and the Iraqi’s start liking freedom because then gas prices will go back down, homeowners will be secure with their payments, the stock market will rise, the dollar will be worth it’s weight in gold, kids won’t shoot each other in school, the federal budget with automatically balance, countries will like us again, it will be safe to fly on airplanes, what happens in Vegas can go anywhere, banks will bail themselves out, the economy will skyrocket, and terrorists will learn their lesson and stop being terrible.
While Googleing (do you think voyeurs like to Google?), I saw that President Bush came up with a $2.9 trillion dollar budget. $2.9 trillion dollars. That’s a lot of coin. Do we even have that? I mean, I didn’t have to pay in this year, so that’s a few hundred bucks they don’t have. If we don’t have the money, where do we get it? Usually, when I’m a little short, I just go to Cade at Cedar Post Pawn, but 2.9 trillion dollars? That’s a lot of money to borrow until payday. And how would I even broach the subject? But maybe he’d like to hear a story like that. Instead of the usual tales he gets about “the ol’ lady” or “hafta pay a fine” he might enjoy hearing a yarn about waging a losing war on a small, oil-rich nation that doesn’t care much for freedom.
So, I Googled (Googleing should be an Olympic event) even more. It turns out we’re borrowing money from China to pay for our expenses. I guess we probably used Hawaii as collateral. Then I thought, We are borrowing money from a communist country to fight a war on a nation because they “hate our freedom.” So Iraq hates freedom, but communist China doesn’t? I guess you can hate freedom if you have a good fiscal outlook. Good thing there is no writer’s strike in Iraq. That would totally tear the country apart. I’m just saying…
So, it seems we are borrowing money from China and the Cedar Post to maintain a presence in Iraq. Can’t we just send Robert Conrad over there to dare the Iraqis to knock a battery off his shoulder? There has to be a better way to spend a billion bucks a month. Important things! Like boosting the economy and saving families from losing their homes? I’d support that. What about setting aside a few billion to find out whether or not Roger Clemens has even done steroids? And maybe an extra billion to find out if he lied about it? I’d certainly be on board with that! We HAVE to know! Money is no object here! Let’s get to them bottom of this! I just hope we don’t find out Roger Clemens hates freedom. He’d be so screwed.
Anyway. My taxes are done.
Anyway, I don’t have to pay “in” this year. Not that I get money back, but I don’t have to pay in. Usually, when I have to pay in, I send my money in the form or Euros or Canadian money just to mess with them. Now? I wish I had some Euros or some Canadian money. It seems like our dollar is worth less than Monopoly money at a strip bar.
As most people do during tax time, I checked to see what my taxes do. Where they go. I was a little taken back to find that we are spending $1,000,000,000 on the war in Iraq. President Bush says “they hate our freedom.” I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to wage a war on a country because of their dislike of our governmental structure but, hey, we can’t allow haters.
As I was Googleing, (you should try it. It’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on) I thought, man, I can’t wait until we win the war and the Iraqi’s start liking freedom because then gas prices will go back down, homeowners will be secure with their payments, the stock market will rise, the dollar will be worth it’s weight in gold, kids won’t shoot each other in school, the federal budget with automatically balance, countries will like us again, it will be safe to fly on airplanes, what happens in Vegas can go anywhere, banks will bail themselves out, the economy will skyrocket, and terrorists will learn their lesson and stop being terrible.
While Googleing (do you think voyeurs like to Google?), I saw that President Bush came up with a $2.9 trillion dollar budget. $2.9 trillion dollars. That’s a lot of coin. Do we even have that? I mean, I didn’t have to pay in this year, so that’s a few hundred bucks they don’t have. If we don’t have the money, where do we get it? Usually, when I’m a little short, I just go to Cade at Cedar Post Pawn, but 2.9 trillion dollars? That’s a lot of money to borrow until payday. And how would I even broach the subject? But maybe he’d like to hear a story like that. Instead of the usual tales he gets about “the ol’ lady” or “hafta pay a fine” he might enjoy hearing a yarn about waging a losing war on a small, oil-rich nation that doesn’t care much for freedom.
So, I Googled (Googleing should be an Olympic event) even more. It turns out we’re borrowing money from China to pay for our expenses. I guess we probably used Hawaii as collateral. Then I thought, We are borrowing money from a communist country to fight a war on a nation because they “hate our freedom.” So Iraq hates freedom, but communist China doesn’t? I guess you can hate freedom if you have a good fiscal outlook. Good thing there is no writer’s strike in Iraq. That would totally tear the country apart. I’m just saying…
So, it seems we are borrowing money from China and the Cedar Post to maintain a presence in Iraq. Can’t we just send Robert Conrad over there to dare the Iraqis to knock a battery off his shoulder? There has to be a better way to spend a billion bucks a month. Important things! Like boosting the economy and saving families from losing their homes? I’d support that. What about setting aside a few billion to find out whether or not Roger Clemens has even done steroids? And maybe an extra billion to find out if he lied about it? I’d certainly be on board with that! We HAVE to know! Money is no object here! Let’s get to them bottom of this! I just hope we don’t find out Roger Clemens hates freedom. He’d be so screwed.
Anyway. My taxes are done.
Christmas 2007
Hello all. I hope my Kwanzaa e-mail finds you well. I am in Seattle Washington, or as my dad says, "Warshington." I'm hanging with the Dave & April Madden. It's very Christmassy up here and last night Dave took me to the mall to see Santa. I sat on his lap even though he had an obvious erection (I just assumed he was getting into character and was trying to be jolly. Maybe he's a "method" Santa.)
Well, he did the whole "ho, ho, ho" thing and then went on and on about how young I look for my age. He said that I was probably the most fit guy to ever sit on his lap and I was so hot and funny, yada, yada, yada... Okay, I might be paraphrasing, but you get the idea.
Anyway, he got right to the point. "What do you want for Christmas this year?" And it hit me. I didn't know. I had no clue what to ask for this year. None! I mean, what? Money? I already made a fortune off 12 Daily Pro. I'm set. A sports car? Got one. Date a Playmate? Done it. Miss Feb. 2006. I mean, seriously, I've got it all. Sometimes I find myself living vicariously through myself. Then I thought of the TRUE meaning of Christmas.
Helping those less fortunate than myself. And I thought of Dave Madden. He needs my help. It's a good thing Dave is married because almost every girl on earth thinks he's Urkell without all the sex appeal. Really. I know Jehovah's Witnesses who won't let him in the front door. Chicks are an enigma wrapped up in a riddle for Dave. It's like he's going for Nolan Ryan's strikeout record. Not good with the trixies!
Poor guy. I mean, yeah, he's married and of course I don't want him to stray, but at the same time I don't want him be embarrassing around anyone with breasts. This is where I come in. I can take him under my wing and coach him. I mean, come on!
Miss Teen Texas, Sevier County Dairy Princess, Miss UVSC, Miss February 2006, Miss Wasatch County, Miss.. you get the point. Under my tutelage, I can make him a little more Warren Beatty, a little less Bud Bundy. And I'll be in Seattle for a while (assuming he has a good sense of humor), so I have the time. It'll be Christmas miracle!
God bless us, everyone! For all of YOU, I wish you the bestest Christmas and a fabulous New Year (Dave's 1st lesson: never use the word "fabulous." Unless you want trixies to see you like Samantha's one gay friend on Sex And The City.) I'm just saying... Merry Christmas! Have a great 2008!
Well, he did the whole "ho, ho, ho" thing and then went on and on about how young I look for my age. He said that I was probably the most fit guy to ever sit on his lap and I was so hot and funny, yada, yada, yada... Okay, I might be paraphrasing, but you get the idea.
Anyway, he got right to the point. "What do you want for Christmas this year?" And it hit me. I didn't know. I had no clue what to ask for this year. None! I mean, what? Money? I already made a fortune off 12 Daily Pro. I'm set. A sports car? Got one. Date a Playmate? Done it. Miss Feb. 2006. I mean, seriously, I've got it all. Sometimes I find myself living vicariously through myself. Then I thought of the TRUE meaning of Christmas.
Helping those less fortunate than myself. And I thought of Dave Madden. He needs my help. It's a good thing Dave is married because almost every girl on earth thinks he's Urkell without all the sex appeal. Really. I know Jehovah's Witnesses who won't let him in the front door. Chicks are an enigma wrapped up in a riddle for Dave. It's like he's going for Nolan Ryan's strikeout record. Not good with the trixies!
Poor guy. I mean, yeah, he's married and of course I don't want him to stray, but at the same time I don't want him be embarrassing around anyone with breasts. This is where I come in. I can take him under my wing and coach him. I mean, come on!
Miss Teen Texas, Sevier County Dairy Princess, Miss UVSC, Miss February 2006, Miss Wasatch County, Miss.. you get the point. Under my tutelage, I can make him a little more Warren Beatty, a little less Bud Bundy. And I'll be in Seattle for a while (assuming he has a good sense of humor), so I have the time. It'll be Christmas miracle!
God bless us, everyone! For all of YOU, I wish you the bestest Christmas and a fabulous New Year (Dave's 1st lesson: never use the word "fabulous." Unless you want trixies to see you like Samantha's one gay friend on Sex And The City.) I'm just saying... Merry Christmas! Have a great 2008!
The Wells Fargo Girls Are Aces
I’ve been feeling a bit guilty lately. I know, I know, “guilt” and “regret” are the two most futile emotions in the universe. I’ve basically been good, you know, I’ve discarded all the naughty nights for niceness and I give upwards of $9 to charities when I have it. Yet, here I am feeling guilty about making fun of the girls at Wells Fargo.
And why those girls? There are a plethora of girls in Richfield who actually deserve to be ridiculed, what with the hair and the clothes... But the Well Fargo girls? They’ve always been there for me. Always. I guess it started a few months back.
I went in to Wells Fargo one Friday. I asked for $20 out of my account. A nice girl said I did not have $20, rather I only had $14.82. “Wow,” I said embarrassingly. “I thought I had more than that. I guess no single malt scotch for me. I’ll have to buy the blended stuff.” She just smiled and said, “We can’t have that now, can we?” She reached in to her drawer and pulled out a few twenties, threw them on my $14, and whispered, “Here. Have a good weekend.” They do that all the time now.
Or there was the time I sold my soul to the devil. Long story short, I sold my soul for the ability to write hilarious e-mails. I was going to just pawn my soul but the guy at Cedar Post Pawn was being kind of a dick. Anyway, like most people who sell their soul to the devil, I just forgot all about it. Well, one night there was a knock-knock-knock at the door. It was Satan. He looked scary! I mean, no big surprise, I knew he would, but we’re talking really scary! Ozzie Osbourne doesn’t do this guy justice! Anyway, he came in and said it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to go, obviously, but I am the one who just had to have the gift of writing really funny e-mails. It was my own doing. There was no one to blame but me. Just as I lowered my head and started to follow him down to the dark netherworld, I heard voices say, “Not so fast Mephistopheles!” It was the Wells Fargo girls! They were coming to save me! I must have blacked out, because I woke up safe, in my bed, and with my soul intact.
There’s also the re-occurring dream I have almost every night. I’m in a car wreck (again) and I’m laying there in a pool of blood. I keep bleeding, I keep, keep, bleeding and I think this is the end. Just as I am about to surrender to unconsciousness, I hear voices. Females voices. It’s the Wells Fargo girls! “Don’t go toward the light, Don! Stay away from the light!” Then I wake up.
The Wells Fargo girls are aces. You couldn’t ask for a better set of gals. They’re pretty, smart and moral. The Wells Fargo girls always favor an embargo over an air strike. They would only do nudity if it was A: tastefully done, and B: necessary to the story. They’re the best. When I’m sick, who comes over and makes chicken soup? The Wells Fargo girls. When I got out of the hospital, who put Vitamin E on my scars? The Wells Fargo girls. When I ignored Dave Madden’s advice and I totally did it with Jessica Alba and I did, in fact, get bugs, who went to the pharmacy to get that special shampoo because I was too embarrassed? The Wells Fargo girls.
When I die, and stay dead this time, I fully expect to be welcomed by angels and the Wells Fargo girls. What the hell’s the matter with me? I don’t even think I can show my face in there anymore. I don’t even deserve them. I’m just saying…
And why those girls? There are a plethora of girls in Richfield who actually deserve to be ridiculed, what with the hair and the clothes... But the Well Fargo girls? They’ve always been there for me. Always. I guess it started a few months back.
I went in to Wells Fargo one Friday. I asked for $20 out of my account. A nice girl said I did not have $20, rather I only had $14.82. “Wow,” I said embarrassingly. “I thought I had more than that. I guess no single malt scotch for me. I’ll have to buy the blended stuff.” She just smiled and said, “We can’t have that now, can we?” She reached in to her drawer and pulled out a few twenties, threw them on my $14, and whispered, “Here. Have a good weekend.” They do that all the time now.
Or there was the time I sold my soul to the devil. Long story short, I sold my soul for the ability to write hilarious e-mails. I was going to just pawn my soul but the guy at Cedar Post Pawn was being kind of a dick. Anyway, like most people who sell their soul to the devil, I just forgot all about it. Well, one night there was a knock-knock-knock at the door. It was Satan. He looked scary! I mean, no big surprise, I knew he would, but we’re talking really scary! Ozzie Osbourne doesn’t do this guy justice! Anyway, he came in and said it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to go, obviously, but I am the one who just had to have the gift of writing really funny e-mails. It was my own doing. There was no one to blame but me. Just as I lowered my head and started to follow him down to the dark netherworld, I heard voices say, “Not so fast Mephistopheles!” It was the Wells Fargo girls! They were coming to save me! I must have blacked out, because I woke up safe, in my bed, and with my soul intact.
There’s also the re-occurring dream I have almost every night. I’m in a car wreck (again) and I’m laying there in a pool of blood. I keep bleeding, I keep, keep, bleeding and I think this is the end. Just as I am about to surrender to unconsciousness, I hear voices. Females voices. It’s the Wells Fargo girls! “Don’t go toward the light, Don! Stay away from the light!” Then I wake up.
The Wells Fargo girls are aces. You couldn’t ask for a better set of gals. They’re pretty, smart and moral. The Wells Fargo girls always favor an embargo over an air strike. They would only do nudity if it was A: tastefully done, and B: necessary to the story. They’re the best. When I’m sick, who comes over and makes chicken soup? The Wells Fargo girls. When I got out of the hospital, who put Vitamin E on my scars? The Wells Fargo girls. When I ignored Dave Madden’s advice and I totally did it with Jessica Alba and I did, in fact, get bugs, who went to the pharmacy to get that special shampoo because I was too embarrassed? The Wells Fargo girls.
When I die, and stay dead this time, I fully expect to be welcomed by angels and the Wells Fargo girls. What the hell’s the matter with me? I don’t even think I can show my face in there anymore. I don’t even deserve them. I’m just saying…
Boob "Jobs"
So I have a friend, a girl, who got a boob job. Just by me saying that, you know what I mean, right? That’s all you have to say. Everyone just goes, “…oh, bigger now, huh?” It’s understood. It’s such a blue collar phrase: “boob job.” Almost has a work ethic attached to it. Boob “job.”
Conversely, men cannot do this. If I said, “Yeah, Dave just got a wienie job.” You’d think WTF? Is he okay? Is he getting something fixed? Is it medical? Is it cosmetic? Is he trying to be like that lady who keeps getting plastic surgery trying to look more and more like her cats?
But women? It’s pretty much known that a boob job is getting them bigger. There’s 5,519 things you can do with boobs, but a “boob job” is making them bigger.
Making them smaller? A breast reduction. But men have a hard time saying this. They’ll usually whisper the last part. For example, a man would say, “You know Lisa? In accounting? Dude, she had a breast reduction. Seriously.” The word “reduction” is usually barely audible. The word “seriously” is because men think that no one would ever, ever believe this.
I find funny the girls who’ll disagree with anyone that they’ve had work done. They deny, deny, deny, like Bill Clinton at a lingerie party. You call them on it, and of course they say something that tries to force a compliment. They say, “You think I had a boob job? Really? Why?” That’s when I burst their bubble. I say, “Because Friday, at 5:00 when you left work, you looked like Kansas. Now you look like… well, a state with really, really big boobs.
The girls that DO admit to having work done try and make it sound official and necessary. They either say that they had a “breast enlargement” or a “breast augmentation.” If you say, “Can you define “augment”? They say, “Um… no. That’s just what it says on my Amex bill…” Yeah, like they paid for the boobs. Probably some poor guy with the same outside chance as Ron Paul, who has a few thousand that he wouldn’t mind investing on futures.
What I love are the reasons why women get a boob job. Sometimes they’re honest and they say, “I’m sick of losing jobs to illegals!” Well, they don’t say that exactly, but that’s what they mean. Or, the self-important girls, the corporate girls, might say, “It gave me a lot of self-confidence.” Really? You’re saying, “Man, I could totally crunch the numbers and do this proposal for my colleagues if only my boobs were just a little bit bigger…” They’re so stupid.
To give you an idea of how stupid it sounds, think of the new trend sweeping Hollywood. Vaginal Rejuvenation. I swear. I don’t know what’s involved in this procedure. Look it up. All of the big name trixies are doing it. But how unintelligent are these women going to sound when they get the rejuvenation and their defense is, “It gave me a lot of self-confidence?”
Boob jobs. I used to be against the proposed power plant in Sigurd, but hey, the proponents keep saying, “It’ll create jobs.” Just what kind of jobs are we talkin’?
No one wants to get old. And you can tell, just go to the market. There’s hair dye, teeth whitener, facial scrub, Viagra, staving off the inevitable, vitamins, dieting, eye contacts, saving the planet (Earth), Rogaine, impending prostates problems and menopause.
But do me a favor. Just don’t develop a personality. Find some product or surgery to stave off the inevitable. Just don’t rely on you individuality. That’s the last thing we need. I’m just saying…
Conversely, men cannot do this. If I said, “Yeah, Dave just got a wienie job.” You’d think WTF? Is he okay? Is he getting something fixed? Is it medical? Is it cosmetic? Is he trying to be like that lady who keeps getting plastic surgery trying to look more and more like her cats?
But women? It’s pretty much known that a boob job is getting them bigger. There’s 5,519 things you can do with boobs, but a “boob job” is making them bigger.
Making them smaller? A breast reduction. But men have a hard time saying this. They’ll usually whisper the last part. For example, a man would say, “You know Lisa? In accounting? Dude, she had a breast reduction. Seriously.” The word “reduction” is usually barely audible. The word “seriously” is because men think that no one would ever, ever believe this.
I find funny the girls who’ll disagree with anyone that they’ve had work done. They deny, deny, deny, like Bill Clinton at a lingerie party. You call them on it, and of course they say something that tries to force a compliment. They say, “You think I had a boob job? Really? Why?” That’s when I burst their bubble. I say, “Because Friday, at 5:00 when you left work, you looked like Kansas. Now you look like… well, a state with really, really big boobs.
The girls that DO admit to having work done try and make it sound official and necessary. They either say that they had a “breast enlargement” or a “breast augmentation.” If you say, “Can you define “augment”? They say, “Um… no. That’s just what it says on my Amex bill…” Yeah, like they paid for the boobs. Probably some poor guy with the same outside chance as Ron Paul, who has a few thousand that he wouldn’t mind investing on futures.
What I love are the reasons why women get a boob job. Sometimes they’re honest and they say, “I’m sick of losing jobs to illegals!” Well, they don’t say that exactly, but that’s what they mean. Or, the self-important girls, the corporate girls, might say, “It gave me a lot of self-confidence.” Really? You’re saying, “Man, I could totally crunch the numbers and do this proposal for my colleagues if only my boobs were just a little bit bigger…” They’re so stupid.
To give you an idea of how stupid it sounds, think of the new trend sweeping Hollywood. Vaginal Rejuvenation. I swear. I don’t know what’s involved in this procedure. Look it up. All of the big name trixies are doing it. But how unintelligent are these women going to sound when they get the rejuvenation and their defense is, “It gave me a lot of self-confidence?”
Boob jobs. I used to be against the proposed power plant in Sigurd, but hey, the proponents keep saying, “It’ll create jobs.” Just what kind of jobs are we talkin’?
No one wants to get old. And you can tell, just go to the market. There’s hair dye, teeth whitener, facial scrub, Viagra, staving off the inevitable, vitamins, dieting, eye contacts, saving the planet (Earth), Rogaine, impending prostates problems and menopause.
But do me a favor. Just don’t develop a personality. Find some product or surgery to stave off the inevitable. Just don’t rely on you individuality. That’s the last thing we need. I’m just saying…
Those Satanists Are Very Persistant
So I was enjoying a DVD yesterday (The 40 year Old Virgin) and there was a knock at the door. Cool. Company!
Not cool, two people with pamphlets. Probably Jehovah's Witnesses. Turns out I was wrong.
They were Satanists. I didn't know they went door to door. They seemed sincere, I guess. They asked, "May we take a few minutes of your time to speak with you about the word of the devil?"
WTF?
Now I know almost every religion, for lack of a better word, sends people door-to-door to try and get enough sponsors so they can win the trip to the Bahamas or whatever, but Satanists? What would they have to offer? "You know, we're only on this earth for a short while and then it's eternal damnation and fire and brimstone." I'm not sold.
I made an excuse... I think I told them my colostomy bag just broke or something. They left, of course. I just hope I didn't miss out on anything. I guess I should have heard them out. Would I get special powers? Could I put a curse on people? Could I get tickets to a sold out Ozzy concert? Could I light shit on fire with just a wave of a hand?
I really should have heard them out. Evil powers would really kill the boredom of Daylight Savings Time.
Then again, I don't have any pets or animals. What would I sacrifice? My parents would be SO pissed if I sacrificed any of their animals. They’re kind of attached to their animals. And I don't think your wish comes true unless you have something to sacrifice. For instance, I would guess that sex with Jessica Simpson would require the lives of no less than 80 sheep. Maybe 85. I'll bet after that "Dukes of Hazzard" movie, Satan has been inundated with requests for sex with Jessica Simpson.
But I digress.
I think they'd have a better chance just claiming to be atheists. Sure, evil powers seem cool now, but I kinda hope the afterlife is kinda like "Heaven Can Wait." Just big floating clouds. Kinda like Seattle. But with less coffee.
I guess I'd better make a decision pretty quick. With all of these bloody noses, I'd estimate I've got little time left here. And I’ve already died twice.
Not cool, two people with pamphlets. Probably Jehovah's Witnesses. Turns out I was wrong.
They were Satanists. I didn't know they went door to door. They seemed sincere, I guess. They asked, "May we take a few minutes of your time to speak with you about the word of the devil?"
WTF?
Now I know almost every religion, for lack of a better word, sends people door-to-door to try and get enough sponsors so they can win the trip to the Bahamas or whatever, but Satanists? What would they have to offer? "You know, we're only on this earth for a short while and then it's eternal damnation and fire and brimstone." I'm not sold.
I made an excuse... I think I told them my colostomy bag just broke or something. They left, of course. I just hope I didn't miss out on anything. I guess I should have heard them out. Would I get special powers? Could I put a curse on people? Could I get tickets to a sold out Ozzy concert? Could I light shit on fire with just a wave of a hand?
I really should have heard them out. Evil powers would really kill the boredom of Daylight Savings Time.
Then again, I don't have any pets or animals. What would I sacrifice? My parents would be SO pissed if I sacrificed any of their animals. They’re kind of attached to their animals. And I don't think your wish comes true unless you have something to sacrifice. For instance, I would guess that sex with Jessica Simpson would require the lives of no less than 80 sheep. Maybe 85. I'll bet after that "Dukes of Hazzard" movie, Satan has been inundated with requests for sex with Jessica Simpson.
But I digress.
I think they'd have a better chance just claiming to be atheists. Sure, evil powers seem cool now, but I kinda hope the afterlife is kinda like "Heaven Can Wait." Just big floating clouds. Kinda like Seattle. But with less coffee.
I guess I'd better make a decision pretty quick. With all of these bloody noses, I'd estimate I've got little time left here. And I’ve already died twice.
Alone
I've been sleeping alone lately. Really. Okay, it's more than that. I've been hanging out alone, too. Really. But I don't mind it too bad, though. Kinda.
It's just me and the bottle makes three ...wait... two tonight. Which is fine. I have total say so over the remote and veto power over the channel selection. AND, yes, I'm having that again tonight, and yes, I know that I've had that 3 times this week. It just sounded good. And yes, actually, I am going to have another. And no, I don't think I have a problem, I mean come on; the fridge is right there. A “problem” would be if I didn't have any scotch chilled or perhaps no ice for a cocktail or maybe if I was broke and didn't personally know the owner of the pawn shop.
No, no problem.
Okay, there may be a bit of a problem. I think I know what it is. I am so sick of me! I'm just around ALL THE TIME! Really, it's getting to the point where I can't stand myself. Oh, I think everything I think or say is soooo funny. What, am I supposed to laugh at that? I've heard it more than a few times. Oh, and I think that I know everything! Really. Am I watching Jeopardy because I like the show or because I'm trying to show myself how much I know?
I am really pushing it with me, I'll tell you that much. I've had it up to here with me!
And don't get me started about the Johnnie Walker Red. Did I at least save some for me!? Looks like "no." I am so damn selfish sometimes! All I ever think about is me. It's hard to be around me sometimes. I swear…
I know what you're thinking. All this time alone, I'll bet it's masturbation time! No. Not so much, not any more. The thing is, I have to be attracted to the person I'm with, and I definitely can't be fed up with whom I'm having physical relations. I just can't. I'm not built that way. I always think I'm SO funny and SO smart, but I find that SO unattractive. Seriously, I could take or leave me. I always say stupid things that I think are funny, but they're not. It's like I am desperate. And I have no time for people like that. No sir! I hate needy people. So here I am, naked and vulnerable and cracking dumb jokes and that is so unattractive! Sometimes it's like I don't even respect myself. And I just can't be with someone I don't respect.
But, being alone has its perks. For instance, no social diseases. Think about it. When's the last time you heard of someone who hasn't had female companionship in the last 3 years, but just got the clap? Never. It can't happen! You can't get a social disease by yourself. Can't be done. Although I'm screwed if they come up with some sexual hermit disease…
"You've been alone for how many years? Mmm hmm. Okay, I think I know what it is. Take these for a month and try and go out and meet some people. And for crying out loud, don't try and be funny. You're not that funny. You try too hard. That's what ruined things between you and yourself in the first place."
It's just me and the bottle makes three ...wait... two tonight. Which is fine. I have total say so over the remote and veto power over the channel selection. AND, yes, I'm having that again tonight, and yes, I know that I've had that 3 times this week. It just sounded good. And yes, actually, I am going to have another. And no, I don't think I have a problem, I mean come on; the fridge is right there. A “problem” would be if I didn't have any scotch chilled or perhaps no ice for a cocktail or maybe if I was broke and didn't personally know the owner of the pawn shop.
No, no problem.
Okay, there may be a bit of a problem. I think I know what it is. I am so sick of me! I'm just around ALL THE TIME! Really, it's getting to the point where I can't stand myself. Oh, I think everything I think or say is soooo funny. What, am I supposed to laugh at that? I've heard it more than a few times. Oh, and I think that I know everything! Really. Am I watching Jeopardy because I like the show or because I'm trying to show myself how much I know?
I am really pushing it with me, I'll tell you that much. I've had it up to here with me!
And don't get me started about the Johnnie Walker Red. Did I at least save some for me!? Looks like "no." I am so damn selfish sometimes! All I ever think about is me. It's hard to be around me sometimes. I swear…
I know what you're thinking. All this time alone, I'll bet it's masturbation time! No. Not so much, not any more. The thing is, I have to be attracted to the person I'm with, and I definitely can't be fed up with whom I'm having physical relations. I just can't. I'm not built that way. I always think I'm SO funny and SO smart, but I find that SO unattractive. Seriously, I could take or leave me. I always say stupid things that I think are funny, but they're not. It's like I am desperate. And I have no time for people like that. No sir! I hate needy people. So here I am, naked and vulnerable and cracking dumb jokes and that is so unattractive! Sometimes it's like I don't even respect myself. And I just can't be with someone I don't respect.
But, being alone has its perks. For instance, no social diseases. Think about it. When's the last time you heard of someone who hasn't had female companionship in the last 3 years, but just got the clap? Never. It can't happen! You can't get a social disease by yourself. Can't be done. Although I'm screwed if they come up with some sexual hermit disease…
"You've been alone for how many years? Mmm hmm. Okay, I think I know what it is. Take these for a month and try and go out and meet some people. And for crying out loud, don't try and be funny. You're not that funny. You try too hard. That's what ruined things between you and yourself in the first place."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Ban Brokeback Mountain!
As you may have heard, Utah Jazz owner Larry Miller has refused to show the movie Brokeback Mountain in any of his theaters. I, for one, applaud this.
I know what you’re thinking: Don, you’re usually pretty liberal about these things. Not this time. I think the whole premise of the movie is, in fact, immoral. If you think it’s morally acceptable for two men to be cowboys, then you are dead wrong. Dead wrong! I don’t mean to sound ultra-conservative, but I do not believe that cowboys have a place in our society.
People will argue, “Hey, they’re human. They should have the same rights as you and me.” They might be entitled to the same rights, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It seems like every parade I watch, there are more and more cowboys. It’s like a spreading virus. As far as “rights” go, you give them an inch and they take a mile. We let them have their poetry and their roping and then what happens? You can’t walk down the street without seeing gun racks in their trucks, belt buckles bigger than CDs, and Skoal.
The fact that they try and promote Brokeback Mountain as a “love story” is preposterous. It’s a cowboy movie, end of story.
Some people who have seen the movie will tell you, “Oh, it’s just a love story. It’s really well done, actually.” Whatever. I’m not against love stories; in fact, I rather like them. But two guys who decide to be cowboys, is against God’s plan. There are many verses in the bible that support the notion that “cowboys” are a metaphor for evil.
And what about our children? Do we want them to think that it’s okay to be a cowboy? Admittedly, I don’t have kids. But suppose one of my nephews decided to come out and announce to the family that he wants to be a cowboy. I don’t know how I’d handle it. I really don’t. And with movies like Brokeback Mountain, he might be inclined to feel like it’s okay.
It seems more and more people are deciding that the cowboy lifestyle is for them. I really don’t know if it’s something they’re born with, or something they learn; all I know is it’s wrong. I’m not perfect and I hate to pass judgment, but it’s just wrong to be a cowboy. I know that a lot of women think it’s “cool” to have cowboy friends – not me!
So the movie won four Golden Globe awards. Does that make it art? Absolutely not. The only thing it did for me was give me a sick feeling in my stomach whenever I see Jake Gyllenhaal or Heath Ledger, because now I can only see them as cowboys. They’re typecast as far as I’m concerned.
Look, it’s not like I’m totally unsympathetic to cowboys. I’m not a hater. Maybe they can’t help it. Maybe it’s not their fault. Maybe they just need some help or medication for their disease. I don’t know. I do know that people seeing this immoral movie only supports the pattern of behavior.
Sometimes a society has to stand up and be counted. Let your fellow citizens know how you feel about cowboys. Tell everyone you know: Don’t see Brokeback Mountain!
Thank you and God Bless.
I know what you’re thinking: Don, you’re usually pretty liberal about these things. Not this time. I think the whole premise of the movie is, in fact, immoral. If you think it’s morally acceptable for two men to be cowboys, then you are dead wrong. Dead wrong! I don’t mean to sound ultra-conservative, but I do not believe that cowboys have a place in our society.
People will argue, “Hey, they’re human. They should have the same rights as you and me.” They might be entitled to the same rights, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It seems like every parade I watch, there are more and more cowboys. It’s like a spreading virus. As far as “rights” go, you give them an inch and they take a mile. We let them have their poetry and their roping and then what happens? You can’t walk down the street without seeing gun racks in their trucks, belt buckles bigger than CDs, and Skoal.
The fact that they try and promote Brokeback Mountain as a “love story” is preposterous. It’s a cowboy movie, end of story.
Some people who have seen the movie will tell you, “Oh, it’s just a love story. It’s really well done, actually.” Whatever. I’m not against love stories; in fact, I rather like them. But two guys who decide to be cowboys, is against God’s plan. There are many verses in the bible that support the notion that “cowboys” are a metaphor for evil.
And what about our children? Do we want them to think that it’s okay to be a cowboy? Admittedly, I don’t have kids. But suppose one of my nephews decided to come out and announce to the family that he wants to be a cowboy. I don’t know how I’d handle it. I really don’t. And with movies like Brokeback Mountain, he might be inclined to feel like it’s okay.
It seems more and more people are deciding that the cowboy lifestyle is for them. I really don’t know if it’s something they’re born with, or something they learn; all I know is it’s wrong. I’m not perfect and I hate to pass judgment, but it’s just wrong to be a cowboy. I know that a lot of women think it’s “cool” to have cowboy friends – not me!
So the movie won four Golden Globe awards. Does that make it art? Absolutely not. The only thing it did for me was give me a sick feeling in my stomach whenever I see Jake Gyllenhaal or Heath Ledger, because now I can only see them as cowboys. They’re typecast as far as I’m concerned.
Look, it’s not like I’m totally unsympathetic to cowboys. I’m not a hater. Maybe they can’t help it. Maybe it’s not their fault. Maybe they just need some help or medication for their disease. I don’t know. I do know that people seeing this immoral movie only supports the pattern of behavior.
Sometimes a society has to stand up and be counted. Let your fellow citizens know how you feel about cowboys. Tell everyone you know: Don’t see Brokeback Mountain!
Thank you and God Bless.
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