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?

Please Don't Feed the Bears...er...I Mean, the Homeless?

This Fox News webpage story ran today about a new Las Vegas law making feeding the homeless in parks illegal.

Are you kidding me? What kind of crazy fucked up world are we living in when lawmakers have nothing better to do than to write such unconstitutional and undefendable bullshit laws?

So, let me get this straight. It's okay to sit on a park bench with sunflower seeds and feed the birds, but if some desperately hungry homeless person approaches you, it is unlawful to share your sandwich with them?

Now, the law has been written to dissuade mobile food kitchens from feeding the homeless in park areas. Supposedly the parks are unusable by the rest of the "well fed" citizens due to the abundance of transients who congest the park for feeding time. To have such a law on the books at all is unbelievable.

Where exactly, the homeless should go for their meals is not covered in the article. One can only assume that it is preferential to let them go hungry or make them walk miles for a meal.

Isn't the real problem, why the existence of so many homeless in the first place? Not whether we choose to feed them or give them money. If I want to split my lunch with a homeless person and a cop came up to me and cite me for it, I'd tell him (or her), to go fuck themselves. Isn't this a free country, after all? How the hell does the government get off telling me that I can't feed my fellow man if I choose to do so? Get your fat legislative asses off your chairs and try to find alternatives to solving the homeless problem instead of telling me what I can and can't do. You can't solve the homeless dilemma, so you transfer that responsibility onto me?

So, after I get done reading that story, do I happen upon a PETA story and their lamentations on why the US isn't doing more to evacuate "American" animals from Beirut, Lebanon. Apparently, the evacuation vessels are not letting people bring their family pets with them.

Are you kidding me? We're trying to pack as many people as possible on ships and people are wondering why it would be a bad idea to fill the ship with cats, dogs, birds and god knows what else? This is a life or death situation. Either get on the fucking boat sans pets or have a nice life in Beirut. Time is of the essence. You have a naval blocade that is preventing supplies (mainly food) from reaching Beirut and people going without basic services, including clean water etc... and we're worrying about jamming pets on rescue boats?

Let PETA rent a cruise liner to travel to Beirut after all Americans have been evacuated and let them send off their cadre of half starved vegetarian bimbos and fat lazy yenta enclave to round up the pets while bombs are dropping. If you people love animals so much, go put your life on the line for them and don't ask US Marines to put theirs on the line for your stupid cause. If there is only one way out of the war zone, last I checked, you don't have many choices. You have innocent people in Lebanon dying, who want no part in this war and are caught in the middle. You have thousands of Canadian families still waiting for their government to evacuate them. Fight for them to get on boats to safety, not fucking dogs and cats!

They should have offered bags with 20 lb weights at the port for people to put their pets into, tie off the bag and drop right into the ocean.

I wonder what PETA would have thought of that???

Stories like these make me wonder how our world became so retarded. But I already know what the answer is. People having way too much time on their hands and no real life issues to deal with on a daily basis. Spoiled, sheltered brats without any sense of priority. God, I fear for this country if we ever had a major crisis. I think that more than half of the population would curl up and die without a fight.

PNC Park Wants Out of Pittsburgh!

Pittsburgh's Ballyard rumored to be heading to NYC where it will surely host 3 New York Mets World Series games.

I wonder if this means the Pirates will start playing indoors at the Mellon arena after the Penguins move out? They can build Green Monsters in all outfields since they won't need too much seating capacity since they suck so bad.

Another fine article by the folks at The Onion. Classic!

Er glaubt, das Gras wachsen zu hören!

If all of my friends were all turned into cats, can anyone guess which friend this would be?

Take a real close look!

Props to Beukey for providing the the site link for this picture.

"He thinks he's the cat's meow", and has been known to clown around in bad teeth and ride on the short bus. Of course if he was turned into a cat, he'd be allergic to himself.

"Mein Fuhrer!............ I can walk!!!"

Miss Independent?...Miss Plagiarism Has "Come Undone"!

Every once in a while a song comes out that is a big hit and you could swear that you have heard it before. Such was the case when Kelly Clarkson put out "Miss Independent" after her American Idol appearances.

Please forgive me, I don't watch the show, so I have no idea if she actually won or not. I do kinda dig her voice and I have to admit that I do actually like the song. I have it on my Ipod.

But, my main point is that when this song came out, I could have sworn that I had heard the signature chorus before (begins with "what is this feeling taking over?"), and it just kept haunting me that this song was either a remake or ripped off from another tune. To this day, I get the same feeling from No Doubt's "Don't Speak" and its' chorus. I swear Gwen Stefani and the boys lifted it from another song. But back to Miss Clarkson, Plagey McPlagerson.

Yesterday, I finally heard the song that Clarkson ripped her chorus from. And, it was an 80's tune just like I suspected. This was why I was unable to promptly place the song. I'm not a huge fan of 80's pop, unlike my buddy Hamdog. It's a Duran Duran tune to boot. It's called "Come Undone" and also is a pretty catchy tune with the same catchy chorus albeit different words (begins with "can't ever keep from falling apart") and also sung by a woman with almost identical syllabic inflection.

Now, both songs in their entirety have a different feel and sound to them, but the choruses are eerily familiar. If Kelly didn't directly rip Duran Duran off, she obviously had "Come Undone" stuck somewhere in her subconscience. If you remotely care, have a listen, and judge for yourself.

Finally, I could put the bug that's been crawling around in my brain about "Miss Independent" out of its' misery. Now if I can only remember where I heard the "Don't Speak" chorus from, I'll be a happy man. This stuff drives me crazy!

Proof That God Loves Me

Benjamin Franklin once stated that "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy", or some permutation of that phrase anyway.

I received proof that God loves me on May 10, 2000. On that magical day, my divorce was finalized.

No, you are not going to hear a bitter rant about my ex-wife or that how my divorce was a beautiful thing. Let's face it, divorce is an ugly, painful and humbling experience that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Especially when children are involved. You just try your best to keep the children you love out of the line of fire. And that isn't easy unless you are willing to swallow a little self-righteousness. Divorce isn't about right or wrong, it's about survival after the fact.

What made the day one of beauty was the poetic justice involved and the proof to me to this day that the phrase "You reap what you sow", is probably the truest quotes ever spoken.

You see, I woke up on that morning and dreaded everything about it. A trip to my lawyer's office in which she was going to negotiate the terms of divorce with my ex, Mothra and her lawyer, who were thankfully sequestered in another room. As the lawyers went back and forth with proposal after proposal, I let my lawyer know that the only thing I really cared about was to have shared custudy of my kids. The financial side to me, was of substantially, less importance. I thought that I was going to get a fight on the custody issue. I did not at all. But as the hours wore on into the afternoon and early evening, I made a seemingly endless series of financial concessions, much to my lawyer's chagrin. I was ecstatic that I got the shared custody without a fight, so why would I fight for a hundred dollars here, a thousand bucks there, when I was paying a lawyer $200 an hour to haggle all day?

But the process was taking forever and I was starting to worry about getting to see my girls that evening. I was supposed to pick them up at 5pm and here it was nearly 6pm and I still had an hour to drive.

There was one last item to be resolved and I don't wish to get into the specifics, but I didn't want to budge because this last concession would have been ridiculous and have far reaching financial implications. After my ex threatened to walk out without the resolution and after "motherfucking" my lawyer and her own lawyer, our lawyers finally decided to put us together in a room and resolve the last issue, which thankfully was done quickly.

I walked out of the building a "free" man but honestly, I felt pretty hollow. I was happy that my shared custody of the kids was in place and that's all I really cared about. I was pretty much in financial ruin, but, who isn't after a divorce?

I got into my car and began the trek up north to visit my children. As I drove, I realized that I had only a sandwich for lunch and had nothing to drink but a few small cups of water out of a water cooler all day. Since I was late, the babysitter would have already fed the girls, so I was probably going to take them to the park to play.

I decided to stop along the way and grab something quick from Wendy's in Cranberry, PA.

I was dying of thirst mainly. I was also craving a spicy chicken sandwich, so I asked for a combo with Dr. Pepper. That's when the voice in the speaker asked me the question that offered proof of God's love."Do you want to Biggie size that?"

Usually, nine times out of ten, I say "no thanks". But that day, I was so thirsty, that all I could think about was that massive cup of Dr. Pepper. I was so thirsty, I dreamed of kneeling in a rubber kiddie pool and pouring pitcher after pitcher of Dr. Pepper over my head and naked body, drenching my nipples and quenching my desire for....uh, I think I got off the path there for a second. Anyway, you get the picture. I was extremely thirsty and told the gal, "Yes, that would be fine".

As I pulled away with my dinner, I almost immediately drank about half the soda. The tension of the day started to wash out of me and I was only about ten minutes from the girls. All was starting to come together. I ate the spicy chicken sandwich and was feeling pretty good. I looked down at the huge carton of fries and noticed a pulltab game piece on it. Apparently, they were only on Biggie size drinks and fries. I pulled the tab on the drink and it was a loser. Big surprise there, huh? I didn't need a pull tab to tell me what a loser I already felt like.

Then I pulled the tab on the fries."Universal Studios Orlando Trip", it said.

No, it can't possibly be that I won anything. I threw the pull tab on the passenger side floor and went to play with my girls. As usual, we had a blast and I was very happy that the day ended on such a positive note.

About ten or so days went by when I was watching TV one saturday and saw a Wendy's commercial. It was promoting the grand prize of a 4 day VIP family trip for four to Universal Studios with accomodations at the Portofino Bay Hotel. I remembered the pull tab.

I went out to the car and looked through the passenger side area and thank god I hadn't cleaned it out in two weeks. There was the pull tab. It had a phone number on it. I went inside and dialed it and got a prize line with information on how to proceed in claiming my prize. I still couldn't believe it and couldn't reach a human being to verify it. I sent a certified letter to the address with the pull tab, keeping a copy for myself. Three weeks went by and I had forgotten all about it until I received a letter in return verifying that I was a grand prize winner.

Now, on any other day, I would have never stopped at that Wendy's. I would have taken my girls to dinner closer to their home. and if I did, I probably would not have Biggie sized the order.

As it turned out, I called my sister Siouxsy and invited her to join us on our trip to Florida. The five of us had a wonderful time and we even extended the vacation two days to take the girls to Disneyland as well. Not lost on me, was how something so wonderful came out of something so painful. I realized that everything was going to be alright and that God was sending me a sign that the future was going to be sunny.

My daughters and I continue to make that trip to Florida evey few years.Now if I could only find a rubber kiddie pool and a case of 2 liter bottles of Mr. Pibb...

Israel +10 Over the Entire Middle East

Yup, the Palestinians, and the Syrian terrorists running Lebanon are finding out why the Jews are a touchdown and a field goal favorites over the rest of the Middle East (including Syria and Iran). Granted, Iraq and Afghanistan are on injured reserve and Egypt and Jordan were lost to free agency in order to distance themselves from radical extremists.

And people are yelling for the US to do something.

My vote is that we do nothing. We just let Israel purge years of frustration on bombing these idiots that like to launch rockets into Israel and use suicide bombers to kill innocent civilians. You can make the argument that the Middle East is also filled with innocent civilians, but at what point does sitting on your hands and not trying to solve your country's problems with extremists make you guilty?

Not only do I think that Israel could probably conquer the entire Middle East but maybe it's time they did just that. The pansy EU comes out with a statement that Israel's response isn't justified by the actions against them. Enough is enough. I'm surprised that Israel took this long to open up a can of whoop ass.

We've asked them nicely to turn the other cheek for years. It's time for them to do some slapping. Enjoy your well deserved beating, extremist morons.

Introducing the "You're Giving Me Cancer" T-Shirt!

I talked with my sister, Vicki, tonight and she assures me that she is the original author of this saying. She firmly believes that stress is the main cause of cancer, hence the phrase (that is mainly uttered towards her two sons).

So, I finally broke down and designed a simple shirt on Zazzle for myself and ordered one. If anyone else is interested, feel free to order one or customize it to your liking. Since I use this saying twenty times a day now, it seemed fitting that I make a shirt. I put the website link to the blog on the back of my shirt, but the shirt is cheaper without it. Feel free to leave the back blank or add your own message.

Zazzle also offered a design for a coffee cup with the same message with a "bluey" interior. Unfortunately, I don't drink coffee.

Any royalties or proceeds from Zazzle will be split between my sister and the American Cancer Society. Enjoy!

http://www.zazzle.com/docbluey

"Why Is Everybody So Fucking Stupid!"

Kim Jong Il said it best in Trey Parker/Matt Stone's Team America: World Police.

What does it take to do a little sabre rattling to put this "asshole" into place? It's good to see Japan growing some gonads and finally putting it's "Flower Power US written constitution" to the test and to start considering pre-emptive strikes on North Korean missle batteries. All the US would have to do is to nudge Japan into re-militarizing, and North Korea and China would both be quaking in their boots.

China should seriously consider joining the Film Actors Guild (F.A.G., oops, I think I just joined Ozzie Guillen in making insensitive homosexual remarks) for their pansy ass stance on North Korea. Nothing like letting global politics getting in the way of doing the right thing.

I think I saw an EW article about actor, Arec Barwdwin, hopping a plane to Pyongyang to aid peace efforts. C'mon China, vote for the sanctions and make Kim Jong Il a little more "ronery".

And don't forget to run out and watch one hell of a funny movie, Team America: World Police. It is a goldmine of funny lines.

"Derka, derka islamic jihad derka."

and I'll leave you with my favorite nuggets from the deleted scenes...

[Deleted Scene] Spottswoode: Team, this is all my fault. I was overzealous in Cairo. I let racism cloud my judgment. I was so sure the ultimate terrorist was Middle Eastern, but I didn't realize he was a goddamn Gook. I'll never be a racist again.

[Deleted Scene] Gary Johnston: I'm leaving. I'm out.
Spottswoode: No, Gary! You can't leave! We need you now, more than ever!
Gary Johnston: Don't you see what's going on out there? Everyone hates us!
Spottswoode: Hey, now, everyone hated Winnie the Pooh, too.
Gary Johnston: No, they didn't!
Spottswoode: Well, I did. That cocksucking bear killed Jack Kennedy!

Missed The Fireworks? Stay Away From The Bright Light!

I don't know about the rest of you, but my Fourth of July evening consisted of pretty much a downpour of rain. Tay and I decided to go see her local fireworks display that was slated to begin at 10 pm. We drove down and parked for a few minutes before we started wondering if they could even shoot off the fireworks in such miserable weather. But, neither of us could remember ever seeing 4th of July fireworks cancelled either.


We noticed that there were a few other parked cars, so we sidled up to one and rolled down our window. It was a cute older couple, probably in their 70's. We asked about the fireworks and they told us that they were there for the show as well but that they heard that the fireworks were not to begin until after the local minor league baseball game.


We drove back to our spot, and after a few minutes I say to Tay, "There's no chance in hell, anybody is playing baseball in this downpour. I don't think the shrivs know what's going on.
Lets go get slushies and come back and wait".



So we get slushies and come back to our spot, open up the back of the vehicle and sit in the back and drink our slushies. After about 20-30 minutes, a car stops and indicates that the ballfield, that sits atop a hill, is deserted and that they just turned off all the lights. I guess we're not going to see a fireworks show after all. I turn towards the car with the elderly couple and then I turn to Tay and utter the following sentence.


"I guess we should go over there and tell them that they're going to have to stay alive another year if they want to see fireworks."


Tay laughs but is horrified.


"I guess that statement pretty much earns my ticket to hell, if I didn't already have one".



"I don't think that you're going to hell. I think that you'll go to heaven but you won't have all the priveledges that other people will have in heaven", Tay reassures.


And then I could picture the scene up in heaven at the pearly gates...


"Okay, I'm here and I'm ready for my wings, Saint Peter".


Jesus himself vaporizes out of thin air next to Saint Peter.


"Are you fucking kidding me?"


"What? Jesus, I didn't know that you cursed".


"Are you fucking kidding me?", he repeats. "You've got some gall showing up at these gates and expecting to get into heaven".


"What?...I was a pretty good person and a great father. Doesn't that count for anything?"


"Do you recall this scene? (and we are taken back to the scene where I just told Tay about the shrivs planning on living another year in order to see fireworks) Your life is chock full of scenes and your insensitive remarks to others."


"C'mon Jesus, I was just having a little fun"


"You see those goddamn escalators that go down? Get your fat ass on them and take a trip where you belong. I can't fucking believe that you had the nerve to show up here. I'm sure they got a gold plated parking space with your name on it, right in the front next to the crip spaces".


"The crip spaces!...pretty funny, Jesus!"


"Okay, okay...pretend I sent you to the escalator and come around to the back gates in about 15 minutes. But don't think that you're getting all the priviledges"


"Okay, I'll only bang the skanky angels. Thanks, Jesus...you the man!


"Sweet Salavation!

Todos En La Familia

By now, everyone is aware of the story in which Chicago White Sox manager, Ozzie Guillen, calls a news reporter a "fag". What made me laugh was Ozzie initial explanation of the comment. He stated that there was a language barrier and that by calling the reporter a "fag", he wasn't calling him a homosexual but merely stating that the reporter lacked manliness. Duh...isn't that what most guys mean when they call another guy a "fag"?



Ozzie said that in his native country of Venezuela, calling a man a "fag" or its' equivalent would only be used to make a point to imply that the reporter should "act like a man" and that the term "fag" was somehow not necessarily a derogatory term for homosexual. The White Sox manager was only challenging the reporter to act like a man.



And for 12 hours, the media seemed to give Ozzie the benefit of the doubt. For a second there, I thought that Ozzie was going to get away with it and I was shocked. I was already starting to scribble in my notepad, "note to self: when making future racial or sexually derogatory remarks, claim to be of South American descent, and blame the language barrier for the blatant mis-understanding. Kind of like a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card.



And then, people got wise and Ozzie got slammed. You just can't blame him for trying I guess.
Maybe, Ozzie has just chosen the wrong career. Maybe the Sox skipper should sign a side deal with Univision to do a remake of a certain classic 70's TV show. It could be called "Todos En La Familia" and he can play a character called Archuro Bunker who sits in his house and insults everyone who walks in the door with a cadre of ethnic, gender and sexual slurs. To add to the zaniness, he can have a live-in son-in-law, who he could constantly refer to as "cabeza de carne". I'm sure he'll be slipping in a few "fags" here and there since that term doesn't seem to offend homosexuals of hispanic descent. Univision is sure to have a hit on their hands.



Lastly, Ozzie is insisting that he refuses to take "sensitivity classes" mandated by MLB, because he would first have to take English classes for the material to be meaningful to him. That kind of implies that it's only possible to be offensive if your native language is english. Something, many of us have suspected for about two decades.



I love Ozzie and I love his brashness and complete honesty, but how about swallowing a dose of common sense and just bite the bullet. Just think of the mileage that Univision could get out of Archuro Bunker in sensitivity training classes in the pilot episode of "Todos En La Familia"!



Who is the Venezuelan Mel Brooks? We'd insist on him directing.

Charles E. Cheese!

Just wanted to give a quick Happy Birthday shout out to my youngest daughter, Kitty. She turned 9 today. We have a visit with a certain oversized rodent coming up to celebrate the event.

And yes, I got her an Ipod shuffle for her birthday as well. Better get started digging that third hole just in case she gets snuffed by Charles E., otherwise known as Chuckie Cheese, for her Ipod.

Holy Cow! The World Just Turned Upside Down!

The conservative religious right chicks makes an argument for choice while the liberal left NOW chicks argue against it? Unbelievable. Who would have thought?

And all it took was a new vaccine, Gardasil, for the Human Papilloma Virus (HPV) to expose the hypocrisy in both extreme political points of view.

You just can't buy entertainment like this.

The back story: HPV is a virus similar to the Herpes simplex virus that produces cold sores. Most sexually active people have the virus but it usually lies dormant in the body. It is thought to be the major contributor to cervical cancer. Now there is a vaccine for HPV. The only problem is that most sexually active adults already have been exposed to HPV. So, for the vaccine to work, the thought is to vaccinate underage girls to protect them from contracting HPV thereby eliminating the risk of a future HPV/cervical cancer link. The thought is to vaccinate 12 year old girls for a disease that is only transmitted sexually. Of course, this has thrown both political sides into an uproar and in a mad dash to take opposite positions, both liberal and conservative women have exposed their true hypocrisies and prove that it is always better to think things through independently to achieve rational solutions. These groups have been polar opposite so long, they've forgotten to let the old noodle do some work.

The liberal women initially wanted the vaccine to be mandatory in order to protect all women from HPV causing cervical cancer.

The conservative women stated that vaccinating girls against a sexually transmitted disease was morally wrong since abstinence should be stressed.

In other words, The conservatives were arguing for "choice" while the liberals were arguing against it. Liberals were arguing that preaching abstinence was folly and that the vaccine should be mandatory, leaving a nation of 12 year olds, capable of choosing an abortion but not the choice of whether they wanted the HPV vaccine or not. HPV has been linked to cervical cancer causation but in no way has been irrefutably proven to actually cause it. Conservatives were so hung up on the moral question, that they felt that immunizing girls for HPV was going to give them a license to go out and become sexually active under the pretense of the vaccine's protection.

I could just see the dialogue between a 12 year old girl and boy.

"I just got back from the doctors office, Billy. They immunized me for some sexually transmitted disease that causes cancer of the cervix."

"What's a cervix?", asks Billy.

"Hell if I know. Want to fuck?"

"Sure Sally."

Unfortunately, what conservatives forgot is that everyone eventually becomes sexually active. If 75% of the population has been exposed to HPV, women better make sure that their future husbands are virgins in order to prevent infection.

Liberals seem to miss the fact that if 75% of women are exposed to HPV, why then do only a very small percentage get cervical cancer. And of these cases, how many are fatal? Does this warrant mass immunization and a preclusion of basic rights, which normally they claim is their first priority?

Do these two political groups think that we are that stupid that we have to blindly follow one or the other and their misguided logic? Do parents have no roles in raising their kids at all or are we just going to let these mindless village idiots raise our kids?

As a scientist and a father of three daughters, there is only a few questions that I need answered.

Is the vaccine safe?

What are possible side effects?

Will there be more research to absolutely prove the HPV/cervical cancer link?

Why do few women with HPV get cervical cancer and most do not?

Is the benefit of mass immunization worth the possible individual risks?

Let's leave the morality and rights arguments to those who aren't smart enough to be asking the right questions. They are only interested in pushing their agenda, no matter how hypocritical.

I never meant this blog to ever get political, but I will say this.

Don't be a slave to your party line, no matter which party you belong to. Use the brain in your head in every instance and don't entrust political groups, organized religions or politicians to spoon feed your positions. They may not purposefully try to be hypocritical, but they all have an agenda to serve. Unfortunately, the truth and the logical reasonable solution are victims to the battle.

Whether you believe God gave you the brain in your head or that it has evolved from primates, please don't forget to use it. I was shaking my head in disbelief as CNBC showed a panel discussion that argued the morality and rights issue of the HPV vaccine, when they should have been tackling questions that really mattered.

Conservatives preaching choice, while liberals were arguing against an individuals' right to choose. Now, I think I've seen it all.

That's what I call "Must See TV".

From the Files Of "I Told You So!": The First Ipod Murder

http://www.cnn.com/2006/TECH/06/21/ipod.killing.ap/index.html

Well, I guess my blog on the Ipod and Social Darwinism turned out to be a little more than a gallon of hot air after all. Ipods do put kids at risk! Here is the link:

http://docblueysworld.blogspot.com/2005/11/ipod-and-social-darwinism-theory-of.html

Of course, it had to happen in New York, which should come as no surprise. I told you guys and gals that it was only a matter of time before kids started killing each other over these stupid Ipods. What a shame. Now that two of my daughters own them (thanks to my poor parenting and hypocrisy!), I can only say that I am glad that I've already dug holes for them.

Be prepared...be prepared...yodeleheyhey, hehooyodelehehehoo!!!

Deadwood: TV's Best Show

Granted, I don't watch a heck of a lot of TV, so my basis for comparison is pretty weak, but this show eclipsed my love of "The Sopranos" last year.

Unfortunately, this season will be Deadwood's last. All the more reason to enjoy a good thing while it lasts as most of it's stars have already signed on to do other TV shows and movies. This cast was just too good to be kept together.

Who can forget the signature scene in which Swearingen, knife drawn across Bullock's neck in the thoroughfare, while both are fighting in the mud and Bullock's "wife and son" newly pull into town on the stagecoach and happen upon the two unexpectedly.

"Welcome to fucking Deadwood!", exclaims Swearingen to Bullock's family.

You just can't beat this show. Although, I'm sure that the flowery language interspersed between the "cocksuckers" will probably send even the most learned to the dictionary, somehow this show is like crack cocaine for me. Tons of violence, whores and history are interwoven together to craft an amusing tapestry filled with an almost unwieldy number of extremely watchable characters. And the best thing, no fucking Carmela Soprano!

After watching Season 3's second episode last night, this season is shaping up to be a veritable bloodbath! So, sit back and treat yourself to a shot and a whore at the Gem, and enjoy the carnage.

Why has it taken so long for someone to put together a series like this? I'm not a big fan of westerns usually, but this show is for adults what Bruce Campbell's "Adventures of Briscoe County Jr." was for families with kids. Unfortunately, neither will ever be appreciated for their uncanny brilliance.

Rumor has it that a 40-something woman living in the southern US watches Deadwood with her five year old son but it's okay because of her very special bond with him. He especially likes when Trixie is sucking Al's kidney stones out while thumb massaging his prostate.

Sorry, I just couldn't help myself.

Vegetablisberger ("Hey You Guys!")

So, the famed Pittsburgh quarterback dodged a bullet and he seems like he's going to be okay. Maybe a little bit ugly, but okay nonetheless.

Now, it seems like the rest of the city is getting on his case for not wearing a helmet riding his motorcycle. How irresponsible it is given his employment for the city's football team. Now people are talking about bringing back a brain bucket law for cyclists.

I could give two figs about retards that ride motorcycles without helmets. You know who I feel sorry for? The people that have to scoop their brains off the road after they wreck. When you ride a motorcycle on the road, you are basically putting your life in others' hands. That's a simple fact. A helmet law will save some lives but not prevent accidents.

In a world where retards drive cars with cellphones to their heads, applying make-up and eating dinner in the driver seat, why in the world would you float your body above concrete at 55 MPH alongside them? That's basically what you are doing.

Do yourself a favor, buy a car and use your motorcycle for dirt roads. We are raising a nation of idiots behind the wheel who have no attention span. If I had a nickle for every moron I see drifting out of their lane because they are talking on the cellphone, I'd be a millionaire.

Forget a helmet law and let's get a cellphone ban already. If stupid people want to die because they refuse to use personal protection (helmets or seat belts, for that matter), so be it. How about a little protection for the rest of us who are responsible drivers?

Let Social Darwinism cull out the idiots of the world. Let's protect those of us with the sense enough to regard our lives as valuable and worth protecting.

BS Poker, June 9,2007

Attendees (girlfriends/wives): Irish (+the Saint), Meerksy, Handyman, Choder, Ace, Gary (+the Keeper), T-dog (+B-cat), Don Felatio (+Kay), Gavo, Bluey (+Tay), Highmark Blue, Griffin (+Tracer) and Poppinfresh (+Erie).


20 attendees!!! Can you believe it!!! Wow, what a night.


Here are the high(low)lights:


The Handyman makes a surprise appearance.

Meersky brings the previously hospitalized, gimped out, recovering Poppinfresh a wheelchair and proceeds to wheel him around the apartment.

Life-size Barbie's hermaphroditic bulge.

Jesus turns water into wine, Gavo uses German Logic to turn another straight into a three of a kind.

Edgewood/Swissvale revisited with a Highmark generated Itunes epilogue by Stephen Hawking.

The Handyman bringing to light the existence of Highmark's 8 year old crackbaby twins who reside in West Mifflin.

Irish swallowing three 5's, a queen and a room to grow 5 from Ace! Can you say dislocated jaw? Probably the biggest circus seal impression we've ever seen.

Bluey asking Gary, "Don't you know that you should never date a girl with a gag reflex?".

Gavo's impression of the Third Reich's Make-A-Wish chapter participants.

Meersky acting octagonally again as the "Human Stop Sign"

Este (Griffin) and Tracer bringing a 40th birthday oversized donut and cinnamon roll and Tracer and Gary trying six times to light the candles with Meersky turning the fan on and off. After 10 minutes and finally getting the two candles lit, Bluey promptly "wishes" for new friends!

Highmark's ignorant, unfeeling and cold remark to a wheelchair bound, "almost deathpool loser" Poppinfresh: "Hey gramps, thanks for coming, try not to shit yourself this time ok?"

Choder ressurects the memory of Mr. Bubbles and hilariously brings him and Gaston back to life.

The Handyman gets a BOG mention for admitting that he knew Gaston's name.

Tay's false teeth and Bluey's comments:"I'm about a week away from kicking Bucky to the curb""You think Tay should get her teeth fixed?""Zip it...Bucky!"

Tracer and Erie dyke out on Bluey's bed.

Women's BS Poker suffrage! The Keeper and Tay become the first chicks to play with the big boys.

Handyman welcomes Gary's Keeper to the NFL without even giving her the benefit of a reacharound.

Ace accuses Tay of not knowing what a straight is, calls her a lying whore and then faces her 10 high straight wrath through Bluey.

Highmark's "F the French" and Griffin's "Are those my balls on your face?" T-shirts.

Meersky advises and praises Bluey about keeping "his pimp hand strong" after Bluey's "Do some dishes while you're in the kitchen" comment to Tay.

Choder slams Don Felatio with AAA, as Tankboy claims they are non-existent!

The Handyman disgustedly throws Tay a quarter as a reward for kissing Bluey. "Hell, if that's not worth a quarter, I don't know what is."

B-cat's hunger solely for T-dog's sausage prompting Bluey to advocate a dumping.

The Keeper is asked why "after 3 weeks of dating Gary, she hasn't gone screaming into the night yet?" and is given the offer and opportunity to dump Gary as she sees fit and is given the power to replace him with another guy to be placed in this group.

Ocho Rios!!!...not!!! Highmark's 8's Tote board count - a disappointing 2.

Irish's multiple bombing campaign over the French Seawall leaving Bluey looking like Zarqawi in the rubble.

Bluey's son, Pimp-N-Playa AWOL and suspected to be dead.

Don Felatio, upon the start of BS Poker, turns to his wife and tells her, "Kay, I told you. Don't ask me about my business", and promptly drives her home before returning to play.

Keep em' coming and I will add any others you wish to document.

Why I Love New York City!

The day after the US finds and kills reputed "goat sodomizer" Zarqawi, the New York Post immediately goes on the offensive and taunts and kicks the man when he's down and out. Let's not even wait until the body is cool before we start the trash talking.

I love it.

"Warm up the virgins" is immediately followed by the headline inside the paper stating "Evil Zarqawi Blown To Hell!" Friggin' priceless.

You have just got to love New Yorkers passion even though they can be incredibly insensitive and rude.

Us New Yorkers want to give a big shout out to Al Qaeda.

"Fuck You and Die!"

The Slingshot...er...The Swingshot at Kennywood

Yesterday, I went to Kennywood with my girlfriend, Tay, and our girls. Poppinfresh and Erie joined us at the park.

Kennywood has a new ride that resembles a slingshot that is called The Swingshot. Unfortunately, the new ride was being worked on all day by maintenance staff and was not opened until we were in the parking lot ready to leave.

My eldest daughter turned to me at some point during the day and asked me, "Dad, why isn't The Swingshot open?"

I looked at her and with a straight face told her, "They have it closed because it keeps launching kids to the other side of the park. They're trying to fix that. Kids keep getting thrown clear across the park into the water below the SkyCoaster."

She looks at me and gives me a frown because she's heard some semblance of this type of story a thousand times.

"Dad!"

Of course we all got a laugh out of it and every time someone asks about the new ride at Kennywood they all get the same story from all of us now.

The Swingshot launches people! It launches people!

Carousel

Anybody remember the sci-fi B movie Logan's Run? You know, the one where once you reach the age of 30, they dressed you in a robe and levitated you in a circle (hence "carousel") while laser beams shot all the 30 year old "shrivs" out of the sky.

Carousel was supposed to be the future's answer to rampant overpopulation which was it's author's future vision. Carousel was what was supposed to preserve the earth's waning natural resources for the next generations to survive.

Now, in 2 days, I turn 40 and I'm not necessarily going to advocate Carousel. Oh, who am I kidding. That's exactly what I'm going to advocate.

You see, we have a hell of a lot of baby boomers. Way more than Generation X and Y can support. They soon will be sucking up all of our country's resources. Hell, yesterday, I was out on the road and it took me an hour and ten minutes to drive 15 miles because every baby booming shriv in the world had their Sunday car out on the road and refused to do more than 15 miles per hour. I say it's time to implement the Carousel for real.

Now, the tricky part. What age do we set as the cut-off for Carousel?

Hmmmm, since I'm turning 40 and the baby boomers are an anomaly that will only require Carousel for a short period of time. Surely it will be repealed before I hit Carousel age.

Let's say 62 and we can repeal Carousel in 20 years, when I reach the tender age of 60. That should cure my road rage and make sure that Social Security and all the maximum benefits are around when I'm a shriv.

So, let's fire up the Carousel and pass me one of those Swift's Irish Baby Roasters, so I can chow down and watch the festivities while also solving the "Irish Problem" all in one fell swoop!

Our First Fight

After 6 months of dating without an altercation, Tay and I were feeling pretty good and I was officially proclaiming myself to be "Mr. Perfect".

That all came tumbling down on Friday with, surprisingly, an insensitive remark from me.

We we're in a store and I was looking at the hair coloring products. I point to the auburn red hair and say, "Hey, look at this color!".

Tay replies, "I dyed my hair that color once, it looked real nice".

Then without skipping a beat, I point to the platinum blonde hair and say...(are you ready for this one???)...

"You can dye your hair blonde and I can fantasize about being with Mothra (my ex-wife)!"

Silence..........and it would remain that way until about 5 minutes later.

God only knows what this woman sees in me. I can be a real jackass.

Can Someone Please Whack This Woman!

Carmela Soprano is starting to give me ass cancer.

It's bad enought that this season of HBO's "Sopranos", should have been called "Brokeback Dago", but the Carmela face time for this season is reaching epic proportion. Last night's 50 minute episode had seemingly 20 minutes of Carmela playing tourist in chesse-eating surrender monkey land (props to groundskeeper Willy) last night. This begs to question, "Who really gives a fuck about Carmela in this show?"

Seasons 1 and 2 of the "Sopranos" are some of the best TV you'll find around, assuming you have a stomach for the violence. The show was edgy, humorous and gripping. Starting in season 3, it seemed that HBO wasn't happy enough with its' 18-45 year old male demographic coupled with lackluster female ratings and made a decision to have the plot revolve more around its' female characters. This was a big mistake in my eyes. I could give two shits about the women characters in this show and feel that the only female characters that matter in the series are Dr. Melfi, whoever Tony is screwing at the time and the Bada Bing girls. All the other female characters should be window dressing at best.

For the past 4 years, we have to suffer through Carmela, Janice, fucking Ginny Sac, and the movie club group of Yentas and their problems living as mob wives.

Who the fuck gives a shit. They know who they married. They don't mind spending the blood money on extravagant shit or eating in fancy restaurants. This isn't "Sex in the City" or "Desperate Housewives". So I ask you, why are they in this show at all? I can't stand any of them and pray they all die and are chopped up at Satriale's almost every episode. As hot as she was, even Adrianna became annoying and I was glad that she was capped even though now she seems to be haunting me from the grave.

Thankfully, Vito, ate a pool cue rectally and put an end to the "Brokeback" plotline. After getting a huge belly laugh seeing him dressed up in leather at the gay bar for the first time, I've actually resorted to changing the channel every time him and "Johnny Cakes" started getting intimate. If that makes me a homophobe, so fucking be it.

Back to Carmela. Other than spitting out the smoking hot Meadow, what exactly does she add to the show except to remind men why they shouldn't ever get married in the first place. All she does is worry, bitch and moan about household issues. I don't watch the "Sopranos" to be reminded what a pain in the ass a wife can be. I have an ex that fills that role.

To the producers of the show, give me the storyline of the gangsters and forget about the wives. Seeing Carmela walk through Paris for 20 minutes last night made me feel like killing someone.

20 fucking minutes????? Are you kidding me?????

If she isn't murdered in the season finale, I'm going to have to go for a colonoscopy.

By the way, if Carmela climbed up on top of me, I think my balls would ascend and turn into ovaries and I would never come again.

Orange Girl

In a small card shop close to where I work, there is this very attractive gal who works at the counter. Every day on my walk to lunch I look forward to seeing her for strictly eye candy purposes.

She's much too young for me. She's a bleached blonde but she carries it off okay (I'm not much of a fan of blondes, since I've always preferred brunettes, and the fact that my ex is a blonde, doesn't exactly help matters).

Being that I used to work on a college campus, one of my favorite past-times after I was separated, was girlwatching. Nothing perverted or dirty, just enjoying the scenery, you know. My new workplace location doesn't allow that hobby much. It's kind of like birdwatching under water. Every once in a while a bird comes out of nowhere for a dive. So, obviously I enjoy whatever comes my way, including Orangegirl.

The problem with this girl is that her skin is a Chernobyl shade of orange. She looks like she was caught in a radioactive blast zone or dipped in a pool of Iodine. It's pretty obvious that she must be addicted to tanning salons because she really is an unnatural shade of orange. It's a shame, because, other than her un-natural skin color, she is smoking hot.

After all my years, I do not pretend to be an expert on women (far from it) but could someone explain to me why one of this girl's friends wouldn't just tell her how ridiculous she looks in her orange hue? She looks pretty damn close to the color of the Oompa Loompas, and I'm am not exagerating...that much.

Every time I walk by and look into the display window, I'm expecting her to break out into dance and start singing:

"Oompa loompa, doopidy doo,
I've got another message for you
Oompa loompa, doopidy dum,
Do you know where melanoma comes from?"

I guess I was born so dark, I don't know how horrible it must be to be fair skinned. But orange skin??? I don't understand how that's an improvement unless you are auditioning to be a highway traffic cone. Maybe she's a nudist/NRA member and the tanning gives her the required square inches required by state mandates for hunter safety.

Or maybe her parents are Oompa Loompas. I think that her orange glow would delay male orgasm by 13.4 seconds if my research is correct.

Maybe that's why she does it.

Separated At Birth

Does this picture remind anyone of an infamous pilgrimager whose exploits to burn down the cottage is documented in a previous post?

Maybe, if he was wearing his helmet a few years back, he wouldn't have gotten slammed upside his head with a softball bat from one of his special friends and which prompted one of the funniest fictional lines.

"Is he dead???"

After a few minutes out cold, this thick skulled "gymnosperm" lived to tell the tale (although he might have been better off, if he kept it to himself). Well, I for one, salute my all time favorite and funniest pilgrimage members!

Stay gold!

YYYAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!

Bill the Wondermutt!

I had a dog named Shakespeare (nicknamed just plain ol' Bill) that I found on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, during a blizzard when I was a junior in college. I almost hit him with my car, as my roomate Beukey and I were driving off campus with kidnapped sorority pledges.

Bill was just a pup, with no tags, that seemingly someone had dropped off and he had serious respiratory problems. I lived in a frathouse, so I back-tracked back to the house and let our frat's pledges clean him up while we were away.

Bill was pretty sick, so I took him to a vet the next day, where he got antibiotics, and I decided to keep him. Bill was the best mutt in the world and loved people. He also didn't seem to have a care in the world and wasn't terribly bright. My frat brothers would do things like putting him up in the cupboard with the dishes where he would just set up camp without a worry about trying to get out. Usually, I would find him sleeping up there an hour later when one of my frat brothers would finally shake their head and realize he wasn't going to cry or even attempt to get free, and would let me know where he was.

Bill was a super cool pet and everybody couldn't help but become attached to him. He had a load of personality.

But, as I said, Bill was no rocket scientist. Hell, sometimes I wondered if his head housed a brain at all. Due to sheer stupidity, he was hit by cars twice with the second coming after he actually ran into the side of a moving car, knocking himself out cold while I watched in utter disbelief. It was after this that Bill acquired his magical powers.

Thats right, I said magical powers.

You see, after Bill bumped his noggin on the side of that car, he acquired the power to teleport himself from place to place. No, I'm not joking.

For example, one day, my roommate, Beukey and I were studying for finals. The door to our room was closed and Bill was fast asleep on my bed. Usually he would sleep on my bed and every once in a while climb up on Beukey's bed. In our room, my mattress was on the floor and surrounded by two walls on two sides, a couch and a dresser on a third side and the only open side was at the foot of the bed. That's where our reclining chair was where I was studying. The recliner basically cut off half of the foot of the bed area and when I was sitting in it with my feet up on the couch (as I customarily sat), nothing could squeeze through without climbing over the top of my legs.Well, anyway, we're in there studying and Beukey asks what Bill was doing. I tell him that he's asleep on my bed but when I turn to look, he's gone!

"He was just there a second ago".

"What are you talking about?" Beukey inquired.

"He's gone. Bill's gone."

"Quit fucking around"

"I'm not. He is not on my bed anymore"

"Yeah, right"

"I'm absolutely serious, dude, he disappeared!"

Beuckey gets up off his bed to look and lo and behold he confirms, Bill has vanished.

"That's not possible", Beukey says.

"Tell me about it, I'm all fucking spooked now"

"The door is closed and we would have seen him leave"

"Christ, Beukey, he would have had to climb over the top of me and grow a quick opposible thumb to turn the doorknob to get out. He must have teleported out, like they do on Star Trek. Hell, maybe when he got hit by that car last week, he acquired magical powers"

We sat there in silence mulling the possibilities when we heard a sniffing sound outside the door. I got up and sure enough, it was Bill "The Amazing Teleporting Canine".

To this day, Beukey and I would swear on a stack of bibles and I would swear on my children that Bill teleported out of the room that day.

They say that humans only use less than 5% of their brains. I'm sure that Bill used less than 1% of his little pea brain. But they say that the mysteries held in the unused portion of our brains offer limitless potential for future development and usage such as telekinesis, etc...I think that accident tapped an area in Bill's brain that allowed him the power to teleport. Sure enough, whenever I wanted to scold him, he would be nowhere to be found.

Coincidence????

Stevie Ray Vaughan: A Blues Legend

I was put onto this clip of SRV doing "Texas Flood" earlier today.

When I was in college, I was a huge SRV fan. Unfortunately, SRV was killed in a helicopter accident while in the midst of a comeback tour in 1990. It has been awhile since I have listened to his albums (Step By Step, being my personal favorite).

I have no idea why I have gone so long since listening to this master of the blues. Please sit back, relax, put your feet up and let the ghost of SRV take you away for awhile.

This is one soulful nugget of the true spirit of Stevie Ray. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=490OveFwa_A&search=texas%20flood

An Extra Two Minutes (To Come)

This past pilgrimage, a bunch of us guys were watching some non-sensical show on E or some other channel about the sexiest people.

As we held court for a half hour over who was hot, who hit the wall etc...etc..., my buddy T-Dog offered an interesting opinion.

He claimed that if he didn't respect the job that a woman did, that he would find her less sexy. I was pretty perplexed by this because this type of opinion is usually reserved for women, who will find a man more attractive based on his success, charisma or confidence.

Us dumb mammals (men) don't usually put too much stock in what a woman does. If she's hot, she's hot regardless of what she does. I can't say I put any thought into the success of her job, when considering whether I find her attractive or whether I'd sleep with her.

So, being thus perplexed, I asked T-Dog to explain."If I don't consider an actress good at her profession, I wouldn't find her as sexy", T-dog explained.

"What???"

"If she's a poor actress, I would find her less attractive", T-dog further elaborated.

"What the hell does that mean? She's either hot or she isn't. We're talking about actresses here that could easily be supermodels."

"I'm just saying that I'd find them less attractive"

"So, let me get this straight. I think Jessica Alba is hot but I think that she is a terrible actress (which I do, by the way). The fact that I find her less sexy means what, exactly? That if I was sleeping with her that it would take me an extra two minutes to come?"

T-Dog rolls his eyes at me. I think I made my point. Of course, throughout the rest of the show, I beat my point to death as I estimate the extra amount of time needed to come for the remaining women on the list.

I can be a real ass at times.