Happy Star Wars Day

I almost completely forgot about it!

Because they've solved every other problem (traffic, homelessness, smog, crime), LA has declared today, May 25th as Official Star Wars Day.

It's part of something called Celebration IV a geekfest happening where people gather to celebrate all things Star Wars. They'll be a lot of empty parents' basements today!

They're also going to have the largest ever Slave Leia photo shoot. Yes, that's when Carrie Fisher wore that swell gold metal bikini in the movie with all the Care Bears. So lots of girls will be dressed up in gold metal bikinis. And because it's a Star Wars thing, that must mean almost 10 girls will be there.

Wow! Makes you want to get your nerd on don't it? No hate mail. I kid because I care. I own all the movies too and that Attack of the Clones makes a swell coaster. No one writes dialogue like George.

I think I'm going to celebrate Star Wars Day by doing my best George Lucas impersonation. Yup, I'm just going to count all the money in my pocket over and over again. Of course, Georgie Boy probably does better than the $27 I'm packing pre-holiday weekend. That'll teach me to spend all that money on meat and liquor.

Have a great Memorial Day Weekend, kids. It's because of those veterans' sacrifices that we're able to sit on our ass and get plenty of liquids and make fun of Star Wars geeks.

The Birds Had Best Be Afraid

Because I know ya'll like reading about kitties and doggies more than anything else (especially sex), we've got this lil gem today.

Yup, that's a cat with wings. Granny Feng claims her cat grew the wings after many female cats in heat began to harass him. So, yes, kitty lovers, he's probably gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

And I thought the flying monkeys used to creep me out.

Interestingly enough, they don't give the kitty's name in the story. So I had to make a few up:

• Hellspawn
• Pussy Galore
• Cowardly Flion
• Robin Ranger
• Crow Catcher
• Red Sparrowen
• Catnip Co-pilot
• Nest Nabber
• Flying Fluffy
• Waldo Pooper
• Catmando Whateverhewants
• Tuna Torpedo
• Flyin' Fe-Lion
• Pilot Pussy
• Mr. Wing 'n Whiskers
• Nip Navigator
• Leonine Lindbergh
• Kamikaze Kitty
• Tora Tora Tabby

Save your hate mail. I know he's a Chinese cat and not a Japanese cat but those last two were too good to pass up.

I wonder if he still always lands on his feet? Maybe this cat ought to run away to and live with the Unihorn.

Not In the Hero Code or Et tu, Captain?

In all the whirlwind of superhero publicity and Spiderman 3 making all the money in the entire world on it's opening weekend, I forgot to write about this.


In Melbourne, Florida, Raymond Adamcik was dressed as Captain America but wound up getting charged with battery, disorderly conduct, drug possession and trying to destroy evidence.


Seems ol' Cap was part of a travelling costume party that was making the rounds of several establishments. As part of the fun, Cap kept asking women if they'd like to touch a burrito he had stuffed into his tights/pants. I'm sure the old "Would you like to touch my burrito?" gag never gets old around the crime fighting lab.


Now despite the stupidity of this trick, does it strike anyone else as odd that Captain America has Mexican food stuffed in his pants. Shouldn't he have a footlong hot dog instead? Maybe a Ballpark Frank? Because they plump when you cook them.


Anyway, while at the On Tap Cafe, Cap goes into his burrito shtick and some woman chooses not to play along (probably because she's smart). Cap allegedly whipped out his burrito (I don't think that's a euphemism; it's really just the burrito) and began to grope the woman. Jailarity ensued.


Quote of the story: According to the police report, "there were so many cartoon characters in the bar at one time, all Captain America's were asked to go outside for possible identification."


After being taken into custody (and those abs are just part of the suit, ladies), Cap then allegedly tried to flush a joint down the toilet. Guess a burrito wasn't all he had stuffed down his pants.


Like every great victim of injustice, the good doctor/crimefighter has subsequently checked himself into rehab. No word on whether it's the Britney Spears 2 Step Program.


Step 1 - Begin rehab while Publicist issues press release.


Step 2 - Leave the next day.

Tuesdays With Elvis

If you don't know who the Rock Bottom Remainders are, be prepared to be amazed.




I don't know why I find authors pretending to be musicians so funny, but enjoy the talent (such as it is).

Me So Horny

While I know about them from the Unicorn Song, I've never actually seen one.

Until now that is.

She says the worst thing is that people keep trying to hang their coats on her. Poor Unicorn Meemaw. She's 95 years old while the horn is only 3.

Seriously, how long would you let that grow out of your head before you went to see a doctor?

Well I know one thing. She doesn't sleep on her stomach.

If I had a horn, I think I'd attach a little bell to it. Because everyone would be exepcting it to honk and it would ring instead just to zag on them. Maybe even some festive ribbon or bunting that could blow in the wind. Then I could make a lame joke about blowing my own horn.

If this happens to her pet, it's a Horn Dog.

If she opens a carnival food booth? Horn Corn Dog.

Went into adult movies? Horn Porn.

Shaved her head like Brittney? Shorn Horn.

Gave it away at Halloween? Candy Corn Horn.

Put roses on it? Adorned Thorn Horn.

Watched Matt Damon in an action movie? Bourne Horn.

Cursed her bad luck? Sworn Horn.

Dumped by her boyfriend? Forlorn Horn.

Found SBJ (Sweet Baby Jebus for you sinners out there)? Reborn Horn.

Yelled about danger? Warn Horn.

Went to a funeral? Mourn Horn.

Okay, I'll shut up now. Have a good weekend, Horn Dogs.

Passing It Up or Snarkfest 2007

Being a master of tongue fu, it's often that I'll drop a little verbal barb to people. As I'm not the biggest bull goose loony on the block any more, I try to keep my pie hole shut. Sometimes.

In that vein, here's a list of what I didn't say this week. Remember kids, I didn't actually say any of these things, I just thought them.

Do you have George Strait's new album? No, we don't carry shitty music.

I didn't read that because of my colonoscopy yesterday. Did they find your head?

Dear Lord, please hear our prayers... And grant me the limitless power to smite all those who oppose my every whim.

She just graduated from massage therapy school. And is looking forward to giving handjobs for a living now.

He's a real visionary. We don't know what he's supposed to be doing around here either.

I had another good idea. That will fuck up your project.

It's Law Enforcement Appreciation Night at the ballpark. These people will be pulling you over tonight after you have all those $8.50 beers.

Spiderman 2 was way better than Spiderman 3! Because I got to see man boobs that I still fantasize about when jacking it in my Spiderman pj's.

What superpower would you want? Either choking you with my mind like Darth Vader or just teleporting the hell away from here.

Is anyone sitting here? Just me and the Lord.

Our special today... Is some nasty stuff we couldn't give away yesterday.

Instead of emailing it, we're going to have it bound and Fedexed over. Because bad ideas are so much more palatable when attractively presented.

Where are we with that? No, I haven't finished your work yet.

He's acts out because of those violent videogames. Not because I'm a lousy parent.

I just can't decide what I want. Could you equivocate on the important Ice Cream Referendum somewhere other than the exact center of the aisle?

There are probably some others, but those voices in my head stutter and sometimes it's hard to remember what they said when they all talk at once.

Does anyone else have these kind of snarky voices in their head?

Spelling Counts

A would be bank robber was caught in Waco, Texas after he handed a note fraught with grammar errors, sentence fragments and other mistakes to a teller.

His note?

Do as this note tells you to do. Don’t make me hurt no one. Cause if you do you will be this frist one I hurt. Just give me the money. Don’t give me no dye pack in it or any tracer in the money. Don’t be a fool and start any probelms. Don’t pull no alarms till I am out of here. Thank you have a nice day Merry Xmas 100's, 50s, 20s, 10s & 5's only. No 1s or change. Hurry up don’t be stalling me. I am not dumb. It only takes seconds.

It also only takes seconds to spell check.

Everyone knows the correct way to produce a note for this kind of caper is as follows:

Money in the bag, bitch. Or I blow your head off.

Sincerely,

Mr. B. Robber

P.S. Big bills only

You Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog

Because I know you only come here for news of Guinness the Wonder Dog (and his never ending requests for a steak sandwich), I'll spare you and speak type of other subjects today.

How 'bout Prozac for dogs? I'm not making this up. I swear they stole this idea from Saturday Night Live.

Eli Lilly has announced new, magic pills to cure all your dog's ills called Reconcile. It's a cheweable, meat flavored pill that's a form of Prozac made for your pooch. Hmm, chewable and meat flavored? Sign me up.

Reconcile is designed to cure "separation anxiety" in your dog. Now I'm sure this is a legitimate psychological condition in your pet and not just some marketing weasel's made up technobabble just to move a lot of pills. Reconcile is designed to keep your pet from "chewing destructively, inappropriate urination and/or defecation, vomiting or worse."

I don't know how many dogs the people of Reconcile actually own, but what's worse than what's on that list? Sneak attacks while you nap? Gunplay?

I'm not a licensed dog psychologist, but I don't anthromorphize a creature who would eat his own poo and lick himself all day if we let him. The only "separation anxiety" my dog has is for his balls. My dog doesn't need Prozac but some days it seems like smoked some crack.

But if giving your dog a meat-flavored tranquilizer makes life easier for you, rock on with your bad self. But I'd try playing him some soothing music first.

I Guess We Can't Have Nice Things Dammit!

I hope you all survived Mother's Day. Because it wasn't all roses and sunshine and rainbows and happiness on Sunday. Not if you lived in Toledo anyway.

According to the Toledo Blade (best name ever for a paper by the way and I believe the only paper named for a weapon), at 3:30 pm on Mother's Day at the Golden Corral on 5730 Opportunity Drive a fracas, ruckus, and/or brawl broke out ruining the day for Golden Corraling Toledo Moms.

Allegedly, a 56 year old woman requested a 24 year old woman to quiet her 1-year-old child who was sitting in a high chair and screaming. When the guttersnipe didn't quiet down, the older woman shouted at the baby to shut up. Then it was on. The younger lady lunged at the older woman and began punching her. Apparently thinking it was part of the Mother's Day tradition, others joined in the fight which lasted about 10 minutes. The cops soon arrived and broke it all up.

Despite the melee, some customers did leave with carry out boxes as they walked to their cars. Hey, it's going to take a lot more than a few fisticuffs to put Meemaw off her feed on her special day. It is all you can eat you know.

Oh, and four of the five people arrested have pled not guilty. You might want to print this out for future reference in case next year's Mother's Day plans don't go well. If Mom's standing there silently judging you and your sisters, you can always yell, "At least a brawl didn't break out!" And you'd have proof.

Quote of the story: "I couldn't believe it," Thelma Oliver said. "This is supposed to be Mother's Day. It's just a crying shame." Couldn't have put it better myself, Thelma.

Remember to make your reservations early for Dan's Duke It Out Drive-In for Father's Day.

Your Momma Don't Rock

It's not just Mother's Day today (Hi, Mom).

Yes, I'm lucky enough to still have my Mom around and even though she just had hip surgery on Tuesday, I'm sure she can still break a foot off in your ass if you talk badly about her baby boy. Yes, even in my forties, I'll always be the last kid. Hope you liked the flowers.

It's also World Cocktail Day. Shouldn't every day be Cocktail Day? I know it is at the Kennedy Compound.

I will confess to not knowing that there was a Museum of the American Cocktail. And shouldn't it just be a bar and not a museum? There's probably some kind of insurance break if you claim it's a museum instead of a bar.

So get your drink on, kids and then plant a big, sloppy wet kiss on Mom's cheek as you slur, "I love you, man" to her.

Since I'm Going to Hell Anyway

Because this post will concern the subject of religion, if you're easily offended by this type of discussion, please feel free to quit reading now.

They gone? Okay.

To: The Jebus Freaks Who Insist On Early Morning Prayer Meetings
From: The Quiet One Just Trying to Read
Re: Your Conduct

Having been raised properly in the Midwest, I am not a verbally expressive man. One should know that denial can get you through most any socially awkward situation.

I also understand that you are so filled with the faith and power of Sweet Baby Jesus (SBJ) that you can't possibly wait to talk about it with your close circle of friends/cultists.

Unless you want me to start making omelettes in your church, shut the fuck up with the Sunday school/prayer circle in my restaurant.

Wow, that felt good. Yes, I know SBJ loves me. He made bacon.

And because you believe in Jesus, you have to forgive me. Sucks to be you.

Love,

t2ed

Karma Chameleon

Dear Reverand Bacon Al:

Karma, like gravity, is a harsh mistress.

Enjoy the view of the gigantic wheel of karma rolling back around and eventually crushing you.

If you really want to be President, you've got to be a better liar than that. You've got to delude yourself enough to believe it's the truth, and then keep repeating it.

Watch out for that "one Mormon." He managed to pull off the Winter Olympics in a desert you know.

And All's Right With the World

In a move that surely must warm the cockles of PR hacks everywhere, Paris has rehired her Publicist, Elliot Mintz. Yes, the same guy she just got rid of a few days ago and whom she blamed for her 45 day sentence for violating the terms of her probation. Just because your client is a celebretard and you have to hold her hair while she vomits, that's no reason for high priced talent to take it in the neck when that celebretard screws the pooch. That's just a saying, not an idea for a new video, Paris.

It's always nice to see BFF's kiss and make up.

And in a stunning move, Paris has decided to go all grass roots and try to get a pardon from the Governator. I'm not making this up. Even though she's not on death row (but that sounds like a pretty good idea), she has an online petition requesting that people sent a letter to get her out of her 45 day sentence. Because if America's number 1 Party Girl with no talent goes to jail, we all die a little.

Not really. Paris is just our generations Zsa Zsa Gabor. She's famous just for being famous. And no one could ever figure out why because it's not like she ever did anything.

It's here, if you want to read it. But if you sign it, don't bother ever coming back here.

And Justice For All

I'm not sure where you come down on the whole celebrity justice thing, but at least she didn't kill anyone. Yes, I'm talking to you O.J. and Phil.



But firing your publicist in a lame attempt to cover your ass? That's where we'll have to agree to disagree.

If you can't trust your PR Flack to give you legal advice, who can you trust?

Other people you shouldn't take advice from are below:

• Alberto Gonzales Magic 8 ball
• Kate Moss Diet Plan
• Martha Stewart Ouija board
• George Bush Executive Dart Board
• Robert Blake Tarot Cards
• Rosie O'Donnell Crystal Ball
• Tracy Morgan tea leaves
• Britney Spears 2 Step Program
• Lindsay Lohan Acting Classes
• Wesley Snipes Tax Planning
• Isaiah Washington Diversity Training
• Wise ass blogger relationship advice

Wait a minute. Forget that last one.

My Kingdom For a Controller

We all know kids hate learning. Sure, we could make it fun and interesting, but what's the point of that. Kids need to force fed the driest, most mundane minutae about things like history and then we'll test them on their ability to spew forth the smallest and least important facts. At least that's how we did it in the Old School Daze.

But some genius has the idea that we can trick kids into learning Shakespeare with a video game.

The best way to learn anything about Shakespeare is to read the play. Don't ever let it be read allowed in school. Everyone read quietly to themselves. And don't even think about going to see a live performance or even, heaven forbid, a DVD of a performance. Nope, make those kids sit there, read quietly to themselves and then pick up a Cliff's Notes to figure out what the hell just happened.

That's how Shakespeare got rammed down my throat. So while I have some slight appreciation for The Bard fostered by my English teacher, we got stuck reading all the weird stuff: the histories and the tragedies. To this day I still don't understand Romeo and Juliet, but I get West Side Story.

So to help the kids get their leanin' on, I came up with a few video game titles that will help them be a bit more culturally rounded:

• Super MacBeth Brothers
• Falstaff's Funktastic Free For All
• Prospero's Perilous Party
• Puck Parappa the Rappa
• Romeo's Radical Racing
• Juliet's Jazzy Jumping Jamboree
• Shylock's Shifting Shekels
• Hamlet's Harrowing House of Horrors
• Guitar Hero Goneril
• Edgar's Exciting Exposition
• Iago's Imminent Implosion
• Halo Horatio
• Super Sebastian the Hedgehog

More likely these whippersnappers would just rather get all stabby on Caesar while they slowly snuck up on him from behind.

Hickory Dickory Trickery

This has to be the headline of the week:

Woman 'tricked into sex' by penis cream treatment

In Haverfordwest, a Syrian pilot convinced a schoolteacher to have sex with him over a 9 month period ostensibly for the purposes of applying a medicinal ointment.

Now I don't want to point fingers here (or anything else for that matter), but in my personal experience, it's difficult to trick a woman into having sex. Oh, sure, you can pretend to listen and have feelings, but you can't actually use Jedi Mind Tricks on her just to get the old beast with two backs. But when you're just cuddling together and spooning and you accidentally hit her in the back, you both know the jig is up (so to speak). Whenever someone says they got pregnant "accidentally," I always ask if they were walking down the street and fell into some sperm.

If I had progeny, I'd be a little worried about the quality of education in Haverfordwest. I hope she doesn't teach Health. "It began to dawn on her that he had devised this treatment in order to have sex with her on his terms." And that breaking of dawn took 9 months.

The accused pilot, Fadi Sbano, is also charged with "obtaining money by deception." So not only was our schoolteacher allowing Fadi to have sex with her, but she was also paying him for the medicine. And if that's really how topical ointments were applied, everyone would go into the medical field. Because if you're using a clock to time yourself and it's between one and ten minutes, you're obviously a little too "anxious for a cream to be applied." Try thinking about baseball.

I don't know where Fadi is right now, but he should definintely give up flying and go into Sales.

Guide to Summer Movies

It's almost upon us. Yes, the time we'll sit through crummy movies just to enjoy air conditioning. And knowing that, the studios pump out the drek to make us endure their lack of creativity. So here is a brief recap of what you can expect for this Summer.

Spiderman 3: In this installment of the crime fighting franchise, Joel Spiderman (pronounced spi derr MUHN) CPA is on the case of some villians who willingly misclassify uncovered business expenses as legitimate expenditures. Joel also changes from a blue pinstripe suit to a black pinstripe suit in a move that has all the fanboys excited.

Surf's Up: A movie about penguins? It'll never work. Who wants to watch a penguin? Apparently everyone.

Live Free or Die Hard: John McLain's retirement community is taken over a foreign conglomerate. Several thrilling golf cart chases involve the parking lot of a Luby's and people jockeying for handicapped spots in time for the Early Bird.

28 Days Later: British accents + zombies = The Royal Family

Hairspray: John Travolta in drag? A guy in a dress have never been done before.

Ratatouille: The last rat cartoon got Flushed Away pretty quickly. Just rewatch Toy Story.

Ocean's 13: They're not even going to attempt to have a plot in this one. Just relax and enjoy pretty men walking around Las Vegas in expensive suits. If you take your girlfriend to this movie, she'll be silently cataloging in her head all your physical shortcomings.

The Bourne Ultimatum: His ultimatum? I'm not going to pay a lot for this car insurance. Seriously, who knew that Damon + Action = $$$$ while Affleck + Action = Reindeer Games?

Knocked Up: Seth Rogan finally figured out if he quit giving all the best lines to Steve Carrell, he could make some money too.

Shrek the Third: Just because you're pimping for Mars Inc.'s Snickers and M&M's candy; PepsiCo Inc.'s Sierra Mist drink; Kellogg Co.'s Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes, Pop-Tarts, Cheez-Its and Keebler cookies and McDonald's doesn't mean you can't be healthy too. At least according to the Department of Health & Human Services.

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix: In this more accurate depiction of British boarding schools, Ron finally gives Harry the rogering he so richly craves and deserves.

The Simpsons Movie: Why are you going to pay to see a show that's on 27 times a week in syndication? Yes, I'm going. D'oh!

Transformers: With Michael Bay at the helm, I'm guessing they'll be a few more explosions than well-developed characterizations in this one. Giant robots are always a draw though. So rent The Iron Giant instead.

Evan Almighty: Steve Carell gets a free pass on anything he wants to do.

License to Wed: Yay, John Krasinski (Jim) from The Office. Less of a yay, Robin Williams. A little Robin Williams go a long way.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer: Isn't there some kind of threshold standard you have to achieve before you can make a sequel? Proff that people will see any piece of shit if Jessica Alba is scantily clad.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At Trilogy's End: In the extras of the second movie, we learn from the screenwriters that filiming began before the script was complete. Yeah, we could tell. Johnny Depp's inspiration for Captain Jack Sparrow, Mr. Keith Richards has a cameo. Will he be able to manage a line?

Draft Dodger

I can't believe I'm writing about football in the middle of the Spring. But this is really the only time of the year that the Lions are relevant or near the top of anything. Yes, sadly, the Lions have the second pick in the NFL draft this Saturday. That means they were the second worst team in all of football last year. Thank you, Al Davis.

I'm not a fan of the Lions. The NFL is going to force feed you the local market team whenever they play. No one is a fan of the Lions. You endure them like a long lingering illness. And that illness has been going on since 1957. That's the last time they won a championship. Pre Super Bowl. Pre NFL AFL merger. How bad is it? ESPN evaluated every franchise in sports from a Fan Satisfaction perspective and the Lions came in last. As in dead last. #122 out of 122. Nowhere to go but up.

The President and CEO of the Detroit Lions is Matt Millen. Since Matt took over the team in 2001, the Lions are an NFL-worst 24-72. So the owner gave Matt a five year contract extension. And Matt has a somewhat troubled history of destroying the lives of the young men he selects with his first round pick in the draft: Charles Rogers (out of the league), Joey Harrington (backup in Atlanta), Mike Williams (overweight and a non-factor in the offense). It's been so bad, people have started web sites just to try to get Mr. Millen fired.

Now I understand how passionate some people are about sports. When the Pakistani cricket team lost to lowly Ireland (on St. Patrick's Day no less), someone strangled the Pakistani coach. I'm not advocating anyone murdering Matt Millen if he screws up this draft, but I'd certainly understand if it happened.

Matt Millen, you are on the clock. Try not to muck it up this year. Please keep the Lions in your prayers.

The Bees Knees

Reuters reported, that honeybees in the US are vanishing. And scientists don't know why. Thanks for all the insight, Poindexter. And that can't find any wee bee bodies to get all CSI on them. Man, I'd hate to have to draw those tiny outlines around the wings.

There aren't any bee corpses. They're just vanishing. Kind of like common sense.

Opposably, honeybees are responsible for pollinating all that swell fruit we love so much. As Jeff "Chicken Little" Pettis of the US Agricultural Research Service puts it, "...imagine eating a bowl of oatmeal every day with no fruit on it, that's what it would be like." Ummm, Jeff, I eat bacon whenever possible, so I'm not really sweating the bee thing because of your "Oatmeal Degradation Scenario."

Now, I don't know what you do when you're faced with a crisis. I don't think I have too many crises in my daily life. I do have a project that's absolutely on fire and will go down in flames like the Hindenburg. How am I fixing it? I've got a plan B, a plan C and a plan D. Okay, plan D is just blaming a co-worker, but that's not the point. I've got alternatives for when it all goes snafu and hits the proverbial fan.

What does the government do? Listen to this call to action. First, there's a two day "workshop" to combat what has been termed "Colony Collapse Disorder." I've got to give them some credit--that name is fabulous. It sounds a lot better than "We Don't Know Where All The Bees Are."

Second, they've scheduled a Congressional Hearing. Oh, that ought to straighten things right out. Maybe we can get some Congresspeople to walk around a field with their shirt sleeves rolled up, their suit coats thrown over one shoulder and squint into the distance. That would be a great photo opportunity and would accomplish absolutely nothing. I can honestly say I've never been in trouble and thought to myself, "If there were only a member of Congress around right now..."

Third, the National Research Council is issuing "a report." This is really what our government does best: generate reams of paper which no one reads. Now this report won't fix the problem, but it will be a good prop for a Senator to hold up in a photograph later when he or she claims victory over the dastardly beenappers.

Fourth, National Pollinator Week is scheduled for June 24th - 30th in Washington, DC. This really ought to straighten things out, shouldn't it? Once you can get a week named after your issue, you're really in the home stretch.

Can't you just imagine a bunch of agricultural policy types in town for the big week, belting back a few drinks and telling some impressionable young ladies that they're in town to "pollinate?" And you know they'd be doing that eyebrow thing. "Hmm, hmm, hmm. How'd you like to do a little pollination?"

Now the North American Pollinator Protection Campaign (NAPPC) advocates that one of the ways we can help is to "speak out and celebrate pollinators." Hey, you asked for it NAPPC.

[WARNING, SHITTY POETRY AHEAD]

I think that I shall never see

A thing as lovely as a bee.

Who wings his way across the sky

And does not even question why.

He serves his Queen and gets no money.

All he does is help make the honey.

That's right. No sex. Not even kissing.

Is it any wonder the bees have gone missing?

The NAPPC says "If bees are under attack,

Our fruit will be gone and never come back."

The plants need the bees to move the pollen.

Or our agricultural stocks will be a fallin'.

So, speak out and let us all hail pollinators.

Both Dems and GOP's can be celebrators.

Eartha Kitt

Happy Earth day to you.
Happy Earth day to you.
Happy Earth day, dear Gaia,
Happy Earth day to you.

Now blow out all your volcanoes and make a wish.

I don't think you look a day over 4 1/2 billion years old. I don't care what those creationists say.

But she has had some work done on her fault lines.

Nothing Could Possibly Go Wrong

Being an idiot-savant (or maybe I'm just half right), I like to kid that while there is no off position on the genius switch, I have more bad ideas by 8:00 am than most people do all day.

Well Marvel beat me to the punch this morning. Yes, it's Spiderman the Musical. As reported in the LA Times.

"Marvel Entertainment announced Thursday that the iconic web-slinger will be the subject of a major Broadway musical that will be directed by Tony winner Julie Taymor, who famously adapted "The Lion King" to stage, and feature music and lyrics by Bono and the Edge of U2."

I don't know who they'll get to play Spiderman, but I hope it's not an acrobatic little female moppet. You know, how they ruined Peter Pan?

And while I'm sure Julie Taymor's vision will be a lot better than director Sam Raimi's creation of the best superhero movies ever (granted, not a very high standard to be held to), we'll have Bono & Edge to bring it all home.

So in that vein, may I suggest the following musical numbers:

• Sunday Spidey Sunday
• 11 O'clock Doc Ock
• I Will Follow On My Web
• Where the Suits Have No Shame
• I Still Haven't Caught Who I'm Looking For
• Stories for Pre-Adolescent Prepubescent Boys
• With or Without Suit
• Swing (in the Name of Love)
• All I Want is Cash
• Two Heroes Fight as One
• Even Lamer than the Real Thing
• Trying to Throw Your Web Around the World
• Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me Upside Down in the Rain, Kill Me
• Spidery Day
• One (More Time to Whore Out)

But I'm sure the dancing numbers will help. How will this turn out? Bad.

Wow, I must listen to U2 even more than I watch Pandas.

Pandamoanium

I didn't want to say anything, because trying to have a kid is a big decision. I mean you don't just rush out and have unprotected sex and bring another life into this world. So if it's not happening naturally, you go for artificial insemination, right?

No, not Wife and I. Ever since I stepped on that toe popper at the Battle of Chun King, we can't have children. Because we loathe them. But where was my parade, you draft dodging bastards?

Anyhoo, at the National Zoo, they've gone to artificial insemination to try to get the female Panda, Mei Xiang, preggers. I thought the best way to get pregnant was to lose your job and get drunk.

But they've resorted to artificial insemination (and you thought your job sucked) after showing the pandas pornographic movies failed. That's right, Tian Tian, didn't get "the old bamboo" after watching movies. Maybe he's more of a Penthouse Letters kind of guy?

The question I have is what kind of porn did they try? Were they showing them pandas having sex, humans dressed as pandas, humans with pandas? Because there are some Panda Playas who do all the Panda Hos--black, white, black and white. I'm a Panda Porn Star.

But I wonder what panda porn movies they showed them. So I came up with a list of what they should have tried.

• Hannah Does Her Three Pandas
• Panda Does Punjab
• On Golden Panda
• Deep Panda
• Behind the Bamboo Door
• Backdoor Pandas
• The Fellowship of the Pandas
• PILF
• Desperate Pandas
• Three Men & a Panda
• Eight Pandas Out
• Pandas and Pandability
• The English Panda
• Panda Confidential
• As Panda As It Gets
• Crouching Panda, Hidden Dragon
• Million Dollar Panda
• Little Miss Panda
• Brokeback Pandas
• Dude, Where's My Panda?
• Edward Pandahands

As you can tell, I watch way too many Panda movies.

Dog Poetry

Guinness the Wonder Dog is turning out to be a canine of many talents. Not only has he learned to ring the bells we hung on the door, he now rings the bell just to mess with Wife & I.

So I wasn't completely surprised when I found the following note in his crate. I'm just trying to figure out how he held the pen to write it.

The Provider returns!

Bringing freedom from my confinement.

Gallop to the door

and release my golden flow.

Rich smells assault my senses.

At night the interlopers

Have left their spoor in my domain.

Squirrels! Curse your evasive agility.

Heeding the Provider's call,

I begin my repast

Some day I will have thumbs

Then I will eat at my choosing.

Another outdoor exploration

The Provider enforces

My servitude with bondage.

Enjoy picking that up.

A wee one!

They are often clumsy and drop food

In tribute to my majesty.

Alas, there is no steak sandwich today.

Into my den I stalk,

Deign to nap, later walk.

Sure a dog who writes poetry is something, but I'm not that impressed with his rhyme scheme.

At Least Vote Often

I'm sorry to say that I didn't hear about this great experiment in democracy, until now. That's right, the Great State of Indiana is letting us interweb kids help decide what their new license plate should look like. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan.

And while I don't want to influence your vote, I picked the one that looks most like a penis torch. Unfortunately, you can only vote until this Wednesday. So get to it!

But what the swell Department of Motor Vehicles (motto: Some Days the Line Never Moves At All) forgot to include was a vote for that little slogan that goes on the bottom of the license plate.

So I helpfully submitted a list of possibilities for them to choose from:

• Land of Letterman
• At Least It's Not Iowa
• Jesus It's Flat Here
• That Smell Is Terra Haute
• We Really, Really Like Basketball
• Hoosier Momma?
• Don't Try Telling Us What Time It Is
• Driving 500 Miles in a Circle Doesn't Make a Lot of Sense, Does It?
• At Least We Don't Have to Worry About Ron Artest Anymore
• We Apologize for Gary
• Where Kentuckians Come to Drink
• It's So Windy Here Because Ohio Sucks
• Try Our Drive Through Liquor Stores
• If You Can Read This, You're Not From Evansville
• Peyton's Place

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

I Could Be Wrong

The term genius is bandied about too often. Okay, it's often by me whenever I find a comedian who makes me laugh, think and poop all at the same time.

But this here, is genius. Brought to you by Tim Wilson. Just be glad I'm too much of a caveman to figure out how to put an audio file in Blogger. Because this song will get stuck in your head.

Warning, the following contains adult language. And by adult I mean dirty. If you think swears make the Sweet Baby Jebus cry, you should stop reading now. But then if you don't use the F bomb, you're not really talking about taxes.

I guess I'm tired of Oprah Winfey's ass
Telling me every move to make.
And I'm tired of Martha Stewart's ass
Telling me how to bake a cake.

And I've just about had my fill
Of Dr. Fucking Phil.
Tired of looking at Tiger's ass
And Shaquille O'Fucking Neill.

Paris Hilton can fuck up a county fair.
Just proof that that you can be stupid
And still be a billion-fucking-aire.

I'm tired of Simon's ass
Telling people that they can't sing.
I'd fire Donald Trump's ass
For knowing every fucking thing.

Jim and Brad and Angelina's ass,
I'm about tired of looking at them.
And I'm about ready for Hollywood's ass
To run out of fucking film.

I'm tired of everything on tv.
Everybody loves Raymond.
Except for fucking me.

I'm tired of that Lance's ass
In France riding on a bike.
And I could pretty much give a damn
What some actress's dress looks like.

It'd be nice if hip hop's ass
Would finally learn to play three chords.
And I'm about filled up with Nashville's ass
And the Hand Me A Trophy Awards.

Barry Bonds hitting a bunch of fake home runs.
And a fake ass Larry the Cable's ass
Can git 'r fucking done.

I'd like to watch football's ass
Without worrying about T.O.
And I'm resolved to tell Dubya's ass
Where the fuck he can fucking go.

I'll be the first to second telling the Third World
What the fuck they can fucking do.
It'd be fun to watch Mel Gibson's ass
Get whipped by the Jews.

I'm tired of my own ass
Singing this fucking song.
There's a lot of people's ass I'm tired of
But the list is too fucking long.

And I could be wrong
I could be wrong.

An Open Letter Regarding Our Weather

Dear Former Vice President Gore:

Where the hell is my global warming? It's April for god's sake!

Apparently it's not so warm that it melted all the ice cream you've been eating.

Sincerely,

t2ed

P.S. Sorry about the fat joke. Don't take it personally as you're supposed to be jolly.

Caught With His Legal Briefs Down

Here at the ex-law offices, I don't often comment upon ongoing litigation because it's typically pretty boring stuff. Rarely were the cases I worked on ever wrapped up neatly in 44 minutes of drama like they were on tv.

But it is being reported that Rip Torn has requested a trial for his Driving While Intoxicated charge stemming from an accident in December when the Ol' Ripster hit a tractor trailer.

While I never prosecuted cases (I fight against The Man not for him), it doesn't look like this case would be that tough to win.

"Your honor, I'd like to introduce Exhibit A. This is a photograph taken of the Defendant after the incident. Prosecution rests."

If a picture is worth a thousand words, those words are all synonyms for "fucked up."

The Communists Have Won

Be afraid, be very afraid.

I've previously reported about the genius of Tim Bedore and the Animal Conspiracy.

Well the squirrels have gotten a promotion. They're no longer just providing reconnaissance.

They've been upgraded to field work. And they're communists (enjoy that video goodness). That's right, squirrels are now stealing American flags!

Why are we the target for animal ire? That's easy--they hate us. We've hunted them, penned them, polluted their homes and even dined on them. They're all against us. Remember that the next time you have to swerve your car while doing 75 to avoid hitting a deer. That was the animal equivalent of a drive by, my friend.

Be wary of all animals. Except the dogs who, just like the British, will always be on our side. As long as the food holds out anyway.

Halle is a Potty Mouth

The dirtiest quote of the week goes to Ms. Halle Berry:

When asked about how excited she was to get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, she replied:

"I can't tell you how good it makes my insides feel. I wish you could be inside right now and you would actually know how good it feels."

Halle, you've just said what every 13 year old boy in America was already thinking. Especially the ones who have seen Catwoman on cable. Because no one saw it in the theater.

Is Halle's quote from the lyrics of Sheena Easton's tour de force, Sugar Walls? If it's not, it should be.

Don't get too gushy though, Halle. Even Ryan Seacrest (known professionally as "The Tool") has one of them there stars.

Cocoa Crazy

I'm really disappointed I didn't think of this first.

Cosimo Cavallaro made a a life-size sculpture of a naked Jesus entitled "My Sweet Lord" out of chocolate. Now this may come as a shock, but a chocolate Jesus during Easter week didn't go over well with some folks. That's right, I'm talking about the all powerful Chocolate Lobby.

I don't know if you can tell from that picture over there, but there's no loincloth. Yep, Sweet Baby Jebus is all growed up and anatomically correct. No that isn't a Mounds bar. Wow, and I used to feel guilty when I bit the ears off a chocolate bunny.

Someone should also alert security that if there is a chocolate phallus on display they can plan on a visit from my pal Lindsay.

The statue was going to be exhibited for two hours every day this week at the Roger Smith Hotel in New York City. But thanks to the pull of the Chocolatiers, the exhibit has already been cancelled.

I'm not too disappointed though. I've got this great idea for a Virgin Mary statue made out of marshmellows. I'm calling it Peep Unplucked. But I really need to apply for a grant from the Institute for Peep Research to get this thing off the ground.

Remember kids, it's all about the art. It's not about cheap publicity and getting stupid bloggers to write about it. What? Oh, then nevermind.

Dressed for Success?

Lapeer, Michigan student, Caroline Bodell is no sucker. She made an entire dress out of Dum Dum wrappers. She sounds like she's got a lot on the stick. But then I just eat up stories like this.

I hope her date likes grape. I'd have gone for rootbeer myself.

Recycling like that can't be licked. Hope she doesn't get caught in the rain or she'll be in a sticky situation.

But instead of going with a Bravura and completing the entire ensemble d'garbage, she even made her own purse out of Dum Dum wrappers.

Boy with that many wrappers, she'll probably even be able to get that swell backpack.

The Dum Dum Corporation (they're no idiots) has said that they'll put the dress on display at their headquarters in Bryan, Ohio. Spokesman Durwin Bumble for the Dum Dum Candy Company when asked about the dress display said, "Doi, I like candy. Candy is real good."

Yes, you can get tours at the Spangler Candy Company. Mmmm, a candy company. That doesn't suck.

Okay, I'll shut up now.

More True Dog Tales

I'm an unsupervised bear this weekend as Wife is at the Spa with her girlfriends. So I have The Hound to watch full time.

While he contemplates whether he'll ever get a job and why we're poisoning all his puppy pals, he suggests that I just feed him steak sandwiches while we wait for this whole pet food scare to blow over.

Our first tale comes from this morning when I was trying to go the bathroom. As I did my business without exclamations of "Good Boy" or "Potty Time," a wet black nose inched the bathroom door open. Soon I was looking at some hazel eyes looking back at me with interest.

"This is only fair," I said to Guiness the Wonder Dog. "After all, I've been watching you poop for three weeks."

Apparently, Guiness didn't think it was that funny as he just stared back at me.

Our second tale just happened. I had dropped The Hound at Pets Rule Your Life. He was getting groomed as he was smelling a bit doggy and his dreads were looking a bit unkempt.

They called to let me know that "Genius" was ready to be picked up. Who would name their dog Genius? We're talking about an animal that greets others of his species with a hearty anal sniff and would willingly spend the entire day licking himself. Yup, sounds like a genius to me. Maybe I'll start calling that store PetNotSoSmart.

In any event, Guinness the Wonder Dog is bathed and groomed and puffy. They even put one of those queer bandanas on him. I'll leave it on for Wife, but all the other dogs are going to make fun of him.

This is his cheesecake pose by the way. You can just see the lame bandana.

Down girls, he's neutered.

Bag Man

If you're in Spartanburg, South Carolina, you might want to check out the new purses. That's right, Jenifer Steller has created something called the Bravura. It's a purse made out of a recycled bra.

Now I've known women who occasionally tucked a buck there, but never used their whole bra for a bag.

Don't loan your Bravura to your husband. He'll never be able to get it open.

Now I couldn't find a slogan for the Bravura anywhere. So of course, I took it upon myself to make up a few:

• Snuggle up with our bags
• Show off your Bravuras
• Gravity defying bags
• Let your Bravuras free
• Don't let anyone else hold your Bravura
• The best support purse ever
• Bravura lifts and separates
• The other fun bag
• Bravura is beautiful
• The clasp is in the front
• The second base bag
• No one will snatch this purse
• Recycle, Restrain, Rejoice
• Don't let your Grandma's Bravura drag on the ground

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

Hot Chicks

Gary Baja has a problem. It's his restaurant. He can't find a name for it.

Gary owns a chicken restaurant that's been through 4 names in just three years. He started with Mother Cluckers. Shut yo mouth. Hey, I'm just talking 'bout Gary.

His landlord thought that was a little racy. So Gary switched to C.R. Smokin' Chicks. Too bad people thought it was a strip club. A strip club where all the dancers smell like chicken? That'd make a bunch of money in this state.

So Gary got rid of the C.R. and just went with Smokin' Chix. Which was fine until he got sued by a Missouri restaurant with the same name.

Then Gary added ribs to the menu and renamed it Smokin' Ribs and Chicks. Unfortunately, the trademark office turned down the name because it too close to another Missouri restaurant.

So now Gary is a man without a name. Well you now we swell interweb types can't put up with that. So here you go, Gary. This is what scheduled spontaneous creativity will do for you.

• Tastes Like Rattlesnake
• The Breading Beneath My Wings
• Hot Thighs Check Them and See
• Southern Fried Chicks
• Finger Lickin' Chicks
• Chix Marks the Spot
• Nibblelicious
• Sir Clucks a Lot
• Suicide Chix
• Chick 'N Jive
• Not Cleavacious Breasts
• Mason Dixie Chicks
• Poultry Pantry
• Wings and Things
• Fry Like An Eagle

Okay, I'll shut up now.

Gotta Keep Em Separated

When did the guy from The Crying Game have time to record all those songs?

I don't see it.

He has a lot more delicate features than she does.

Separated At Birth

I'm amazed how well that guy from The Crying Game has been playing in the NCAA tournament.

He didn't seem to have those kind of mad athletic skills in Stargate.

About Damn Time

It's good to see that a true hero is finally getting the respect she deserves. Yes, Samantha Fox is getting a life size statue in Cacak, Sarajevo.

And you'd better buy something from her web site. Because it doesn't look like that poor girl has enough money to afford a shirt in most of her pictures.

And even though "life sized" is only 5'1" for the divine Ms. Fox, I'm sure her likeness will be quite striking.

As one fan put it:

"We are also aware that her most famous attributes may require special treatment, so we are planning on using the best quality marble only."

Hmmm, what's the best kind of marble to capture clumsy dancing? There's a reason there was a garbage can featured so prominently in that video.

I kid, Sam, I kid. Because I care.

Unfortunately, the big story doesn't say what the plaque on the statue is going to read. So let me suggest the following:

• Do Ya, Do Ya (Wanna Sculpt Me)
• Naughty Girls Need Marble Too
• All About the Music
• I Can't Get No (Exploitation)
• I Only Wanna Be Photographed By You
• Sculpt Me, Sculpt Me (But the Pants Stay On)
• I Surrender (to the Pigeons)
• Nothings Gonna Sculpt Me Now

Okay, I can't take any more of this. This music is making me queasy.

Feel free to play along at home kids.

With Apologies to Warren Zevon

If you're in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, watch yourself. They've got a werewolf there. Werewolf? There, wolf. Okay, it's actually someone who claims he is a werewolf after he broke into a woman's apartment.

If you don't believe in werewolves, just ask Dwight Schrute. Dwight says, "I shot a werewolf once. But by the time I got to him, he had changed back into my neighbor's dog."

A woman in Fond du Lac (where fondue was actually invented) called police at 3:00 am to report a man breaking into her house. Why do these things always happen then at 3:00 am? Because that's when the bars close.

The man actually broke through the deadbolt on the door. Sure, he's got the strength of 10 men as a werewolf.

Two men in the house grabbed the alleged werewolf and stopped him until the police arrived. Those guys must have been armed with silver bullets or something. I wonder if the werewolf just wanted to hop up on the couch?

As a public service announcement, if a werewolf tries to enter your home, roll up a newspaper and firmly say, "No" in a steady voice. Do not raise your voice. A high pitched tone will only excite the werewolf and perhaps cause him to mark his territory. And you won't have a plastic bag on hand big enough to pick that up.

If the werewolf was really smart, he'd have just transmogrified and pretended to be the lady's dog when the cops got there. Did the cops take him to jail or to the pound?

The man had been drinking heavily (what a surprise) and was eventually charged with criminal trespassing, criminal damage to property, disorderly conduct and possession of marijuana. Who saw that coming? There's nothing worse than a werewolf with the munchies. Hide all the Snausages.

Oh, and he wasn't on a leash and wasn't wearing his tags.

Happy Friday, kids. Try not to let any werewolves bite you this weekend. Even if she does look like Christina Ricci.

Best Dog Joke Ever

Guinness the Wonder Dog says, "Hi." Oh, and he wants a steak sandwich.

He's so smart that he learned to shake in just one day. In fact, he's such a quick study that he doesn't even wait for you to say "shake." He just puts his paw on you to signal that he's ready for more food.

But he did tell me this really great dog joke:

A guy was looking at the classified ads in Florida and saw a ad that says "Talking Dog $20." So he goes to the house listed in the ad and asks the owner what the deal was with the talking dog. The owner said he was in the back bedroom.

Sitting on a bed with a tv remote in hand, the dog looks up and says, "Hey, how you doing?"

The guy is flabbergasted, "You're really a talking dog! What heck are you doing here in Florida?"
"Well," the dog says, "let me tell you."

"I was at Ground Zero on 9/11 and helped save people who were buried in the debris. Then I was in the Gulf War for a while bringing medicine to injured soldiers. Then I helped sniff for terrorist bombs at the JFK. Then I was on Broadway in Riverdance. Then I helped patrol the border and sniff out drug runners before my partner got shot. It all just got to be too much. So I retired down here."

The guy goes out into the other room and says, "This is amazing. How can you sell a dog like that for only twenty dollars?"

The owner replies loud enough for the dog in the other room to hear, "Cause he's a BIG LIAR!"

Yeah, I thought a joke telling dog was amazing too. But he stole that joke from Rob Haney.

Erin go braughless

Happy St. Paddy's, kids. I don't know what's put me on such a lyrical drinking bent, but here's another one that never fails to make me smile.

This is from the crazy hep cats of DaVinci's Notebook and is called "Another Irish Drinking Song." If you want to hear it in all it's four part harmonious glory, try the link here. Oh, and Enormous Penis is there as well which is so good it can't even be played on the radio now.

Another Irish Drinking Song


Gather 'round, ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while,
And harken to me mournful tale about the Emerald Isle.
Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone
And lift our voices in another Irish drinking song.

Consumption took me mother and me father got the pox.
Me brother drank the whiskey 'til he wound up in a box.
My other brother in the Troubles met with his demise.
My sister has forever closed her smiling Irish eyes.

Now everybody's died.
So until our tears are dried,
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink,
And then we'll drink some more.
We'll dance and sing and fight
Until the early morning light.
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up,
And then go drinking once again.

Kenny was killed in Kilkenny and Claire, she died in Clare.
Tip from Tipperary died out in the Derry air.
Shannon jumped into the River Shannon back in June
Ernie fell into the Erne, and Tom is in the tomb.

"Cleanliness is godliness" me Uncle Pat would sing.
He broke his neck a'slippin' on a bar of Irish Spring.
O'Grady, he was 80 though his bride was just a pup,
He died upon the honeymoon when she got his Irish up.

Now everybody's died.
So until our tears are dried,
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink,
and then we'll drink some more.
We'll dance and sing and fight
Until the early morning light
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up,
And then go drinking once again.

Joe Murphy fought with Reilly near the cliffs of old Doneen.
He took out his shillelagh and he stabbed him in the spleen.
Crazy Uncle Mike believed he was a leprechaun.
In fact he's just a leper and his arms and legs are gone.

When Timmy Johnson broke his neck it was a cryin' shame.
He wasn't really Irish, but he went to Notre Dame.
McNamara crossed the street and by a bus was hit
But he was just a Scotsman, so no one gave a shit.

Now everybody's died.
So until our tears are dried,
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink,
And then we'll drink some more.
We'll dance and sing and fight
Until the early morning light.
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up,
And then go drinking once again,

Me drunken Uncle Brendan tried to drive home from the bar.
The road rose up to meet him when he fell out of his car.
Irony was what befell my great-grand Uncle Sam.
He choked upon the very last potato in the land.

Conor lived in Ulster town, he used to smuggle arms.
Until the British kjilled him and cut off his lucky charms.
And dear old Father Flanagan, who left the lord's employ,
Drunk on sacramental wine, beneath the altar boy.

Now everybody's died.
So until our tears are dried,
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink,
and then we'll drink some more.
We'll dance and sing and fight
Until the early morning light.
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up,
And then go drinking once again.

Someday soon I'll leave this world of pain and toil and sin.
The Lord will take me by the hand to join all of me kin.
Me only wish is when the Savior comes for me and you,
He kills the cast of Riverdance, and Michael Flatley too.

Wife and I will probably just have a Guinness. Well, another Guinness, watch The Matchmaker and hope for a win from the Good Guys in Green.

Beware the Ides of March

As both Hoop Hysteria and St. Patrick's Day (what I like to call Amateur's Night) is descending upon us, I wanted to remind us of the dangerous of the season. In Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, the Soothsayer warns Julie-baby to Beware the Ides of March. Essentially, don't go out on the 15th of March or you'll get a stabbing.

So in that vein, I present the genius of Pat Dailey who warns of the perils of imbibing in his classic Out Drinkin'.

You should have seen me last night
When I fell down laughing
And I stumbled down a flight
Of metal stairs.

I went crashing through the window
At the VFW hall
Tumbled over a pile
Of metal chairs.

Then I cussed out my girlfriend
Tried to feel up her Mom
I wrecked my car
I think I bruised my spine

Oh, you ought to go with me
When I go out drinkin'
Always have myself
A real good time.

I got drunk and stole this boat
Out of the Edgewater Yacht Club
Doing 90 miles an hour
Up to the Bay

I sank her out by Buckeye Point
Walked on into town
Tore up someone's flowers
On my way

Then I barged into the Crew's Nest
And I threw up on the rug
I slapped that hostess
On her big behind

Oh, you ought to go with me
When I go out drinkin'
Always have myself
A real good time

I talk dirty to the waitress
And I never ever leave her no tip
Leave her all my roaches
In the guacamole dip

Oh you ought to go with me
When I go out drinking
Always have myself
A real good time

So I'm going out tonight
And I'm gonna tie on a good one
Does anybody here
Want to go out drinking with me?

Well I'll take you to this biker bar
Where we can kick some ass
And a gay bar
We'll get our drinks for free

We'll do shooters of tequila
And a case of beer a piece
We'll wash it down with a gallon
Of cheap island wine.

Oh you ought to go with me
When I go out drinkin'
Always have myself
A real good time

I like to shout out loud
And moon the crown
When I'm dancing
on the bar

Then go out in
The parking lot
And piss on
All the cars

Oh you ought to go with me
When I go out drinkin'
I always have myself
A real good time

Oh you ought to go with me
When I go out drinkin'
Give me that wine
Always have myself
I'm feeling pretty fine
Always have myself
A real good time.

And They Called It Puppy Love

I didn't want to write about this before because I didn't want to jinx it. We've been expecting for a while, but you never know what can go wrong.

That's the BIG SWEETIE (insert dog voice here) Guinness the Wonder Dog, a 40 lb, 4 month old, Australian Labradoodle. I remember when they were just called mutts. He should top out around 90 pounds so I plan to start riding him to work in a few weeks. He's currently sleeping a few feet away but sends his regards.

Now I initially resisted the acquisition of a dependent because it's all I can do to make the drycleaners and the bank in a single day. I'd have been a shitty pioneer.

I figure, I don't currently have to pick up poop in a given day. So any poop that is introduced into our relationship is the Wife's responsibility. And Guinness is so smart, he's already made Wife learn a new trick: "poop picking up."

We've been to one dog training class where Guinness is clearly the valedictorian. Of course we had a chihauhau that just shook the whole class, a chocolate lab that tried to chew everything and a poodle with a serious bipolar disorder. It's kind of like being the Grand Marshall of the Dork Parade.

I really can't believe this guy is a puppy. He may be the reincarnation of Bob Marley. He's really mellow and always hungry. Sounds like a Rasta Man to me. Irie, mon.

Any tips for teaching him how to drive or go fetch a six pack from the store will be appreciated.

The Brady Bunch

Dear Tom:

It's being alleged you've impregnanted another supermodel. First it was Bridget Moynahan, now it's Giselle Bundchen.

Who do you think you are, an NBA player?

Seriously, Tom. It's the 21st century. I figured you'd be a little more careful "protecting the quarterback" in this day and age. Running a fly pattern to go deep down field apparently isn't the only work out you've been getting lately. You've been splitting way more than just defenses.

If you're frustrated about losing to another quarterback with a laser, rocket arm, you shouldn't work off your anger with unprotected sex. Otherwise your "backup quarterback" is going to shrivel up and fall off.

I know you went to Michigan and not USC, but you might want to think about becoming a Trojan Man. You can't run that naked bootleg play too many times and expect to get away with it.

This wasn't the first time you slipped one into the end zone but it should be your last unplanned one.

Living the Dream, Mickey

While I was being wooed by corporate overlords, I received the following from a friend I know who works for the Walt Disney Company. I wish I knew what the hell I was doing with html beyond just managing projects so I could actually post the image-laden email I received.

Sorry, kids, you'll have to make due with just the text.

And by "dreams," I mean dreaming about being able to afford health insurance and living below the poverty line because the minimum wage is a joke

Email me if you want a forward, because it is freakin' hilarious.....

I Am Disney......

JOB FAIR
March 12 - 148AM - 5PM

Full-time, part-time and seasonal roles are available throughout the Theme Parks, Water Parks, and Resort Hotels including positions with starting pay rates of
$7.35 to $9.36 an hour
Bus Driver
Character Performer
Cook
Cosmetologist
Front Desk/Concierge
Housekeeper
Lifeguard*
Quick Service Restaurant Host
Disney's PhotoPass® Photographer
Disney's Magical Express Luggage Representative & Airport Representative
Interview opportunities may be available for summer positions.

Cast Members receive Theme Park admission and discounts at select dining, merchandise, and recreation locations. Full-time Cast Members may be eligible for medical, dental, and vision coverage, plus paid vacation and sick leave.

Celebrity Scratch & Sniff

A recent discussion about who was the skeeviest looking and smelling celeb is now completely out of hand.

Celebs are always coming out with their own designer scents. For example, Carlos Santana has a perfume that supposedly smells like bergamont, lavender, mandarin, cinnamon bark, apple, maja accord, sandalwood, cypress wood, patchouli, musk , leather, amber, tonka bean and vanilla.

Now I've not personally smelled Carlos up close and personal, but when I saw him at the Pima County Fair with 5,000 screaming fans crammed into a tent in the Arizona heat, it decidedly did not smell of tonka bean.

So I thought I'd go down to the t2ed labs and do my best to come up with some fragrances for them.

Feel free to play along at home kids.

Tom Cruise: coconut oil and poop
Paris Hilton: money and "man juice"
Jude Law: cigarettes, fog and halitosis
Rosie O'Donnell: Old Spice and jock itch
Donald Trump: money and insecurity
Lindsay HoHan: Rum, french fries and lube
Jay Leno: Motor oil & over-achievement
Heather Mills McCartney: Nikes and Nair
Charlie Sheen: Denise Richards and strippers
Ryan Seacrest: Clay Aikin
Clay Aikin: Simon Cowell and latex
Howard K. Stern: Anna Nicole and ticks
Tom Sizemore: tears, meth and flop
Joan Rivers: death
Peter O'Toole: scotch
Michael Jordan: b.o. and bratwurst
Matthew McConaughey: weed, bongo oil and b.o.
Will Farrell: caramel corn
Colin Ferrell: tuna, cigarettes and b.o.
Beyonce: activator and rubber cement

Feel free to offer a challenge as well.

The lab is in full scale production mode right now.

Throwing My Beret In the Mix

If you haven't heard, some crazy cat broke into Mary Tyler Moore's house in Minneapolis, MN over the weekend.

Okay, it wasn't really Mary's house, but it was the house that was always used for the exterior shot during the credits on her old show.

Police found the 24 year old man asleep with the television on. No word on whether he was watching Nick at Night.

I'll bet Lou Grant would have kicked his ass if he'd have found the scofflaw in Mary's bedroom.

Now if you've been reading this site for more than five minutes, you know I wouldn't go this far without a goofy list. Thanks for playing along kids.

Here are the reasons the burglar broke into Mary's house:

• Didn't break in, Phyllis let him in
• Was invited to one of Mary's great parties
• Wanted to see if she could actually turn the world on with her smile
• His beret landed on the roof
• Photo trip gone awry
• Just trying to sublet 119 N. Weatherly
• Met Rhoda at a bar
• Heard that love was all around (track 15)
• Bad directions from Ted

I can't help it. The phrase "A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down the pants" still makes me smile to this day.

Man, I miss Chuckles the Clown.

Killing Me Softy With His Song

Because the weather currently sux (check local listings), I’ve been tending to delay the inevitable slog to my appointed toil with a swell hot breakfast. This isn't just any kind of shitty weather. Yesterday we had snow, freezing rain, sleet, then snow again. I fully expect a rain of frogs any moment. It's practically biblical.

Okay, the breakfast isn't so swell but at least it with rich, bacony goodness. You know, bacon—the food that is so good that they wrap other food in it. (Thank you, Jim Gaffigan). Like we’d be eating melon balls or water chestnuts without bacon.

I was unaware, however, that swine were endangered in this country. Apparently there’s a pig shortage because restaurants will only give you two pieces of bacon at a time. We're on rations. Maybe because otherwise we’d eat bacon until we exploded. Or just our hearts.

Anyhoo, while I was masticating in public (that only sounds dirty), I was dumbstruck and in awe at the musical goodness they were piping into Slob Evans. Now I don't normally even notice the music in restaurants unless it's really good or really bad. I'm usually too preoccupied trying to read and not eavesdrop on the conversations going on around me. But if you're going to loudly ask your friend whether or not you should be faking your orgasms, you can't act snippy when I snort Diet Coke through my nose. Especially if a guy is asking the question.

So while I'm trying not to eavesdrop, I suddenly notice that whomever selects the music that gets piped in, has got his 80's freak on early in this morning. The mystery dj hits me with:

• Betty Davis Eyes (Kim Carnes)
• Jesse's Girl (Rick Springfield)
• The One that You Love (Air Supply)
• The Tide is High (Blondie)
• Let's Get Physical (Olivia Newton John)

These are not crappy muzak remakes. It's the actual songs, my friends. Yes, the dulcet tones of Kim Carnes is a great way to wake up.

Even other diners perked up at the string of crap we had been subjected to. Though only one elderly woman was noticeably seat dancing to Physical.

Yes, I was able to keep my breakfast down..... just barely. Next time I go for a little early morning dining experience, I'll bring my iPod.

Has anyone else ever been subjected to this kind of abuse while in a restaurant? I'm not talking about the time it was gently suggested by a large man that I depart an establishment so I selected That's Amore 12 times on the juke box on my way out just out of spite.

I mean have you ever had this kind of auditory assault on your senses? Just wondering...

Two Left Feet

They've announced the cast for Dancing with the Nobodies Stars and I'm really amazed to see that it includes the soon-to-be ex Mrs. McCartney, Heather Mills.

ABC (aka shameless corporate hacks) are positioning the participation of Ms. Mills as a dramatic example of the majesty of the human spirit. It seems a lot more mundane than that. They just want to see if someone with her particular...ummm... attribute can still dance. That's tokenism.

I just hope one of the dances everyone is forced to do is the Moonwalk.

In any event, here's some songs I'm guessing you won't be hearing in the upcoming season:

• Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen)
• At the Hop (Danny and the Juniors)
• The Hokey Pokey
• The Stroll (The Diamonds)
• I Ran (Flock of Seagulls)
• Jump Around (House of Pain)
• Legs (ZZ Top)
• Runaway (Bon Jovi)
• One Step Closer (Doobie Brothers)
• Drop Dead Legs (Van Halen)
• Running down a Dream (Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers)
• Jump, Jive and Wail (Louis Prima)
• Hot Legs (Rod Stewart)
• Lean on Me (Ben E. King)
• The Hop (Arrowsmith)
• Walk on the Wild Side (Lou Reed)
• Get a Leg Up (John Mellencamp)
• These Boots Were Made for Walkin' (Nancy Sinatra)
• Come on Eileen (Dexy's Midnight Riders)
• I Get a Kick Out of You (Francis Xavier Sinatra)
• Gimme Three Steps (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
• Boogie Shoes (KC & the Sunshine Band)

All right, I'll shut up now. Yes, I already know I'm going to hell.

Feel free to play along at home, kids.