Halloweenie

I'm so excited it's finally here. And it's supposed to rain here in the midwest (check local listings). That means we'll get to keep all that sweet holiday candy when fewer urchins darling children don't show up tonight.

My costume? It's pretty sweet.

I've got a mannequin in an orange vest strapped to the front of my pick up truck and a canvas tent in the back. Then I'm just going to drive around in this get up all day. Oh, and I plan on throwing jerky when I drive by some schools.

That ought to give those hunters something to think about when gun season opens in a couple of weeks.

Alternatively, you can just wear clothes for the opposite sex and look really confused when people ask you if it's a costume. I always like to play a little game I call Freak or Treat. It's when you try to decide whether someone is actually dressed for Halloween or just actually wearing that outfit in public. You'd be surprised how hard it is to tell around here.

Noche del Diablo

Here in the Midworst, we have some odd traditions. One of those odd fellows is that we burn stuff down in Detroit. It's always the night before Halloween and it's called Devil's Night.

I don't know when things started to turn. Devil's Night used to just be a time for some good childish fun with toilet paper and eggs. But then the arsonists got hold of things and it took a turn. It's kind of amazing that arsonists have their own holiday and patron saint. Who is it? Saint Elmo of course. Not the giggling, hairy Elmo either.

So now there are literally hundreds of fires set across the state. It's usually nothing nice like a Michigan bed and breakfast that gets torched. It's typically some crappy old run down building that gets it. I'm got more than a suspicion that some sweet insurance dough might be a reason for some of these antics. I just can't imagine Steve Douglas as a bad guy though.

I'm not sure why burning stuff is so cathartic. One of my buddies moved up here from Texas and his first question was, "What's with all the couch burning?" Then I reminded him that he went to Texas A&M where they used to have an organized bonfire. That shut him up.

But if you could invent fire proof couch covers, I'll bet every campus in the Midwest would buy them.

Know When To Fold Them

I still can't figure out the Detroit Lions. They're 5-2 and a half game back of the Green Bay Fudge Packers in their division.

But the Kitties still haven't beaten anyone with a winning record. They gave their coach a Gatorade shower after he beat his old team, the Yuckaneers. And one of their receivers told the media they can all kiss his ass after they won last week.

They're a conundrum, wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma. And buried in a mayonnaise jar under Funk and Wagnall's front porch. Thank you, Karnak.

So if I had a link to the top online sportsbook and wanted to lay a little wager on the Kitties against the Broncos (who are coming off a heartbreaking overtime loss to Brett "I Really Was Born in a Manger" Favre), I'm not sure what I would do this early in the week. The game is not even on the board yet. Hold your breath, kids.

Childless

Wife and I can't have children. Because we loathe them. That and I stepped on a toe popper in Vietnam at the Battle of Chun King. But where was my parade when I came home after keeping Arizona safe from Charlie for all those years?

Anyway, we have no need for life insurance for kids. This kid does though.

And while Uncle T2ed doesn't advocate putting a kid on your hood and driving 99 miles an hour, I understand it.

Especially if he's named Damien Beelzebub and screams through the entire church service.

Who was really surprised to see the holy water burn him?

Panty Power

Are you tired of social injustice in the world? Do you want to do something about it? Do you want to help those poor Myanmarians who still think they're living in Burma?

Well you can, ladies. Just take off your panties.

While it probably sounds like I just made this up, I didn't. (But I'm kicking myself anyway. And I'd have gone with bras).

Apparently the military dictatorship (or junta if you will) is so superstitious that they fear contact with a woman's panties can rob them of their power. I don't know about the dictators, but I've been rendered powerless by a woman's undergarments before. Thanks, I'm here all week.

While I'm not sure how taking off your skivvies and mailing them to evil uberlords will help, it can't hurt. But Panty Power just doesn't do it for me as a call to throw off the chains of tyranny. And since it was started by someone with only one name (Tomoko), that's kind of a warning sign right there. If the goal is to "raise awareness" of women's underwear, as a guy, I can honestly say, we're pretty aware already.

May I suggest the following monikers for this most excellent protest:

• BVDestruction
• Freeboob for Freedom
• Knicker Neutralization
• Paradrop Panties
• Operation Burnout by Bra-less
• Plot Playtex
• Hanes Harmonization
• Gotchie Ground Grab
• Operation Enduring Elastic
• Wargame Wonderbra
• Cleavacious Cleansing
• Lingerie Launch
• Unconventional Unmentionable Warfare
• Thong Threat
• Crotchless Coup
• Longjohn Lockdown
• Undie-niable Assistance
• Corset Counter Attack
• Grand Strategy G-String
• Wait Till We Get Our Hummers on You

Because I'm not in women's underwear (but how I always like to be), there's probably some other brands or names or other code words or double top secret terminology that mens aren't privy too.

So play along at home kids. We can bring this evil regime to its knees! Or at least get it's pants down around its ankles.

A Vote For Me Is a Vote For Me

If you believe in the fundamentally just nature of our political process, you've simply got to run out and vote for Jose ''Pepe'' Caragol who is running for City Council in Hialeah, Florida.

Pepe is not only the 76 year old incumbent, but he's using a slogan about oral sex in his campaign stumping.

When they starting handing out trophies for best slogans ever, "If you like oral sex, vote Caragol for council" has got to get one. And I've got a pretty good idea what that trophy might look like.

And while Pepe's slogan rocks in English, in Spanish it rhymes. Si te gusta el sexo oral, vote por Caragol por consejal. Who'd have ever thought oral sex in Spanish was just "sexo oral?" Guess you can just add an O to the end of any word and instantly speak Spanish. But make sure you speak very loudly and slowly.

Pepe's challenger, Mercy Dominguez has criticized the slogan and responded with a slew of new slogans:

• We can still be friends
• Pepe leaves a bad taste in my mouth
• Spit out the incumbent
• Can't we just cuddle?
• I don't Like You Like You
• It's Not Really Sex According to Bill

Since I'm driving the Pepe bandwagon, here's some other suggestions he can feel free to use:

• If you don't like Bush or Dick, you'll love Pepe
• I ♥ multiple voting
• Pepe is Sexay
• Mercy Dominguez is a frigid shrew
• You Don't Actually Blow On It
• Pepe By the Dashboard Light
• Pepe's Too Sexy [for This Election]
• When I Think Of You, I Vote for Pepe
• That's Not Pepe's Chad That's Dangling
• Pepe Blows My Mind
• Come and Enjoy Pepe's Victory Ball

Ah, I just love a good election joke. Feel free to play along at home kids.

Just In Time for Halloween

I can't believe someone is doing this to their kid. This is why people shouldn't get high and pick names.

We just got first communion invitations from a couple who named their kid Damien. And it's for this Sunday. Yeah, right before Halloween. Is that spooky or what? I'm not sure, but his middle name might be Beelzebub.

If the church roof doesn't collapse, I'm going to be sure to check that kid's head for a 666 tattoo. Or I might let slip, "Hey, he has three 9's on his head." Just to be on the safe side, I'm wearing a hockey mask and bringing a chain saw. I hope they give out candy.

I can tell you one thing, no kid better ever pick on 'lil Damien Beelzebub on the playground. Oh he'll fry their brain with his evil powers.

Parrot Trooper

I've been using some swell business collaboration software to work on the sitcom pilot with my writing partner/lover. Remember according to Claudia Johnson & Matt Stevens screenplays are like sperm -- there's a one in a million chance they'll get made. (And I thought it was because most drafts leave a bad taste in your mouth).

We've got a 13 episode deal with ABC to replace that Caveman show when it gets cancelled next week. Oops, that's a secret. Keep it to yourselves. We were going to go with something about a lizard, but the lawyers wouldn't let us. I was hoping for an HBO deal so we could show some boobies to make up for the lack of character development but no such luck.

The star of the show is Bob, a talking parrot. Think Sabrina the Teenage Witch with that cgi talking cat meets Knight Rider meets Mr. Ed. Bob is the brains of the operation and I'm the lucky-as-hell doof who owns him. Thanks to Bob's super genius, every bad idea I have turns into a great situation where I wind up with bucks in the bank and a hot brunette on my arm.

My wacky neighbor is Muggsy Bogues the shortest NBA player to ever dunk a ball. He'll actually be called Muggsy just like they always had to do with Tony Danza's characters in any show. Muggsy and I will have lots of wacky adventures involving working in a chocolate factory, making vitamin commercials and running a bed and breakfast for a sick friend. We'll initially meet Muggsy where we can just see the top of his head over my backyard fence while he dunks a basketball. When everyone thinks it's going to be a rip off of Wilson, but then we'll just show him later and act like nothing happened.

My slowly being driven crazy neighbor is Tony Soprano James Gandolfini (he really needed the work) who plays Ralph. Ralph is the only other person who knows Bob can talk. Ralph keeps trying to expose me as a fraud and lucky idiot. Think Mrs. Kravitz meets Mr. Roper.

In the pilot episode, Bob discovers the internet but lets Al Gore and me take credit for it as long as I water-ski jump over a shark, I play some golf with Muggsy, Ralph inadvertently gets signed up for AOL and can't cancel his service, the Miss Teen USA bus breaks down in front of my house and Miss South Carolina makes an unexpected drop in cameo and we wind up playing Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego.

Stay tuned because we have evil twins, mistaken identities, lies that compound themselves into further complications, secret identities, very special episodes with a moral, Bob dialing a phone with a pencil in his mouth, good twins, sleepwalking, dance contests, more shark jumping, cute kids who have all the punch lines and act way too adult, catchy catch phrases, lots of product placements, and washed up guest stars from 80's television shows. In short, it's sure to be a hit.

I wish I were making this up.

Consider Yourself Affirmed

Lindsay Lohan is sporting new affirmation clothing. She was spotted shopping in lovely (and oh so trendy) Orem (Family City USA and I'm NOT making this up), Utah while wearing a hoodie with the following sayings on it:

• i'm oh so lovely
• heir to the throne
• beauty comes from within
• royal queen
• love is the key

I'm totally ripping off this idea but with more of a celebrity bent. Here's what I'll be writing on the clothes for my celeb clients:

• Remember Your Underwear
• Don't Get Married This Weekend
• Kids In Their Seats Not My Lap
• No Blow in the Loo
• Tell Me I'm Pretty Dammit
• Don't Chase Former Assistants With Your Car
• Mean Papparazzi Suck
• Please Hold My Hair When I Vomit
• Open All Night
• Don't Pull on My Ears, I Know What I'm Doing
• You Can Really Act
• Who Knows Why I'm Famous
• Buy Me Drinks and You Can Probably Get Lucky
• Almost 43 Hours Sober -- Oops
• Got Fries?
• It's All About the Music
• Seriously, This Movie Won't Suck
• Toughest Con on Celebrity Cell Block C
• My Other Hoodie Is On the Floor of Some Guy's Car
• Beer Doesn't Count
• Rehab Is For Quitters

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

Spook/Crap-tacular

People often ask me, why I stay in Michigan. Because where else could you see stuff like this? I apologize for the crummy layout. I give with Glogger and images already.

Yes, that sign actually says, "Pumpkins you pick you pay what's fair Please put money in the can"

Where else in the world are you going to find the kind of trusting people that sell pumpkins from their front yard and just ask you to donate what is "fair?"

I'm not saying we don't have our share of Halloweenies too. Because for every nice trusting soul who sells punkins from her driveway (and trust me, the show pumpkins were in the front), there's someone like this guy.

Obviously, he skipped a few courses while he went for his Graphic Design degree. You know it's got to be really scary with the kind of foresight and planning skills for a sign like that.

Yes, that's actual red spray paint on the "Haunted Trailer." It says Enter Hell and House from Hell. I'm not sure whether our budding October capitalist painted it or the neighbors did. Because there is nothing spookier than abandoned shit in your yard. I like to think he's in there wearing his wife beater, holding an axe and hopes all those nails he scattered on the road for the Sorority Bus work out.

You want to talk about a scary house. I was afraid to stop and take pictures during the day. I've seen how those movies turn out when the kids split up and look for clues. If it's raining and your car breaks down and you ask to use the phone at that house, you should be fighting crime for a living.You've got to have a deathwish if you set foot in that house.

But the scariest thing? The mailbox. I was afraid to open it. I'm pretty sure there aren't Superbowl tickets in there. Most likely it's a human hand inside.

Now I've got to get going. I've got my dark pick- up truck, a flashlight and a shitload of pumpkins to steal.

Wie've Got the Beat

Dearest Michelle:

I'm sorry, but this is a very difficult for me. The time we've spent together during the past year has been fantastic. But I'm distracting you. You can't concentrate on your work. You haven't even managed to get your web site done.

Neither of us ever expected this to work out after I wrote about you. When you emailed me and we arranged to meet at the LPGA U.S. Open, sparks just flew. Sure everyone thought a 40 something and a teen golf phenom didn't have a chance. We showed them.

But I'm no good for you. Your golf game has gone to hell. You need to be practicing on the green and not sneaking our for a little night putting with me. Yes, we waited until you were street legal, but now you need to focus on college.

Your best finish this year was 69th . It was sweet of you to do that for me (and I certainly got the joke), but you need to get on with your potential. That Nike money isn't going to last forever if you don't start winning soon. And thanks for the all the clubs and shirts, but I told you, I'm a Mizuno golf man from way back.

Don't worry, Michelle. I'm sure you'll find someone else. Maybe, if my heart has mended a bit, I'll come and caddy for you at the Sony Open again. *sniff* Be strong, little Wie Wie.

Love Always,

t2ed

P.S. You also need to get a little distance from your Mom & Dad too. When agents bail on you two years in a row, that's a bad sign. If you don't get your shit together, you'll be showing up places with no underwear and a shaved head. I don't understand why my exes have so much trouble getting over me.

It's for Science I Tell You

While we're in the midst of Tatatober, there's still time to celebrate National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It's no coincidinky that the same months you should be concerned about your chesticles is the same month that you can dress like a slut with no repercussions. That's what Halloween is for kids. You get to misbehave sartorially with no penalty.

Try out that Sexy Nurse look, the Librarian, the Hot Nun, the Copper or the Cowgirl (probably reversed) or for the geek in your life, Princess Leia.

I've already got my costume made. I'm going as Mammogram Man.

Now I've just got to get the lights mounted for the drive up window.

Remember kids, it's all about safety. And the candy of course.

Nunsense

At the Santa Clara Convent in Bari, Italy, the three remaining nuns recently turned to fisticuffs to settle their dispute. Rrrow, catfight. Let's get rrrready to rrrrepent!

In August sisters Annamaria and Gianbattista turned on the Mother Superior Liliana and scratched Lil's face and threw her to the ground. Now the responsible Archbishop has asked the Vatican for permission to close the convent. Who wouldn't want to go enforce that eviction notice?

The three sisters are Clarissa nuns and order supposedly the most austere and supposedly devoted to a life of prayer, penance and quiet contemplation. Apparently, they're contemplating a order of whup ass.

To help bolster it's flagging ratings, ESPN is adding the following fighters to The Contender:

• Sister Lilianna aka The Mother Superior of Kicking Posterior (112 lbs, 93 yrs)
• Sister Ivana of the Immaculate Right Cross Piccolo (115 lbs, 107 yrs)
• Mary Catherine "The Habit Breaker" O'Shaunessey (135 lbs, 25 yrs)
• Andrea "The Assaulter from the Altar" Chiccolini (84 lbs, 67 yrs)
• Angelina "The Nundertaker" Cappuccine (99 lbs, 74 yrs)
• Francesca "El Guapo" del Torrez (95 lbs, 57 yrs)
• Katrina "Boom Boom" Mendoza (102 lbs, 45 yrs and southpaw)
• Estelle "En Spiritu Sassy" Saachi (103 lbs, 103 yrs)

Can't wait for this show now.

Pirates v. Zombies

I don't know what's going on in Minneapolis. I'm not sure I want to know. While I still haven't heard about my pending candidacy as the State's Poet Laureate, it's a lock. And because I don't really know anything about Minnesota that I haven't learned from watching Vikings games, my homework has begun.

Apparently, some folks in the Twin Cities like dressing up like Zombies and Pirates and then hitting the bars. I didn't see any Zombie Pirates, but that would have been a nice touch to try to bring a rapprochement to the two groups. Because if Zombies and Pirates are going to be on the prowl in some establishments that serve adult refreshments, a little rowdiness and bloodshed is going to break out.

And I see that the Vikings are "bringing tailgating back to Vikings fans." I can't believe that the Zombies and Pirates ever let them take it away.

I think what knowing that semi-responsible adults like to dress go out dressed as Pirates and Zombies means is that the Minnesota Winter is reaaaaallly long.

Who do you think would win a Zombie v. Pirate fight? I'm unaware of any reference on the potential engagements other than the ongoing chronicles of Cap'n Jack Sparrow. And those don't seem to be historically accurate for some reason.

And in other zombie news, ESPN reports that the body of George Gip aka "The Gipper" was exhumed for a DNA sample. ESPN even filmed the event. While relatives claim it's for "personal family matters," it's really for Notre Dame to begin cloning it's own George Gip Zombie Football Team in an effort to salvage the year and become bowl eligible. I gotta think brain eating will draw a 15 yard penalty even in college.

It's Not That Nice a State

Lindsay Hohan is finally out of her drug rehabs in Utah. Linds was at the Cirque Lodge in Sundance. Yes, the same Sundance where Robert Redford hangs out and has his resort. And while I've never been to rehabs there, I'm guessing the ole Cirque isn't really roughing it. And I've seen their circus and it's really good despite all the Frenchies.

But it's being reported that Blowhan is so enamored of Utah, that she's going to move there permanently. Hmm....from rehab to full time resident of the Beehive State (so named because of its hairdo's). That's just about as far apart as you can go in your approach to life isn't it? From snorting spikes to the Golden Spike. Doing lines to line dancing. From smoking hot to no smoking anywhere. From screaming jags to ice cream. From tawdry sex to sex for procreation. I'm having a bit of trouble seeing it, Linds. The joke is that when you go to Utah, you set your watch back 2 hours and 25 years.

No word on whether Lindsay will attempt to officially become an Osmond.

Corn Dog Love

I was a little disappointed with the response to Iowa's Erotic Corn Dog Eating Contest. I realize that these jokes are really just for me to get them out of my head so I don't inadvertently blurt something out at a funeral or a meeting or a routine traffic stop.

But seriously, no one had anything to say about it? I thought I knew you pre-verts better than that. Am I the only one who finds this amusing? And that it's in Iowa?

Well I'm not letting it drop. I've been training for the contest and can't wait for next year. I've got a coach who gives me substances that I take without any questions. I figure I'm a professional athlete who has a chance to prove corn dog eroticism just once a year. If he wants to give me something he calls "the clear," who am I to ask questions? I'll just assume it's some innocuous substance and take it. In fact, it's probably a placebo and he's just playing mind games to make me think I'm actually getting enhanced performance. That's the power of the mind, my friends.

But on to more corn dog information. This time it's the lyrics to Corn Dog Love by Rodney Carrington.

I saw her standing in the corner

With a corn dog in her hand

By the way she took the first bite

I knew I was her man.

Nevermind the lazy eye

She's loves soft food alright

And she can see behind her

When there's danger at night.

We've got a corn dog love

Rub a dub dub

Sitting in a tub

It's the kind of love

That Daddy's been dreaming of

Corn dog love

Uh, corn dog love

Little Ten

What the hell happened to college football?

Notre Dame stinks. The Big Ten sucks. No one in the Top 10 seemingly wants to remain undefeated. Even Penn State football has scofflaws on the team now. And what the heck is a Nittany anyway?

They've also started a Big Ten Network that freaking no one gets. Here in Michigan, the Big Ten Network made a big deal that they'd finally signed an agreement with the 11th largest cable provider in the state. I'm sure that deal really made all 17 people who now get the Big Ten Network really happy.

See the Big Ten Network is arguing with the cable providers about where the channel should be. You can see the Big Ten games if you have a dish. But if you live here in the Great Grey North where there are trees and snow piled higher than your roof, you're stuck with cable. The BTN is telling the cable providers that they want to be part of the Basic Package and not stuck on some premium sports tier. I think they just want a better channel number. There's probably some marketing geek who is determined that the Big Ten is going to be on channel 10 and not 427.

Both sides are going back and forth with lots of swell PR wizardry. But while they're dicking around with sword fights and sabre rattling, I'm not getting to see the alma mater play ball. Badly, as it turns out. The first rule of sword fight club? Don't talk about sword fight club.

I'm not sure whom I hate the most. I definitely hate them both. And it would be terrible if someone found out where Big Ten Network President Mark Silverman lived and Charter Communications founder and current Chairman of the Board Paul Allen and put a big heaping pile of poo on their door step. That would be a travesty.

I'm sure this will all play out soon and the fine folks at the Big Ten who somehow can't even count how many teams are in the league and are stuck in a 20 year agreement with Fox whom all the cable companies hate and the fine folks at Charter who have a stock that's trading almost three dollars a share on the Nasdaq will work all this acrimony out. Because they've got our best interests at heart.

If this isn't settled by the time basketball season is here, expect some gun play.

Money, That's What I Want

I've never needed a cash advance. That's because I just bet against the Lions and sit back and watch the turnovers mount and the money roll in.

I don't really understand how cash advances work. I mean, they've got the money, but they're giving it to you. But just for a while. It's not like a house, that you're going to pay off in 30 years (if ever given the state of those variable mortgages right now).

But these payday loans and for short term. They know you can't be very good with money or you'd figure out how to make it last until payday. But they still give it to you. That's pretty trusting in my book.

Because if you just wanted me to "hold" your money for you, it'd be better held by placing it into a program for liquor and tawdry women. But you could always waste some of it.

With the Lions, It's Not Really Gambling

I sat through another crummy Lions game this past Sunday. They lost to the Washington Redskins (who play in Andover, Maryland) 34-3. Yeah, not a really close game. They finally cut away in the 4th quarter to another game that the announcers referred to as "more competitive." If you're the announcer for the Lions game, do you wonder whom you pissed off to draw that assignment?

The Lions are actually 0-22 against the Redskins when playing away from Michigan. That's a record for one team against another by the way.

Which is why if you were going to engage in any football betting last weekend, that was the game for it. If you're wagering against the Lions, the outcome isn't in question.

Maybe I'll wear my Lions championship coat this weekend. It's from 1954. I was just sperm then.

Check Those Chi Chi's

Hey, kids! October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The fine folks at Cleavacious actually have pink bras for sale this month and 5% of all proceeds go to the National Breast Cancer Foundation.

And things are going well enough for Inventor Extraordinaire Karey Weyenberg (who really got screwed by the Nobel Committee this year) that the Cleavacious is actually advertised in this month's O Magazine. I'm sure Karey just wanted to let me know because I'm such a big apprecianado (it's like aficionado but liking it a lot more)of her work.

But the most important part of this month is that you check yourself. Breast cancer is the most prevalent form of cancer in women. If you're not sure how to to a BSE (Breast Self Exam), there are plenty of online resources on the interwebs.

If you're not up to a self exam, ask a stranger. You won't need to shower them with lovely gifts like Skagen watches to get them to lend a hand. Or two. You'll be surprised how helpful some people are willing to be. In fact, I've got a drive thru window open all October that is being staffed with extremely helpful gentlemen who also have warm hands. I can't wait for Halloween and all the ladies who need exams come by dressed slutty up.

I think the only problem with having October be Breast Cancer Awareness Month is that the name doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. And let's face it, did you really think I was going to go a whole post without boob jokes? So here are some suggestions for a better name for Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

• Knocktober
• Hooterween
• Autumn Show Them More Often
• Breastacula
• Frankentitty Fest
• Month of Mammaliciousness
• Nippleriffic Night
• All Hooter's Eve
• Devil's Double D Night
• Highbeam Harvest
• Coco-tober
• Bobbing for Love Apples
• Tatatober
• All Naturals Night

Feel free to play along at home, kids!

From Bad to Verse

Minnesota is officially looking for a state poet laureate. As the self-declared official poet laureate for the Cleavacious brand self-adjustable bra, my bona fides are well established.

And while I'm not officially from Minnesota, I'm pretty certain there's some kind of loophole. You know, the same kind that allows Senators to simultaneously be from New York, Arkansas, Chicago and own a home in Connecticut. I'm even willing to but one of those 1 inch real estate ranches. And I'll raise the worlds tallest bonsai tree on that 1 inch parcel of real estate.

So of course, I've got to apply to be the State of Minnesota's Poet Laureate. While I'm probably a shoo in because of my past work in women's undergarments, I thought it might be prudent to grease the skids as it were with something that was a bit more Minnesota-centric.

This still a little rough out, but it's a start. After all, it is a government gig.

Something, something lots of lakes,

Home to no poisonous snakes [To Fact Checker--yes?]

Leaving you makes my heart break

Excessive foot-tapping in MSP stalls a big mistake.

Blah blah de de lands quite striking

In the woods we all go hiking

There is even lots of biking

When not yelling at the GD Vikings

Depart your shores, you won't convince

Even though I'm sick of Prince

And his dance steps mostly mince

Changed his name, a symbol since

Something blah blah red blooded male

Would take a swing at Kevin McHale

For trading Garnett in a fire sale

Such basketball leadership makes me wail.

Your ex-governor Jesse liked to wrestle

In the state cap he did nestle

Like a bridge with a solid trestle

But caused most folk to burst blood's vessel

So to your lands I must go

Our children tall and brave will grow

Though Ma Nature some weather may throw

Way too much fucking snow.

If that doesn't win them over, nothing will.

Unfortunately, I don't know much more about the Great Lakes State except that Bob Dylan was from there, the lost a lot of Super Bowls and won the World Series over the Braves. And that really didn't help except for being able to rhyme Kirby Puckett with Fuck It.

Oh Captain, My Captain

I don't if I've ever told the story about how Wife almost electrocuted me. But I was thinking about it this morning as I made my toast in the shower.

Wife & I were once sailors. Not real sailors with tattoos and nautical skills, but fools who lived on a lake and envied the water-privileged. So we bought a boat for $300. Obviously not a huge outlay, but it was a nice little 15' outboard. And because we couldn't afford a boat lift, we just tied it to a crummy little metal dock that came with the house. It wasn't a big lake anyway.

Or so we thought....

Until one day when the Edmund Fitzgerald was tied up and a squall blew in off the lake. It hit the back transom just right to put a bunch of water under the cover and into the back of the boat. This caused it to flounder and sink in about 3 feet of water. Yup, as an intrepid captain with no marine insurance, I somehow managed to sink a boat that I wasn't even on while I was picking up a pizza. That takes skill by Poseidon.

So I called one of my engineer buddies who owned a pump and who I figured would know something useful. Unfortunately, he turned out to be one of those more "theoretical" marine engineers. We wound up sinking the boat again after we had it partially pumped out. We had to use cinder blocks and a big post as a lever to hold the boat up out of the water while water pumped out. We weren't paying attention and let the lever go for a while and the boat settled and sunk again. Yeah, it was probably all the tequila, but when you're shivering on an Autumn night and it's lightning while you're standing in open water, you need a bracer or four.

But on to the near electrocution....

As we first began to set up the pump, I gave Wife the extension cord to plug in. When she came back, she was going to throw the now plugged in cord to me to plug in to the pump. That's right, she was going to throw me a live wire, while I stood waist deep in the water. Luckily I shouted as her to stop (with several profanities) as my buddy attempted to do his best Jesus impersonation. Don't try that at home kids. Wife still claims this was just an oversight on her part. But I always wonder whenever we make waffles in the bathtub.

Luckily there was no Coast Guard hearing as to how I sunk a boat twice while it was tied up to a dock. Man, were we glad when we finally sold that boat--for $300.

She Drives Me Cuckoo

I've got my latest get rich quick scheme.

It's amazingly simple.

1) Buy some real estate in Bermuda
2) Corner the market on Coco Pops
3) Price gouge the hell out of the addicted Bermudians

Bermudites? Bermudies? Bermudists? That sounds like they've got a lot of au naturale beaches.

Anyway, Bermuda is now 4th fattest country in the world because of Coco Pops. At least that who Bermuda's health coordinator, Jennifer Attride-Stirling is making the scapegoat. And I always thought breakfast was the most important meal of the day. I'm sure it's not because the Honorable Ms. Attride-Stirling is just galivanting around the beaches of Bermuda in her swell shorts while stealing unsupecting ships and planes and not coordinating the health of her citizenry.

When did Coco Pops get rid of the bi-polar bird? There's some kind of monkey there now. I'd pass on anything in a bowl that was small, round and brown if a monkey gave it to me.

Is there a difference between Coco Pops and Coco Puffs? Or is this like one of those slick corporate tricks where they have Barbie and a rival company has a doll called Barbee that's spelled just slightly different enough to avoid expensive copyright litigation?

And if these Bermudists are hooked on chocolate-flavored breakfast cereals, Ms. Atride-Stirling better hope they never discover bacon.

I'd like to take my Canon Powershot camera down to Bermuda and snap a couple of action photos of corpulent Bermudists. I'm betting they can't compare to the people I can see at the fair every year. And that's just the line for elephant ears.

All I Owe Iowa

As a concerned Mid-westerner, I'm worried about Iowa. First, the University of Iowa dropped its annual corn on the cob eating contest. And then the gigantic wheel of karma rolled back around and crushed them underneath by causing them to lose to Iowa State in the big football game.

Now, the Iowa State Fair Board may ban the erotic corn dog eating contest. Who is surprised that the erotic corn dog eating contest is in Iowa? Anyone? And I'm amazed there's no video out there. And I was really looking.

While I have never seen the contest, I am willing to go on record that it is fantastic.

Contestants are given 30 seconds to demonstrate their "skills" while a crowd looks on and is "very enthusiastic and very responsive." Because let's face it, if someone is eating the old corn dog, you're going to be pretty, pretty appreciative. Contestants can also use condiments. And in this day and age of casual corn dogging, if you're going to eat a corn dog, you should be using a condiment.

This year's winner Lacey Schmidt, 24, of Ames not only got Alice Cooper concert tickets, but ensured she would have dates for the rest of her life.

I can't imagine why the fair would want to ban this kind of wholesome, family fun. It just underscores how America is leading the world in food-on-a-stick technology. Being able to eat a corn dog erotically isn't going to send you to drug rehabilitation or cause you to make a sex video that winds up on the interwebs or drive drunk or lose custody of your kids. In fact, winning the corn dog eating contest is something you'll probably want to put on your resume.

Please, Iowa State Fair Kahunas, please keep the contest. It's uniquely Iowa and good, semi-clean fun. Lacey, enjoy your new popularity.

Song to Woody

If you're not a golf fan, you may have missed this one. It's already legendary.




Woody Austin is a great guy and usually wears loud Tabasco brand shirts and also has a great sense of humor. The crowds for the remainder of his match kept dogging him with shouts of Marco and Polo.

What you don't see in that clip is that Acquaman the Woodman birdied the last three holes of his match to salvage it for the US Team.

Oh, and he showed up for his final match with a pair of goggles just in case. Woody, you might want to consider some Arizona real estate. They don't have much water there.