Make A Little Girl Cry This Christmas!

I don't know how many of you have ever experienced this sensation on Christmas, but in my case, it sure felt good.

I'm talking about my 9 year old daughter, Kitty, and she was bawling up a storm on Christmas day.

Under normal circumstances she'd probably be crying because of three reasons:

a) I just got finished beating her.
b) one of her sisters hid a jalapeno pepper under sour cream on a tortilla chip.
c) I made her cut the onions for the spaghetti sauce.

But today the selection was d) none of the above.

As my girls were unwrapping their presents each was ecstatic with everything they got which is normally the case. They are pretty easy to please. When Kitty opened up her "big" present and saw it was a musician's stool, her sister Bebis immediately said, "I bet your Christmas present is upstairs!". All three girls run for the stairs with Loni in the lead. Kitty wipes out before she gets to the stairs. Basically it was the function of new fuzzy Christmas socks and a newly cleaned hardwood floor. I pick Kitty off the ground and she suffered a mild scrape to her knee. Not too bad. But she was crying uncontrollably like someone just killed her. I take a look at it and kiss her booboo and tell her that it's not bad at all. She is unconsolable.When her crying finally starts to subside, I told her. "You'll be alright, it's not too bad". She turns to me and says as we near her bedroom, "That's not why I'm crying, Dad". Then she sees her new keyboard and stand all set up to go with her musician's stool.She starts bawling again as she starts playing the keyboard. I sit on her bed and watch her as she plays. I didn't realize that she was as good as she plays. I am fascinated as she bangs out a tune with both hands. I knew she was taking lessons but she always played at her Mom's house. I had no idea how far she had progressed. I just though that the keyboard would be a good gift to facilitate her playing more.

She turns to me and says, with tears in her eyes, "I'm crying because I love my present and I am so happy". She falls into my arms and gives me a huge hug. "Thank you Daddy!". I actually start to tear up.

When you are a parent, seeing the joy in your kids eyes is usually a daily occurence. To see a child so appreciative of a Christmas gift, that they actually start to cry is absolutely precious. I always thought that tears of joy were exclusively reserved for weddings. I guess I was wrong.

And so were most of you that chose multiple choice answer A to my test question. Shame on you.

Merry Christmas from Bluey and all his girls (Tay, Tootles, Loni, Bebis and Kitty)! Even though we spent almost half of Christmas day in the ER with a severely virus dehydrated Tootles, it was a very memorable and wonderful day together.

Epilogue: Tootles wakes up from her 14 hour sleep and finally enjoys her Christmas presents on Tuesday morning. She's A-OK. That's a nice little Christmas present for Tay and I, considering how bad Tootlecious was just a day earlier.


Blood Pressure Rising

I just got an Xbox360 this past Monday and started with a game that I thought would be right up my alley. My gameplay style tends to lean towards mindless brutal violence, especially towards the slow moving undead.

Strategy??? What the hell is that??? I'm all about dicing and chopping zombies into a million pieces with an endless assortment of items including a big honking industrial sized lawn mower.

Of course, every once in a while, I do like to follow the story and missions in games in between the rampant carnage.But "Dead Rising" doesn't allow for that. They have a system where the messages on the screen and the dialogue is so small, it is unreadable unless you have a 12 foot HD screen, I guess. I can't even follow the story if I tried, especially on my 29 inch screen.

How this title got past beta testers as is is unfuckingbelievable.

Someone should get shot for passing this game in QC tests. Better yet, let me use the scythe to stab their neck and pop their head off like a daisy. This game has a huge amount of potential for lovely carnage with it's multitude of bludgeoning weapons (you can pretty much use anything on the screen to fight zombies, including busting them in the head with their own severed arm). But, alas, the game gives just as much ass cancer as it does pleasure.

Is there any chance that Capcom will release a fixed version of the game? Probably not, and it's a real shame because this could have very well been my most favorite game ever.

Oh, and to my buddies on Xbox Live, Doc Bluey is coming soon. I'm just waiting for Griffin to come and hook my Xbox360 wireless and transfer my Xbox Live account from the old Xbox. So beware Jumpman, Supermonkey, Gromit, Tankboy et al..., because I'm coming soon to legislate. If I can only figure out what these damn buttons do.Star, dot, circle, double diamond...left trigger finger (but now there's two of em'). I'm so confused.


Aspinvaal Christmas Cookie Exchange Goes Awry!

Gingerbread men rounded up all thumbprint, sugar cookies and peanut butter balls in an effort to re-establish themselves as the master holiday cookie.

Local bakers Herr Gavo and Frau Kristabella were brought in for questioning by the local authorities.


"Oh My God...I May Have To Play Nice With Republicans After All!"

I never had much of an issue with Democrats taking over control of the House and the Senate this past election. I figured that it would give the Democrats a stage to showcase their ideas for America.
Then I listened to future House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi, congresswoman CA. She is one divisive bitch, not only, seemingly, in her own party but between parties. I actually sat through an interview with Barbara Walters this week with Pelosi. Barbara had her #1 on a list of 2006's influential people or some nonsense like that. Patrick Dempsey from Grey's Anatomy was #2 on the list (seemingly because he is "hot"). Anyway, if you hear Nancy talk, she is extremely full of herself and not exactly the person expected to bring much bipartisan support. Let's just say that she should be glad that the Democrats have a clear majority in the House and also the advantage in the Senate. Of course, she is a huge George Bush attacker, which is basically her right, but I don't think that the Speaker of the House should have such a belligerance to the sitting president. She basically feels that Bush is unqualified to be president but has backtracked a little in her recent semantics.
On the Barbara Walters show (is it too late for Bawbwa Wawa to get speech therapy at 84 years of age?), she said something on the lines of "who better to clean up the government than a grandmother?"
Of course that sounds all nice but once again, after hearing her talk for 5 minutes, I don't have any clear impression on what her ideas are except somehow traveling back in time and removing troops from Iraq in May of 2006. She's really good at tearing down Republicans though. She has a real gift for being a partisan bully. Of course, she doesn't have to play nice with Republicans after the landslide Democratic win in November.
Or does she? Now that Tim Johnson, Democratic Senator of South Dakota has suffered an anuerysm of sorts and is in critical condition, there is a real chance that the Republicans will regain control of the Senate if SD governor Mike Rounds appoints a Republican to replace Tim Johnson if Johnson cannot continue. All of a sudden, all of Nancy Pelosi's divisive bullshit comes home to roost. The Senate would be able to block any bill that comes out of the House.
Now don't get me wrong, I hope that Johnson makes a full recovery or that Mike Rounds appoints the next qualified democrat to replace Johnson. But it just goes to show that you reap what you sow and that bad karma given comes right back to you. Nancy Pelosi is a nasty egotist and the Dems should replace her with someone with a little more bipartisan sensibilities.
Polarizing Democrats and Republicans are the people we should be voting out of office. Nancy Pelosi is clearly one of these people on the Dem side.
Way to go Nance! It looks like you'll render yourself irrelevant before you even get started.
Here is another shining example of Nancy's prowess in her recent selection of a chairperson of the House Intelligence committee, as reported by the Wall Street Journal:
Pelosi's Intelligence Man - December 14, 2006; Page A20As Speaker-to-be Nancy Pelosi's choice to be the next Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, Texas Democrat Silvestre Reyes will share responsibility for the budgets and oversight of U.S. spy agencies, as well as receive regular briefings on classified intelligence. But it appears he first needs a remedial course on America's terrorist enemies.
In an interview with Congressional Quarterly, Mr. Reyes was unable to answer basic questions about the sectarian nature of both al Qaeda and Hezbollah. "Predominantly -- probably Shiite," he responded when asked about the strain of Islam that animates al Qaeda. The truth is that al Qaeda is composed of Sunni extremists who slaughter Iraqi Shiites on a daily basis. And when CQ's reporter turned to Hezbollah, Mr. Reyes said, "Why do you ask me these questions at five o'clock?" Perhaps because he's only had 23 years since the Iranian-backed Shiite terror group blew up the Beirut Marine barracks to figure that one out.
It's not as if House Democrats didn't have a qualified candidate for the Intelligence Committee chair. That would be California's Jane Harman, who served with distinction as ranking Member in the current Congress. But Ms. Pelosi thought Ms. Harman was too hawkish and not partisan enough in opposing Bush Administration policy.
So she floated the name of Florida's Alcee Hastings for the chairmanship, though a Democratic Congress had voted to impeach him as a federal judge. When that choice came under post-election criticism, Ms. Pelosi tried to mollify the Black Caucus for dumping Mr. Hastings by picking someone from the Hispanic Caucus, the untutored Mr. Reyes.
So it appears America will fight the next two years of the war on terror with an important Congressional post occupied by a man who has no grasp at all of the dynamics of the conflicts in Iraq, Lebanon and the broader Middle East. This isn't an auspicious start by Democrats who hoped to campaign in 2008 having established some credibility on national security.


Last Night's Dream

I was carting around my three daughters and bought fast food dinners for two of them and was looking to pick up a meal for the third when the person at the counter said that they had no change for a twenty. I found a bill changer but it only spit out three $1 bills. I was just on my way to yell at someone when Tay woke me up.

I said "Damn, Tay, I was just about to tear into someone's ass!" Tay asked me about my dream and she immediately started to psycho-analyze it. "Maybe it means that you have anxiety about paying for your daughters' college, weddings etc...". I was a little skeptical of that assessment and asked what the other dreams I had that night meant.

"What were they?" Tay innocently asked.

"In one dream, I was standing on the sidewalk and my girls, you and your daughter were hooking up hoses to my body and then started pumping individual bicycle pumps until I was entirely deflated", I said.

She frowned. "You idiot."

"In another dream, I was a big giant slug and the five of you were pouring cannisters of Morton's salt on me until I was shriveled to just about nothing. What could these dreams possibly mean?".

"You know, you're a real jerk".

"I know honey......I know".


Rock, Paper, Scissors, El Diablo and the Shocker!

Every once in a while, the staff of the Wall Street Journal show that they are not entirely stuffy and do have a sense of humor.
Last March, they ran one of my all-time favorite articles concerning "the grand sport of rock-paper-scissors". The article documented the pissing match between an upstart U.S.A Rock-Paper-Scissors league started by Hollywood producers and supported by Bud Light girls in local watering holes and the Toronto-based World RPS Society which has proclaimed itself as caretaker and the sole recognized "governing body of the sport".
I have included a link to the article but I think you need an online WSJ subscription to access the page.
Here are some of my favorite lines from the article:
For too long, adults who gather in clubs looking for competition have had only pool or darts to challenge them. Finally, there's a true sport where talent can be showcased.
The World and U.S. leagues agree that rock-paper-scissors is a game of strategy. "Selecting throws in advance helps prevent unconscious patterns from forming and can sometimes reduce the subconscious signals that give away the next throw," the World Society's Web site advises. Advanced players twitch fingers to confuse fist-watching foes, or delay unveiling a throw until the last possible instant.
The U.S. league asserts, "All cries of 'RPS is just random' disappear the moment one's opponent states, 'I dare you to open with rock, you sissy.'
The World Society describes two throws of scissors sandwiched around a paper as "an invasive and devious gambit." The U.S. league says a man who throws two papers then a rock has never kissed a girl.
The World Society deplores the U.S. league officiating as lax. "There doesn't seem to be any accountability or quality control," says Shawn Ring, 29, a World Society member in Philadelphia. At a recent U.S. league event, he claims a referee allowed a contestant to make a patently illegal vertical paper throw.
The U.S. league's Web site displays a video of the "Girls of RPS," scantily dressed women nicknamed Rock, Paper and Scissors, cavorting to pulsing music. The World Society posted a critique on its Web site saying the U.S. league had "chosen to go down that old tired and true route of hiring strippers for a cheese-fest" rather than celebrate women "who have actually played RPS.
The U.S. league shot back on its Web site that the World Society was sexist for implying that an attractive woman couldn't be good at rock-paper-scissors. "Brothers Graham and Doug Walker obviously know nothing of beautiful women, most likely because they've never actually spoken to one," the Web site declared.

Now, I've been playing RPS with my daughters for years and they are quite good at it, especially my 9 year old, Kitty. She regularly beats me in a two out of three game. Unfortunately, since I am a known Cheaty McCheaterson, I have made new hand signs to counter her traditional throws.

"El Diablo" (shown at top of article) is a throw in which, the devil splits rock, melts scissors and burns paper and is unbeatable.
I pretty much made it a habit to throw an assortment of hand gestures I continually make up such as "Crane", "Rake", "Gun", "Peace", "Loser" and many others in an attempt to cheat Kitty out of victory. I'd make confusing arguments as to what each was and why each beat her throw.
When Kitty got wise and started throwing El Diablo back at me, I countered with "Halo", which banishes El Diablo back to Hades. Unfortunately, Kitty argues that "Halo" is plugged by rock, covered by paper and cut by scissors. We're still continuing to argue that one out.
Needless to say, I think we should keep our alternative methods away from the prying ears of the World RPS Society, who would surely frown on our ammendments to the "grand game of rock, paper, scissors".
I'm just trying to figure out how to utilize "the Shocker" in a RPS game. For obvious reasons, I've refrained from throwing it in a game with my daughters.


Weekend Warrior Championship: Black Ice 2, Oilers 1.

After playing in adult ice hockey leagues for the better part of 10 years or so, I felt like Ray Bourque last night as our Black Ice squad skated home with the championship in our C level league.

I have no delusions of greatness however, as I've been the part of mostly 1 and 2 win teams for the majority of my adult league tenure and I was starting to think that I was a "shleprock" to the teams I've played for, bringing bad juju or karma in some way. All of that disappeared last night as the Black Ice skated to old man glory. After being outskated in a scoreless first period, the Black Ice took control of the game in the second and came out with a 1-1 tie going into the third. Midway through the third period, we broke the tie and played solid defensively to preserve the victory 2-1.

Finally winning one of these things at 40 is sweet, especially with friends. Blue, the Black Ice founder and caretaker, and Meersky, playing in three adult leagues concurrently, played pivotal roles during the season. The Black Ice won in a multiple round shootout using all of their players in a tied semifinal game just to advance to the Final two weeks before. Meersky scored a shootout goal to keep the season alive in that game. Meersky also played the first games I've ever seen him play on defense.

Overall, a great effort by all, especially by our team MVP, our goaltender, Brian, who was spectacular all season and made unbelievably crazy saves last night. I'm glad to finally taste sweet victory!


"You're A Real Effing Petey!"

My girlfriend, Tay, has two dogs. One is a pit bull mix female named "Daisy" who reminds me of "Petey" from "The Little Rascals". Daisy is pretty much a sweet dog with a pleasant personality that Tay found abandoned in her driveway a few years ago. Daisy is pretty well behaved except for one aspect. She's an outside dog but she would sell her soul to the devil to get inside the house. She's been known to push open doors, jump through screens and run through your legs as you enter the house just to get inside for the few seconds before you grab her by her collar and haul her ass back outside.

Tay has another dog, a lab called "Shadow", who, when I met Tay should have been called "Nightmare". He regularly jumped up on anyone approaching the house and he was usually soaked or covered in mud when he did. The dog knows every waterhole on the property and regularly is a wet mess. Although we're starting to make progress with his behavior, it's Daisy who really grinds my fucking gears on a regular basis, not Shadow.

Because she looks like Petey, I started calling her that. I do it just to piss her off. Believe it or not, she seems to get an indignant look on her face when I call her Petey and it just stuck. I call her Petey all the time.

Of course, now that I call her Petey, the word Petey is associated with what a pain in the ass she can really be. Petey, in the Bluey dictionary, has become synonomous with "a real pain in the ass", hence the phrase "you're a real effing Petey!".

For example: When Tay and I returned from vacation in Naples, Fla, we we're both hauling our own bag from baggage to long term parking. Her bag was nice and new and had a pull out handle and wheels. Mine was an ancient piece of shit that I basically had to carry. It probably weighed about 100 pounds. After we walked the mile back to the exit where the car was, my arms were about to fall off. Tay was perfectly fine. Then Tay turns to me and says, "would you mind pulling the car out and picking me up here at the door, sweetie?". Needless to say, when I get to my vehicle, I write on the tailgate "Tay is a real Petey" with my finger. When I pull around to Tay, she is just about to lift the tailgate when she spots the message. I start laughing my ass off. Message received loud and clear.

So, if someone walks by you in the future and calls you a real fucking Petey some day, you'll know that you're being a real pain in the ass!


Bluey's Girls 3, Bluey 1.

I took my progeny to the Mellon Arena last night for the Pens-Rangers game.

Yes, the cartoonist was there again and produced the image of my girls that you see above (l. Bebis, c. Kitty and r. Loni).

Thank God, I didn't make any bets with the girls since they went home with the same smiles on their faces as their Penguins beat my beloved NY Rangers 3-1. My little pugilism lovers cheered the Thorburn-Hollweg fight and went nuts over Mark Recchi's 2 goals and Jordan Staal's goal. I had very little to cheer about outside of a Brendan Shanahan goal on a Penguin giveaway.

The girls also danced themselves onto the scoreboard screen late in the game. Truly a fun night!


Bluey On Vacation

Tay and I are going on vacation and we will be away for four days at an undisclosed location (damned papparazzi!).

Since I'm not the type of person who brings a computer along with me on vacation, especially the beach, Bluey's World will be in a holding pattern until my triumphant return next week. I'm sure I'll be filled with tales to tell of my trip and a whole new batch of people that give me cancer.

Enjoy the break my dear readers, you deserve it!


Congratulations To The Democrats!

No, I really do mean it.

Obviously the country wanted a change and you guys have promised "a new direction for America".

I'm really interested whether there are actually any ideas behind the new direction lip service or if the Democrats actually have some answers. I didn't hear many during the campaigning but maybe the party just wanted to keep them close to the vest. I was actually happy to see the Dems put up more social conservatives for election this year.

Anyways, good luck! Your 2008 success will depend heavily on your actions over the next two years!


"I'm Taking The Hammer Out Of Your Bony Hands, Kicking Out Your Left Knee, Dropping You To The Ground and Then Pimp Slapping Your Sorry Ass!"

(Don Felatio to Kay, Game 3, Lunch Money)

No, Don Felatio wasn't especially nice to his wife, Kay, during our first Games Night at the Bluey estate. The Don and Bluey put on a clinic on how to keep your pimp hand strong in Game 3 of Lunch Money, as they quickly disposed of their significant others, Kay and Tay, and left them unconscious. Bluey used the dreaded Poke In The Eye, to render Tay blind and vulnerable to a subsequent ass whooping.

The gals, however, had their way with Bluey in Game 1 with Kay dealing out a boatload of combo damage after choking Bluey's sorry ass. In Game 2, Kay and Tay demolished Bluey and the Don. Tay ended up winning the first two games, besting Kay in a pair of memorable game ending catfights...Meow!!!

Space Munchkin was also played simultaneously on the table with Colin being the first to reach level 20. He bested Griffin, FNG, and Tracer.

Earlier in the Evening, the whole lot played three plus games of Pitch Car with Meersky winning Race #1, FNG winning Race #2 (with an assist by Griffin and a major choke job by Bluey's "It's Just Physics"), and Griffin winning race #3 against Bluey's girls, who then claimed the game as their own as we cleared the main table.

Finally, the night ended in one giant game of Kill Dr. Lucky in which Dr. Lucky was able to avoid death for at least two hours and countless murder attempts by Tay, The Don, Kay, Poppinfresh, FNG, Griffin, Tracer and Bluey the card whore until Griffin was able to finally do him in with a rusty spoon, I think.

We chowed down on Mineo's Pizza and had a birthday cake and Reese's Ice Cream to celebrate Erie's 25th birthday (or at least the 10th or so anniversary of it!). Meersky returned to the party after a brief stint at his brother's house dressed as a priest. He almost immediately was discovered fondling FNG in the upstairs bathroom.

All in all, a very entertaining night and we're definitely going to have to plan another Games Night again real soon. Thanks to all for making the night an absolute blast!


Bluey's World: One Year Anniversary!

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog. One year ago today, I put the proverbial pen to paper and started spouting the most inane, dysfunctional and extremely masturbatory ideas and stories that my brain came up with on a weekly basis.

My plan is to continue until the well runs dry or I finally succumb to the ass cancer that people give me on a daily basis. (Especially from that oblivious cunt the other day who was standing in the middle of a busy road talking on her cellphone while me and Poppinfresh were driving to lunch, or the two referees at Bebis' basketball game last night who seemingly couldn't be bothered to actually ref a 11 year old girls basketball game).

I'm actually having fun with this medium and want to give thanks to my friends and family for giving me the fuel I need to keep it going. Thanks for all the positive feedback.

And for those who haven't got a mention in the blog yet, be careful of what you wish for. Your day is coming soon!



Futurama Raises A Question In My Head

I was watching an episode of Futurama yesterday where Bender sells his body and Richard Nixon's preserved head somehow acquires it and goes on the road for another run at the presidency.

I've been thinking about stem cell research recently and came up with the following question.

If you could keep your brain alive and functional using stem cells, would you consider chopping the head off a genetically matched child (utilizing cloning technology) and grown specifically for you to sew your own head onto thereby staying alive theoretically forever?

I guess a more aseptic way of saying this would be to transplant your brain into a clone of yourself.

Nonetheless, sooner or later, we are going to have the technology to keep people alive forever. Do we use technology to cheat death forever in the future at any cost?

We have cloning technology already. Assuming stem cell research or some other advanced research gives us the power to regenerate our own cells or prevent apoptosis (programmed cell death), the only technology left to complete the process is the brain transplant.

The last thing I want is a 576 year old person walking around perpetually bitter about something that happened to them 379 years ago. Maybe we'd have to invent a selective memory wipe as well.

I guess my point is that Bender's body should only be used for Bender's head, not Richard Nixon's, and when Bender is ready for the junkyard, we recycle him into a few cases of Mr. Pibb cans.

Hey, the worms gotta eat too, right?


Happy, Happy Halloween!!!

And to the Hollywood idiots of the world, don't forget to put on the Silver Shamrock masks I sent you before you click on the...Special Halloween Give-Away Link

Kafka and Klendathu Welcome You!

"Happy, happy Halloween...halloween...halloween...., happy, happy halloween....................silver shamrock!"


Just Another Retarded Actor

I have no personal beef with Michael J. Fox specifically. It's just that I cringe whenever actors use their pulpit to comment on political, scientific and social issues.

The problem stems from the fact that most actors don't know jack about anything other than the entertainment business. Using their fame to try to persuade voters on issues that they hardly understand is just as crooked as government representatives buying and selling their votes to support each other's legislation.

Liberal/Conservative issue has nothing to do with it. Do I want Michael J. Fox to tell me how to fix my car, invest my retirement money, or hit a curveball? No, because, chances are he knows next to nothing about any of these three things. But for some reason it doesn't stop the parade of thespian retards from commenting on issues they know nothing about. Next, we'll be listening to Mel Gibson talk about sensitivity and the plight of the Jewish people. These folks should just keep their mouths shut unless they have some sort of significant background from which to draw from. It doesn't help that we have a legion of retards that hang on every breath these people take. So, we are partially to blame for giving these folks this entitlement of power.

Anyway, Mr. Fox stumps for a Missouri Democratic candidate based on the support of a measure written to expand stem cell research which he proclaims the Republican candidate to be against. Of course, his personal battle with Parkinson's disease and a possible stem cell research based cure is the real issue. But Mr. Fox has no idea what he is really supporting and has never even read the legislation which seemingly includes cloning and goes far beyond simple stem cell research.

Fox, now freely admits that he never read the measure. News reports state:
Actor Michael J. Fox taped an ad for McCaskill, who supports the initiative to allow embryonic stem cell research. But on Sunday, Fox admitted he hadn't read the initiative, which opponents say would allow cloning for the purposes of research. Asked about that charge, Fox told ABC's "This Week" that he didn't think those claims were accurate. "I don't think that's true. ... I have to qualify it by saying I'm not qualified to speak on the page-to-page content of the initiative. Although, I am quite sure that I'll agree with it in spirit, I don't know. On full disclosure, I haven't read it, and that's why I didn't put myself up for it distinctly," Fox said.

What a joke. While I am personally against stem cell research utilizing embryos, I have no problem with researchers collecting stem cells from other sources such as umbilical cord blood to utilize for their efforts. I do not feel that stem cell research is going to create "lightning in a bottle" cures to Alzheimer's, Parkinson's and other neurophysical maladies that we are being led to believe by the mainstream media. The research does appear to be novel and could be promising but it is still in it's discovery phase. While I feel strongly on the subject, I also worked as a biochemist for 16 years and feel that I am more than qualified to speak intelligently about stem cell research. Mr. Fox has never even read the full legislative measure, has no true understanding of stem cell technology and yet is still comfortable with broadcasting a message to millions of people trying to sway their vote on a subject he freely admits he doesn't fully understand.

That is just plain irresponsible but not surprising from an actor. I realize that the guy has Parkinson's disease, but that is no excuse for not using better judgement. It was no surprise that the Republicans also lined up a slew of actors to refute Mr. Fox's spot in their own commercial. I'm so sure that they are equally informed as Mr. Fox.

What a bunch of sheep these people think we are. It's downright insulting. But as long as we are a nation addicted to frigging People magazine, they have every means to exploit the nation with their disinfomation.

Hey Michael! You're giving me Parkinson's!


Congratulations...Now You're Fat And Stupid!

I tuned into this show about six weeks ago or so as I was channel surfing and became quite intrigued by it. I promised myself that I would try to watch it but was not overly successful in doing so.

During the first week I saw, I got to watch a bunch of fatties cry about how "they are trying to stay healthy so they can stay alive for their kids". The whole cast started crying at one time or another about this. Of course, being the most sympathetic fat person, I imitated them by crying that "I have to stay alive for my kids", whilst shoving an imaginary twinkie down my gullet for my audience, Poppinfresh and Erie. But apart from the blubbering, the show is actually interesting when you see all the pounds that these people shed. The couple of times I watched it, I was amazed to see the total transformation of a human being before my eyes.

And then the show got real stupid.

Whereas, you'd think that the show would actually reward the biggest "losers", the show "a la Survivor", actually encourages the least successful fatties to kick off the "biggest threat" hard working ones.

The show basically creates two teams of chubs and uses a percentage lost system to decide which team has to vote someone to go home. In the beginning, this usually (and correctly) consisted of the person who dropped the smallest percentage of weight. Now as the show is dwindling down, I think that hypoglycemia is kicking in and making these people retarded. The one team is basing their vote on sex (gals against the guys). They keep a smaller weight loss sow on their squad and send their stud hog home.

In a game where you are eliminated based on total percentage lost, does it make sense to jettison your "biggest losers", knowing full well that you're just dooming yourself to sending someone home the following week as well?

And doesn't the game want to really protect the "biggest losers"?

Apparently not. So, from here on in, it'll basically be a pissing match between annoying and back stabbing orcas who have no sense of what they are really there for. I think that if that's the way the show is supposed to go, then let's make it real interesting. I think that the winning team each week should get a food item to plant in the dormitory of the other team, to tempt them into falling off the wagon. Why not? If the real hardworking people have no shot to win, could we at least see the uninspired fatties gorge themselves on hidden Krispy Kremes moments before weigh in? It's not like it will cost them their spot if they are in a good alliance.

If this show is dead set on being a sham, then let's see it a full blown sham.

Hell, let's make the whole house (including furniture) edible a la a Gingerbread House. Let's give them round the clock availability to room service and food delivery. Hell, let's put the house between a McDonalds and a Taco Bell.

And forget about the voting. Let's just say that a physician verified coronary event determines who is eliminated.

Now, that's entertainment!


1973: The First Sign That The World Was Getting Too Damn Sensitive About Everything

When I was 7 years old, Topps Chewing Gum, was in the process of distributing their second series of their successful Wacky Packages line of kid's stickers that parodied named brand products. I collected the first series and loved them, I actually enjoyed collecting them more than baseball cards.
I still remember many of my favorite Wacky's, like it was yesterday.
During Topps' second series however, they produced my all time favorite sticker. It was a parody of Ronzoni brand macaroni called "Run Tony". I was lucky enough to get one but stupidly stuck it on one of my school notebooks. I had hoped that I'd have no problem getting a duplicate to save. But this was just before Ronzoni apparently complained to Topps that the sticker was degrading to Italian-Americans. Topps, who were probably skirting copyright laws in the first place, agreed to drop the sticker in the series and I was never able to get a duplicate sticker in subsequent purchases. But this innocent request was the beginning of a societal landslide that was coming.
I grew up in an Italian neighborhood and found nothing degrading about the sticker. I was proud of my Italian heritage and it's not like replacing the "Run Tony" sticker was going to somehow magically free my fellow Italians of the Mafia stigma. Damn, it was just a harmless joke. I guess this was the beginning of the end of people being able to laugh at themselves and the start of an uptight baby boomer generation that would become the most over sensitive and lawsuit generating bunch of SOB's in history.
With every year that passed, more and more things were beginning to be deemed as offensive and taken away. But it didn't stop there. The over-sensitive and over-protective attitudes started to creep into childhood games and activities.
They started taking away all the fun by making kids wear bicycle helmets, which has pretty much kept the majority of kids off bikes in subsequent generations. Hell, my friends and I lived on our bikes as kids. And we lived in New York City! You hardly see too many kids riding bikes anymore.
They started giving everyone trophies for participating in sports and took away all incentive to win. All of a sudden all of our games and the lessons we learned winning and losing them would be changed forever. They took away dodgeball over the years and last week I read a story about a school in Massachusettes banning tag because they are afraid of lawsuits from parents suing when their kids get hurt playing it. Props to Jammer for finding this nugget.
I'm sorry but if I'm a judge sitting on a case for a parent suing over a game of tag, I'm ordering a beheading of the lawsuit happy parent as a message to the rest of this country.
These parents who are "protecting" their kids pretty much by placing them in a plastic bubble are the same ones who allow their children to play ultra violent video games and whose kids can be heard hurling racial slurs and homocidal epithets at anonymous adults on X-box Live, where their stupid parents have no idea what they are doing.
Way to go assbag baby boomer parents. You raised some real trophies of human beings. Kids that can't pick themselves off the ground in the real world. Kids that have no healthy fear of authority. Kids that don't know the sacrifice and hard work that is involved in suceeding in life. Kids that are constantly praised for mediocrity (Can you say 3rd grade graduation? Are you fucking kidding me?).
Jeez, all that because I didn't get another "Run Tony" sticker. I may just need some psychiatric help to help deal with baby boomers and how they changed the world for the worst.
Generation X'ers of the world unite! I'd tell you to raise your children against this prevalent stupidity, but so few of you even have kids. I've done my part with my children and I hope all of you do the same.


David Wright Sucks Again...Big Surprise!

How about a trade of Wright to the Yankees for A-Rod?

At least I'd expect him to suck in the clutch and have no expectations. The Cardinals finally got wise and pitched around Carlos Delgado all night and Wright got one mistake basehit and looked like a chump the entire series.

David, you fucking blow. Way to cost the Mets a trip to the World Series. I hope your car goes off the road in the snow so I can kidnap you and hobble your dead ass.


Great, now we get to see the Cardinals lose 4-0 to the Tigers, wonderful.


An Open Letter To David Wright

Dear David,

Nothing personal, but your play in the NLCS is giving me ass cancer.

So far, the Mets have been able to get to Game 7 pretty much without you but we need you real bad tonight.

You see, Jeff Suppan is a frigging poser bitch who needs his old ass roughed up big time. Tony LaRussa's Cardinals have no business getting this far, regardless of the fact that our pitching has been decimated by injuries.

C'mon David, you're my man and I would really like to see you line the first pitch you see right up Suppan's rectum for an inside the park homerun. I'm so confident that you'll come through that I Fed-Exed Yader Molina a pair of forceps to help Suppan "give birth" on the mound while you're getting your curtain call.

Go METS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for listening, your #1 fan,
Cockadoodie Bluey


"Oh Pink Motorola Razr...Why Have I Forsaken Thee?"

I just recently renewed my two year cell phone plan with every intention of getting a pink RazR.

Verizon was running a special where I get a free Motorola Razr for signing on for another two years of service. Unfortunately, this offer was for the silver RazR. To get the pink RazR, it would have cost me $30 extra bucks. To those who know me, you can guess what I ended up getting.

Why the fuck would a pink phone cost $30 more than a silver one? I can only think of one reason.Verizon and Motorola think that women are superficial fucking retards.Why else would there be a $30 premium for your choice of color?

The thing that kills me is that the dykes over at the National Organization for Women aren't bringing these two companies to court for such an injustice perpetrated specifically on women. Oh, real lesbians don't like pink...do they? That's just a horrible stereotype perpetrated by the porn industry.

Damn!Here I am, looking forward to getting a pink phone to be a conversation piece and attracting all kinds of weird stares as I whip it out and suddenly now all of my fun isn't going to happen. Goddamn you, cruel world!

I heard that Motorola and Verizon uses the blood of freshly killed baby seal pups and titanium to make the special pink hue found on these phones.

To the braintrust of PETA, please dispatch naked chicks at once to start protesting the pink RazR. I've got $30 burning a hole in my pocket and I could use a bucket of chicken and a side of slaw to ease my pain.


"A-Rod Would Fuck Up A One Car Funeral Procession!", Exclaims An Angered Osama

Apparently, Yankee management is less than pleased with Alex Rodriguez after his plane went skidding off of a runway at Bob Hope Airport in California while failing to yield any fatalities.

"I gave him a boxcutter and told him that there would be no room for him on the 2007 roster, unless he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Allah. I promised him a roomful of plump virgins if he could bring his plane down possibly in the middle of the A's-Tigers game or at least at a shopping mall of some sort where capitalist pigs meet to idol worhip. So what happens??? The useless son of an infidel whore, falls and cuts himself with the boxcutter before the plane even takes off and then it skids to a halt to rush him to a hospital. No wonder why the bloated pig can't field a ground ball at third. He's pathetic."

Osama planned on waiving A-Rod after his untimely death, much as he did with Cory Lidle but will now have to look for another opportunity.

A-Rod had no comment other to assure the press that he considers himself part of the "solution".


Bluey: A Marketing Genius?

This is what happens when Tay asks me to help her with marketing materials.

She asked for my input on how to market cleaning services to newlyweds.

I think it's pretty damn effective and will definitely get the attention of the guy who is potentially weighing the benefits of hiring cleaning services.

What guy would say no to this?

Sheer Genius! Brilliant!


Steinbrenner Names Osama As New Yankee GM

In an effort to light a fire under the underachieving New York Yankees, George Steinbrenner announced that Bin Laden would become the Yankee general manager, replacing Brian Cashman, in a 11AM press conference.

"I think that this capitalist pig team has gotten fat and lazy carrying around a 200+M payroll. The players are not responding to Joe Torre and this move will ensure that the players buy into the Yankee jihad against the rest of the infidels in an effort to capture Allah's glory of a MLB trophy", said an excited Osama.

When asked about the future of A-Rod, Osama exclaimed, "We will find some use for this American pig". Bin Laden also said that he would try to revamp the Yankees failed pitching staff as soon as possible.

A few hours later, Yankees pitcher, Corey Lidle, piloted his personal plane into a fifty story apartment complex.


"Herro...I'm Back!"

It'll sure be interesting to see if the U.N. imposes sanctions finally on North Korea after an underground nuclear test. If it fails to do so, it may just be time for the United States to withdraw from the U.N and establish a similar body consisting of their NATO allies.

While Russia and China are talking a big game about this underground test, I believe that their only reason is to avoid the placement of US nukes in Japan and South Korea. If our little "ronery" buddy escapes sanctions this time, I think it pretty much invalidates the U.N. and it's potential role in diplomacy between nations.

The U.N.'s unwillingness to take a stand or to become involved in many places around the world where there are heinous human rights violations, has made the body an absolute joke. It just may be time to walk away and let the rest of the world talk until they are blue in the face, resolving nothing.

I think sitting in on the U.N. charade actually weakens our position in the world. Maybe a little healthy fear of not knowing what the US will do in response to these events will shake a few idiots from the tree.


Assuming The Laws Of Physics Do Not Apply

There is a universal saying in Guydom that every man in the world has uttered at one time or another in his life. That saying is: "If I could suck my own dick, I wouldn't leave the house". We've chuckled at that phrase at the expense of women for years. But, is it really true?

If you can assume that the laws of physics didn't apply and that it was possible, how many men would really suck their own dicks for pleasure?

My hypothesis was pretty simple. I would have expected that when push comes to shove, about 95+% of men would pretty much back off that statement and be horrified at the reality of blowing themselves and that the universal statement was nothing but a load of hot air blown by men for generations.

So, I took a scientific poll of pilgrimagers to get to the truth. The questions were as follows:

Assuming the laws of physics didn't apply and you could suck your own dick, would you?

If the question was answered YES, then the followup questions were:
How much of a gap in difference between sucking your own dick and sucking another random dick was there? Was it a hop, skip, jump away or was it a wide gulf away (meaning that performing the act was just another acceptable act of masturbation)?

Is it okay to swallow?

If the question was answered NO, then the followup questions were:Why not? How much of a gap? Care to comment on swallowing?

After conducting an extensive poll of about 15 guys, I was pretty amazed to find out that about 26.6% (4/15) heterosexual men (okay, I couldn't exactly verify this), would indeed perform the deed on themselves.

I got a wide varying range of answers on whether the act was comparable to what would normally be considered a homosexual activity. Some men were disgusted by the prospect while others saw a huge difference between pleasing themselves and another man. Only one respondent said that it was okay to swallow 6.66% the throat yogurt.

Overall, a very interesting research study on an age old adage. My hypothesis failed and more men that I anticipated were indeed serious about "never leaving the house".


The 2006 Fall Pilgrimage

The weather is beautiful, the football field is a swamp, the dodgeball court is strewn with fallen leaves and the lake is looking cold but maybe just warm enough to jump in.

The Fall pilgrimage begins tonight with festivities beginning about 7pm or so.

Be there or be gay!

Oh Yeah...and GOOOOOO METS!!!!


Are They Kidding?

When I read stories of KFC growing chickens in small cages, farmers producing veal by placing young calves in a box, industries spraying perfumes and soaps in bunnies eyes or furriers killing animals for their pelts, I get a smile on my face.

Is is because I'm a heartless bastard? Well, I'd like to think not, but maybe.

No. The reason that I get a jolt out of these stories because it means that we're about to get a protest of naked chicks. Naked chicks in boxes and cages, you get the picture! For some strange reason PETA seems to believe that convincing their hot female membership that getting naked will really get the message out and bring awareness to PETA's issues and result in positive changes. I don't know how they exactly sell that pitch but I almost want to go out and abuse animals myself, just to get the naked protesting.

Hmmm...let's see. I want KFC to stop doing something that I find offensive. So, I send a couple of hot naked chicks to their place of business to protest. Of course, it draws a huge crowd and then, at lunchtime, people have got to eat?...don't they? A couple of drumsticks and a side of cole slaw later, it's back to ogling the naked chicks. Wash it down with another cup of Coke and bang! Another successful day of protesting.

Maybe one day, PETA will get wise and really send some nasty old skanks to get naked for their ads and protests. Then people may take notice of their plight and lose their appetite for the Colonel's extra crispy formula.

I guess that makes too much sense. Oh well.

Bring on more naked chicks. I can almost feel myself turning into a PETA convert (well, okay, that's a blatant lie, but how will they ever know?)

Bad Company...And I Ain't Denying It

CNN posted this picture in today's story of George Michael and his most recent brush with the law.

Apparently, this is supposed to be a recent picture of George on tour. I say bollocks to that! I know who this really is.

Another Separated At Birth candidate!!!

This "singer" goes by the alias of Pablo Honey, once scored a hit with "Radioactive" with Jimmy Page and can be found carrying the mail until his favorite show, Card Sharks comes on the Gameshow network at 2PM.


Roger Waters: The Dark Side Of Osama's Ass Tour

September 24, 2006

Tay and I went to see the Roger Waters' show at Star Lake Amphitheatre last night. For the most part, the show was very enjoyable. I still believe to this day that Roger Waters represents the "true" Pink Floyd, while the other guys, David Gilmore included, are a roving bunch of pseudoFloydian hacks.

Waters' music through the years has always understandably had strong anti-war undertones. The guy's father was killed in Anzio during WWII. Maybe he saw little point in that war but I'm sure that millions would disagree with his assessment. It's easy for peaceniks to denounce war for any reason and decry that the tree of liberty is stained with the blood of patriots. They live in an idealistic world where they paint the tyrant tag on just about any political leader. But, I think age and creeping senility has finally taken it's toll on ol' Rog.

I was more than a little annoyed when I saw "Leaving Beirut" on his set list for this tour. The song was inspired by a story where his car broke down in Lebanon and how all the wonderful misunderstood Arabs helped him in 1960 something. The song then uses that story to make a leap about how all Arabs are misunderstood and how they all are a kind, sweet people and that magically, 2006 is no different than 1966. It goes on to imply that the conservatives and religious right somehow fucked up the world in the last 40 years to justify the Islamic extremism we see today.

As if 9/11, which happened on the heels of an eight year Clinton presidency, was somehow our fault. That people I knew were dead because of something we did to wrong the Middle East. Fuck that bullshit.

Finally, he released a balloon pig (a la Animals tour), with the message "Impeach Bush" on it's ass.I have three things to say about all of that. First of all, Waters got some hearty boos from more than a few in attendance including myself. I heard that they booed his sorry ass in New York City as well as he tried the same hystrionics the day after September 11th. Secondly, Waters, in describing the Lebanese people sounds like Sean Penn describing Iraq as having "flowery meadows, rainbow skies and rivers of flowing chocolate where the children danced around with gumdrop smiles".

Sooner or later, the Lebanese people have to be held accountable for allowing extremist assholes to hijack their country. As far as I'm concerned, they are all guilty by association until they do something to fix their own damn country.

Is Waters really that delusional that he can paint one positive experience to encompass and generalize about a whole region of people. And a region forty years later, no less! If you did that with a negative experience, you'd be branded a racist. Thirdly, Mr. Waters can get his sorry limey arse out of my fucking country and take the singing Irish assholes (U2) with him as well. The US is a convenient pitstop for these folks to ring the cash register and spout their anti-US message. Let's see how well he does playing in cities in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Syria.

Lastly, I'd like to drop his sorry ass in Lebanon today and see what happens. Maybe someone can "put him up against a wall" and chainsaw his head from his body. Then he can write a song about it and his offspring can get cheers in Pakistan for it.

My support for Roger Waters has officially ended. Hey Rog, thanks for all the great years of Pink Floyd and some wonderful music but you've gone too far off the deep end, so I bid you a fine adieu and say....Fuck You!


Xenon: Try A Tube Shot!!!

Hands down, one of my favorite pinball machines.

Xenon was an intergallactic slut hell bent on milking the sperm out of the human male species.

Beukey's recent mention on his blog of our obsession with playing Fireball (not to mention Comet and Cyclone), made me remember one of my all time favorite pinball machines. Our campus eatery had the machine and I don't want to even think about how much of my money I pumped into Xenon's vagina er... coinslot.

As you played the game, the blue skinned Xenon would prod you on with some sexy talk as she walked you through all of her erogenous zones on the board. As you started hitting them with regularity she would start warming up with ooohs and ahhhs as you started foreplay by knocking down her targets and hitting all her buttons. As you pumped the flippers furiously, she would start cooing and moaning until she just couldn't take the teasing anymore. In a throaty voice she would utter "Try a tube shot" and she would keep reminding you until you filled her tube with your manhood er... the pinball.

You'd shoot the ball into her plastic vagina and she would absolutely go nuts and cry as if in post-orgasmic passion. If you could wreck her tube a few more times, you'd "knock" her up and get a free game. Overall, money well spent and cheaper than a hooker. Xenon represented some of my first sexual experiences. No one could buck in front of my groin quite like her.

And she never expected you to call the next day!


Pittsburgh Pirates Sweep 2006 World Champion NY Mets

Yes, and it made me sick to my stomach.

The girls and I went to Friday night's game and my girls celebrated the Pirates victory and danced on the Diamonvision screen not once, but twice.

The Pirates took the Nimbus 2000 and cracked it over Metropolitan skulls. The Mets failed all three times to clinch the NL Least.

Loni, Bebis and Kitty played spoilers as they cheered the Bucs on to victory!

I got the last laugh as I beat them when we got home. If you got a problem with child abuse...write your congressman! lol.


Can You Believe What CNN Is Advocating These Days?

This story was lifted verbatim from the CNN website:

Toss that salad: E. coli outbreak linked to spinach

If you have bagged spinach in the fridge, toss it. The Food and Drug Administration is warning consumers nationwide not to eat fresh bagged spinach, saying it may be the source of a multistate E. coli outbreak that has killed one person and made dozens sick. "We're advising people not to eat it," said Dr. David Acheson of the FDA.

I almost pissed myself when I read that headline. Although they fail to mention whether the salad should be "tossed" with syrup or some kind of jelly.

Interesting enough, the FDA guy quoted in the article has a similar name to a student that used to work in our office years ago who was on the "eight year plan". I used to call him "Fountain Boy", because he was a "know-it-all" but his information was rarely accurate. I used to call him a fountain of misinformation and later it was simplified to "Fountain Boy". One day, our supervisor at a group function referred to him as "Fountain Point" and almost cause many of us to piss ourselves laughing. I guess she picked it up from everyone calling him that nickname, but she botched it. Then we started calling him "Fountain Point" and it stuck big time.

And if anybody was an expert on "tossing salad", it probably would have been him.


BS Poker: Skeevemont Style!

Attendees: Meersky, Poppinfresh (+Erie), Herr Gavo, Gordo, Griffin (+Tracer), Blue, HMO Blue, Don Felatio, Jammer, and Bluey.

We all "had a nice meal" of pizza and then proceeded with the poker at two tables.

At the BS Poker table: Herr Gavo, Gordo, Bluey, and Jammer taught Blue the finer points of the game including "lowballing (acting as France to bomb Libya)", "spiking", "acting as the human octagon (as taught by Professor Meersky)", "how to sell crazy" and "swallowing like a circus seal".

I think we made a BS convert of Blue and expect him back for further craziness. Choder also made wonderful use of "Spanking Vader" to entertain the troops and Gavo reprised his role of Dr. Strangelove.

At the Texas Hold Em' table: Don Felatio, Poppinfresh, Griffin, Meersky and HMO Blue played the most conservative game you'll ever want to see. After almost 4 hours, this $5 buy in game had to be settled by a cold hand between Highmark Blue and Poppinfresh (with Highmark winning). The guys played like a bunch of pansies and Irish's crazy betting antics which usually serve to push more chips into the kitty were sorely missed. The Hold Em table didn't provide the BS table a 6th player until almost 3 hours of play! Players suspected that Highmark's playing cards or chips must have been jinxed as the cards were colder than the Iron Beaver in Antarctica.

We jibed to the stylings of the gayest 80's mix imaginable and not a soul complained! Good call HMO Blue! The night also served as Hamdog Benefit Night as the attendees all brought special items to be shipped in a care package to Awahoo. Edgewood and Swissvale were represented and Mr. Bubbles announced that he would make the arduous trip to "convince" Hamdog to attend our next session.

In all, a very fun night, but the split tables cut down on a lot of the usual insane banter. We'll have to re-evaluate the the prospects of lumping them together.

New quote: "Texas Hold Em' is ruining BS Poker!!!"


Overheard on Friday, September 8th!

You and me
We come from different worlds
You like to laugh at me
While I sodomize a squirrell (pronounced "sqwirl")
Sometimes I'm crazy
And you wonder why
I'm such a baby
Cause the Dolphins make me cry (28-17)
And there's nothing left to do.
I only want to be with you.

Last week, I was given about 10 free tickets to a Hootie and the Blowfish concert. I had no interest in going, but figured that I'd try to give them away. I figured that there must be a few closet Hootie fans out there that might want them.

It turns out that giving away Hootie tickets is like asking your friend to accompany you up to the dark empty balcony of a Village People show and expecting a hummer in return for the free tickets.

My Initial Email:

Blue and I are swimming in Hootie and the Blowfish tickets. I have 10 tickets for the Post-Gazette Pavillion show, given to me by one of the guys in our office. I don't plan on attending. The show is for this Friday, September 1.

Just thought I'd ask, since some of you are of questionable sexuality.

P.S. Um...in case it isn't abundantly clear, the tickets are free.
Hugs and kisses,Bluey

The responses:

(From Trimpdog): will there be a special guest appearance by Richard Marx or Michael Bolton? if so, I am soooooo interested

(From Hamdog): You know I'd be all over these, if I still lived in pgh. "Hold my Hand", "I only want to be with you", etc. All good.

(From Gordo): you will have to PAY people to take them....

(From Killer Miller): I heard Boy George will be working as a Janitor and George Micheals will be the bathroom attendant! I can't wait to go! Where's Pimp-n-Playa? He's probably standing in line already with Meersky.

(From Hamdog): Bluey - what's their song about Dolphins in the rain, or something like that?

(Bluey's Response): I'm such a baby cause the Dolphins make me cry....but there's nothing I can do.....I only want to be with you!!!or my personal favorite alternate lyric:You and me, we come from different worlds, you like to laugh at me while I sodomize a squirell (pronounced sqwirl under my literary license), and there's nothing I can do....I only want to be with you.

(From Highmark Blue): You, fully grasping that even going to see hootie is salad tossing with syrup gay, decide to announce that you and another man are quote "swimming in Hootie and the Blowfish tickets"??????It's like saying, "I know this will sound gay but I need some man meat" This is turning into a greek bath house scene from some gay porno.

(From Gordo): i find your comments about sodomizing a squirrel offensive. i was former squirrel trainer for gieco. i taught these vermin to cross the road safely out of harms way...squirrels were not put on this earth to be sodomized or ridiculed...

(From Hamdog): Highmark Blue- are you saying that salad tossing with jelly is acceptable? or just less revolting than with syrup?

It should be no surprise then, I was unable to give away a single concert ticket. Although, if it was Duran Duran, I'm sure Hamdog would have driven back from Awahoo to see Simon LeBon and the boys.


How Fitting and Remarkably Poignant

The picture to the left are Ipod cases with different kinds of dinosaurs on it. The image of such a sight got me to thinking about our country and how fitting it is that they put extinct dinosaurs on an Ipod case. Okay, just a warning, I'm going on a rant, so be prepared. It's these god damn Ipods, they bring out the worse in me.

The Ipod, to me, is a symbol of what is wrong with this country. I'm not talking about the very young or the very old. I'm talking about what the Baby Boomers started and what Generation X (my g..g.g..g...eneration) has continued. We're a nation enamored with toys, gadgets and having the very best of everything. We waste boatloads of money on crap we just don't fucking need. And it's never enough for us. We just go out and buy more and more junk.

Meanwhile, the Baby Boomers, who were a product of a post war US, which was a time of great personal sacrifice, have not returned the favors given by the sweat and blood of the Greatest Generation's hard work. What am I talking about? Kids, children, rugrats.

Our country is so enamored by toys that people are putting off having families or not having families at all. Our generation looks at children as a huge burden and our generation as a whole seems totally incapable of even raising the children they've got. Instead, pawning them off on others to raise.

And we complain about immigration laws. We worry about an upcoming showdown against Islam. We lament the fact that Social Security will go belly up. We're pissed now that we can't continue to turnover homes for fantastic profits now that the housing market is starting to sour as Baby Boomers retire.

This country is in a major crux as far as I'm concerned. We have a nation of great wealth and a preponderance of spoiled assholes that feel entitled to the best of everything with no personal sacrifice whatsoever. God only knows if we'll give anything tangible to the next generation. It won't be large enough to support us in our old age or large enough to fight a war that is coming right at us at some point. Our decadence makes me absolutely sick to my stomach. What we are good at, is arguing among ourselves and creating political rifts that run contrary to what our country was founded upon.

Diversity among immigrants once made our nation the strongest in the world. Now, we shamelessly push our own opinions as gospel to others thereby enhancing the gulf between Americans. Conservatives and Liberals are equally to blame. I heard recently that Al-Qaeda uses Michael Moore's documentary in training their forces. I wonder how that makes him feel. It's sad really.

Do us all a favor. Forget about buying a 800K home. Forget about saving the baby seals and stupid rabbit eyes. Forget about saving souls. Let the Lexus' sit on the dealership lots. If we don't wish to work menial tasks anymore (like cleaning our own homes or cutting the grass!), let's not get upset when the only ones that will do it may not be born Americans. God knows these menial tasks are well beneath us...unfuckingbelievable!

Go home and fuck.

Be plentiful and multiply for God's sake if you can. It's a gift that should not be taken lightly. Take the time and raise your families and let's build a fucking bonfire with all of our Ipods and assorted gadgets and dance like wild indians around them with our children. There is a war coming. It doesn't matter that we don't want it. And when it comes, your families and the people around you will be all that matters. Not the fucking gadgets we spend countless hours slaves to under the guise of entertainment. Maybe you only wanted one child because you think that's all you can afford. But when it comes down to it, who named you as God and promised that your one child would live to the ripe age of 94. After you are dead, who will they have? As a nation, we are setting ourselves up for a great fall. We are trading in the greatest institution, the Family, for the goal to be children forever!

The Ipod with a dinosaur cover is one of the most poignant images I've seen. I just hope that it is not foreshadowing of the future. This is one great nation and I'd hate to see the decadence and complacency that did in the Roman empire work its' same magic. Our nation has the power to change the world for the better, but we seem to be falling into the trap of one that is desperately begging to be entertained 24/7. No good ever comes of that.

It's a real shame that it will probably take a large disaster to make us refocus on the things that really matter. Okay, it's time to step off the soapbox.


Crank (and another Separated At Birth Candidate)!

Why is it everytime I see the coming attractions for the new movie, Crank, do I think of a certain someone who is pictured to the left and our most recent separated at birth candidate for Chicago Cubs pitcher, Kerry Wood?

Crank, the movie, starring this particular pilgrimage friend would probably go something like this:

A police officer is injected by a killer with a substance that will kill him unless he doesn't orgasm every 2 hours. The side effects of the drug are excessively dry lips and an itchiness in his upper quads. Our hero is on a quest to find the killer and deal out justice while stopping in strip clubs and massage parlors bi-hourly to get a chub on and a little happy ending in the process, just to stay alive!

The film features a bevy of porn stars in "legitimate" roles, each taking one for the team to keep our city's finest detective hot on the trail!

Mix that in with frequent trips to an Al-Qaeda owned 7-11 for replacement Chapstick and a feminazi owned blue jeans store (as the frequent thigh rubbing necessitates a need for new pants daily) and you've got explosive highjinks to keep even the comatose glue to their theatre seats.

Crank, the movie, coming to a theatre near you. Rated NC-17 for excessive thigh rubbing and lip licking action.

Well worth the $9 admission price.


I Have A Hot, Crazy, Big Breasted New Neighbor!

Then, why would you say that I'm a whole lot less than thrilled?

It might have something to do with the fact that his name is Bart and the reason he is topless is because he is so hot in this August weather.

I made the mistake of saying hello to him the other day. Then on Saturday, as I left Tay on the front porch to get some groceries at the store, I came back to find Bart "hitting on" my woman. I introduced myself and he was hesitant about telling me his name. When he finally relented, we made about 20 seconds of small talk and I wished him a fine day.I walked up on the porch and told Tay, "I'm gone for five minutes and you're cheating on me? Didn't your mom ever tell you that you don't date guys with bigger tits than yours?"

After Tay and I finished lunch, we're all cozy sitting on my couch enjoying the solitude when someone starts yelling through the screen door, about 10 feet from us. It scared the hell out of me. It was psychoboy. He blathered on about having problems with his DVD player and I, visibly annoyed, told him I didn't know anything about DVD systems and pretty much closed the door in his face.

What a fricking nutjob.

My life in NYC taught me two things:

Carry your wallet in your front pocket and don't be nice to crazy people or they will follow you around forever.

Postscript: It turns out the fair Irish lass Erie, knew all about Bart and failed to warn me. For that, I'll have to have Poppinfresh administer a spanking!


New Orleans: Dig A Hole (Moat) Already!

When you're a kid at the beach and you are constructing sand castles, every once in a while a wave may come in and fills your moat and knocks down a wall or two. It's usually no problem as walls can be fortified or a deeper or more complex moat can be constructed (assuming your castle is built above sea level) to rectify the situation. But if the waves start coming in and taking down the whole castle, it can be surmised that it's time to relocate your sand castle further away from the water. Seems rational doesn't it?

Then, why on God's green earth are we trying to resurrect a below sea level city after it has pretty much been destroyed by a hurricane? Doesn't it make more sense to relocate the city further north? People seem to forget that land mass geography changes all the time. Seashores lose inches of coastline every year. Underground plate movements also facilitate changes in geography. Can someone tell me why we spend billions of dollars fighting nature instead of accepting that sometimes it just doesn't make sense, especially in the case of New Orleans.

I'm not saying that we should abandon the city. Let's just move it upstream, above sea level and spend our money rebuilding in a location that doesn't require or heavily rely on levees to keep disaster at bay. Hell, it would make more sense to build New Orleans three miles out into the Gulf of Mexico, underwater (a la Atlantis), than to rebuild on the same site. It's not like we're trying to save the pyramids here. New Orleans doesn't have, what I consider, anything that can't be replaced. If I was a resident there, I wouldn't want to rebuild my house with the threat of a repeat disaster looming.

I also find it curious that N.O. mayor, C. Ray Nagin, had the gall to criticize New York City this past week for dragging their heels in World Trade Center site planning to rebuild on top of a "hole in the ground".

Apparently, Ray, thinks that something should have been built there already or at least started.

Ok, so maybe NYC is in a "planning gridlock" where several parties are warring about what what the best plan for the space should be. That's not an issue with good ol' Ray, who is intent on returning residents to New Orleans well before it's safe for them to do so.

And what's just around the corner? Hurricane Season!

Maybe if Ray quit being critical about everyone around him, the federal government and NYC officials, he would realize that his time would be best spent resolving New Orleans planning issues without rushing into retuning to the status quo.

New Orleans residents just gave him the thumbs up by re-electing him for another term. Let's hope that the faith they placed in his hands is justified. I remain very skeptical of his ability to do anything requiring an original thought. Granted, he doesn't have any power to relocate New Orleans but he has the power to make sure Louisianna's politicians consider all possibilities.

But Ray is sentimental, not rational. It sounds like the rest of New Orleans holds the same opinion. So, I guess we'll continue to sink billions into the Gulf of Mexico and wait for the next disaster that may come in only a few short months.


Hallelujiah! Another Move Complete!

Thank you, Jesus! I swear to God, I think I have maybe one more move left in me before someone's going to have to "dig a hole" and just cover me in dirt, if it goes beyond that.

The way I figure it, I have had 14 different addresses over my 40 year lifespan. And it's not like I grew up as an Army brat or anything. Twelve of those new addresses have occurred after the age of eighteen. I guess you can call me a nomad or a wanderer. I don't think that in any of the cases, I necessarily sought out a better place to live. Usually, it stemmed from needing to change locations for one reason or another.

Anyways, another move complete. I'm entirely ecstatic about the new place, two miles away from my employment and I halved the distance from my progeny. Sorry for a lot of radio silence in the month of August, I have been without internet service at home.

Resumption of blog craziness to continue in T minus 3 seconds...2...1...


Dave Kingman and Mark "I'm Not Interested in the Past" McGwire and their Hall of Fame Credentials

Mark McGwire faces Hall of Fame voters this coming year and many sportswriters have indicated that they will vote for him on the first ballot. Others believe that they cannot vote for him because they believe he used steroids (which, I think is pretty much a given). Some make a Kingman comparison in which McGwire is just a new steroid filled version of Dave Kingman.

Both were products of USC and converted pitchers.
As I look at the career stats, it's a compelling argument. Early in McGwire's career, he was a low batting average, high strikeout power hitter. If you translate out his early years to a full career, you pretty much mimic Kingman's numbers.
Then comes steroids and the largesse that follows. McGwire's deep flyballs become extra base hits and HRs and check swings and broken bat contact become bloop base hits. Thus batting average improves somewhat, but is probably impossible to exactly quantify.
The comparison of career numbers:
Kingman 6677 AB, 901R, 442 HR, 1210 RBI, 85 SB, .236BA, .478 SLG
McGwire 6187 AB, 1167R, 583 HR, 1414 RBI, 12 SB, .263BA, .588 SLG
Neither player was anything special in the field defensively. The question, then, is: how much does taking steroids add to the statistics?
I would argue that the statistics are pretty close as they are. Take out a 60, and 70 HR McGwire season fueled by steroids and the numbers are eerily close. Jose Canseco claimed that McGwire was using steroids for literally 5+ years, at least.
Now, I have nothing personal against McGwire. I liked him as a player but lost all respect for him with his tap dancing in congress. He should have owned up to the steroid use that is so apparent in his responses. I am of the belief that the steroid junkies should be passed over by the writers and left to the Hall of Fame members to decide their fate.
The only point I'd like to make is that, if McGwire gets into the Hall, Kingman should as well.


Calvin and Hobbes: Hands Down, Best Comic Ever!

If you were born after 1995 or were too young that year (or too old!) to enjoy a good comic, you missed the best comic ever printed in the daily newspaper.

I would even argue that it was better than anything that ever ran in comic books as well.

Calvin and Hobbes first appeared when I was 19, in 1985 and I immediately fell in love with it. Bill Watterson, creator of the strip, in my mind, created a timeless comic that is as poignant today as it was back in 1985.

Because it didn't necessarily specifically refer to world events like "Doonsbury" or "Bloom County", it can be read and enjoyed today with the same newness as if it appeared in today's daily paper.

I have included the Wiki-encyclopedia link in case you need a refresher course or want a quick background to Bluey's choice of best comic ever. Nothing comes close, not even "The Far Side".

I would have hated to be the tired spent up Dik Browne and Bill Keane's of the world, who were peddling sorry excuses for comics such as "Hagar The Horrible", "Beetle Bailey", "Nancy", "The Wizard of Id" and "Hi and Lois", "Family Circle" etc..etc.., when Calvin and Hobbes came on the scene. Watterson's comic was so far heads and shoulders above the "kids" comics it was embarassing. These other comics were so tired and old that they just ran retreads of the same bullshit every week.

"Kids, who left the cake out in the rain? (Sorry, I couldn't resist)
"Not Me""Not Me""Not Me" (as the "Not Me" ghost comes flying in the house).

That same comic continues to run in one form or another as Bill Keane's "Family Circle" continues to give me ass cancer everytime I accidently see it!

Calvin was an everyman, who anybody in the world could identify with. He wasn't good nor bad...he was human nature personified. His stuffed tiger, Hobbes, fueled his every adventure, real or imaginary and gave him an object in which he could project his hidden feelings to others and the world around him without fear of retribution, laughter or humiliation. The perfect imaginary friend to protect his own vulnerabilities.

People who know me, know that I'd probably never get a tattoo in my life. But if I was to do so, Calvin and Hobbes would be the statement I'd like to make to the world. Not dragons, barbed wire, Tay's name on my ass or "Mother".

It would be Calvin and Hobbes flying down a hill in a wagon or lying side by side in the grass or having a water balloon fight with Suzie Derkins (with Hobbes wearing his cool Jams!). Because, when it comes down to it, that's what life is about. No matter what we do, who we grow up to be, and how much money we make, it all comes down to the simple happinesses that we provide ourselves and others around us that will define our lives.

And that's why Calvin and Hobbes will always be the perfect comic for me.

"I wonder where we go when we die?" (Calvin).
"Pittsburgh?" (Hobbes).
"You mean if we're good or if we're bad?" (Calvin).


"Awww...Mom!...You're Running Your Fingers Through His Back Hair!!!"

I'm a pretty hairy guy. Maybe not as hairy as the gorilla to the right, but you get the picture.
A few years ago, I started Nairing my back in the summers to keep from getting locked up in a zoo. But, before I began this seasonal grooming ritual, I had a healthy back beard. My friends used to chide me about looking like an ape, but at the time, I just couldn't be bothered.
About 4 years ago, my buddy Meersky (who is a big proponent of "policing the area" or getting rid of unwanted hair) and I, were helping my other buddy, Irish's Mom move some furniture out of the house to the curb for trash pickup. Usually, in the summers, especially on hot days, I wear a tank top that is cut pretty thin and doesn't cover my shoulders or most of my back. On that particular day, I was wearing a skimpy tank top. After we were done, Irish's Mom was so thankful that she gave me a big hug. Irish was standing right behind me and shrieked in horror the title quote.
Of course, Meersky and I have gotten a lot of mileage out of that story and Irish's eye starts to twitch every time I wear a tank top and I get near his mother.
It happened again a few months ago but my back was smooth as a baby's bottom and Irish was nowhere to be seen. But, we told him anyway and it evoked pretty much the same cringing response.


It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood...Or Is It?

About 8 years ago or so, I used to work with a guy named Yoelly in Oakland. Yoelly was a good guy and we had a lot of laughs but he had a red hot fiery temper. But you would never know it looking at him.

On the surface he seemed like the mild mannered Clark Kent until you did something to piss him off. Then, watch out as he turns two shades of purple and the vein on his temple starts throbbing.

Yoelly and I worked together for twelve years and we amassed many funny stories, but none as priceless as this one.

Yoelly had recently purchased a new Chevy Cavalier and was for the most part happy with the car until the car started falling apart on him about a year or so after he bought it. Then, for the next year, it seemed like there was always something wrong with it and I really was surprised that he refrained from rolling it into the Allegheny River. He would start having major problems with the car that the dealership seemed to always insist were beyond coverage of the warranty.

The car was wearing on Yoelly, but after the 3rd or 4th major repair, he had a window of time where the car seemed just fine and I think Yoelly was finally starting to settle in with the car.

Then on the ride home from work one day on 5th avenue, while waiting for a traffic light, a vehicle violently back ended him and Yoelly exploded. He gets out of his car and starts hurling "motherfucker" this and "stupid motherfucker" that at the other car. He looks at his Cavalier's rear end and the damage is considerable.

In a rage, and admittedly, wanting to kill the person in the other car, he stalks back to the offending party and as the window is rolling down exclaims..."You stupid motherfucking asshoooo........l...e."

It was Mister Rogers. Yup, good old Fred Rogers that you, me, and Yoelly grew up with in the land of make-believe behind the wheel of the other car.

Yoelly was speechless. And then he started to apologize profusely.

"I can't believe I called Mister Rogers a motherfucking asshole right to his face", Yoelly recanted with his head drooped low to us the next day when we showed up for work. "I didn't know who it was...I felt so horrible when I realized who it was...what could you say after that?"

Of course, I laughed my ass off as did just about everybody else listening to the story after the initial mortification wore off.

Turns out that the WQED studio where Fred worked was right down the road and Fred seemed to have a history of poor driving as he got older. Yoelly got the impression that this was one of more than a few recent accidents he had in that area.

Yoelly called a childhood icon a "motherfucking asshole".

Now that Mister Rogers is deceased, somehow I wonder if on stormy nights while sleeping if Yoelly can hear the voice of Henrietta Pussycat in the wind saying "meow, meow...no,...you're the meowthefucking asshole...meow,meow".


Help! My Girlfriend Thinks I'm Lance Bass!

My girlfriend, Tay, and I have a long running disagreement. She claims that she writes emails to me that are full of terms of endearment (especially hugs and kisses) and that I usually respond to them with a grunt and a monosyllabic 6 word response.

The first time she told me this, I scratched my head and could not honestly remember sending out such a thoughtless email response. The next day, I checked the email chain. My response to her seemed absolutely fine and appropriate. It contained about 10-12 sentences and the email began with a term of endearment ("babycakes").

The next time we got together, I told her that she was out of her mind and that my response was totally fine. She balked but we just agreed to disagree.

Then came this week. She sends an email saying she missed me (I was out of town) and ends the email with a smiley face with lips emoticon and hugs and kisses. I responded to her and told her that I missed her too and told her that I was looking forward to seeing her.

I get an email back that she wanted a returned "kiss" or "hug".

Then she got a six word monosyllabic response, "are you nuts? that's so gay".

She sent another email saying that she needed a hug or kiss. I emailed back that she'd have to wait for the real thing.

When I got back in town, she asked me why I couldn't just give her an email hug or kiss.

"Because I am a man and I'm not gay. In general, men don't use emoticons or send hugs or kisses at the end of their emails."

"What???, you just couldn't put a kiss at the end of the message, honey?"

"Do I look like a fag to you? Basically, you have three choices.

1) become a lesbian (like on "Fried Green Tomatoes") and I'm sure your girlfriend will satisfy all your emotional needs all the time,

2) date an effeminate guy, who embraces his feminine side and he can ***hug hug kiss kiss*** you all you want. Chance are, he won't be able to deliver the goods (if you know what I mean), but I'm sure he'll be a real sweetheart until you find him in your bed one day going "brokeback" with the cabana boy, or

3) grin and bear it and deal with the fact that in some ways I'm a neanderthal and stop trying to turn me into a fag.

"But I missed you and all I needed was a hug or kiss"

"I knew it. You are crazy just like every other woman in the world. You are absolutely certifiable. I guess it's alright if I'm away banging some skank as long as while I'm doing it, I'm typing you up a few hugs and kisses to get you through the day. C'mon, you're being ridiculous."

"Why is it such a chore for such a simple thing?"

"Because it's not me and it would be disingenuous"

Disclaimer: The previous story uses the term "fag" in a strictly Venezuelan fashion loosely translated as "less than or not manly" and not homosexual. I apologize for the use of the term for anyone offended. I am of South American descent and my English is barely passable.

Are there any other men out there that want to rally to my defense? Do your women demand the same from you guys or am I being totally unreasonable?

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