Whale of a Tale

Sad news today. At Discovery Cove in Orlando, two dolphins collided in mid-air resulting in the death of a 30 year old Atlantic Bottlenose dolphin named Sharky. The other dolphin is fine, but his insurance premiums will be doubling.

Apparently both dolphins were performing a mid air stunt and simply ran into each other while in mid-air. Official say this was just a freak accident.

THIS WAS NO BOATING ACCIDENT

I don’t know what to mako of this. It sounds fishy. Undoubtedly, it happened on porpoise. They probably need to fine tuna their act. I’m guessing that Sharky haddock coming. Probably a case of tank rage. Sharky probably flippered off someone she shouldn’t have. Maybe even catfishing around with someone else’s husband and finally got stung. Stung-ray, that is.

She always had a large mouth and an even bigger bass. She pissed off the wrong ladyfish and things got a roughy. Now her sole is in Davey Jones’ Locker. Thank cod it didn’t happen to you.
And she was only 30, but she never backed down. She was no chicken of the sea. And having been in show biz, at least she was a StarKist.

I better shut up before I get a cutthroat. Shut your mouthbrooder. Hey, I’m just talking 'bout Shad.

Pour Some Sugar On Me

America's Britain's Sweetheart, Madonna has announced her upcoming tour to promote her latest coaster album, Hard Candy. It's the Sweet & Sticky tour. And because she's really from Bay City, Michigan, Madge is conveniently blowing off Motown so as to avoid that awkward moment with her father after the show when she simulates sex with a cross. I'm just kidding. That sex during the show isn't simulated.

In addition to opening schools ala the Queen of All Media, Madge is also unsuccessfully trying some old trix in an effort to generate a little buzz for her album. Sorry, but we liked it when you kissed Brittney a lot more. What the hell happened to you two?

Whatev. Sweet & Sticky just doesn't really shout, "Come and buy some damn tickets, will you already?" This reporter couldn't let sleeping backup dancer lie, so with a little digging here are the Rejected Names for Madonna's Tour. Get it? These are the names she's not using to go with Sticky & Sweet. All right, I'll quit beating the set up.

Rejected Names for Madonna's Tour

• Old & Bitter
• Lame & Culturally Irrelevant
• Scary & Exhibitionistic
• Itchy & Scratchy
• Pointy & Scary
• Pretentious & Faux
• Desperately Seeking Relevance
• Dyed & Bi-Curious
• Bitchy & Soon-To-Be-Single-Again
• Cranky & Dominating
• Flashing & But-Still-Writing-For-Kids
• Bad Acting & Unemployed

Oh, Ms. Ciccone, we kid because we care. As far as you know.

Hey, you know who'll be the biggest fan of the tour? Guy Ritchie. He'll finally have some quiet time to get working on that Swept Away sequel.

Wow, it's been a weird week. Posts on women, sex, baseball and now making fun of Madonna. There's a little something for everything to hate this week. Have a good weekend, kids.

Now take of that wedding dress, turn that racket down and quit rolling around on the floor like some kind of crazy person. Sit up straight and quit embarrassing your Mother. For pete's sake. Sorry, just practicing for brunch this Sunday.

A Long Cruel Summer

If you haven't heard, Major League Baseball's Most Liked Player, Barry "It's All About Me" Bonds, is out of a job. So the MLB Player's Association, having cleaned up all the problems like steroids, uppers, mandatory drug rehab, groupies (okay that's really more of a fringe benefit than a problem), candy and ice cream in the clubhouse, and excessive tobacco usage, is investigating whether there is collusion in baseball.

Yup, no one wants Barry and his baggage on his team because of a giant conspiracy amongst the owners. Yes, it's a gigantic master plan orchestrated by business owners to keep a 43 year old sweetheart of a man out of the game despite that he may be going to trial on perjury and obstruction of justice charges.

In fact there are so many well known faces out there in MLB looking for work, that they've been added to the mix as proof that there is collusion in baseball.

This reporter did some digging and talked to various unnamed sources around the league (as far as you know) and here are the real reasons some of these players are out of work.

Barry Bonds -- major asshat, selfish tool, under indictment
Roger Clemens -- alleged roider, won't travel with team, alleged pedophile

Hey a quick interjection. Why is Roger Clemens like blackjack? Because nothing good can happen when you hit on 15. Hiyo. Put her down, Jerry Lee.

Back to the list:

Sammy Sosa -- corked bats, excessive cheerfulness gets irritating over 162 game season
Kenny Lofton -- has to use a walker in the outfield
Mike Piazza -- gay
David Wells -- demands his weight in stadium hot dogs on each day he pitches

I hope that cleared it up for you, Players Union. Now get working on the serious issues like why the Detroit Tigers suck it this year.

Blow Me a Kiss

It's been announced by the office of the MLB Commish, Bud "Lite" Selig, that there will be no discipline of the Chicago White Sox for displaying two inflatable sex dolls in their clubhouse during this past weekend's series against the Toronto Blew Jays. Sorry, Blue Jays.

Cereal, I'm not making this up.

The General Manager of the White Sox, Ken Williams said:

I will assure Major League Baseball that the doll was not violated in any way, shape or form.

Of course, because Kenny boy only talks about one doll in his "apology." Clearly, by implication, the other doll was soundly rogered by randy White Sox players. During orgies, team members must remain in the batting order.

The White Sox lost all four of those games in Toronto btw.

Now I don't know why two inflatable sex dolls were on display in a major league team's clubhouse. Actually, I probably do, but I don't want to. I'm pretty sure it was a prank and not just a way for the team to, ummm, relieve a little stress over their most recent losing streak.

But because of my deep seated respect for women and because I actually penned a post about Moms and Dads having sex just in time for Mother's Day, I will not make any of the following baseball related comments about inflatable sex dolls and play by play commentary.

• He got some good wood on that one.
• He's giving a hundred and ten percent.
• This one looks like it's got the distance.
• Going, going, gone.
• No pepper.
• That's a double play ball.
• He really needs to bear down here with someone on first.
• It looks like the ump is checking for a foreign substance on the ball.
• He loves to hit with men on.
• Here comes the closer.
• There's a shot to the hot corner.
• That was a bang bang play. Let's take a look at the replay.
• Time for the seventh inning stretch.
• Here comes the grounds crew with the tarp.
• There's the old chin music.
• That's one gets into the upper deck.

I know, that's what she said. But like I said, I'm not going to make any of those jokes. You're on your own kids.

Ecuador Is Lovely This Time of Year

Ecuador is working on a new constitution. I think the old one got misplaced. Don’t you hate when that happens?

Anyhoo, in an effort to increase tourism (and get her name in a lot of snarky blog posts), Maria Soledad Vela had a swell idea: making the pursuit of sexual happiness a constitutional right for women.

Now that’s a pretty adventurous idea when you think about all those great Ecuadorean (Ecuadillos?) Women’s Rights Advocates. Let see there’s…ummm, yeah, I’ll have to get back to you on that one. Ecuador as you may know is named after Ponce de Ecuador who had the idea to paint lines on the ground so men wouldn’t ever have to ask for directions.

I’d really like to help our with the Ecuadillyumptious Constitution. So here’s what I came up with:

We the pimps, in order to form a most freaky union, establish free love, insure domestic bliss, provide for the common hook up, promote the general happitude of our Womensfolk, and secure the blessing of multiple pleasurings and our weekends, do ordain and establish this Women’s Right to the Big O. And we’re not talking about Oscar Robertson if you know what I mean.

I can just see the “Life, Liberty and Booty” shirts being sold at the constitutional convention now.
And I’d like to officially sign up for the Ecauadoreangrey Guarranteed Assistance Sexual Minstry (EGASM). EGASM is going to do great things for that country. Or at the very least put it in a good mood for a couple of hours. I know how much happier I am after I get a visit from EGASM. In fact, EGASM is one of the main reasons people stay happily married. Without a visit from EGASM, you’re probably not doing it right. And if you’re not going to do it right, she’ll soon take matters into her own hands.

Critics of Ms. Vela’s bold idea for constitutional direction are quick to say she’s decreeing orgasm by law. And what’s wrong with an orgasm law? Personally, I like (really like actually) the thought of our legislators passing laws like this instead of thinking up other ways to screw us. When orgasms are required by law, only outlaws will have unhappy women. Or something like that. Seriously, if women are required to be sexually fulfilled, there’s a lot of guys going to be getting the chair.

Now I’ve got to hop on Expedia and book the Wife and I a trip to Quito.

She's Having My Baby

Mom's Day is less than a week away. So it's to bust out the flowers and the denial and remember that Mom loves all of you equally. Even if she does unfairly favor your younger sibling all the time.

Bless you Paul & Storm for giving us this:

Mother’s Day is here
Everyone give a cheer
For the ladies that we call
Mother dear.

I tried to find a card
But you know it’s really hard
To find the one that captures
All the love that’s in my heart.

And so instead
I’m writing you this poem
Because I am so
Grateful to you Mom.

So I say.....

Thanks for having intercourse with Dad
Without a condom, sponge or IUD
Your lack of objection
To sex without protection
Made a sperm and egg
Turn into me.

You gave me life, love
A home and clothing everyday
I gave you stretch marks and extra weight
That never quite went away

I mean it
Thanks for having intercourse with Dad
The carnal act that brought me
Here to you, doodley do

I don’t know if it was varied
Or merely missionaried
But it sure was good for me
Was it for you?

I’m elated that you mated
Your love you consummated
You got inseminated
Then waited and inflated
Inside you I gestated
Until from your womb I cascaded

Thank you Mom
For doing my Dad
I’m so glad that he had you
Thanks for doing my Dad.

God Bless America

If you haven't heard, America got a new import the other day. Yes, Pam Anderson is finally an American Citizen. I'm very certain that Pam has very special skills that uniquely qualify her for work in this country. At least ever since she got that acne treatment, the dye job and those gravity-defying implants.

A lot people are wondering, "Why now?" After all that she has accomplished in her distinguished whoring acting career, why become an American.

Luckily, after going through Pambo's garbage and watching a certain video with a certain former member of Motley Crue many, many, many times, I know the real reason Pam decided to go red, white and blown.

10) Hockey games were just too darn cold for flashing
9) All her social diseases now count against US data
8) Implants recently became elective under Canadian socialized medicine
7) Fleeing notoriety after VIP got syndicated in Ontario
6) She thought becoming a citizen also meant she got a free watch
5) Complicated Canadian legal system does not allow two month marriages
4) Train wreck reality series only offered to American sluts thank you very much
3) She thought "lobbying Congress" for animal rights meant doing it in a hotel lobby
2) Appreciates tough US anti-piracy laws after 3 copies of Barb Wire were downloaded illegally
1) Her vote now counts as much as yours

Oh, Pambo. I kid because I care. I'm sure despite your busy schedule you'll be able to get in two more hastily-arranged marriage and divorces before the year is over. Welcome to our melting pot, Pam. I just hope someone explains to her what "blowing stuff up" means before July 4th. This could go horribly wrong if she gets her hands on a roman candle.

And in true White Trash America fashion, Pam is having a garage sale this weekend. Ah, the garage sale. Where people come to buy things that other people are too lazy to just throw away.

Someone please get down to the 'Bu for me and buy that sweet bike that was obviously Pam's! Sure the rear tire looks a little flat, but can you imagine owning Pam Anderson's bike seat? You're going to want to have that deloused before you use it. You may just want to go ahead and have it sealed in one of those Hazmat containment devices just to be on the same side. How cool/scary would it be to own some of Pam Anderson's "beautiful old linens?" I wonder which wedding that's a gift from. Yeah, if you're still buying Pam wedding presents, you're probably smart enough to be keeping your receipts by now.

Now, I've got to start driving so I can get to SoCal in time to bid on Pam's copy of Hungry, Hungry Hippos. You know she loves any game that involves eating balls.

Fly Like An Eagle

Reason #378 why Utah Rocks:

We gots Falcons. Nesting in our downtown office buildings. Bet they don't have this in Hotlanta.

And you can watch them on Falconcam. Which is much better than watching this on any cam.

You can even join the Salt Lake City Peregrine Falcon Watchpost Team (and wouldn't that look sweet on a resume and/or t-shirt) where you can "spot, chase & rescue the young falcons." Man, I can't wait to go Falcon chasing.

Seriously, all you need to do to sign up is be a lot more serious about this than I am and send an email to Bob Walters at BobWalters@utah.gov. Or you can even pester him more directly at (801) 538-4771. I'm sure Bob appreciates all the help I'm giving him.

You don't need any experience to volunteer. You only need binoculars, leather gloves, a flimsy towel (to drop upon a downed bird and because of a Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy), a water bottle and sunscreen. Oh, and a high pain threshold doesn't hurt either for when Momma Falcon thinks you're trying to smother her baby with a flimsy towel. And when you find out just how flimsy that towel is compared to angry Momma Falcon talons.

The volunteers also help answer questions from pedestrians. I really, really hope I get that job. Because of my vast experience in customer service, media relations and people asking dumb questions, that's really my wheelhouse. I can only imagine some of the questions you get when you're standing on the corner of a busy thoroughfare wearing your leather gloves and peering upward through some binoculars.

"What you looking at?"

• Pterodactyls
• Mutant Pigeons
• Gargoyles
• Rocs
• Harpies
• Raptors
• Dragons
• Condors
• Fish Tracks
• Hippogriffs

And you know other people are going to stop to see the raptors, gargoyles and mutant pigeons. too.

I can't wait for the young falconettes to hatch. First, they eat pigeons. Everyone has to love that. Second, they also carry off small children who are left unattended downtown. I just hope they carry off the ones that seem to be frequenting the same restaurants as me.

The Beat of Just One Drum

Ladies, start your engines. Hollywood's most eligible bachelor is back on the market. Of course, I'm talking 'bout Gary Coleman. Yes, Gary and his wife of 8 months are getting divorced. On the May 1-2 episodes of Divorce Court. Ah, a divorce on a syndicated divorce show. Classy?

Hey, who had 8 months in the pool by the way?

On the bright side, Gary's wedding bliss lasted four times longer than Pam Anderson's last go 'round.

While you may be content to wait for it to finally be May 1 (and it'll seem like days) and let your TIVO capture all the pageant and majesty that is Divorce Court, this reporter couldn't wait. So in true semi-journalist fashion, I made up did some digging.

Here's the inside skinny why the couple is going their separate ways.

10) Whenever she asks him to take out the garbage, he just replies, "What 'chu talkin' 'bout, Shannon?"

9) The rumor about black men turned out to be false.

8) He insists on sitting in her lap when they make out.

7) She loves to slow dance.

6) He enjoys some "different strokes" if you know what I mean.

5) She refuses to call him Mandingo in the boudoir.

4) Todd Bridges won't get the hell off their couch.

3) She once yelled out, "Take me, Webster!" whilst they were making love

2) He talks relentlessly about knowing Janet Jackson.

1) She voted for the wrong Arnold in the election.

Also, I have it on good authority that whenever he needs some change for coffee and asks her, she always says, "I'm a little short" and then cackles like a banshee.

Yeah, that's got to get old.

Nice Rice Baby

If you haven't started hoarding it yet, you'd better get your ass down to Sam's Club. Yes, it's already being reported that Sam's Club (the same globonational corporate holding company owned by Ace Wigs) has limited the sales of rice.

And you know it's a real problem, because the Guvment is already denying it.

EVERYBODY PANIC!!!!!

Shoppers are being limited to a mere 4 twenty-pound bags of rice per visit. Of course this limitation doesn't apply to stores in Idaho and New Mexico. Those sonsabitches Idaohoans (Ida-hoes? Idahites?) get their rice and Famous Potatoes. Double starches! Oh, the humanity. Who knows why the New Mexi-cats can get all the rice they want?

Yes, this is what passes for news nowadays. I'm sure that Sam's Club didn't just tip off CNN about the Rice Rationing so they could get some free publicity.

Lest you think this doesn't impact you, be aware of the following very critical things that will be impacted by the Global Rice Crisis. (yes, if I had an echo effect, it'd be here)

• sushi
• weddings
• Condeleeza
• the University
• overwrought books about Vampires
• Jerry
• chicken & rice casseroles (and who wants just chicken casseroles?)
• crummy paper
• pudding (who knew?)

There are probably even more, but I don't have time for these kind of shenanigans because I've got to send a hysterical letter to the USA Rice Federation because I can't possibly exist on only 80 pounds of rice.

What a Wonderful World

This Saturday is Earth Day. I thought starting my own religion was a scam and a tax dodge and a reason for Green Programming. I've got nothing on Earth Day. This Earth Day I'm turning on all the lights in my house, putting the newspapers in the regular bin instead of the recycling bin and then going for a drive for no reason at all. In the carpool lane. Yup, I'm a rebel!

We're actually having an entire WEEK of Earth Day activities at the Universal Import & Export office. Yesterday, it was a walk. Yes, we were supposed to cease our appointed toil and go outside and just wander around. It just made me wish I smoked.

We even had a poster. Woot!
The best thing about it, they actually had to right in teeny tiny letters at the bottom:

(This is dirt, not poop)

With an arrow no less.

I'm just glad someone (other than me) made a poopy comment about the poster. A comment so on target that non-poop had to be labeled as such.

And before I get off Earth Day, if I see another electric car driving slow in front of me, I swear I'm going to run it off the road. Douchebag, do you really think you're helping the environment by driving an electric car? Oh that's right. Unlike gasoline which comes from fossil fuels, electricity comes from magic fairies. It's not coal or nuclear power, it's magic fairy pixie dust which powers our electric cars.

Seriously, if you're that concerned about Al Gore's Scaremengering Power Point Presentation, your only alternative is to take the train or the bus. And both suck. And no one ever saw the girl of their dreams while they were waiting at a stop light and then spent all night riding the bus trying to track her down.

Sweet Baby Jebus, Earth Day sucks. It's got to be before Cinco de Mayo so you can understand how pious and lame and sanctimounious Earth Day is in comparison to a real made up marketing holiday that's a lot of fun. That's what is going to stimulate the economy and save the planet.

Cinco de Mayo celebrates a victory over the French. Good thing the Germans don't do that our you'd never see a Mercedes Benz get finished. Why were the French protests of the Olympic Torch so important? Because it's the first time the French didn't let someone run over their country.

Now I gotta go plant 6 trees the Wife bought for Earth Day.

Lucky Star

If you haven't got right with the Lord, you may be surprised to know that The End is nigh, Moses is dead, and William Shatner has written a book. It's about his favorite subject, him. And it's titled, "Up Till Now."

Yeah, pretty underwhelming, nay craptacular.

Well unlike those hacks at FoxNews (I know, that's redumbdant), this reporter did some digging to find out the rejected names for Bill's big book. And by digging, I mean going through the garbage at St. Martin's Press. Paperless office, my ass!

But after some digging (lots & lots of digging), here are the Top Ten Rejected Titles for William Shatner's new book:

10) The Rug & I
9) Being an Asshat Really Isn't Acting
8) Vulcan Nerve Pinch This
7) Bid For This Advertising Space on Priceline.com
6) Where Many Drunk Women Have Gone Before
5) I've Made Out With James Spader
4) My Friend, My Girdle
3) Star Drek
2) Picard Can Suck It
1) Buy.....This......Book

And while this train wreck is sure to be full of lurid details like Mr. Spock's boozing and Sulu's gayness and DeForest Kelley's scene stealing, at least the Shatman ain't singing.

The Cult Of Personali-T2ed

There’s been a lot about polygamy in the news lately. That’s what armed raids and tv cameras do for you. And I’m little surprised that with Texas cops, we didn’t get more gunplay. As a quick aside, I think all cops should have to wear cowboy hats when they do interviews. It just makes it easier to tell the good guys from the bad guys. And if they raid an Indian casino, that would be great. But because the Beehive State has a, let us say, slightly unique view on polygamy, I can’t keep my piehole shut no longer.

Now the kooks they raided in Eldorado are a franchise of the same guy they nabbed a couple years ago near Vegas. His name was Jeffs. He’s currently in the joint for a couple of 5 to lifes after he got caught in his SUV on the way to Vegas thanks to the technological advances in vehicle tracking. Don’t you love it when I talk all prisony? I like that a cult has franchises. And apparently these particular loonies (not to be confused with the Canadian dollar) think that the best way to grow their “church” is through inseminating and not sermon-ating.

Now because I only have 1 wife, people in Utah think I’m strange. So I’m going to start my own church, The Cult of PersonaliT2ed. Cult may not sell well with the squares so I’ll probably have to go with something a little sneakier to get the dough of the rubes who fall for this. How ‘bout The Baptists? That’s taken?! Who knew?

Okay, time for Plan B from Outer Space. I think we’ll go with the Church of Righteous Angelical Paterfamilias. Our beliefs are that you can only achieve eternal salvation by bestowing large amounts of money to me the Church. To help people in that regard, we’ll have continuous bingo, keno, monte carlo nights and raffles at the Temple. And our Church will be righteous in it’s nature and unconfineable in its majesty. No building can hold the power of the Paterfamilias. We will often be found worshiping early on as many mornings as possible in wide open spaces as we drive Satan from the earth and curse him loudly. Whenever I start talking like that, I hear Samuel L. Jackson in my head.

We also believe that intoxicating liquors are the work of the Ole Man Debil. To protect our brethren, we shall take all such substances unto ourselves and forbid the flock from consumption and require that they consecrate our Holy Monday Services with their harvest.


Where the Church of Righteous Angelical Paterfamilias is different from most religions is in their treatment of women. While a lot of churches view the role of women to be solely that of procreators, we believe women are much more than that. They will the the shining beacon of what humankind can become: caregiver, nurturer, entertainer, health inspector, maid. We will not put women on a pedestal. Nay, it shall be a stage and they will let their praise wash over us. And their gyrations and white boots and spinning tassles shall show their rapture.


What I don't get is why the men want multiple wives. Sure it sounds like a great plan--a different woman every night. But you know that the other wives are going to be sitting around talking about you. And do you think that discussion will be about how much they miss you? Plus, I can't imagine what the phone and credit card bills would be like. Plus, if you have multiple wives, you get multiple mother in laws. Can you imagine what it's like to be told multiple times by multiple wives that it's time to take the garbage out? Or getting the old, "I'll bet you'd wash the dishes for your 15th wife."

I really don't understand why these wives go for it. I mean if someone invites you out for dinner and says, "We'll just be hanging out around the compound" warning bells should be going off in your head. Maybe they think he must be a good catch and a good provider because he's already providing for 9 other women.

Now I gotta go. I've got 12 wives who've timed their cycle, so I've got to pick up several gallons of chocolate ice cream and give a shiatload of foot massages tonight.

Heart Like a Wheel

Reason Number 273 to love Utah:

There's roller derby.

And there's a league with teams named the Bomber Babes, Death Dealers, Leave it to Cleavers (Eldridge or Beaver?) and Sisters of No Mercy.

And you can sign up.

And they have a Flickr photostream.

Roller Derby in the Beehive State....who knew? I will definitely not make fun of this sport. Because these women could kick my ass. Even wearing skates.

I will admit to being somewhat ignorant of the majesty and skillfulness that is roller derby. I don't think that will change anytime soon. But I thought that roller derby as a sport had died out in the 50's except for a brief reincarnation in the form of the syndicated RollerGames. Yes, I'm embarrassed to know that show, but my roommate and I were big fans of the T-Bird Twins.

So skate on down to the malt shop, Daddio and get a burger and a shake before someone nails you over the rail.

Lydia, Oh Lydia, Have You Met Lydia

Okay, in my last post, I wanted to give you something stupid fun to enjoy the weekend.

Here it be.

That's supposed to make you look like that handsome fella over there. Because I'm not a geek and I've actually kissed a girl and no longer live in my parents' basement, I don't know who it is.

I think it's Wesley Snipes.
I may wear that print out goatee around all day and see if anyone even notices. Yes, dangling from my fly. How else do you wear one of those?

It's called a goat-ee. Why would you want to look more like a goat? Now I've got to go chew on a tin can, knock a troll off a bridge and do some yodeling with a horny nun.

I Can't Find Huey Lewis Anywhere

Because I'm a helluva guy (just ask me), I'm supposed to review a website called:

Balanced News Blog

Now I'm not sure why anyone would want my cynical self to review anything like this. First, it seems serious. It's not making fun of the talking heads who think we're too stupid to form our own opinions about the news, so they make sure we think the right thing about the news--their opinion. And they're not making fun of the news like the Onion. So they've got an uphill battle right there with me. What's the chance I can be serious for an entire post? There are two chances: slim and none. And Slim is out of town.

Second, I'm immediately suspicious of anyone who claims to be "balanced." That's like going to the Honest Used Car lot. You know you're getting screwed there. They should have just gone with some other name and let the esteemed readers come to the conclusion that the news was being presented in a balanced way. I'd have gone with the "Neither a Corporate Toady Nor Shrill, Annoying Liberal News Blog." And you know that domain name is available.

Third, by requesting this of me, that means that someone thinks (from reading the crazed ramblings here) that I know something about the news. This speaks to a remarkable lack of judgment on my readership. Someone once said to me (and I'd link to you, but I can't because of the constraints of this review format), I know you're usually joking, so I take what you say with a grain of salt. I replied, "The whole shaker, baby." So if anything I say is going to make you go to that blog or trick a search engine into thinking it's good, so be it. If not, meh.

It's not like I'm going to corner the market on content about Dan Blocker and Spanking or anything. Just try that search term in Google and see how impressed you are by the way.

So I should probably say something substantive about the Balanced News Blog. Well as of this morning, they have a very scary picture of Wesley Snipes. I'm trying to figure out who he looks like. He's completely bald and sporting a goatee that looks like he may be Wesley's Evil Twin (just like Mr. Spock in the Star Trek mirror universe). Who is that? I think Wesley thinks that he looks a little like Malcolm X. Except Malcolm didn't go for the shaved head look to my knowledge, but I have seen a few pictures where he's sporting the chin soup.

But really, the best way to read the Balanced News Blog is first to go to Google. Type in the term Mirror Universe Goatee. I'd link to it, but The Man won't let me. Get over it. Sometimes you have to work for good things to come to you. I know, that's what she said. Yes, I realize I've made you go to Google twice. I'm sorry, this time it's really worth it. Not like that Dan Blocker Spanking snipe hunt I sent you on earlier. Anyway, follow the instructions, slap that puppy on and enjoy reading balanced news from around the globe.

Okay, I feel sorry for you. I'll give the link in the next post. Take that, The Man. You can't stop me, you can only hope to contain me. Wow, can you tell it's Friday or what?

Have a good weekend, kids.

Annie, Get Your Gun

If you're near Capac, Michigan, keep your head down as the lead is flying.

As the Lansing State Journal so eloquently put it:

Officers arrest Mich. man accused of shooting chief, deputy

Of course this was after the cops had staked out his empty house for 5 hours. Nice work, boys.

While in police custody, Don Burke said that while he may have shot the chief, he definitely did not shoot the deputy. Oh, yeah.

If you think that's too far to go just for a cheap pop culture/song reference, get off of my cloud.

Freeze Frame

I saw the following picture in Sunday's paper and actually laughed out loud.

That's because I think someone is playing a pretty swell joke on us. I like to think there's a good twin of me slaving away for the man at Gannett Co and the way he sticks it to management is by inserting snarky comments into captions. Solidarity, my brother!

Anyway the caption on that picture was:

"A Tibetan supporter (right) argued with a Chinese supporter yesterday at the Ferry Plaza in San Francisco."

That doesn't look like an "argument" to me. That looks like a White guy is yelling at an Asian lady. At least I think that's a lady.


It look to this reporter that Whitey is screaming at someone who is calmly holding a sign. Nice do rag there by the way, Whitey. Why do I have the feeling that after exercising his right to free speech, Whitey is going to drive his Hummer home to the Misses in their co-op condo with the matching duvet and bedding sets in both bedrooms? I also hope he has a tattoo that he thinks is the Chinese character for Warrior but it really says Stupid White Boy or General Tsao's Chicken.


Does she really look like a "Chinese Supporter?" Or is she just some lady with a sign who wanted to see the Olympic torch because that's the closest she's ever going to get to it?


And while this may actually reinforce a stereotype that I am sure is in no way true, I really hope she doesn't understand English. Oh, and knows some Kung Fu so she can give him a roundhouse kick to the groin.

In response to Olympic Torch protests, the Chinese government has announced that for the remainder of the relay, Jackie Chan, Michelle Yeoh & Jet Li will be the runners.

Sniffy Galore

If you haven't heard, Amy Winebaghouse is doing the theme song for the next James Bond movie, Quantum of Solace.

As I've been too busy trying to run fiber cable through my house while not making my wooden floors look like swiss cheese, thanks to Reigning Frog for clueing me in to the Winester's attempt at ruining the Bond franchise. Twenty-two movies and counting. Suck on that, Sly Stallone.

As it's very hush hush about the new song, this reporter had to do some digging to come up with the tracks that Ms. Winehouse is laying down for the new flick.

• Dr. No I Don’t Do That, Okay, Maybe I'll Try It Just This Once


• From Russia With Vodka


• Goldschlager


• Thunder Eightball


• You Only Snort Twice


• On Her Majesty's Secret Stash


• Rehab Is Forever


• Live and Get High


• The Spy Who Bought Me Weed


• Spoontaker


• For Your Highs Only


• A View to a Still


• Suspended Licence to Kill


• GoldenHigh


• The Crack Is Not Enough


• High Another Day


• Mascara Royale


• Quantum of Sobriety

Feel free to play along at home kids.

Iodine In My Coffee

While the Wife is browsing through a furniture catalog in the passenger's seat, I'm patiently waiting for the drones at FourBucks to cough up the joe so we can get the hell out of the drive through lane. As he is prone to do, Guinness The Wonder Dog has his head out the rear window and is attempting to use his mind control powers to acquire sausage from passersby.

Unfortunately, this exchange takes place.

Drone: What a cute dog! What kind is he?

Me: Labradoodle.

Drone: He's beautiful. Do you show him?

Me: Are you kidding? Have you seen the kind of people who show
dogs?

Drone: I show dogs.

For some reason the conversation ended with our barista right there.

But the Wife wasn't wholly engrossed in his furniture shopping, because she immediately piped up with, "I just hope she spits in the right coffee."

To which I riposted, "Don't worry about getting spit in your coffee. She's getting that guy up front to teabag both of them."

"That's going to hurt."

"He'll teabag an iced coffee after."

Love Potion #9

I have to admit that despite my admiration of geekiness (like dragon mailboxes), I really get hot and bothered by looking at the web sadistics for Flack & Proud. I'm not sure why. It's not like I care about traffic. If people read this fine, if not, meh. I've always said the jokes are just for me.

Sure, I'm a comment whore, but that's really just to further the silliness that goes on here.


So when I took my Love Potion #9 and was on Needles & Pins to look through all the things people searched for and found this stupid blog by mistake, I was amazed.


Dan Blocker and Spanking


Yes, that's my absolute favorite term. First, try to get your head around the fact that someone is actually looking for something related to Dan Blocker and spanking. Yes, Dan Blocker, the guy who played Hoss on Bonanza. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what they were expecting to find here.


But because I understand a bit how search engines work, if I keep using the term "Dan Blocker and spanking," that'll keep my site far up the results of anyone who searches for that. Granted, the audience for content related to Dan Blocker and spanking is probably pretty small. But for whomever that sick, twisted, pre-vert is, this Dan Blocker and spanking site is going to drive him crazy. And probably get his keyboard a little, umm, stick as he (or maybe she) thinks about Dan Blocker and spanking. Reading about Dan Blocker and spanking. Waiting for me to quit just using the term Dan Blocker and spanking over and over and get to some really twisted content about Dan Blocker and Spanking.


And if you've got a site about Dan Blocker and Spanking. You've absolutely got to link to me. That'll help piss off the twisted ones too.


I just wish I could find a picture of Dan Blocker getting spanked. Okay, that's a little disturbing.


Signs He Like Me


The top search term that people use and actually come here with is Signs he like me. Yes, it doesn't even have proper subject verb agreement. Now I like to think that my small, dedicated and disturbed audience is a bit smarter than the average bear. They would carefully evaluate things like Nigerian Princes needing personal information or penis enlargement with a pill or natural acne treatment or magic beans. So that most people who find my site can't even string a natural search term together, it makes me a little worried.


I think Signs He Like Me is a reference to the Unsolicited Advice for Women series that I used to do. And I think it's because of the post Reading the Signs. Now I will admit to being exceptionally clueless about when a girl liked me. Unless she actually rubbed her breasts against me, I usually couldn't tell if I was on the outs (or the ins) with a girl. But that doesn't (or didn't) keep me from popping off to the ladies about when a boy liked them. Because I had been there. The shy looks in the hall. The carefully planned out route and timing to "accidentally" run into her. The invented excuses to ask her a really feeble question. Of course that was before I found my mojo and realized all you needed to do was go with, "You dig me, right?"


And The Rest


But there's also some other sick and twisted stuff going on for people to find Flack & Proud. I don't know why people are using the interwebs to find sick and twisted stuff. How long has this been going on? I don't want to belabor you with this, but seriously, someone is actually typing this stuff into their keyboard (probably a sticky keyboard) and coming here. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Other random terms [and my snarky comments about them]

• nude butler [my first job out of college]
• bulldyke heaven [also known as the Dinah Shore golf tournament]
• erotic reindeer (actually I think that would be a great name for a rock and roll band)
• golf themed pee pee targets [Pee pee? That's what we're calling it now?]
• hairy armpit women pictures [Aren't those widely available?]
• how do I know if an indian man likes me [He brings you homemade curry in a hurry]
• weird 3sum [Larry King, Barbara Walters & Angie Dickinson]
• will you arrested in the unted states if you pick a hitchhiker up [No, but it's a bad idea]
• we'll always have paris ringtone [There's a ringtone? I always say this when I see the catcher talking with his pitcher on the mound. Or candlesticks are nice.]

That's it for twisted search terms. Feel free to suggest others and have a great weekend, kids. And I apologize for the random spaces. Still working out the growing pains with this new template. Mea culpa.

Top Ten Signs Your Baseball Team Isn't Ready for the New Season

Thanks to their amazingly bad start to the new season, this one goes out to the Motor City Kitties. No team that has ever started 0-7 has ever gone to the World Series. Ouch.

I should have known something was up this year when they were loading Briggs and Riley luggage on the team bus instead of equipment bags.

Bless you, Mr. Letterman.

Top Ten Signs Your Baseball Team Isn't Ready for the New Season

10. Last night your designated hitter needed a designated driver

9. Manager only calls the bullpen to discuss "American Idol"

8. Instead of Gatorade, players cool down with gravy

7. Outfielders move around in motorized rascal scooters

6. Billy Crystal is your lead off hitter. Carol Channing bats second

5. Team is 1,000-to-1 to win the World Series, 2-to-1 to join the cast of "Hairspray"

4. Isiah Thomas predicts you'll go all the way

3. Skipped Spring training to follow Hannah Montana tour

2. Players are jamming things in their ass, but they ain't needles

1. Hillary Clinton says attending your games is worse than going to war in Bosnia

My Three Sons

An ancillary benefit of being back to where it all began (in addition to getting to practice my tech support skills for the oldest computer users in the world) is that I get to rifle through the 'rents stuff to find miscellaneous trash 'n trinkets of what has gone before. It's like studying archeology but for crap.

As the last kid you can see a marked difference in what the oldest kid got and what I got. There are scrapbooks from my sister's formative years: college papers (a B- btw), baby teeth, bronze shoes, pictures of her first steps, prom photos and the flotsam and jetsam of growth in the Midwest. As you survey the intervening brothers, you can see a marked decline in the historical chronicling that takes place. By the time you get to me, the fourth and final kid, it's a battered shoe box with my birth certificate, a vaccination record (rabies, distemper, heartworm), and a crayon drawing of Mommy.

So it is with some joy that I get to look through my parent's photo albums. These are where people stored pictures before there was the interweb and Flickr. Mom used to carefully file away photographic evidence of growth progressions. Oh, and pull them out when your girlfriend visited to make sure she was so appalled by you hair choices that no pre-marital intercourse would ever occur.

I can only think I'm wearing those cheap glasses because I had broken my good pair playing basketball. Again.

I'm of indeterminate age in this picture but obviously it's at Christmas. It's of sufficient age that the Big Bothers were still on speaking terms. And this is the brief moment when I had been talked into having a perm. This is The Hair of Which We Will Not Speak. And check out that flannel, ladies. Yes, the little acorn from which the Mighty Oak of a Big Strappin' Mountain Man would grow was already manifesting itself. At least I don't have a cheesy porn moustache or a winged collar going.

My niece thought this picture of her Uncles was so funny that she laughed for 15 minutes straight. And then declared me the illegitimate child of Harry Potter.

Desperately Seeking Approval

Madonna is stealing building upon one of Oprah's ideas. No, not forking out enough cash to make a small country choke on it in an effort not to appear evil. Wait, maybe that's exactly what she's doing as Madonna has announced plans to build an all girls' school in Malawi.

I'm sure there's no correlation for Madonna's upcoming Malawi hearing about her purchase adoption of a young Malawi boy. Where the boy's Father was a little unclear that he'd not be seeing his son again.

I just can't wait for Madonna's school to open. I'm sure they'll have some of those swell marketing pens to hand out to all the prospective young ladies at the Scholastic Fair during recruiting season. Because Madonna was pretty short on details about her school, I had to make up do a lot of investigating on this topic.

There is currently no announced name for the school. This reporter has it from a highly-placed insider that the school is to be named the Ciccone School for Wayward Sluts. And the mascot will be the Battlin' Biatches. Even though there will be a secular curriculum, students and faculty will be required to wear Catholic Schoolgirl Uniforms.

And it will be a very specialized educational experience for the young Malawian girls chosen to attend the Ciccone School for Wayward Sluts. Here is just a smattering of the rigorous coursework on tap for the students.

Math:

-Counting Your Millions
-Divorce Settlements

History:

-Whores Through the Ages
-Evita: A Misunderstood Catholic Girl From Michigan
- The Importance of Paparazzi

Science:
- The Reproductive System & How to Profit From It
- Your Stretchable Larynx & How to Profit From It
- Bi-sexuality & How to Profit From It

English:

-Affecting a British Accent

Social Studies:

-Shocking the Squares for Fun & Profit
-Religious Controversy = $$$$$
-Adoption & the Complicated Malawi Legal System

Literature:

-My Naked Mommy Parts
-For the Kids
(important note: do not mix up course materials!)

Arts:

- Bad Music Through the Ages
- Dancing while Lipsynching
- Bad Acting Through the Ages
- Marrying a Director to Get Acting Work

And I can't wait to see the graduation ceremony. It'll be the only convocation with backup dancers.

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

We Built This City

At the new workplace, someone had the genius idea of naming all the building after Dead Presidents. I'm sure while the suits were sitting around going "harrumph" and sucking down double mocha half-caff capresso, it seemed like a good idear to honor the statesmen who had given so much to our country.

But for every Lincoln or Washington or Adams, you've got one of these:

Man, I'm betting everyone wants to work there. There is absolutely no way I can drive by this every day without giggling. I think the National Organization of Women should hold their next conference at The Johnson Building.

How old do you have to be before dick jokes stop being funny? Well, it's not 43.

Hmm, I kinda thought The Johnson would be bigger. That's what she said. And a different color for that matter. Grey Johnson sounds like a soap opera character not a building.

And heaven forbid you get stuck in this rat hole.

No one wants to work in The Zach.

Unleash The Dragon

Wow, the freakiness just keeps getting freakier around here.

Now I'll admit (under interrogation only) to maybe having some slightly geekish tendencies. I know way too much about the Star Wars movies, love video games with excessive amounts of fantasy violence and may even know how I'm eventually going to acquire my superhero powers (bitten by a radioactive weasel).

But I like to think these things are kept under wraps and only my closest friends know about them. There's no Star Trek uniform wearing, action figure collecting or convention attending.

Or mailbox displaying.

Yup, that looks to be an actual metal dragon mailbox. You know that has to be custom made. You just don't head down to the Home Despot and pick that out. That's something that looks like it fits in better in the real estate Branson listings.

Why do I have the feeling that this used to be someone's parent's house before they passed away? And I'm betting on two things.

First, he still lives in the basement.

Second, he's still single, ladies.

I will refrain from any predictions about his weight, his skin condition, whether he's ever kissed a girl or whether you'll have to dress up in the Princess Leia outfit fairly often. So get into your costume and head on out to Utah to grab this catch of a man. A keeper like this won't last on the market for long. Probably only another 10 or 20 years.

Workin' At The Car Wash

I love being in a bigger city. There's more restaurants, movies and entertainment options. And also a lot more freaky stuff to see other than cow mailboxes.

Unfortunately, driving around to all those swell places gets the car really dirty with all the snow, slush and whatnot on the road. Whatnot is a real problem in these parts. And because I can just dump my car into the sinks in the Casa D'amour like I do with Guinness the Wonder Dog, I've got to go and roam around until I finally find a car wash somewhere near where I'm already headed. For some reason, it's completely impossible for me to go out just to get the car washed.

So when I found this place, I knew I'd never wash anywhere else. Something that probably sounded better when people were just kicking around ideas, before they actually built the place.

Yup, the ole Willy Wash.

I'm never going anywhere else. I just hope the water is warm. And not too powerful.

I'm betting that place is jammed late night on the weekend while everyone is waiting for a Willy Wash. Because there's nothing better after a long night of fun than a nice, long, unhurried Willy Wash.

It's probably a good sign if your date takes you to the Willy Wash. It's a good sign that he likes you enough to let you see him at the Willy Wash and may even want you to lend a hand. Sometimes it's hard to read the signals and tell if he likes you. But if he's taking you to the Willy Wash and maybe even lets run run the foaming wand, he likes you. I mean he likes you, likes you. You don't let just anyone help you with a Willy Wash.

Bring lots of quarters, kids.

A Horse With No Name

In Hawaii, you can't take a horse into a hospital no matter how much it might cheer up the patients. So says The Man who made sure Lani Yukimura was escorted out of the hospital with his equine acquaintance.

The best thing is, Lani and his stallion made it up to the third floor on the elevator before he was "greeted" by security.

Why does a horse take the elevator? Because he can't use the stairs. And you just know that Wildfire was playing on the elevator muzak during the ride.

How cool would it have been for the elevator doors to open and the horse to take off like he's busting out of the gates at the Kentucky Derby? Do you think when Lani & Mr. Ed were walking him through the hospital anyone yelled, "And down the stretch they come." If he didn't bring Mint Juleps and a big hat, Lani really missed out.

Despite Lani's out of the box attempt to cheer up his relative as it was the wrong horse. Well you can't look a visiting horse in the mouth. Unless you're an ear, nose or throat specialist.

Surprisingly, the most important fact of the story is completely absent. What's the horse's name? So with a great deal of investigative journalism, this reporter (man, I love doing that) tracked down witness to the hospital visitation and made up the following:

• Transplant
• The Cafeteria Special
• Man 'o Waardenburg Syndrome
• Mr. Oedipal (Wilcox Memorial must have a psych ward)
• A Horse With No Pain
• Sea Section
• Seattle Slain
• Barbariatric
• Smarty Bones
• Mane-onucleosis
• Hoof and Morphine
• Tachypnea Tail
• Horse's Asperger Syndrome
• Reagent Riding
• Saddle Somnoplasty
• Ole Bursitis Bridle
• Bit Defect
• Horse Floppy Flu
• Sciatica Schlage

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

What's The Matter With Kids Today?

File this under Utah--Things That Are Different.

When you're done watching that Big Love re-run and commenting about how many things they got wrong and giving the wives the old mattress workout, head on down to the Jazz game this Monday for Family Night.

Sure, it's just the crummy Washington Wizards.

But you can get 6 tickets and 6 hot dogs for only $84. Yup, Family Night for is 6. Where do all the jokes come from? That's the swell ad over there from Sunday's paper.

And that advert doesn't specific that it's for a hubby and wife and 4 kids. You can bring all 5 of your wives. As long as you've got an extra to babysit the kids your ditching at home.

This is the kind of stuff that makes me miss Detroit. Especially when they had Handgun and Hard Liquor night at the Palace. We called those Tuesdays.

Get Your Wieners Running

Sure my friends tease me about having two wives or not being able to sit next to drunk people on the train. But Utah does have the Trax and the crazy people and the homeless people love to sit by me whenever I ride.

Sure Utah doesn’t have a mayor who likes to sext to his Chief of Staff on his city-supplied Blackberry. And you know they made jokes during their trysts. I’m imagining something like when Annette Bening is having sex with Peter Gallagher in American Beauty, but instead Kwame Kilpatrick is having Christine Beatty say “I’m your Chief of Staff. I’m your Chief of Staff.”

And Utah lakcs a governor whose limousine has a bumper sticker that says “I’d rather be whorin" and "This limo brakes for all ho's."

Nor does it have a an-exgov-now-gay who allegedly had threesomes with someone on his staff (so to speak) and his wife. And you know they've got his laptop computer where it's got "3sum @ Friday's" on every Friday for a couple of years in his calendar.


But Utah does have the most important thing any state should have. Of course I'm talking 'bout the Wiener Nationals. Yes, before next Friday's game between the Jazz and the Spurs, there will be dauschhund dashing before the game. And the qualifiers get to be in the finals during half time. As this game in going to be televised on TNT, you may want to set your TIVO to see if you can catch the half-time festivities. Because who wants to see Sir Charles run his jib when you can see some fast wieners going head to head.

Or is that what Mrs. McGreevey said? C'mon, you didn't really think I could go an entire post about racing Wiener dogs and not make a cheap dick joke did you? Mea culpa.

So get on out to the Wiener Nationals and enjoy the majesty and grace that is wiener racing. You'll be glad you did. I just hope none of those pooches are popping the 'roids like in last years race. And remember, if a Wienerdog goes into the crowd, don't throw him back. He's yours to keep.

Let's Get Physical

(in which our hero is violated)

Hiya, kids. Long time, no blog. That's because I'm still recuperating from my last visit to the dominatrix doctor.

Because I've recently relocated to the Land of Zion, I am without health care professionals for things like medical advice, contact lenses, haircuts and the like. Luckily, I rectified (and I do mean rectified) one of those issues this week.

There comes a time in a man's life where he is subjected to more introspection and diagnosis than which he has become accustomed to. I'm typing, of course, about prostate exams.

Now I don't know who originally thought this exam up. I relate this story not as some badge of courage because I know we men will never stack up to the indignities you women suffer in boob-squashing and vajayjay spelunking. Rather, it's only to offer up the sacrifice we make to live longer. In an era in which there is a for everything including putting lead in your pencil, that we test for prostate erratica with a digit in the derriere is beyond me. But thanks to the magic that is known as co-pay, for a mere $15 (check local listings), I was able to have a strange woman touch the testes and put her finger up my ass. If only I could have gotten her to wear a corset, buy me dinner first, take her time, and talk dirty to me, it would have been a great start to the day.

Instead, I started Monday morning with my exam. I'll skip ahead to the sexy part where I am naked and bent over an examination table. Because my eyes are focused on the plain wall, I don't bother to look back in fear or anxiety. Instead, I can hear my new doctor (and let's face it, if you're getting a new doc, she should earn her money right away) apply some type of lubricant to her rubber glove. This is neither an attractive sound nor does it inspire confidence in my soul.

Whilst I feel her begin to probe in an area that is nowhere near where she needs to be, I'm a bit concerned. She is very high on the target. I'm trying to put this delicately, but her tee shot is pretty far over the green and not near the hole. I immediately think, "How long has it been since she took Anatomy 101?" As I feel her work her way southward, I can tell that despite the noise, she hasn't used enough lube.

Now I've had this exam done one time before. And I always mark it on my calendar in Big Red Letters so I have something to look forward to every Winter. And the last time this was performed my Doc used enough lube for me to be in a gay porn movie. This was not that time.

As I tried to relax, I heard my new doc say, "Your prostate is really high." This is code for, "I'm up to my elbow and I got nothing." While I resisted the urge to ask her if I can keep the watch, she finally checked my lonely walnut and withdrew. She threw me a towel and said, "Clean yourself up, bitch." I'm not sure if that's exactly what she said as I couldn't make out her words over the crying.

Luckily, my ass seems to be in impeccable health. And while I may have suffered degradation that few outside of prison or the movie Deliverance, it could have been worse. I could have been giving that exam. How would you like to start your Monday morning that way?

All I know is that the next time I'm feeling unsexy, I'm going to spend another $15 and make my poor doc check out my naughty bits again. I'll bring the carry out this time.

Shot Through the Heart

I finally figured out why silencers are so popular here in the Mild, Mild West.

It's because if you're going to sit on the deck of your house and shoot at deer, you don't want to annoy the neighbors.


Now I'm not a hunter by trade (and I don't even play one on tv), so I don't get all fired up to get my Bambi-slaying on. I can go straight to telling lies and enjoying adult beverages without getting lost in the woods first or having an encounter with the crew from Deliverance.


But yes, those are actual deer across the street from my house. I apologize for the lovely blue tint from the Crap Cam 2000, but that's what you get when you try to carry a pop in your slippers while shooting action photography.

Maybe I need to get one of those swell photography books, and learn me how to take some real National Geographic type action photos. Forget it, anything important to see will eventually be on Youtube.


I can't wait until Guinness the Wonder Dog finally figures out there is a herd of deer in the back yard. Maybe we'll have venison for Easter....

Time Is Not on My Side

I started a new job this week. Is it too soon to hate a job after less than 5 days? Okay, hate is a strong word, but I'm already over having to do the commuting thing for an hour each way. It wouldn't be that bad if traffic didn't suck during the Winter and driving in the absolute teeth of rush hour doesn't help either. And getting up at 5:00 am each day to be able to do this isn't on my short list of fun stuff either. So Initech better appreciate me showing up (on time) with a bright shining face each morn. This certainly can't last long. So it seems like I have no time right now. Thus the paucity of snarky blog posts.


We'll fix at least a little of that right now.


Reason # 327 why I love Utah. Yup, take a peek at this actual coupon from the sports section of the local paper.

Damn, I wish I could have found that swell coupon (even though it's not a Bluefly coupon) before Valentine's Day.

Because love means never having to say your gun is too loud.

Luckily you can head down there at 9:00 am and get your silencer on. So that early morning shooting spree won't disturb the neighbors. Especially when you let their dog have it for pooping in your yard.

Cuts Like a Knife

Every now and then I'll try to think about what makes the Midwest unique. Is it the awful weather? Is it the numerous foreclosures in the crummy real estate market? Is it the crazies who live there? I'm going with the latter.

In Adrian, Michigan, Frank Kozumplik was arrested for driving his lawnmower while drunk. And this may come as a shock, but Frank had taken his lawnmower to the liquor store. There he bought 4 bottles of wine. When police pulled Fugitive Frank over, he was down to two bottles. So you know he was having a good time. Frank might have to do the old lawn by hand next Spring as the cops also impounded his mower.

I wonder if they knew he'd been drinking because the mower cuts on the lawns weren't in perfectly straight lines? And when they tried to pull him over I'll bet he acted like he couldn't hear them over the mower engine. That never gets old when you don't want to talk to your neighbor.

Now I've never driven a lawnmower while intoxicated, so I'm not sure what the perfect auto accessories for a mower are. I always figured you'd just need a cooler. But Frank was going with the vino for his jaunt. I'm guessing there wasn't a cork involved in this kind of wine. Because there's no way you can steer a lawnmower and operate a corkscrew at the same time. Yes, this is probably good old screwtop wine. I also think a boxed wine might be the way to go here. That way if the mower vibrated too much and your wine fell off the mower, it wouldn't break.

Frank had to have really wanted it. Because you know riding around a mower in the Winter in Michigan has got to be a bit brisk. How could you even get it started in your mittens? I had trouble getting the dang thing started in the Summer.

Lent It Be

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Just the Same Old Song

People keep asking me what is Utah really like? Is it a provincial town where religion is the dominant political force and separation of church and state is a joke or is it a high-tech mecca where all cultures are welcome and everyone just really wants to ski when they're not speculating in commercial real estate? The answer is both but to really explore that dichotomy I need more time and reflection and beer. Of course, because the Sundance Film Festival is going on right now and my Aquaman buds are keeping me out till all hours of the night (past 9:30!) snowboarding with James Cameron, the mystery that is Utah hasn't really sunk in.

How is it different? Well I don't ever remember anyone at the gym complaining that the videos they show were too racy. Seriously, they're showing porn at the gym? I'd be in much better shape had I known this was going on. But on the downside, make sure you really, really wipe off the machines before you get on one. College kids complaining about racy music videos? My head may 'splode. I gotta call the cable company though and see if I can get the Gold's Gym Channel on my tv. It's probably right between the NFL channel and the Big Ten channel.

How is it the same? Luckily teenagers are still around to give us homemade porn via their cell phones. I'm sure nothing could go wrong with sending a few semi-innocent pictures of your naughty bits to your buds.

Well kids, gotta run. I've got a meeting with some producers about the film version of Parrot Trooper. I don't actually have a movie, but I've got a swell trailer and I figure that's all you really need. Hey, if the Simpsons could get away with it why not me? I just want the nexus of film, art and techology that is Bob the Talking Parrot to change the world, inspire people, end social injustice, eradicate poverty and make me a shiatload of money.

The End Is Nigh

If you're headed to Sin City to bet all your money on the Stupor Bowl, be on the lookout for renegade dancers.

Yup, police are reporting: 11:51 a.m. - A caller from the 300 block of Broad Street reported an individual dancing like a robot in a parking lot. Police were unable to locate the dancer.

If someone is doing the robot dance in a parking lot, you'd better call the cops. Over at Sony, it's a crime rampage.

When the robot dance is outlawed, only outlaws will be robot dancing. Maybe whomever called the cops was Baptist?

You can have my robot dance when you pry it from my cold, animatronic android hand.

Teutonic Temper Tantrum

A lot of people don't know that Hitler was a Cowboys fan.




And don't bother inviting him to your Super Bowl party. You don't want to hang out with Hitler. He's a mean drunk.

Windmill Jousting

In addition to getting all those personalized domain names set up, I've been fighting with my wireless network for about a week now. While I'm not a complete geek, I do know about 'puters and I've set a home network up about 3 or 4 times.

Right now, however, I've got a notwork set up. That's a home network that is extremely secure from outside intrustion because it won't do shit. Everytime I hook up my router to my cable modem, it loses the interwebs connection. It doesn't matter what order I try rebooting, I'm stumped.

I wish I could get one of them there swell free hub. Unfortunately, I need one of those real geeks to fly over here on Virgin Atlantic and hook the bad boy up for me. It's really frustrating.

I'm not even sweating the speedtest. I know it'll work like a charm, but for some reason it's doing zip. I may need to get a crowbar if this keeps up all weekend.

Anyone else have something that just simply won't work no matter what you do? Besides your brother-in-law on the couch I mean.