Rudy Redux

You know Davis, and Justin and Faldo and Freddy
Jesper and Beemer and Philly and Vijay
But do you recall,
The most horny golfer of all?

Tiger the blue-balled golfer
Always wanted to chase tail
And if he ever met them
He would leave a bad voice mail

All of the other golfers
Used to laugh and call him names (like Youdaman)
They never let poor Tiger
Join in any skins golf games

Then one soggy Major Eve
Finchem came to say
"Tiger with your balls so blue
Won't our purses grow with you."

Then all the skanks they loved him
When they met at a hotel
Tiger the blue-balled golfer
You are going straight to hell.

Crazy

If you hadn't heard, Phil Spector is in the joint. Apparently the same joint that Charles Manson is in. And Charles supposedly sent a note to Phil asking him to drop by his cell so they could discuss Chuckie's music career. Wow, there's a lot going on there.



How would you like to get a request for a meet and greet with Charles Manson? Talk about an offer you can't refuse. I've got a feeling that's going to put you off the prison chow quicker than any diet pills will.

What kind of music do you think Charles Manson writes? Nothing but love songs I'll bet.

We'll you're lucky enough to know this intrepid reporter. Because I snuck into the Corcoran penal facility and recovered the sheet music from Charles Manson's cell.

Here are the songs that will be one Chucky's first album.

• You've Lost That Killing Feeling
• Oops, I Killed Her Again
• They're Coming to Take Me Away
• Jailhouse Rock
• We Are Family
• Killa's Paradise
• Twisted
• The Wind Beneath My Prison Jumpsuit
• My Killin' [Always Gonna Get It]
• Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me
• I Will Always Stab You
• Semi Shortened Life
• Baby Got Whacked
• I Believe I Can Die
• Stab-arena
• My Heart Will Not Go On
• To All the Girls I've Killed Before
• Killin' Me Not So Softly
• Helter Skelter

Obviously, that's going to be a box set.

Tighten Up

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I Want You Back

This just in.... Michael Jackson is still dead. It's finally starting to sink in. Despite all of the news stories, Michael Jackson remains dead.

Sure, they've already spotted his ghost on a car's hood in England. They call it a bonnet, but it's a hood. Those wacky English. It's like they've got another word for everything. Wuh?

But a Michael Jackson ghost? I thought he was pretty spooky when he was alive.

But while the critically important information about Michael Jackson's life insurance rates still haven't been unearthed, it's only a matter of time. Come on, people. It's always about the life insurance. I learned that from watching Double Indemnity so many times.

Most importantly, it's finally time that Michael's getting his most fitting tribute. He'll be immortalized in butter at the upcoming Iowa State Fair. And don't think that Immortal Butter isn't a good name for a rock and roll band. Don't worry, they'll still have the Butter Cow. I don't know how I'm going to last until the fair starts in August.

But some people don't think butter is a proper art form for the King of Pop. The Iowa fair is actually letting people vote about it's propriety. Vote early, vote often. Just like you live in Chicago. Apparently the statue will have an astronaut on the moon and MJ will be moon walking. Yeah, that sounds like a pretty far way to go just to shoehorn him in there and ride some coattails.

Savvy fair-goers know they have to keep the sculptures inside a temperature controlled environment. But in case there's a power outage and MJ's statue starts to melt, it'll look just like the real thing. This is a little like when we got to vote on the Elvis stamp. Which nose do you think they'll use on MJ?

No matter how the vote goes, they'd better still have the Erotic Corndog Eating Contest. You don't mess with tradition.

Human Touch

I'm getting less and less in touch with reality. That's probably because reality sux and all the stuff that people seem to care about, I can't even pretend to whip up any enthusiasm about. Seriously, give me the crawl on SportsCenter for about 5 minutes and I'm done.

Things I currently don't get:

Michael Jackson: He's still dead, right? Proud to say I didn't watch any of the funeral. Tried to tune out any ancillary info from people who did. Always hated his music. Surprised so many people are concerned about a drug addled pedophile. The good news, if it's too hot where you are, there's an umbrella carrier who's now looking for work.

Jon & Kate: Never seen it. Only seen clips on The Soup. Why are they on magazines? Think they should start selling Free Jon t-shirts. Sure he is glad to be free of Harpie McNaggie. Possible new show title: Kate + 8 + 1/2 of Jon's stuff. Or how 'bout Jon + Kate Every Other Weekend. Okay, last one: Jon + Kate + 8 Divorce Attorneys.

Sarah Palin: Good riddance. Bet she wants to be the next OctoMom.

Mark Sanford: In his defense, the mascot for the school is the Gamecock. Guess we know why. Speaking about not connected to reality, did he really think he could get away with it? He should blame his cell carrier. "Oh, you said 'hike the Appalachian Trail?' I thought you said, 'Get some Argentinian tail. Honest mistake." Don't the politicos know that you use your State Troopers to bring the hot women to your room and then drop your pants? I miss you, Bill. And where are the pictures of that woman? It is good to see the Republicans sleeping with women again though.

Big Box Stores: This may come as a shock to them, but when you can't find what you want, you get pissed and go somewhere else. No one is going to roam up and down every aisle in Home Despot to try to find where they've hidden the Price Pfister faucets. Seriously, now that they have the self-service check outs, no one actually works there any more. Bring an orange apron with you and steal the place blind.

ESPN SportsCenter: Referenced earlier, but wtf happened to this show. It used to be the best thing on tv. Now it sucks. First, quit yelling at me. Second, I don't give a shit that you're in California. Third, quit bringing celebs on the show. Just show us highlights already. Fourth, My Wish? I don't want sick kids in the morning. We're already depressed because we have to get up and go to work. Just show us the scores. My Wish is that you'd show some fucking highlights. Or that you'd finally hit more than .200 Jimmy Rollins. Fifth, reporting Shaq's tweet is not news.

All right. That's enough of a rant for now. At least it's Friday.

What are you kids not getting?

Eternal Flame

Hiya, kids! It's almost July 4th. And as Americans, it's our civic duty to take the day off, eat grilled meat, drink and blow stuff up! Remember, if you skip any of those, the terrorists win.

I will confess to working one summer in a fireworks distribution center. That means I loaded semi's. And got a lot of illegal fireworks when we had stuff left over at the end of the season. Why are all the best fireworks available the very next state over? Lucky stiffs.

But if you're worried about fireworks safety, don't. Because all the fireworks are made in China. And we know what sticklers they are for public safety. So when you read the extremely detailed safety instructions on your illegal fireworks, just follow them carefully.

• Light fuse
• Place on ground
• Get away

That's right. Get away. Nothing can possibly go wrong with that.

But these guys said it best. It's Paul and Storm and it's 4 minutes in. Enjoy!

The Tender Trap

As a regular reader, you're acquainted with the many, many times I've pointed out our long, long obsession with breasts. That this also makes me giggle should in no way undermine the serious, serious nature of the issue. Which is why I so lovingly write of the Cleavacious.

But we have something equally as fabulous today. Almost as fabulous as ginormous, gravity-defying, mouth-watering scoops of flesh. Yes, it's the RackTrap.

Lacking a purse (or even a man bag, baby), I'm all too well aware of all the crap that women have to tote around all the time: Make up, lipstick, pretty little frilly things, hard boiled eggs (for that trip to Let's Make a Deal where you finally screw over Monty Hall once and for all), pool repair kits, kleenex for snotty urchins, coupons, feminine hygiene supplies, nuclear launch codes, keys to houses you've not lived in for decades, change (usually from foreign countries), credit cards (never any actual local currency), sandwich cards, etc.

Which is why you can now also stash stuff in your breasticles. Tjhe RackTrap is "an undetectable bra pocket." I don't know about undetectability. In fact, a lot of women seem to have exactly the opposite intention. They're actually dressing for detection. Lots and lots of detection. To foil pickpockets, you should never ostentatiously show off your valuables. Got to tell you ladies, that's probably the first thing a potential pickpocket will be checking out.

Anyhoo, the instructions for the RackTrap are very simple. First, locate your breasts. If you are unable to locate your breasts, I'm sure that any man you ask will be more than willing to help you. Second, decide which breasts is easily reached. Again, any issues, see a man for help. We're such givers. Third, tuck the RackTrap between your chest and your cup. Viola! They've even got a video. Unfortunately as someone with access to real, live chesticles usually only on a daily basis, that shirt really kept me from understanding how to use the RackTrap. Maybe another demonstration would be more helpful. Something without all that clothing to get in the way and ruin the instructional nature of the film.

The RackTrap is only $7.95. Or you can order 4. Of course they come in an even number. They always travel in pairs.

Now the RackTrap is a fine name. But you can't ever have too many good ideas, can you?

May I humbly submit:

• Treasure Chest
• Boobie Bank
• My Cup Runneth Over
• Ta Ta Travel All
• RackTastic
• Knocker Nook
• The Tranny Cranny
• Hidden Assets
• Bra-llet
• Winnebago Wad
• ChestChange
• SweaterPuppies Stash
• Co Co Carryall
• Guns No Show
• Fun Pillows Purse
• Honkers Be Hidden

I'm sure you have ideas as well, kids.

Anybody actually own one of these?

I always thought women just took the money given to them and put it in there anyway. Like in My Favorite Year when she takes the dollar bill for accordian lessons and secretes is away. You're welcome to the two of you who got that reference. Any man worth his salt would ever turn down a sweaty bill recently plucked from the midst of your undercarriage.

And a tip of the cap to Froggie for passing knowlege of this wonderful product along. Keep those stupid ideas coming!

Gonna Write Him a Letter

Mid-western comic genius Tim Cavanagh has summed it up. Sure, he managed 99 Dead Baboons, I Want to Kiss Her and Montego Bay Airport (just yell out "airport" at the end of the hook), but when you got nothing, you got nothing.




Hopefully a little break from the heat and some pre-July 4th booze festivities will prime the pump and cause the creative juices to ejaculate from the wellspring of my mirth. Either that or Utah finally doing away with its membership requirements for bars as of July 1st.

Woo hoo! It's almost like we're becoming a real state. Keep your fingers crossed and your bail bondsman on speed dial.

Put Your Cat Clothes On

Ah, those geniuses in Japan. In Tokyo, Takafumi Fukui has opened a cat cafe. Called the Cafe Cat Calico patrons are given a menu and pick any cool kitty to pet for a few bucks for an hour.

That's a bargain, because to get a pussy to sit on your lap at some places costs a lot more. And it's not for an hour, it's only one song. Which is why you should always go for Freebird.

This isn't the first time people have used pussy to make a few bucks. But the places I've heard tell about have a strictly no petting rule. You can't even touch them usually. And they're always by the airport. Who hits one of these places before their flight? How are you supposed to get your tray down from the locked and fully upright position after that?

Who hasn't wanted to do some catting around at one time or another. A little heavy petting with no cat commitment. Wham bam, thank you Fluffy. Hep cats should be leery of anyplace with cat on the menu. But that's just an urban legend for Chinese restaurants isn't it?

But cats? Come on, if you want something to pet you go for a dog. Who ever heard of a therapy cat? Personally, I don't get cats. If I wanted an emotionally detached animal around, I could call up any of the girls I used to date. Hiyo!

And Cafe Cat Calico? While the alliteration is appreciated, it sounds like the special is Kitty Pot Pie. I'd go with one of the following Mr. Fukui:

• Fukui City Kitties
• Fully Exposed Nipples
• Pussy Paradise
• Totally Nude
• Bob's Cat House
• Sexy Siamese (Motto: We Love You Long Time)
• Lucky Lickers (Motto: Try Our Black Cats, You'll Never Go Back)
• Cat Fanciers
• Puss 'N Go Go Boots
• Nip 'N Ass
• Pole Katz
• Bombay Bombshells
• Burmese So Horny
• Hairless Pussy
• Sphynx & Swallows
• Purrfect 10's

As always, feel free to play along from home kids. I'm plum tuckered out after all that creativity. Time for a cat nap for this dog lover. Have a good weekend and try to get some petting in. Try the Calico and tip your waitstaff.

Dude Looks Like a Lady

If you haven't heard, it's the latest news. Chastity Bono is going to have gender re-assignment surgery. Yes, Sonny Bono & Cher's daughter is all growed up.

Now I don't know the exact medical procedure that Chaz will be undergoing for her gender re-assignment. I think it's known as an addadictomy. Hey, think of all the costume changes Mom goes through in a typical performance. This is nothing compared to that.

Named after a movie which flopped in 1069, Chastity is now going by Chaz. According to comic genius Caroline Rhea, that's because she's losing the "tity."

It could have been worse. After all Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid also released in 1969. Imagine the poor girl if they'd have named her Butch. Easy Rider also came out in '69. I'm pretty sure a girl named Easy Rider Bono would have wound up in porn. You can't make this stuff up.

But Chaz? That's the name of some prepster wearing madras shorts and carrying a polo mallet. You just want to punch someone named Chaz right in the neck. So Chaz is going to get a little help from yours truly to come up with some appropriate monikers.

So I humbly submit the following for your consideration:

* Babe (as in Ruth, not Didrickson)

* Dick (really too obvious)

* Share

* Tramp (or even Gypsy)

* Un-Sonny

* Breed (not a Half-breed though)

* Thyme (because she can't be turned back)

* Woody (short for Silkwood)

* Jesse (middle name James of course)

* Unexplainable Gay Fan Base

That's all I got kids. Feel free to play along at home. Hey, you try doing something with Mermaids, Moonstruck or Mask!

Papa Was a Rolling Stone

Wish I were as funny as the cats over at someecards.

Pop, hope you're not out golfing in the rain like all the other fools in New York.

Bat Out of Hell

I know this will be hard for you kids to believe. Barry Bonds and his second wife, Liz Watson, are getting a divorce. For those keeping score, she filed. I know! These two crazy kids made it for almost 10 years. And if these two star-crossed lovers can't make it, what chance do any of us have?



Luckily, this reporter has a deep cover, double top secret insider mole in the Los Angeles County Superior Court. As far as you know. While California is a No Fault Divorce state ("no fault" is a legal term meaning it's the other one's fault), Lucky Liz's Petition for Divorce sheds quite a bit of light on the couple's relationship.

And you don't have to pour all over the legalese, because here are the Top Ten Reasons Barry Bonds is Getting Divorced.

10) Backne

9) Bobby Bonilla won't get off the couch

8) Bobby's irrational anger when fat burner supplement failed to lose head fat

7) 'Roid rage whenever Barry misses "his stories"

6) Barry refuses to enter any room in the house before public address announcer introduces him

5) Since alleged steroid use, Barry isn't exactly swinging a big bat (if you know what I mean)

4) Will Rogers never met Barry Bonds

3) Pine tar all over the bathroom

2) There is no I in team, but there is in dick.

1) Since retirement, he's around all the time

The good news? He's going to be single again ladies. And probably needing conjugal visits when that alleged perjury case finally goes to trial.

Kung Fu Fighting

Reason # 214 to Love Utah

We got Ninjas!

This is even better than being able to Ask a Ninja. Because you can hire this Ninja to do stuff for you.

Check it out if you don't believe me.

Why do I have the feeling that this kid has been into Mom's Fenphedra pills? Do you think he knows the Shadow Hare? Or maybe Napoleon Dynamite?

Best part of the advert?

"I do take this very seriously and do not like people calling to make fun of it, please call only if you are serious about my services for any work."

Gosh, I can't imagine why anyone would call to make fun of a Ninja. Even if the number was right there on the ad and was 801-576-0965 or 801-503-5642 for Jon's cell.

Now I've gotta go. Because I want to see a Ninja dressed all in black mow my lawn in the hot desert sun.

Stray Cat Strut

A tip 'o the proverbial cap to [F]oxymoron who brought this to my attention.

There's a new drink coming to market. Sure, you've got your energy drinks, your sports drinks, you malt beverage drinks.

But now you've got Pussy.

That's right. A drink called Pussy. [F]oxy must have a better recurring internet search set up than me, because I get completely different stuff for that term.

From their web site: (along with my snarky comments)

Pussy is unique. Really, Pussy is unique? I thought it was all pink on the....well, nevermind.

Pussy is spontaneous, entertaining, optimistic and fun. It’s a starting point. Noooo, it's really kind of the ending point.

Pussy starts conversations. Yeah, you wouldn't believe how many times someone wants to talk to you when they see you have a Pussy in your hands.

It believes in having a good time as often as possible. But probably just once and then rolls over and falls quickly asleep despite all that talk about "as often as possible."

Pussy is Jonnie Shearer’s vision. He set up from his bedroom at 21 and launched in June 2004. We're sure you can understand that once you get some Pussy in your bedroom, it's going to take a few years for you to come out again. And it's good to see that Pussy is over 21. No one wants any trouble here. Right, Jerry Lee?

I'm assuming that Pussy comes in a bottle. Because you wouldn't want anyone to get all confused if it came in a can. Right, Kobe?

Wouldn't you have have liked to have been at the brainstorming session where Jonnie came up with the name Pussy? I mean, just think about the names that were rejected. And you knew we'd eventually get here, didn't you?

• Cootchie Cola
• Dr. Snapper
• Muffin Dew
• Pepsi Poon
• Faygo Fish Taco (only available in the Midwest of course)
• Vernor's Very Berry Vulva
• Canada Not So Dry
• R.C. Cooter
• Honey Pot Hawaiian Punch
• Orangina-vagina
• Schwepp's Sideway Sloppy Joe
• Sunkist Slit
• Virgil's Vajayjay Root Beer
• Red Bush (for extra energy)
• Kool-Aid Kookie
• Coca Cola Cameltoe

I'm sure there are others, kids. Feel free to play along at home. And thank goodness for the Urban Dictionary. I learned so many slang terms today.

Basketball Jones

Mike Polk, the same genius who brought you the Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism videos, was actually asked by Inside the NBA to give them the same treatment.

It's turrible, Sir Charles.

(and about 2:00 in if you can't stand the chit chat before the real stuff. Kind of like I am before the real game starts)




I just hope Mike gives the same treatment to the NHL on NBC.

Working for the Weekend

Yeah, just try to get that out of your head for the next two days. Seriously, I can only last about 30 seconds in that song if I'm not in the mood for it. Why is that?

I know you're still feeling depressed from all the yardwork you didn't do last weekend and all the meat and beverages you consumed. Don't worry. You've got 48 hours to try to atone for your sloth last weekend.

So what do you do? Well, I'd start with a very special episode of Blossom. That's right. Mayim Bialik better known as Blossom is going to be on What Not to Wear. Wonder if they can time travel so they can repair her wardrobe from 20 years ago?

I don't remember when all those 80's sitcoms started to do the Very Special Episodes. It's like they all just decided, "Hey, shouldn't we be shoving some kind of life lesson down our young viewers throats?" That made all the money the tv types were spending on coke seem much less evil to themselves.

Just off the top of my head the Very Special Episodes I can remember are:

• child molestation on Diff'rent Strokes
• alcoholism on Family Ties (a two parter with Tom Hanks no less)
• sexual assault on Facts of Life
• Alyssa Milano finally hitting puberty on Who's the Boss

Nothing says 22 minutes of comedy like molestation, alcoholism and assault. Boring educational value added to what would otherwise be an almost entirely entertaining program. That's why they just started to use the old Wheel of Morality with the Animaniacs.

I'm sure there are more Very Special Episodes. But those are enough of an appetite suppressant for me. Anybody remember any others? Best Week Ever does a lot better job of this than I could anyway.

To work off all that mindless tv, go get some exercise. Luckily for the Wife and I, were going to participate in an Organized Pet Activity this weekend. I know. We're going to Strut our Mutt. Well, mutts. I wonder what the over and under for chaos is at the event.

I'm figuring there's a chance for:

• dog fight
• poop incident
• leash break and/or escape
• refusal to Strut
• barking, jumping, peeing on strangers (both hounds are a triple threat)

And organized dog activities? It's probably only a matter of time before we're screaming at a hotel manager about a lost Busy Bee.

Luckily, after organized dog walking, there's NHL Finals on both Saturday and Sunday. Bless you NBC for moving the games up. Just hope the results are a repeat of last year.

Enjoy the weekend, kids.

Year of the Cat

Man, I don't know what's been going on around here. That's probably because everything is hazy from all that meat and lack of sleep.

You can only take so many of those late night attorney recruitment tv adverts for the "working men" who were lucky enough to get mesothelioma or black lung or a slip and fall one of those other lucrative yet medically difficult to disprove diseases.

But when I heard about Flying Kitties, panic ensued.

I'm still terrified of the Flying Monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. And that was when I was eight.

Once there are tabbies taking to the wild blue yonder, the Animal Conspiracy will be in full swing. Those recon squirrels will seem like a long lost brother when the animals have air superiority thanks to their platoons of Sky Kitties. And will a squad of Siamese cats, yell "Purra Purra Purra" when they dive bomb us?

At least they'll be less bird poop on cars.

Now I gotta go start planting some catnip. It's our only defense.

Shining Star

Whew, I may still be all loagy from all that meat. But it's a good kind of loagy.

Which is probably a bit different from this guy's loagy. Over in England, Tony Alleyne has been converting his apartment into the deck of the Enterprise. No, not the Space Shuttle Enterprise. The Starship Enterprise.

See after Tony got divorced, he began his "therapeutic hobby" of converting his apartment into a fictional piece of a fictional ship. And his ex-wife still owns the apartment. I know what you're thinking. First, he's available, ladies! Second, that's got to cut down on your re-sale value. Even if you can just beam your garbage down to the bin instead of taking it out.

I'm sure once you can get Tony to put down his netbooks reader that he pretends is a tri-corder and his kitty that he's named Tribble, Tony is a very nice guy. Just ask him, because it's the quote of the story:

"I have given up absolutely everything. Some people might think I'm a bit of a sad individual but I'm not. I'm just really into Star Trek - it's really my only vice in life.”

Trek as his only vice. Well, that and the chronic masturbation of course.

Now I'll confess to enjoying Star Trek. The Wrath of Khan is one of the more entertaining movies I've seen. If it's on cable, I'll get sucked in. Once you get past Shatner's scene chewing (at 1:50 into the clip) of course. Which may even be outdone by Ricardo Montalban's prosthetic chest.

To this day I have to resist the urge to yell "Khaaaaaaannnnn!" at the top of my lungs whenever I'm at the DMV.

And I'll eventually get to the new flick.

But the Wife is skeptical at best about all things Trek. But once she sees how the basement is finished to look like the transporter room, I'm sure she'll come around.

We Got the Meat?

(with apologies to the GoGo's)

There's something wrong with me. Something very, very wrong. No, not my fascination with boobies and stupid stuff. That's normal. Normal, I tell you.

It happens when I go to the butcher store.

This is an Occasion. Note the cap O. Because the real, live butcher store is across town. So it's a planned event. And because it's not an everyday happening like just stopping by the Sprawl-Mart or Try-N-Save, it somehow seems special.

Special in being able to ask a white-apron-bedecked man questions about his meat. Yes, that just sounds dirty. It's not, you pre-verts.

And because this weekend is a good one (extra days for grilling, smoking, beer-drinking, back porch philosophizing), we'll be doing some extra meating around these here parts.

Here's what is currently on tap:

• Pork Shoulder (currently cooking in the Crock Pot 'O Doom with about a cup of apple cider and some sea salt; it's just for tonight--no biggie)
• Beer Can Chicken (two of these bad boys will go in the Big Green Egg for some smoking)
• Porterhouse Steaks (these will get grilled on the regular ole propane grill. Probably on Sunday as they're currently marinating in some red wine with whole peppercorns and Italian seasoning)
• Baby Back Ribs (one rack currently rubbed with some of Billy Bones rub; the other is marinating in some teriyaki. Both will get smoked for a few hours, wrapped in foil and then finished on the propane grill)
• Lamb Shanks (these look like lil baby t-bone steaks. I love grilled lamb. These are small so may either get thrown on the smoker in some stray space and used as an appetizer or grilled by there own selves. Currently in the same marinade as the Porties)
• Sun-Dried Tomato & Chicken Sausage (these will get smoked on the Egg. I cram them in where there's room and then use the snausage in a pasta sauce during the week. Or maybe I sneak one when I'm outside with a stick and beer while I "supervise" the outdoor cooking demonstration)
• Bratwurst (same as the chicken snausage above)

See what I mean about a problem? There's no way all this gets cooked and eaten this weekend. And we'll have to run the dogs in the morning or they'll smell all that meat cooking and turn on me and start gnawing on my face when they figure out it's not for them.

Oh, and the only side I've got done is some pasta salad already chilling in the fridge. There's also some random talk of either baked or twice-baked spuds. Maybe a fruit salad if I'm feeling saucy.

But you've got to admit. Too much meat is a good problem to have.

What are you up to this weekend? Whatever it is, hope ya'll have a good Memorial Day, kids.

Double Shot (of My Baby's Love)

Viva la revolucion! We have prevailed! Well not we, per se, as I was off being a slackass in San Diego when all this was going on. But you get the point. Or maybe you don't. Let's start at the beginning. Yes, I know, a very good place to start. Shut it.

Some women in England were complaining that Marks & Spencer had been charging higher prices for bras that were bigger.

I know! How long has this been going on? Except maybe at Target or Land's End or any other store in the world that gouges you 2$ for the XXL size that lets you feel skinny again.

Anyway, Marks & Spencer was charging an extra $3 for any bra that was size DD or larger. So some full-figured gals started a group called Busts 4 Justice on Facebook. I'm sure a group of large-breasted women had a lot of trouble making some friends or getting any attention on the internet. Why I just did a Google search on the internet for big breasts, and I couldn't find anything.

Anyhoo, Marks & Spencer couldn't stand all the hullaballoo and scrutiny and Facebooking and free public relations, so they caved in and big breasted women can now get their bras at the same price as non-big breasted women. You can have my big bra when you pry it from my cold, dead hand. That's still second base unless a lot has changed since I was younger. And it has.

Quote of the story: "They didn't want a lot of big-breasted women storming their meeting."

Yeah, I think we can all agree that Mssrs. Marks & Spencer would have hated that. "Quick, big-breasted women are attempting to storm our meeting. Bar the doors! We don't want to let any big-breasted women in here."

It's just good to see that big-breasted women are taking this important step forward. Because women with big breasts have been oppressed for so long. Never being able to get parts in movies or get men to pay attention to them or get out of a traffic ticket. I'm sure all the small-breasted women are just as excited that big-breasted women are finally getting their equal treatment.

Now I've got to get to my Cleavacious sales presentation for Mr. Marks and Mr. Spencer.