Come On People Now

It's hack. It's trite. But it's still true. Pro is the opposite of Con. So the opposite of Congress is what?

In the words of Chief Wiggum, "Nice work boys." It's not every day the Dow drops 777 points. Actually, it's never dropped that much.

Way to put aside politics for the good of the country. Is there any wonder some peeps are so unenthused by the choices before them they'd rather not vote?

The folks from Despair.com probably put it best.

Luckily, it's an election year in the States so we can all express our extreme pleasure at what a great job you've all been doing. And while I don't typically vote for a straight ticket, if they had a box marked "Anyone But the Jerks We Currently Have," I'm pretty sure that would appeal to lots of folks.

Now, I've got to get busy installing some keylogger software on my Representative's computer so I can see how many sext messages he's sending to his Chief of Staff.

Don't You (Forget About Me)

In Middletown, CT, there's a growing sense of chaos and anarchy at Middletown High School (home of the Blue Dragons).

It seems that 28 high school seniors had to be suspended for two days after they COOKED BREAKFAST ON SCHOOL GROUNDS! Luckily, Principal Robert Fontaine was able to quell the nascent riot before things got any more out of hand or the eggs had been cooked.

Quote of the story: "We didn't have beer, we didn't have weed, we had bacon."

Who knows what might have happened if these cafeteria criminals were allowed to serve their illicit pork products to the unsuspecting masses of freshmen at the school? Sure, the first piece of bacon is free. And then you're hooked. Soon you're freebasing smoked ham, craving omelettes at noon and skipping your acne treatments to blow the money on pancakes. This could even lead to inappropriate dancing! And jokingly calling them the Breakfast Club just exacerbates the problem. Don't try to use your mass media mind tricks on a tool of the educational system.

Well I for one defend the right of these students to assemble and use propane in public. What is our educational system coming to when lawfully assembling students are deprived of their right to life, liberty and breakfast meats. Especially bacon. Our founding fathers and mothers would lay down their life for a piece of hickory smoked bacon. Mmmmm, bacon.

As Patrick Henry famously declared, "Give me another piece of bacon or give me death!"

Godspeed young bacon rebels, godspeed. Fight the power. When bacon is outlawed only outlaws will have bacon. Rise up you patriots of pork products. Throw off the shackles of our horrible bacon rationing that limits us to two pieces per serving at most commercial establishments. You can have my bacon when you pry it from my cold dead hand.

Or if it's cooked too long. I hate that.

Let's just hope this isn't going to go on the permanent records of these high schoolers. Or maybe they'll all just attend the Culinary Institute and have the most kick ass tailgate parties ever.

Three Times A Booty

I have no idea why so many asses are in the news right now. Probably the election. Zing! Hiyooooooo. Okay, enough of that rubbish.

Story #1: In Monkey News, scientists have discovered that chimps can identify the body type simply by looking at the booty in a picture. Scientists showed pictures of male and female buttocks to chimps and the animals were able to make the correct butt and face pairing so as to identify the sex of the pictured animal.

The pervy scientists (who conveniently had an explanation for why they had so many pictures of monkey butts) claim this means that chimps can recognize the whole body of chimps they've interacted with. I'm not really certain why this is important as most men can do the same thing with boobies.

Story #2: In Germany a bankrobber was identified by her bonkadonk booty. It seems someone identified only as having a very large backside and powerful thighs robbed a bank in Norf, Germany. Weeks later, a man identified the robber as he was standing behind her in line at the same bank. He called police and they found a ski mask and a gun on the bootylicious burglar.

I just hope Tyra has a good defense lawyer.

Story #3: Our final cheeky bit of news comes from Valentine, Nebraksa where someone has made quite an impression on the town of 2800. For more than a year a man has been leaving the imprint of his buttocks and sometimes groin on the windows of the town.

And this is no ordinary pressed ham as the perpetrator leaves smears of petroleum jelly or lotion on the window. Try to keep that image out of your head as you enjoy your bagel and a schmear this morning. The only partial identification of the Butt Bandit is from a video camera that shows he is about 6 feet tall with dark hair in a 1980's feathered look.

You'd think in a town of 2800 it wouldn't be too hard to narrow down the suspects. Maybe they can get some of those chimps from our first story to identify the culprit? That sounds like more fun that trying to get backside DNA from all the potential culprits.

Well I've done enough making an ass out of myself this week. It's time to get back to relaxing for the weekend. Sit around a smoke a rump roast perhaps. Enjoy the weekend booty, kids!

Fashion

All right, children. Attention please. Sit quietly at your computer desks while we listen to the multi-media presentation presented by our corporate donors.

This is Clark Gable. He was once in a movie called It Happened One Night. Unfortunately, what didn't happen was Mr. Gable wearing an undershirt. The movie-going population took notice and sales of undershirts plummeted overnight.

This is John F. Kennedy. He was a very popular president who failed to wear a hat to his inauguration. The inauguration viewing population took notice and sales of hats plummeted overnight. Yes, Jimmy, this is who Mr. Obama patterns himself after. No, he has not dug up the corpse of Marilyn Monroe. Yet.

This is John McCain. Yes, Susie, he is Sarah Palin's running mate. Since the Republican Vice Presidential candidate has come into the glasses wearing population's eye, sales of the Kawasaki 704 glasses has increased overnight.

What is the moral of the story? People are sheep. No, not blue sheep that look like they've been assaulted by a smurf. But consuming sheep who can't set a trend for themselves without looking to others for inspiration. Even if it is godawful clothing.

Which is why we hope whomever does become our next President be it McCain, Obama or Farve doesn't wear pants to the inauguration.

Dancing In the Streets

Detroit, your long-suffering national nightmare is finally over.

No, not a City Council under FBI investigation for irregularities in a sludge contract.

No, not the indictment and resignation of a mayor who sexted messages to his Chief of Staff.

No, not a Councilmember who screams at the media for being evil.

Matt Millen has finally been fired as the Lions President and General Manager.

Matt, I'm sure that 31-84 record you've had with the Lions in the last 7 years (worst in the NFL by the way) will look good on a resume when you apply to the Raiders.

Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind

Finally, a real choice.


Glad that's over.

Now where's the 700 billion dollar bailout for the Detroit Lions and Tom Brady's knee?

As long as I don't have to listen to Tony Kornholer do his Howard Cosell impression again. I wasn't sure if I really heard that on Monday night or if I was just too hepped up on the Phentermine. I should have known better than to turn that pesky sound on. I won't make that mistake again.

Now if only there were Brett Favre currency. Oh, wait. Nevermind.

Proud Mary

Consider this a cautionary tale. I tried something new recently. No, not Starbucks coffee or watching Monday Night Football with the sound on. No, I tried smoking a leg of lamb. It sucked.

I found a recipe online at Fearless Kitchen (I love that name) for Roasted Lamb with Pomegranate. And I've cooked lamb on the grill plenty of times. Usually just a lamb loin chop marinated in a little red wine with peppercorns and some garlic powder or Italian seasonings if I'm feeling saucy. But I had to try something new.

Luckily after a quest around the Salty City for a Middle Eastern Market, I was able to score some pomegranate molasses. This may be the only place here that has this rare and arcane ingredient. So I suggested to the proprietor that he only sell the bottles one at a time. Luckily due to the language barrier, he had no idea what I was saying.

But Pars is a wonderful market with various and sundry middle eastern products like pita bread (which you really can't find any decent pita at the grocery stores around here), Turkish music (lots of CD's and DVD's) and ladies hair removal products. Seriously, Pars has everything you need if you're a hirsute lady.

Anyway I followed the recipe, marinaded for a day, smoked for three hours and the lamb just turned out bleh. It tasted mushy to me. Maybe I've been spoiled with ribs and brisket and beer can chicken on the smoker, but I ate hardly any of the lamb and wound up tossing about 2/3 of it.

I don't know if I cooked it wrong or what. I had the butcher debone it (which only sounds dirty) and then I smoked it just kind of splayed out on the grill. I did not tie it up which may be where things went awry. Sorry there are no pictures of the lamb sitting restfully in a Ziploc bag for a day or the Big Green Egg commencing to smoke. I'll try to have my act in gear next time I try something like this.

So if you know anything about smoking a leg of lamb or even just cooking a leg of lamb, let me know.

In the meantime, I'll stick to beef. And bacon of course.

Smooth Operator

Dear Kwame:

Buck up, Slugger! This is just a temporary setback. Sure you can't run for an elected position for 5 years, have to go to the joint for 4 months, and cough up a million bucks for your fine. You're getting a slap on the wrist! You act contrite at a news conference and you're back on top, baby. We'll get a book ghost written, have it in Oprah's Book Club, do a quickie interview, whip up some tears and you'll be hotter than ever.

And just because you can't run for office, don't think you're out of politics. You can still be appointed. How does Interior Secretary of Booty Procurement sound to you?

Can you say "Kwame in DC" by 2016? Think about it. A run for the Senate in 6 years. Two years later it's on to the White House. Sounds a lot like the plan of another candidate for office right now.

What are you supposed to do? Can you help it if the ladies always fall for the smoove jazz you throw at them? You can't help it that you're a supercharger power steering rack sex machine.

Let's face it. You'll always have some baggage. It's not every mayor who gets caugt in a sex scandal with his Chief of Staff. But you can turn that around.

How about a brief stay at a sex clinic? Sure Duchovny's already doing that but we'll spin it. America loves a comeback. You know you're going to appeal to a certain segment of the electorate.

I've been kicking around a couple of ideas for how we make you into a victim here. See if any of these float your boat:

• voodoo spell


• uncontrollable pheremone release


• Colt .45


• Republican conspiracy


• Error in priapism prescription


• She stalked you
  

But this time around we'll do it on the down low. No stripper parties at Manoogian Mansion. Instead just you and the Chief of Staff for a late meeting at a quiet hotel near the airport. And no texting!

Just give the head's up to the highway patrolmen and they'll make sure she's brought up to your room nice and quiet like. We're going to learn from the Past Master who had a taste for the strange.

Now I gotta get to a meeting with John Edwards.

Feelin' On Yo Booty

I can't believe I almost forgot about it. Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. And this year, there's video.

This completely changes the weekend plans. No sitting around watching football and cracking wise.

It's raping, pillaging, looting, raping, piracy and raping. Hey, I like raping.

Then a Pirates of the Caribbean movie marathon followed by Against All Flags to wash that incomprehensible plot taste out of my mouth.

Now our customary Crummy Pirate Jokes.

Who does a Pirate vote for? Barrrrrack

What's a Pirate's favorite football team? The Buccaneers

Where are the Buccaneers? Under me Buccan Hat.

Why does a Pirate read Playboy? For the arrrrticles.

A Pirate's Favorite Centerfold? Barrrrbie Benton

What's a Pirate's favorite baking soda? Arrrm & Hammer

What's a Pirate's favorite mystical artifact? Arrrrk of the Covenant

A Pirate's Favorite Fast Food Restaurant? Surprisingly, Chick-Fil-A

Where do Pirates find their birds? Parrots Without Partners

Who is a Pirate's favorite actress? Dianne Cannon

What is it called when a sloop runs aground? Ship out of luck

Enjoy the holiday, swabbies!

Gangster's Paradise Found

In Dallas, Texas, a high school student was told she had to take off her rosary because it was a gang symbol.

For you pagan readers out there (like me), a rosary is the necklace of prayer bead them Catholics wear. And they often rub them as they pray whenever Notre Dame is losing at football or they need one more number for Bingo. That's a pix I swiped from the intertubes over there.

Anyhoo, Tabitha Ruiz has some school security guards at Seagoville High School (home of the Dragons) tell her the rosary had to go because it was "gang-related."

Now having been raised a Suburb Mouse (just like a City Mouse but further away), I'll confess that my school lacked certain things like security guards or metal detectors or relevant educational curriculum. But by God we learned to diagram sentences and spot a hypotenuse and dissect a frog and do the Bear Hug Slow Dance and lots of other stuff that I never use in my day to day existence. We didn't have a gang at my school but you didn't want to get on the wrong side of the Glee Club or they'd sing at your house in the middle of the night with some lyrics that were decidedly racy and you'd have quite a bit of explaining to do to your parents come morning.

But this reporter did some digging and despite the fact that this news story came from Fox News, there does seem to be a shred of truth in the reporting. Seagoville, Texas has a huge influx of Religious Themed Gangs.

Wow, it took a really long time to get here today, didn't it? Thanks for your patience. But then it's not like you've got a bunch of astrophysics research you ought to be working on.

Here, then, are the Religious Themed Gangs Rampant in Texas

• Bishop Bloods
• Fightin' Friars
• Criptatholics
• Muthadefrockers
• Dire Deacons
• Rumblin' Richelieus
• Automatic de Fe
• Vaticangstaz
• SoundaMarias
• 9 Mil Nuns
• Tabernacle T-birds (they even have their own theme song)
• Purgatory Pink Ladies
• Schism Sharks
• Automatic Angels
• Jesuit Jets
• Synod Sinners
• Genumuthaflectors
• Purple Padres
• Altar Boyz Antichrists
• Chuck O'Malley Maulers
• Flanagangtaz

If you think you see any correlation between these gangs and a bunch of old movies, you must be mistaken. Now get back to watching all those Touched By An Angel re-runs.

I'm sure if you keep your eyes open, you'll find some Religious Gangs in your nape of the woods and will be able to share them here so we can all be on the look out for these hooligans and rapscallions.

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing

It's happened. The first reason not to love Utah.

#1) Dancing Regulations

At Bountiful High School (home of the Braves), students aren't being allowed to get their freak on.

Fascists Administrators at the school are requiring student sign Dance Participation Regulations.

The Regulations outlaw "vulgar, seductive, or inappropriate movements." Guess the Ram Dance that made me so famous during high school is definitely out. If dancing isn't meant to be vulgar, seductive or inappropriate, how come the Solid Gold Dancers were so popular?

No grinding or freaking is allowed. Luckily, the regulations are silent about Slow Dancing Pup Tents. Which would be a great name for a rock and roll band by the way.

The Regs go on to prohibit clothing deemed too tight, short, low-cut or anything stationed lower than the shoulder blades. Really, clothing can never be too tight or low-cut.

Straps on dresses for formal dances must be at least two inches wide. Spaghetti straps are banned and sheer fabric is off-limits. Wow, my oh-so-petite date to the senior prom would have been 86'ed under these rules. Sandra, if you're out there, I hope you finally got those implants that would have boosted your self esteem. Some boys are fine with a B cup. I swear.

Off-limits for guys is any clothing deemed "slovenly" or worn "for protest, defiance, dissent, or displays obscene, illegal substances, or suggestive words or pictures. So leave your Buck Fush shirt at home, young man.

Banning dirty dancing? This is what we've got to be worried about? It's not like any of the kids from Bountiful are Vice Presidential Candidate Daughters or anything.

It's still a truism after all these years.

Did we learn nothing from Footloose?

Bless you Kevin Bacon, where ever you are.

Oh Mickey You're So Fine

There's something in the water in Wisconsin. Or maybe it's just all that beer. Lovely Leine beer.

In Green Bay (home of Lambeau Field and Brett Favre Pass), a 33 year old woman has been arrested for allegedly stealing her daughter's identity, attending high school and joining the cheerleader squad.

Wendy Brown attended Ashwaubenon High School where she passed as a 15 year old and joined the cheerleading squad. I cheerleader who was old enough to buy you beer. She would have been handy to hang out with in high school.

According to the story, "she allegedly attended practices, received a cheerleader's locker and went to a pool party at the cheerleading coach's house." Brown told a judge that she wanted to re-live her high school years that she had missed out on.

School officials are defending their incredulity inducing incompetence with claims that while the MILF looked older than a typical high school student, she had a teenage like demeanor. Officials were first tipped of when Ms. Brown arrived at school on time, paid attention in class and had a doctor's excuse when she had to have a pap smear.

And while that's a booking photo that leaves a lot to be desired, does that woman look 15 to you?

I can't believe someone would actually want to relive crappy music, acne and awkward sex that you think you have to kiss all the way through. Oops, we may be into the tmi zone there. Go about your business readers.

Well, Wendy. This is just for you.

Tony! Toni! Tone!

I would like to assure the interwebs that I did not stalk Tony Kornheiser and steal his car.

Had I found his keys, the brakes would have been tampered with.

Tony K, you might want to take a gander at what Keith Jackson said to the LA Times:

Also, it seems like there is constant conversation by the announcers. Yak, yak, yak. I just don't think we need that much conversation and I have a hunch there are a whole lot of folks who feel that way.

What does Keith know? He just broadcast football for 40 years.

You've been doing it for almost two years, Tony. You keep right on talking about Brett Favre no matter what's going on in the game.

I'm So Egg-cited

There's a new invention in town--bacon flavored vodka.

Now I love bacon. A food so good that you wrap other food in it according to Jim Gaffigan. But I typically confine my bacon mastication to the morning. Oh sure, there's the occasional bacon burger for lunch or a bacon-wrapped shrimp for an appetizer, and a bacon-wrapped filet for dinner. And sometimes I just make a little bacon moustache that I wear around the office to enjoy as a snack later.

I typically associate bacon with breakfast though. Which means a bacon vodka breakfast can't be far behind. Sure this might be good for game days. Watching through a bacon vodka fog is the only way to appreciate the nuances of the Detroit Lions offensive schemes. It's only a matter of time before I'm only employable at the Gap or some other soul crushing sales job so I'd better get working on those retail resumes.

And how good does a Bacon Bloody Mary sound? With a Slim Jim for the garnish!

There are people who even tell you how to make Bacon Vodka. Brownie Points must be up for Sainthood somewhere. The only flaw I can see in the recipe is that you fry the bacon and then have enough left over to actually put into the vodka.

Now I don't know about your nape of the woods, but there must be a bacon shortage. Because whenever I go to a restaurant and order bacon, there seems to be rationing going on. If I can score more than two lonely strips of bacon I'm amazed.

So whenever I make bacon at home, it often doesn't make it all the way to the table. I may fry 10 pieces, but only 6 get served. This is known as shrinkage. And it's going on in restaurants too. You're probably supposed to get four pieces of bacon with your eggs, but between the cook and the waitress, you wind up with two. Hey, it happens. Who can resist the siren's call of bacon? Especially when you combine it with sweet booze.

Now if they could only get the great taste of bacon into a toothpaste. . .

From Russia With Love

I like that the new crazy Russia is back. Granted we're not all Cold War and stuff. But let's face it, having Russia around to hate makes things a lot more easier to make sense it.

We're the good guys. They're the bad guys. They're the torturers. We're the ones who pick up James Bond after he's blown up the villain's hide out.

The new crazy Russia is fun. Putin saves a camera crew from a tiger. Russia bans Mr. Hanky. Russia blames us for Georgia. We send aid, they send tanks. Or propaganda.

Come on. It's 1962 all over again.

Just take a look at that poser. You know he's sucking his gut in. That's a dead ringer for the guy Indiana fights around the plane in the first movie. That's a guy we can all agree to hate.

He's our bell weather. With Russia around and acting crazy we know what to hate. They're like the Yankees. Everyone can agree to hate them. No shades of grey. It's black and white. It's the WWE of international politics. They're Snidely Whiplash; we're Dudley Do-Right.

I welcome this return to normalcy. Let's get on with eating tv dinners, building bomb shelters, wearing poodle skirts, slicking back our hair and doing the twist. I don't really have any historical context for any of this stuff because it was before my time. But I did watch a lot of Happy Days reruns when I was a kid. I'm predicting Donny Most is going to be huge next year.

Now I've got to go buy one of those shoes with a poisoned knife in it.

Sexy Sarah

It may be too soon. But I don't care anymore. I'm just so happy Liz Lemon is running for Vice President. And granted I've learned more about Alaska the last little while than I ever knew before. Like they've got lots of resources like oil and natural gas. But apparently no rubber.

Here's the new product line. These shirts are going to make a bundle.

Coldest State, Hottest Governor

VILF

I ♥ Baracky Road

Now I Favor Alaskan Drilling

Eskimo Pie

Sorry, Joe. It's so. The caps and hair plugs and chairing the Foreign Relations Committee don't do it for me anymore. These are the kind of relations I'm talking 'bout. But I will miss the Joe Biden vs. Joe Liebermann VP debate. Talk about Joe-Mentum. Two great, fiery orators going toe to toe. Wow, I'll miss that.

I just wish I'd have beaten somebody to the action figure punch. Though those look like they ought to be on Robot Chicken to me.

Thank you, Ludacris for not making me recycle that Sarah Smile post title.

It's Not Easy Being Green

I didn't even know Polar Bears celebrated St. Patrick's Day.

And if they do, I'm pretty sure it's not with Diet Coke.

I'm just kidding. That's what happens when a polar bear jumps into a pool that's full of algae.

At least that's what they'd like you to think.

It's probably some top secret Japanese experiment involving polar bear and plant dna splicing.

EVERYBODY PANIC!!! THE PLANTAR BEARS HAVE ESCAPED FROM THE LAB!!!

I Ran So Favre Away

I could barely take the football last night. The first game between the Packers and the Vikings.

Seriously, if Tony Kornholer doesn't shut the fuck up about Brett Favre, I'm going to put a bullet through my tv. And I don't own a gun. That's right. I'll have to go down to the gun store, fill out the forms, wait for my gun and then shoot my tv.

If Tony (who really should never, ever be shown in high def) can muse about what Brett would have done in a game he's not playing in, can I wonder how a real announcer might call a game?

Here's something that I stole from Awful Announcing. I think Tony may already have this as a tattoo.

Even the other announcers (Tirico and Jaworski) are telling him to shut up about Favre. If the New York Bretts actually get to play on Monday night, I don't think Tony will be able to call the game over his tumescence. Man I thought the Weather Channel geeks had a chubber over hurricane season. They got nothing on Tony.

There's only one way to watch this game. With the sound off and Bruce cranked. Ah, much better.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

In Fresno, California, Antonio Vasquez was arrested for breaking into the home of two farm workers.

Oh, and he rubbed one with spices and hit the other one with an 8 inch sausage. That's not too crazy is it? And I thought pouring milk on a woman was fraught with imagery. That's got nothing on hitting a man with your sausage.

And what strikes me the most? This is a crime of premeditation. You're not just roaming around with spices and an 8 inch sausage and suddenly decide it's time for a little second story action.

I wonder what kind of spice it was? Mandrake? Mexican Pepperleaf? Italian Seasoning? Sorry that's all I got for bad puns for that one.

I wonder if Antonio had just rented Alive?

Can't wait to see what kind of traffic I get for the search term 8 inch sausage.

What would you do if you suddenly woke up and found that someone had rubbed spice all over you and then was hitting you with an 8 inch sausage? Other than thanking sweet baby Jebus of course.

I mean you're not going to awaken from a deep slumber and instantly divine what's going on. Especially when what's going on is so freaking surreal. How long would it take you to realize you're the subject of a bratwurst beat down? A kielbasa ass kicking? A Johnsonville Jumping? A bologna bludgeoning? A frankfurter felony? A banger beating?

I'd like to see someone try to break into my house and beat me with bacon. Between the Wonder Dog and me, there's no way we sleep through that.

Lady of Spain I Adore You

Whew. I'm still a little loagy from the weekend.

All that football watching with the Cheesy Poofs and ingesting Cheez Whiz straight from the can left me a little lightheaded.

I heard something about Tom Brady getting caught in a hurricane after knocking up Michael Palin's daughter. Oh and the New York Bretts won. Of course.

I'm a little vague on some details. Things got a little blurry after I celebrated not having to watch any of the Lions embarrassing road defeat. Per uzh.

But I did have one moment of clarity. I've learned to keep a pad of paper by me so I can write down any flashes of insight/pearls of wisdom that pounding my head against a wall whenever I hear John Madden say things like "He's a real football player. And that's why he's playing football." It's only in that humid, woozy state that I truly have great ideas. It's kind of like when Doc Brown hits his head and then comes up with the idea for the flux capacitor.

But why did I write down "Accordian Hero Xbox 360?"

Pour Some Sugar On Me

If you're a young woman travelling in Plymouth, England, you may want to bring some Oreos with you.

It seems a gang of six young toughs, surrounded a woman walking at night. Then the rapscallions poured 16 pints of milk on her.

This had to be a crime of premeditation, you're not just walking around with your mates at 3:30 in the morning and just happen to be carrying 16 pints of milk. This gang had to go get the milk and then look for a woman to pour it on.

I don't want to get all psychological on ya'll. But what images do you think it conjures up when a gang of men are pouring a white liquid all over an unsuspecting woman? Hmmm, Dr. Freud, you're tobacconist is on the phone about your cigar order. You don't have to have watched Gang Bang 6 twice to pick up on that symbolism.

And the pour woman is "understandably upset" according to the police. You could probably even say she's shaken. Her spirit is probably broken. No use crying though. That milk is spilt after all. I just hope this hooligans don't turn out to be cereal killers. Man I could milk this all day long. That's the way the cookie crumbles though. Now I'm going to go listen to some Edgar Winter Group.

See I have to bold all the bad puns or some of the slower kids miss them.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Yes. Yes I certainly am ready for some football.


I am not ready for an Usher concert.

Nor a Mr. Nicole Kidman Keith Urban concert.


Nor a Natasha Bedingfiled song of any sort.


Quick, let's play the pyramid. Who are three artists whose CD's I will never own? Ding ding ding.



Nor hearing John Madden talk about Brett Favre. Who isn't even playing in this game.

But he should be.

He should play for every team. There should be a big wheel with all the NFL teams on it. Every week they'd spin it and Brett would go play for that team. Unless they already had a good qb like Brady or Manning. Then Brett would have to go play for the Lions that week.


Nor am I interested in seeing Al Michaels do his slow burn as John Madden refuses to either shut up or answer the question posed to him.


Please, for the love of Sweet Baby Jebus, NBC. Please show us the game. We're already tuned in. We don't need the hype. Our beverages our chilled. Our interest is piqued.


Play ball already.


Quick prediction: Giants 24, Redskins 20.

The Best Mousepad Ever

I'm sure every man on your shopping list is going to want one of these.

Yup, boobie mousepads. You get to rest your wrist right in the valley of cleavage. No idea who those characters are. Must be goofy anime stuff from far over the seas.

I'm sure your boss will be so impressed. As will the HR representative with whom you'll eventually be having a private meeting. Which will be noted in your permanent file.

You could also probably take this the other direction. Make those two little wrist rests at the bottom into one larger one. How about the Tommy Lee mousepad? Yeah, if you're going to put your hands on the Tommy Lee Mousepad, you might want to wear a rubber glove.

Or maybe the David Duchovny Sex Addiction Mousepad? Once you start using it, you just can't keep your hands off it.

And not to get off on a tangent here, but hang on a minute. Seriously, David? Sex Addiction? That's what you're going with? Yeah, it's not because you're so pretty you can turn most women into Niagra Falls just by looking at them and whispering "The Truth is in Here" while you do some tasteful pelvic thrusts in their general direction. It's an addiction. You're a victim. I'm never watching those Red Shoe Diary episodes again.

Back to the mousepads featuring Mount Porkasaurus. Just think if we could get any of the major sports to throw in for this. An entire line of NFL mousepads! I'm sure Peyton Manning would be a big seller. But really, the great white whale of them all would have to be the Brett Favre Mousepad. Just think how many women (and men) would pay to be resting their wrist on the oh so comfortable bulge of Brett. And given Brett's amazing powers, I'll bet any infertile woman who used the Brett Favre Mousepad would become pregnant. Pregnant with a future Packer Jet fan.

Who's mousepad would you like to see made?

My Fair Lady

More State Fair Fun today kids!  This time it's from Texas.  Yes, you can stop clapping "Deep in the Heart of Texas" already.

So Texas has something called the Big Tex Choice Awards (wow, wonder how long it took them to come up with that name) where they pick the Best Fried Food at the fair.  You can read the whole boring story (including quotes from future angioplasty patients) at the Dallas Snooze.  

Here's the important part--the entries:

• Fried Banana Split
• Texas Fried Jelly Bellys
• Fire & Ice (a deep fried pineapple ring)
• Fried Chocolate Truffles
• Chocolate-Covered Strawberry Waffle Balls
• Deep Fried S'mores
• Chicken Fried Bacon
• Fernie's All-American Fried Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Mmmm, doesn't that make you want to have a great big deep fried s'more washed down with a warm orange soda with a long, hot walk on some pavement followed by a spin in the Tilt-a-Hurl.

Well I won't keep you in suspense.  The winner is......Chicken Fried Bacon!  Could anyone ever have doubted the power of bacon.  A food so good that (in the words of Jim Gaffigan) you wrap other food in to make it taste better.  Like you'd ever have tried a water chestnut without the power of bacon.

Yup, that's the winner over there.  Please try not to lick your computer screen.  All that drool is bad for the electronics.

But don't worry if you're not into Chicken Fried Bacon.  They also have a Corn Dog Eating Contest.  No word on whether you're allowed to use your hands or not. And mayonnaise.  Entries must be submitted by September 15th.  What are you waiting for?  Get cracking!

And remember, if you're eating your corn dog erotically, everyone's a winner.

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I effed up. No, Tony, I didn't kill a cop. And no it's not all the random spacing blooger somehow inserted into this post. I completely missed the Ohio State Fair!


I blame Utah and it's stupid good weather. We don't have a State Fair in Utah until clear into September. By then there's already snow in Michigan. And actually Utah as well if you live above 8,000 feet.


Yes, I messed up because I completely forgot about the Ohio State Fair.


Now I've written before about the wonderfulness that is the Ohio State Fair. Where else can you marvel at the wonders of the US's vast superiority in food on a stick technology and take in a cow made entirely out of butter.


But this year they outdid themselves. In a tribute to the President's with ties to Ohio (and that's not just counting illegal campaign contributions) they made a butter sculpture featuring the likenesses of Presidents William Henry Harrison, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley and William H. Taft, and Warren G. Harding. Ah, Taft. There's certainly something to be proud of.




And thanks to our friends at the Columbus Dispatch,

we know that the sculptures this year took over 2 tons of butter. That's almost as much as Dom Deluise uses in a year.

Sure, Mount Butter may be swell. But it's no Holstein cow.


In fact, I'd rank it just behind a new credit card blog.


Now somebody in Ohio better get moving on making a boatload of waffles.