New look
As you can see, his Shurbbiness messed around with the format. Let me know how you like it.
A tribute to the godfather...and interplanetary funksmanship
Oh yeah, put a glide in your stride and a dip in your as we prepare to land the mothership.
The P-funk connection is in full effect as we pay homage to the godfather of funk, the immortal George Clinton.
He whom presides over a nation of funk, one nation under a groove, the great Dr. Funkenstein, dedicated to the preservation of the motion of hips.
So if you concentrate and focus the funk in your junk, you just might land the mothership. But have your boarding passes ready because the ship has limited seating. Only those who are down with the funk are permitted.
Enlightenment is eminent if you free your consciousness and feel the rhythm and the rhyme.
After the mothership comes you better be ready to ride, because it’s gonna tear the roof off the mother…
Put your tray tables in the upright and locked position as we prepare for takeoff. If you look out the window you’ll see the eminent Atomic Dog. Then The P’s mortal enemies, Sir Nosedevoidoffunk and the ominous Maggot Brain, will try to ground the ship but if you’ve achieved proper funk enlightenment they will be defeated.
With the help of the Funkateers, Uncle Jam, Starchild, Bootsy’s Rubber Band, and Bootzilla, we will reclaim the pyramids…because no one is too cool to dance.
Free your mind and your ass will follow because mother earth is pregnant a third time.
Starchild, armed with his bop gun, shall bestow funkentelechy upon humanity, ridding us of the stench of unfunkiness.
So we journey to Atlantis, a place where you can swim under water without getting wet, where Mr. Wiggles will return the funk to Sir Nose, who dances the aqua boogie.
And as always we return to the side of the godfather of funk, George Clinton. Motown spawned this creative genius as the New Jersey native dropped a bomb on our musical consciousness that would resonate to seismic proportions.
In the late 60’s early 70’s Clinton convened the Parlaiment-Funkadelic, truly a cosmic convergence. And the denizens of funk were whipped into frenzy.
Such ground-breaking musicians as Eddie Hazel, Bootsy Collins, Michael Hampton, and Bernie Worrell fueled a musical revolution that would stoke the fires of rap & hip hop, 80’s funk, alternative (particularly the Red Hot Chili Peppers), and modern day R&B.
There’s a reason why this group of funkaholics were inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1997 and have been deified as one of the best bands of all time by every publication from SPIN Magazine to Rolling Stone…they are that damn good.
As we bring this ride to a halt we train our eyes to the speaker system and pray they don’t blow. Put on Cosmic Slop and crank it to a truly righteous level as this is the only way to properly pay homage to one of music’s true pioneers.
Put a glide in your stride and a dip in your hip…because nobody is too cool to dance.
Illegal immigration...the solution
As a self-proclaimed free thinker I pride myself on coming up with unique solutions to divisive issues. And no topic on the political landscape, save perhaps abortion and capital punishment, engenders the passion and fury as that of immigration. Yet this most discordant of issues is not without an amicable solution.
The United States shares the longest continuous border in the world with Canada, coincidentally the longest non-militarized border on Earth. But those kooky Canucks are staying on their side of the line so we’ll discuss this boundary at a later date…if ever.
The U.S.-Mexico border is the most traversed international boundary in the world, both in terms of legal and illegal crossings…fully 250,000,000 per year. 2,000 miles of border being treated like a hopscotch table, equating to 125,000 crossings per mile per year.
And illegal immigration has become the hot button topic of the upcoming presidential campaign.
So, in my continued effort to think outside the box whilst enlightening the masses as to my evil genius, I’ve devised a fool proof and egalitarian approach to stemming the tide of illegal crossings along our southern border.
The eastern half of the U.S.-Mexico border, the Rio Grand, travels 1,254 miles from just upstream from El Paso, Texas, to the Gulf of Mexico. Millions upon millions of illegal crossings occur along the Rio Grand every year.
Here’s how we deal with this part of the U.S.-Mexico border. We find a handful of the best zoologists and big game hunters in the country and send them on safari in Africa. We give them a ton of bait and tranquilizer darts and send them after the deadly Nile crocodile. These nasty reptiles can grow to eighteen feet in length and reach a weight of 2,000 pounds. They are one of the most efficient killing machines ever on earth, quite capable of devouring a human, and the bite of a Nile crocodile has been measured at 3,000 pounds per square inch. Our intrepid hunters and zoologists will trap thousands of those buggers and transport them to the Rio Grand. Then for added fun, we send a bunch of fishermen with big nets to the Amazon River in South America where they can catch thousands of the legendary piranhas. These blood thirsty fish can strip a capybara corpse of every ounce of flesh in twelve minutes.
The Rio will be transformed from a placid, gentle river to a tempest of teeth and bad attitudes.
Now that we’ve taken care of border security for Texas, we need to address the remaining 750 miles of land border. You are gonna love this…
You buy a ton of paint, day-glow orange, and clearly mark the rest of the border. You then create a ten mile buffer zone that is marked off in a giant grid, not unlike a giant bingo card. Throughout this zone you plant millions of landmines, and mark them…incorrectly. Now here is the kicker…you install video cameras every quarter mile and televise the festivities. People can bet on which square the unfortunate border jumpers land when they trip a mine. You call it “Immigration Bingo”.
Anyone that runs this gauntlet of border security is immediately issued an immigration visa and starts on the fast track to U.S. citizenship.
This solution is beautiful in its simplicity, cost effectiveness, and deterrent effect. It’s a win, win. It’s whimsical. It’s perfect.
The United States shares the longest continuous border in the world with Canada, coincidentally the longest non-militarized border on Earth. But those kooky Canucks are staying on their side of the line so we’ll discuss this boundary at a later date…if ever.
The U.S.-Mexico border is the most traversed international boundary in the world, both in terms of legal and illegal crossings…fully 250,000,000 per year. 2,000 miles of border being treated like a hopscotch table, equating to 125,000 crossings per mile per year.
And illegal immigration has become the hot button topic of the upcoming presidential campaign.
So, in my continued effort to think outside the box whilst enlightening the masses as to my evil genius, I’ve devised a fool proof and egalitarian approach to stemming the tide of illegal crossings along our southern border.
The eastern half of the U.S.-Mexico border, the Rio Grand, travels 1,254 miles from just upstream from El Paso, Texas, to the Gulf of Mexico. Millions upon millions of illegal crossings occur along the Rio Grand every year.
Here’s how we deal with this part of the U.S.-Mexico border. We find a handful of the best zoologists and big game hunters in the country and send them on safari in Africa. We give them a ton of bait and tranquilizer darts and send them after the deadly Nile crocodile. These nasty reptiles can grow to eighteen feet in length and reach a weight of 2,000 pounds. They are one of the most efficient killing machines ever on earth, quite capable of devouring a human, and the bite of a Nile crocodile has been measured at 3,000 pounds per square inch. Our intrepid hunters and zoologists will trap thousands of those buggers and transport them to the Rio Grand. Then for added fun, we send a bunch of fishermen with big nets to the Amazon River in South America where they can catch thousands of the legendary piranhas. These blood thirsty fish can strip a capybara corpse of every ounce of flesh in twelve minutes.
The Rio will be transformed from a placid, gentle river to a tempest of teeth and bad attitudes.
Now that we’ve taken care of border security for Texas, we need to address the remaining 750 miles of land border. You are gonna love this…
You buy a ton of paint, day-glow orange, and clearly mark the rest of the border. You then create a ten mile buffer zone that is marked off in a giant grid, not unlike a giant bingo card. Throughout this zone you plant millions of landmines, and mark them…incorrectly. Now here is the kicker…you install video cameras every quarter mile and televise the festivities. People can bet on which square the unfortunate border jumpers land when they trip a mine. You call it “Immigration Bingo”.
Anyone that runs this gauntlet of border security is immediately issued an immigration visa and starts on the fast track to U.S. citizenship.
This solution is beautiful in its simplicity, cost effectiveness, and deterrent effect. It’s a win, win. It’s whimsical. It’s perfect.
Paging Dr. Paul
Ladies and gentlemen I give you electoral imbecility, brought to you by those Bush The Lesser pseudo-conservative boot lickers over at National Review’s The Corner…
Rick Brookhiser on those despicable Ron Paul supporters…
The myopic disdain is dripping from Rick’s fangs like drool from those wicked Alien Trilogy monsters. This faction of mindless sycophants can’t stand the mere thought of a card carrying Republican whose mission it is to rock the proverbial boat and…*gasp*…pay heed to the Constitution.
Dr. Ron Paul is threatening the very establishment that brought us three presidential administrations that wiped their collective asses with the Constitution. And this snarling, duplicitous cabal, Sean Hannity, every contributor to the National Review, Fred Barnes, and Rush Limbaugh are, as Brookhiser did, likening Ron Paul supporters to flies and Dr. Paul to excrement.
In this day and age of “compassionate conservatism”, a term only applicable if uttered via our current President’s forked tongue, the strong arm of the GOP and its mouthpieces choose to do that which they profess to revile, insult and denigrate the opposition.
In a Republican field replete with big government, wolves in sheep’s clothing neo-con debutants with barely a passing appreciation for the Constitution and the restraints it puts on federal government Dr. Paul is the sole voice of sanity in a constant dirge of neo-con rhetoric. And I use the term “neo-con” with as much disdain as I can possibly muster.
Brookhiser goes further to denigrate the improbable single day record for campaign fund raising the Ron Paul movement set on November 5, implying that those who were part of this avalanche of support were just a bunch of wackos who wanted to see the reincarnation of Guy Fawkes, the guy that tried to blow up the British Parliament building in London. They were just a bunch of kooks who thought that the movie V For Vendetta was a documentary or prophecy.
These neo-cons will stop at nothing to ensure their cozy niche is not in any way disturbed, if that means rampant character assassination towards millions of Paul supporters and ad hominem attacks at Dr. Paul himself, then so be it. Their duplicity knows no bounds.
If for no other reason than to ruffle the feathers of a bunch of preening obsequious suck ups I will gleefully cast a write-in vote for Ron Paul for president in November 2008. That and I agree with nearly every thing he says.
In this day & age of glorified beauty contests otherwise called general elections Dr. Paul is a refreshing blend of honesty and insightfulness. His no fear approach to the process is unique and unseen since 1980 when Ronald Reagan bucked the establishment by running on a similar platform to Ron Paul.
If you want tighter border control and a visit back to the days of yore when the Constitution was more than a glitzy tourist attraction then vote for Ron Paul. If not, by all means, return the status quo to power and shut the f**k up when it blows up in your face.
Rick Brookhiser on those despicable Ron Paul supporters…
I used the phrase a few months back when Ron Paul supporters jeered Giuliani on the Mackinac ferry, asking him what he did with the gold that was in the World Trade towers, before the U.S. government destroyed them. That is both wicked and idiotic…
The first episode featured truthers, the second appealed to hell-with-it libertarians (in the Seventies, they dropped acid and read the Illuminatus trilogy; thirty years have not improved them). Both have flocked to the Paul campaign like flies to waste.
The myopic disdain is dripping from Rick’s fangs like drool from those wicked Alien Trilogy monsters. This faction of mindless sycophants can’t stand the mere thought of a card carrying Republican whose mission it is to rock the proverbial boat and…*gasp*…pay heed to the Constitution.
Dr. Ron Paul is threatening the very establishment that brought us three presidential administrations that wiped their collective asses with the Constitution. And this snarling, duplicitous cabal, Sean Hannity, every contributor to the National Review, Fred Barnes, and Rush Limbaugh are, as Brookhiser did, likening Ron Paul supporters to flies and Dr. Paul to excrement.
In this day and age of “compassionate conservatism”, a term only applicable if uttered via our current President’s forked tongue, the strong arm of the GOP and its mouthpieces choose to do that which they profess to revile, insult and denigrate the opposition.
In a Republican field replete with big government, wolves in sheep’s clothing neo-con debutants with barely a passing appreciation for the Constitution and the restraints it puts on federal government Dr. Paul is the sole voice of sanity in a constant dirge of neo-con rhetoric. And I use the term “neo-con” with as much disdain as I can possibly muster.
Brookhiser goes further to denigrate the improbable single day record for campaign fund raising the Ron Paul movement set on November 5, implying that those who were part of this avalanche of support were just a bunch of wackos who wanted to see the reincarnation of Guy Fawkes, the guy that tried to blow up the British Parliament building in London. They were just a bunch of kooks who thought that the movie V For Vendetta was a documentary or prophecy.
These neo-cons will stop at nothing to ensure their cozy niche is not in any way disturbed, if that means rampant character assassination towards millions of Paul supporters and ad hominem attacks at Dr. Paul himself, then so be it. Their duplicity knows no bounds.
If for no other reason than to ruffle the feathers of a bunch of preening obsequious suck ups I will gleefully cast a write-in vote for Ron Paul for president in November 2008. That and I agree with nearly every thing he says.
In this day & age of glorified beauty contests otherwise called general elections Dr. Paul is a refreshing blend of honesty and insightfulness. His no fear approach to the process is unique and unseen since 1980 when Ronald Reagan bucked the establishment by running on a similar platform to Ron Paul.
If you want tighter border control and a visit back to the days of yore when the Constitution was more than a glitzy tourist attraction then vote for Ron Paul. If not, by all means, return the status quo to power and shut the f**k up when it blows up in your face.
HAPPY TURKEY HOLOCAUST DAY!!!
I hope you and yours did your best to exercise your role at the top of the evolutionary ladder by hastening the demise of innocent turkies and inhaling pounds of stuffing, mashed taters, and a bathtub full of gravy. I know my abdomen was quite distended for a while...then came the pumpkin pie. Good lord I'm stuffed...food coma doth hitteth me hardeth.
Take care y'all...HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Take care y'all...HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Best live bands ever
Pearl Jam just takes the stage and belts out one fine song after another...
Seeing George Clinton live on the Lolapalooza tour was akin to a religious experience...
I'm telling you, nobody, I mean nobody, thunders on stage like Ministry...I know this isn't a true live video but it captures the frenetic experience it is to see Al Jourgenson's antics and bathe in the music...
Fishbone was a very underrated band who were AMAZING live...
No band brings the angry energy that Rage Against The Machine does...Tom Morrelo is a guiter god...
True story...me and a couple friends went mountain biking back in 89-90, we found an old trail, hardly used. We followed it to the end and were at the legendary Red Rocks Ampitheater, the best outdoor concert venue on the planet. So I saw Metallica on this, the And Justice For All tour, for free...
I saw The Violent Femmes at the Paramount here in Denver in 1987 (I think), and they are captivating in concert...
The best concert I've ever been to was Prince in the round at the Pepsi Center here in Denver....the guy can throw down in concert.
Seeing George Clinton live on the Lolapalooza tour was akin to a religious experience...
I'm telling you, nobody, I mean nobody, thunders on stage like Ministry...I know this isn't a true live video but it captures the frenetic experience it is to see Al Jourgenson's antics and bathe in the music...
Fishbone was a very underrated band who were AMAZING live...
No band brings the angry energy that Rage Against The Machine does...Tom Morrelo is a guiter god...
True story...me and a couple friends went mountain biking back in 89-90, we found an old trail, hardly used. We followed it to the end and were at the legendary Red Rocks Ampitheater, the best outdoor concert venue on the planet. So I saw Metallica on this, the And Justice For All tour, for free...
I saw The Violent Femmes at the Paramount here in Denver in 1987 (I think), and they are captivating in concert...
The best concert I've ever been to was Prince in the round at the Pepsi Center here in Denver....the guy can throw down in concert.
Greatest action sequences ever
As a self-professed movie nut I love compiling lists...and through the magic of YOUTUBE I can bring these scenes to you in vived color. So, respect the moment and crank your volume up to a righteous level and enjoy.
1. Without a doubt the best action sequence of all time is from Apocalypse Now...you can probably guess the scene...
2. This next scene is the best shootout ever recorded...Al Pacino & Robert DeNiro are just cool.
3. I had trouble not ranking this scene #1...it's the final chase sequence from The Road Warrior.
pt.1
pt.2
4. Fight scenes are a staple of any action flick, and this sequence is arguably the best opening fight scene of all time.
5. Matt Damon has blossumed into perhaps the best action star out there, and here is the unforgettable chase scene from The Bourne Identity.
6. This is the best foot chase ever...from the newest James Bond film, Casino Royale. WARNING: If you have vertigo or are afraid of heights, watch at your own risk.
7. It is true, a stuntman was killed during the filming of this scene but it is too stirring and gripping to leave off the list...I give you the chariot race from Ben Hur.
8. Though historically completely inaccurate the movie 300 was visually spectacular.
9. This scene is awesome visually...Enter the Dragon, end fight.
10. This next clip is a conglomeration of fight scenes from the 2003 version of Zatoichi and shows why you never should mess with a blind monk.
11. Foreign films capture in surreal fashion the grit and beauty of action cinema, and no movie was better at this than the French film Brotherhood Of The Wolf.
12. Ya gotta love fight scenes, especially when Jet Li is throwin' down. Here is the final fight in Romeo Must Die.
13. No countdown of great action scenes would be complete without the iconic car chase from Steve McQueen's Bullitt.
14. This next scene may go down as the best battle scene of all time, the charge of the Rohirrim from Return Of The King.
15. Raiders Of The Lost Ark started by grabbing the nape of your neck and never letting go.
16. Quite simply the lobby shootout in The Matrix was the coolest and most innovative scene of its kind to date.
17. For sheer imagery and coolness no fight scene beats the skeleton battle from Jason And The Argonauts.
More lists in the future...
1. Without a doubt the best action sequence of all time is from Apocalypse Now...you can probably guess the scene...
2. This next scene is the best shootout ever recorded...Al Pacino & Robert DeNiro are just cool.
3. I had trouble not ranking this scene #1...it's the final chase sequence from The Road Warrior.
pt.1
pt.2
4. Fight scenes are a staple of any action flick, and this sequence is arguably the best opening fight scene of all time.
5. Matt Damon has blossumed into perhaps the best action star out there, and here is the unforgettable chase scene from The Bourne Identity.
6. This is the best foot chase ever...from the newest James Bond film, Casino Royale. WARNING: If you have vertigo or are afraid of heights, watch at your own risk.
7. It is true, a stuntman was killed during the filming of this scene but it is too stirring and gripping to leave off the list...I give you the chariot race from Ben Hur.
8. Though historically completely inaccurate the movie 300 was visually spectacular.
9. This scene is awesome visually...Enter the Dragon, end fight.
10. This next clip is a conglomeration of fight scenes from the 2003 version of Zatoichi and shows why you never should mess with a blind monk.
11. Foreign films capture in surreal fashion the grit and beauty of action cinema, and no movie was better at this than the French film Brotherhood Of The Wolf.
12. Ya gotta love fight scenes, especially when Jet Li is throwin' down. Here is the final fight in Romeo Must Die.
13. No countdown of great action scenes would be complete without the iconic car chase from Steve McQueen's Bullitt.
14. This next scene may go down as the best battle scene of all time, the charge of the Rohirrim from Return Of The King.
15. Raiders Of The Lost Ark started by grabbing the nape of your neck and never letting go.
16. Quite simply the lobby shootout in The Matrix was the coolest and most innovative scene of its kind to date.
17. For sheer imagery and coolness no fight scene beats the skeleton battle from Jason And The Argonauts.
More lists in the future...
If only Frankie were here...
He'd sing my new balad inspired by a certain student at the University of Florida...ladies and gentlemen, I give you TASERS IN THE NIGHT
Tasers in the night
Delivering ‘lectric shocks
Wondering who the hell in the night
Oh it was the UF cops
Something in your hand was so frightening
Something in your hand made me ride the lightning
Something in your hand
Dropped my ass to the floor
Tasers in the night, two metal prongs
We felt the tasers in the night
At that moment
When the security grabbed me
I knew the feel of electricity
Jail was just a glance away
As a jolt made me wanna pee
Ever since that morning not too long ago
When I pled, “Don’t tase me bro”
It turned out not right
With that taser in the night
Tasers in the night
Delivering ‘lectric shocks
Wondering who the hell in the night
Oh it was the UF cops
Something in your hand was so frightening
Something in your hand made me ride the lightning
Something in your hand
Dropped my ass to the floor
Tasers in the night, two metal prongs
We felt the tasers in the night
At that moment
When the security grabbed me
I knew the feel of electricity
Jail was just a glance away
As a jolt made me wanna pee
Ever since that morning not too long ago
When I pled, “Don’t tase me bro”
It turned out not right
With that taser in the night
Monday hilarity
I’d like to be able to jam a stick up the neighbor dog’s ass and use that yapping little bastard as a dust mop.
I’d like to use a cat as a chamois when my van gets waxed.
I wish someone would pay me to look up porn…I’d be a freakin’ billionaire.
The Dachshund, Chihuahua, Pug, Pomeranian, Whippet, and the Hairless Terrier are all the product of dog breeding experiments gone awry. Can a dachshund climb the stairs with an erection? If you plant a Chihuahua in the ground eight weeks later a Great Dane pops up. If you kick a Pug in the nuts his eyes will shoot out of its skull. If you get a Pomeranian wet it will disappear. I had a friend who got pulled over by the police because her Whippet was causing an obstructed view…you could hang that thing from the mirror. The Hairless Terrier looks like a poodle dipped in Nair. If
Two gimps, both quadriplegic, one girl and one guy, are in bed together. The girl looks at the guy and asks, “Was it good for you?” The guy replies, “How the fuck would I know!”
What do you call a quadriplegic in a bath tub? Stu
In a pool? Bob
On a horse? Buck
Behind a speed boat? Skip
On a hill? Cliff
On a pile of leaves? Russell
In a hole? Phil.
In a mail box? Bill
On the wall? Art
In front of a door? Matt.
In a church? Neal
In a strip club? Barrett
At a cemetery? Barry
In a lettuce patch? Caesar
On a beach? Sandy
In a wheel barrow? Carrie
At a poker Table? Chance
More to come…
Rumor has it the lights of the Wal-Mart signs contain mind altering gamma rays that render millions helpless against the lure of shitty products sold by bitter people suffering through the acrimony of minimum wage and pigeon English.
Ever stop and think what it would have been like to look up and see Wonder Woman flying across the sky in her clear jet? Her weapon was the Lasso of Truth. Had yours truly been tied up by that lasso I would have gleefully admitted, “Yes, I love looking at your boobs! And I masturbate frequently to your picture. I’d eat the corn out of your excrement and gargle with your bath water. I’ll douche you with my saliva. Please spank me, I’m a naughty boy.” With her red leather boots and tasteful attire you get where the hookers of the world got the idea for clear heals and skimpy clothes.
I’d like to use a cat as a chamois when my van gets waxed.
I wish someone would pay me to look up porn…I’d be a freakin’ billionaire.
The Dachshund, Chihuahua, Pug, Pomeranian, Whippet, and the Hairless Terrier are all the product of dog breeding experiments gone awry. Can a dachshund climb the stairs with an erection? If you plant a Chihuahua in the ground eight weeks later a Great Dane pops up. If you kick a Pug in the nuts his eyes will shoot out of its skull. If you get a Pomeranian wet it will disappear. I had a friend who got pulled over by the police because her Whippet was causing an obstructed view…you could hang that thing from the mirror. The Hairless Terrier looks like a poodle dipped in Nair. If
Two gimps, both quadriplegic, one girl and one guy, are in bed together. The girl looks at the guy and asks, “Was it good for you?” The guy replies, “How the fuck would I know!”
What do you call a quadriplegic in a bath tub? Stu
In a pool? Bob
On a horse? Buck
Behind a speed boat? Skip
On a hill? Cliff
On a pile of leaves? Russell
In a hole? Phil.
In a mail box? Bill
On the wall? Art
In front of a door? Matt.
In a church? Neal
In a strip club? Barrett
At a cemetery? Barry
In a lettuce patch? Caesar
On a beach? Sandy
In a wheel barrow? Carrie
At a poker Table? Chance
More to come…
Rumor has it the lights of the Wal-Mart signs contain mind altering gamma rays that render millions helpless against the lure of shitty products sold by bitter people suffering through the acrimony of minimum wage and pigeon English.
Ever stop and think what it would have been like to look up and see Wonder Woman flying across the sky in her clear jet? Her weapon was the Lasso of Truth. Had yours truly been tied up by that lasso I would have gleefully admitted, “Yes, I love looking at your boobs! And I masturbate frequently to your picture. I’d eat the corn out of your excrement and gargle with your bath water. I’ll douche you with my saliva. Please spank me, I’m a naughty boy.” With her red leather boots and tasteful attire you get where the hookers of the world got the idea for clear heals and skimpy clothes.
Deconstructing the war in Iraq
As a patriot and staunch supporter of our troops I can no longer sit idly by as the current President and Congress of the United States continues to put those young men & women in harm’s way.
Now, since we invaded Iraq over four years ago debating the rationale for the war is somewhat a moot point. But what’s not moot is the wisdom of keeping the troops there. A recent opinion poll in Iraq showed that 85-87% of Iraqis want us to pull out our armed forces in a year and 47% want us gone now. According to a March 2007 poll of 2000 Iraqis conducted by the BBC , 51% of the population consider attacks on coalition forces "acceptable," up from 17% in 2004 and 35% in 2006; 64% described their family's economic situation as being somewhat or very bad, up from 30% in 2005; 88% described the availability of electricity as being either somewhat or very bad, up from 65% in 2004; 69% described the availability of clean water as somewhat or very bad, up from 48% in 2004; 88% described the availability of fuel for cooking and driving as being somewhat or very bad; 58% described reconstruction efforts in the area in which they live as either somewhat or very ineffective, and 9% described them as being totally nonexistent. So I ask, why are we still maintaining a military presence in Iraq?
When the so-called escalation/surge reaches its goal fully 180,000 troops will be stationed in Iraq, a country of 437,000 square miles, roughly the size of Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico combined. During the Vietnam War, our largest troop commitment was 1.2 million in a country with 362,000 square miles, roughly the size of Montana and Wyoming combined. Only 189,000 are deployed now in the combat zones of Iraq and Afghanistan. Even the post-surge troop levels will be inadequate. In 1998 U.S. Marine General Anthony Zinni estimated a full-scale invasion of Iraq would require 400,000 soldiers and Army Chief Of Staff General Eric Shinseki stated before a Senate Armed Services Committee in February of 2003 that an invasion force should number “several hundred thousand.” Our leaders in Washington are trying a nation building experiment on two fronts with a skeleton crew.
Historically nation building is successful barely 25% of the time and never if the U.S. is making the attempt, and prolonged occupation has an even more dismal track record. Even Rudyard Kipling warned of the dangers of such a practice in his poem “The White Man’s Burden”. This is the French concept of “Noblesse Obglige”, literally means nobility obligates. Via such a theory our station as a civilized and affluent nation obliges us to help the impoverished nations. It is the whole Spider Manesque, “with great power comes great responsibility” thing.
To this I say, “Bullshit!” It is neither this nation’s duty nor its responsibility to install democracy around the globe. Nor is it our duty to wade into a humanitarian nightmare like a knight on a white horse and save humanity. We are not the arbiters of morality for the entire globe. If this were the case we’d be occupying Sudan/Darfur, the same country that incidentally/allegedly sold uranium to Iraq.
Now, there are those on both sides of the isle that would have us prolong our military presence in Iraq indefinitely. Some on the left contend it is our moral obligation to stay since we were dumb enough to invade in the first place. Some on the right, especially Bush’s supporters, contend that the power vacuum created by our departure would create chaos and lead to the slaughter of innocents as well as open the door for a terrorist regime or other occupying force.
They’re both wrong.
Our primary moral obligation lay in protecting our sovereignty as a nation. And since Iraq and the surrounding nations pose little threat to our nation status our troops need not be there. So far our government has spent over $400 billion on the war with $50 billion more coming from Congress. This in addition to the potentially $600 billion tab to rehabilitate the wounded. The total cost from four years of occupation is potentially $1,000,000,000,000 with 3,700 dead and 8,100 wounded. This exorbitant cost with little to show in the way of accomplished objectives (I know Sadam Hussein is now in our custody) seems to be prohibitively steep, especially when you consider the zero level threat Iraq poses to our sovereignty.
By far the most numerous and vociferous supporters of a continuation of the War in Iraq are from the Republican Party and their supporters, most of whom fancy themselves right wingers. One of their theories in support of the U.S. staying to prevent a power vacuum is the parallel analogy of our departure from Vietnam and the subsequent genocide in Cambodia as a direct consequence of a “cut and run” policy. This analogy is specious. The Khmer Rouge rose to power in the late 1960’s, due in no small part to Richard Nixon’s decision to suspend economic aid to Cambodia in 1973 and the flawed bombing campaign between 1965-73 that targeted rural areas and fostered resentment among the peasants who constituted the bulk of Khmer Rouge membership. Additionally, the Cambodian Civil War started in 1967 and contributed greatly to the ascendancy of Pol Pot and his Khmer Empire. The seeds for the Killing Fields were planted well before our withdrawal from Vietnam in 1975 and to suggest otherwise is a display of historical ignorance.
The war supporters from the right also contend that withdrawal from Iraq will lead to the ascendancy of a terrorist state the likes of which has never been seen. This contention is plausible but unlikely. The most likely scenario following our troop withdrawal would be years of civil war between the Sunnis, Shiites, and Kurds. Iran would undoubtedly stoke the fires of acrimony and possibly install a puppet regime after the fog of war lifted, thus taking advantage of their economic superiority and military strength. Iran would then become the dominant force in the Middle East. But this scenario hardly portends to the destruction of our nation. Yes, terrorism in this country would escalate but not at the expense of our independence. Even if Iraq were to become a haven for terrorists that dry parcel would still not be the den of evil that Indonesia, Pakistan, China, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Chile, Libya, and Russia have become. We ally ourselves with Pakistan, the very nation who sold nuclear technology to North Korea and ignore their long established dalliances in state sponsored terror, we turn a blind eye to China’s subjugation of its own people and Tibet, we conveniently forget that the 9/11 conspirators were all Saudi nationals, and we continue relations with Russia despite their interference in foreign elections and Putin’s dissolution of Russian Parliament. But somehow in the eyes of many Iraq still constitutes now and forever the clearest and most present danger to our nation status.
I cannot in clear conscience support a doomed foreign policy and a flawed war effort. The troops on the ground in Iraq are impossibly brave men and women fighting a war that their leaders in Washington seem utterly incapable of planning for or executing properly. If you leave our best and bravest their for the foreseeable future give them the resources necessary to be successful; escalate our troop count in the region by at least 250,000, finish the job in Iraq before even contemplating war with Iran, give the soldiers the proper equipment and logistical support necessary, and stop trying to fight the war from half a globe away. If those in Washington aren’t prepared to do all those things then we need to bring our troops home…now.
Now, since we invaded Iraq over four years ago debating the rationale for the war is somewhat a moot point. But what’s not moot is the wisdom of keeping the troops there. A recent opinion poll in Iraq showed that 85-87% of Iraqis want us to pull out our armed forces in a year and 47% want us gone now. According to a March 2007 poll of 2000 Iraqis conducted by the BBC , 51% of the population consider attacks on coalition forces "acceptable," up from 17% in 2004 and 35% in 2006; 64% described their family's economic situation as being somewhat or very bad, up from 30% in 2005; 88% described the availability of electricity as being either somewhat or very bad, up from 65% in 2004; 69% described the availability of clean water as somewhat or very bad, up from 48% in 2004; 88% described the availability of fuel for cooking and driving as being somewhat or very bad; 58% described reconstruction efforts in the area in which they live as either somewhat or very ineffective, and 9% described them as being totally nonexistent. So I ask, why are we still maintaining a military presence in Iraq?
When the so-called escalation/surge reaches its goal fully 180,000 troops will be stationed in Iraq, a country of 437,000 square miles, roughly the size of Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico combined. During the Vietnam War, our largest troop commitment was 1.2 million in a country with 362,000 square miles, roughly the size of Montana and Wyoming combined. Only 189,000 are deployed now in the combat zones of Iraq and Afghanistan. Even the post-surge troop levels will be inadequate. In 1998 U.S. Marine General Anthony Zinni estimated a full-scale invasion of Iraq would require 400,000 soldiers and Army Chief Of Staff General Eric Shinseki stated before a Senate Armed Services Committee in February of 2003 that an invasion force should number “several hundred thousand.” Our leaders in Washington are trying a nation building experiment on two fronts with a skeleton crew.
Historically nation building is successful barely 25% of the time and never if the U.S. is making the attempt, and prolonged occupation has an even more dismal track record. Even Rudyard Kipling warned of the dangers of such a practice in his poem “The White Man’s Burden”. This is the French concept of “Noblesse Obglige”, literally means nobility obligates. Via such a theory our station as a civilized and affluent nation obliges us to help the impoverished nations. It is the whole Spider Manesque, “with great power comes great responsibility” thing.
To this I say, “Bullshit!” It is neither this nation’s duty nor its responsibility to install democracy around the globe. Nor is it our duty to wade into a humanitarian nightmare like a knight on a white horse and save humanity. We are not the arbiters of morality for the entire globe. If this were the case we’d be occupying Sudan/Darfur, the same country that incidentally/allegedly sold uranium to Iraq.
Now, there are those on both sides of the isle that would have us prolong our military presence in Iraq indefinitely. Some on the left contend it is our moral obligation to stay since we were dumb enough to invade in the first place. Some on the right, especially Bush’s supporters, contend that the power vacuum created by our departure would create chaos and lead to the slaughter of innocents as well as open the door for a terrorist regime or other occupying force.
They’re both wrong.
Our primary moral obligation lay in protecting our sovereignty as a nation. And since Iraq and the surrounding nations pose little threat to our nation status our troops need not be there. So far our government has spent over $400 billion on the war with $50 billion more coming from Congress. This in addition to the potentially $600 billion tab to rehabilitate the wounded. The total cost from four years of occupation is potentially $1,000,000,000,000 with 3,700 dead and 8,100 wounded. This exorbitant cost with little to show in the way of accomplished objectives (I know Sadam Hussein is now in our custody) seems to be prohibitively steep, especially when you consider the zero level threat Iraq poses to our sovereignty.
By far the most numerous and vociferous supporters of a continuation of the War in Iraq are from the Republican Party and their supporters, most of whom fancy themselves right wingers. One of their theories in support of the U.S. staying to prevent a power vacuum is the parallel analogy of our departure from Vietnam and the subsequent genocide in Cambodia as a direct consequence of a “cut and run” policy. This analogy is specious. The Khmer Rouge rose to power in the late 1960’s, due in no small part to Richard Nixon’s decision to suspend economic aid to Cambodia in 1973 and the flawed bombing campaign between 1965-73 that targeted rural areas and fostered resentment among the peasants who constituted the bulk of Khmer Rouge membership. Additionally, the Cambodian Civil War started in 1967 and contributed greatly to the ascendancy of Pol Pot and his Khmer Empire. The seeds for the Killing Fields were planted well before our withdrawal from Vietnam in 1975 and to suggest otherwise is a display of historical ignorance.
The war supporters from the right also contend that withdrawal from Iraq will lead to the ascendancy of a terrorist state the likes of which has never been seen. This contention is plausible but unlikely. The most likely scenario following our troop withdrawal would be years of civil war between the Sunnis, Shiites, and Kurds. Iran would undoubtedly stoke the fires of acrimony and possibly install a puppet regime after the fog of war lifted, thus taking advantage of their economic superiority and military strength. Iran would then become the dominant force in the Middle East. But this scenario hardly portends to the destruction of our nation. Yes, terrorism in this country would escalate but not at the expense of our independence. Even if Iraq were to become a haven for terrorists that dry parcel would still not be the den of evil that Indonesia, Pakistan, China, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Chile, Libya, and Russia have become. We ally ourselves with Pakistan, the very nation who sold nuclear technology to North Korea and ignore their long established dalliances in state sponsored terror, we turn a blind eye to China’s subjugation of its own people and Tibet, we conveniently forget that the 9/11 conspirators were all Saudi nationals, and we continue relations with Russia despite their interference in foreign elections and Putin’s dissolution of Russian Parliament. But somehow in the eyes of many Iraq still constitutes now and forever the clearest and most present danger to our nation status.
I cannot in clear conscience support a doomed foreign policy and a flawed war effort. The troops on the ground in Iraq are impossibly brave men and women fighting a war that their leaders in Washington seem utterly incapable of planning for or executing properly. If you leave our best and bravest their for the foreseeable future give them the resources necessary to be successful; escalate our troop count in the region by at least 250,000, finish the job in Iraq before even contemplating war with Iran, give the soldiers the proper equipment and logistical support necessary, and stop trying to fight the war from half a globe away. If those in Washington aren’t prepared to do all those things then we need to bring our troops home…now.
The tangled webs we weave...
As a purveyor of the ridiculous I naturally gravitate towards researching various conspiracy theories, just for shits & giggles. So, in my journey through the Internet I stumbled upon some choice wing nuts, you know, those guys that believed the movie Signs was a documentary.
One such loon was David Icke. This Twinkie has forwarded some truly mind boggling theories.
Among his theories is a belief in the Illuminati. This theory states that there are approximately 300 individuals who run global dealings, the hand that rocks the throne. These enterprising few are descendent from an Enlightenment group from late 18th Century Bavaria and may be direct heirs of Charlemagne. Their organization, the so-called “New World Order” rules global political and economic affairs from a western hemisphere headquarters six stories beneath Denver International Airport and an unknown eastern headquarters. I guess the trippy ass murals at DIA are the hallmark of the NOW, along with the “All Seeing Eye” on the American $1 bill. Apparently this organization is planning to install one global government through a series of tactical assassinations and political, military, and economic shit storms.
Wait, this gets better. Somewhere around 1990 Icke had a medium, some loon named Betty Shine, tell him he was sent to heal the world. His experience was so far out even the Green Party disavowed their association with Icke. Then in 1991 Icke stated, “I am a channel for the Christ spirit. The title was given to me very recently by the Godhead.” He later claimed to be the son of God, not in the literal sense but in the part of a collective fashion. His qualifier came too late as his reputation was inalterably tarnished.
Oh yes, the story is far from over. After his ignominious fall from grace Icke began forwarding yet another theory. His Illuminati theory was to get even loopier. According to Icke some members of the Global Elite are actually sentient lizard people from the constellation Draco. These “Prison Warders” can assume human form because their DNA allows them to shape shift and they’ve cross bred with humans, and if they consume human blood they can freely walk amongst us. Lizard folk include Hillary Clinton, George H. W. Bush, Queen Elizabeth, Tony Blair, Kris Kristofferson, and Boxcar Willie. Who knew the 1980’s mini-series V was a documentary.
Then there’s the equally outlandish theories of Milton William Cooper. According to Cooper a race of aliens made a treaty with the governments of earth to help squelch knowledge of and witnesses to alien activity here on our planet, the omnipotent alien “His Highness Krill” teleported here to earth to negotiate the treaty. This event spawned the Cold War because the aliens violated the treaty thus forcing the U.S. and U.S.S.R. to collaborate and arm themselves to the teeth to dissuade the pesky aliens from attacking.
Other conspiracy theories forwarded by individuals like Alex Jones hypothesize that the Bilderberg Group, the Tri-lateral Commission, the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, Black Helicopters, Skull & Bones, Scroll & Key, Area 51, TWA Flight 800, Bohemian Grove, and a host of other historical schemes portend the existence of a vast shadow network of tyrannical despots bent on global domination.
Now, I’m not dismissive of the more tenable theories like TWA Flight 800 and the assassination of John F. Kennedy but the premise that a close knit inner sanctum of global elites are running the global show is just cuckoo. By right, in order to pull off such an intricate and vast conspiracy one must endow the perpetrators with super-human intelligence and talent. Hence the lizard alien constructs. Even the Icke’s of this world know that humans are neither smart nor discrete enough to execute and conceal such a plan for centuries. That’s why the Jews don’t rule the world nor do the heirs of Charlemagne, the Knights Templar, the Free Masons, or the Catholic Church. If I’m wrong and one or more of these groups is truly the world’s puppet masters then I say, “Good show!”, because they’ve managed to do what nearly every human has wanted to do…control the world.
I must go now…the Omnipotent Krill is calling.
One such loon was David Icke. This Twinkie has forwarded some truly mind boggling theories.
Among his theories is a belief in the Illuminati. This theory states that there are approximately 300 individuals who run global dealings, the hand that rocks the throne. These enterprising few are descendent from an Enlightenment group from late 18th Century Bavaria and may be direct heirs of Charlemagne. Their organization, the so-called “New World Order” rules global political and economic affairs from a western hemisphere headquarters six stories beneath Denver International Airport and an unknown eastern headquarters. I guess the trippy ass murals at DIA are the hallmark of the NOW, along with the “All Seeing Eye” on the American $1 bill. Apparently this organization is planning to install one global government through a series of tactical assassinations and political, military, and economic shit storms.
Wait, this gets better. Somewhere around 1990 Icke had a medium, some loon named Betty Shine, tell him he was sent to heal the world. His experience was so far out even the Green Party disavowed their association with Icke. Then in 1991 Icke stated, “I am a channel for the Christ spirit. The title was given to me very recently by the Godhead.” He later claimed to be the son of God, not in the literal sense but in the part of a collective fashion. His qualifier came too late as his reputation was inalterably tarnished.
Oh yes, the story is far from over. After his ignominious fall from grace Icke began forwarding yet another theory. His Illuminati theory was to get even loopier. According to Icke some members of the Global Elite are actually sentient lizard people from the constellation Draco. These “Prison Warders” can assume human form because their DNA allows them to shape shift and they’ve cross bred with humans, and if they consume human blood they can freely walk amongst us. Lizard folk include Hillary Clinton, George H. W. Bush, Queen Elizabeth, Tony Blair, Kris Kristofferson, and Boxcar Willie. Who knew the 1980’s mini-series V was a documentary.
Then there’s the equally outlandish theories of Milton William Cooper. According to Cooper a race of aliens made a treaty with the governments of earth to help squelch knowledge of and witnesses to alien activity here on our planet, the omnipotent alien “His Highness Krill” teleported here to earth to negotiate the treaty. This event spawned the Cold War because the aliens violated the treaty thus forcing the U.S. and U.S.S.R. to collaborate and arm themselves to the teeth to dissuade the pesky aliens from attacking.
Other conspiracy theories forwarded by individuals like Alex Jones hypothesize that the Bilderberg Group, the Tri-lateral Commission, the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, Black Helicopters, Skull & Bones, Scroll & Key, Area 51, TWA Flight 800, Bohemian Grove, and a host of other historical schemes portend the existence of a vast shadow network of tyrannical despots bent on global domination.
Now, I’m not dismissive of the more tenable theories like TWA Flight 800 and the assassination of John F. Kennedy but the premise that a close knit inner sanctum of global elites are running the global show is just cuckoo. By right, in order to pull off such an intricate and vast conspiracy one must endow the perpetrators with super-human intelligence and talent. Hence the lizard alien constructs. Even the Icke’s of this world know that humans are neither smart nor discrete enough to execute and conceal such a plan for centuries. That’s why the Jews don’t rule the world nor do the heirs of Charlemagne, the Knights Templar, the Free Masons, or the Catholic Church. If I’m wrong and one or more of these groups is truly the world’s puppet masters then I say, “Good show!”, because they’ve managed to do what nearly every human has wanted to do…control the world.
I must go now…the Omnipotent Krill is calling.
Week 1 pick 'em results
Denver over Buffalo-w
New England over the Jets-w
Philly over Green Bay-l
Jacksonville over Tennessee-l
Texans over KC-w
Rams over Carolina-l
Washington over Miami-w
Vikings over Falcons-w
Steelers over Browns-w
Lions over Raiders-w
Seattle over Tampa-w
Chargers over da Bears-w
Cowboys over Giants-w
Cincy over Baltimore...maybe-w
49ers over Arizona-w
Record--12-3...bwahahahahaha...bow infidels
Now this week's predictions...
Pittsburgh over Buffalo
Jacksonville over Atlanta
Colts big over Tennessee
Packers over Giants
Carolina over Texans
Rams over 49ers
Cincy big over Cleveland
Saints over Bucs
Dallas huge over Miami
Detroit over Minnesota
Seattle over Arizona
Chicago over KC
Baltimore over the Jets
Denver big over Oakland
Philly over Washington
GAME OF THE WEEK...Patriots in a squeeker over San Diego
Now, if you want to challenge yours truly just post your picks in the comments.
New England over the Jets-w
Philly over Green Bay-l
Jacksonville over Tennessee-l
Texans over KC-w
Rams over Carolina-l
Washington over Miami-w
Vikings over Falcons-w
Steelers over Browns-w
Lions over Raiders-w
Seattle over Tampa-w
Chargers over da Bears-w
Cowboys over Giants-w
Cincy over Baltimore...maybe-w
49ers over Arizona-w
Record--12-3...bwahahahahaha...bow infidels
Now this week's predictions...
Pittsburgh over Buffalo
Jacksonville over Atlanta
Colts big over Tennessee
Packers over Giants
Carolina over Texans
Rams over 49ers
Cincy big over Cleveland
Saints over Bucs
Dallas huge over Miami
Detroit over Minnesota
Seattle over Arizona
Chicago over KC
Baltimore over the Jets
Denver big over Oakland
Philly over Washington
GAME OF THE WEEK...Patriots in a squeeker over San Diego
Now, if you want to challenge yours truly just post your picks in the comments.
Don't talk to me...
THE NFL SEASON IS ABOUT TO START!
GO BRONCOS!!!
Now, as a public service to my peeps I, your insufferable host, will be engaging in a weekly pick 'em ecercise each week. My Week 1 picks are...
Denver over Buffalo
New England over the Jets
Philly over Green Bay
Jacksonville over Tennessee
Texans over KC
Rams over Carolina
Washington over Miami
Vikings over Falcons
Steelers over Browns
Lions over Raiders
Seattle over Tampa
Chargers over da Bears
Cowboys over Giants
Cincy over Baltimore...maybe
49ers over Arizona
I will post my picks on Tuesday or Wednesday every week. Feel free to post your own picks in the comments. I'll tally the results each week and the winner at the end of the year gets coveted bragging rights over yours truly.
GO BRONCOS!!!
Now, as a public service to my peeps I, your insufferable host, will be engaging in a weekly pick 'em ecercise each week. My Week 1 picks are...
Denver over Buffalo
New England over the Jets
Philly over Green Bay
Jacksonville over Tennessee
Texans over KC
Rams over Carolina
Washington over Miami
Vikings over Falcons
Steelers over Browns
Lions over Raiders
Seattle over Tampa
Chargers over da Bears
Cowboys over Giants
Cincy over Baltimore...maybe
49ers over Arizona
I will post my picks on Tuesday or Wednesday every week. Feel free to post your own picks in the comments. I'll tally the results each week and the winner at the end of the year gets coveted bragging rights over yours truly.
An impromptu roast on a Monday night
As yours truly returns to mid-season form I thought the time would be appropriate to roast a few friends. Buckle up…
Duditz…what can we say about Duditz…bitch is ugly. He looks like the spawn of Gollum and Rosie O’Donnell. He’s the only Buddhist gnome in history. Now I’m not calling him short but traveling with him would be a breeze as he fits in most overhead compartments. Then there’s his many beer binges…he walks around aimlessly when he’s drunk, it’s like watching a windup Hellen Keller doll. Duditz is so mellow I saw his boss walk up and kick him in the balls…he fell asleep. When you die you’re gonna be reincarnated as a sloth. Then there’s his pasty complexion and newly shorn head…I guess the Holocaust survivor motif is alive and well.
Speaking of ugly and bald, hello PB. Dude looks like a young Jason Voorhees on a BAD hair day. Hey PB, comb your scalp over, it’ll look fuller. Last time he got sex was the Clinton administration. Call him Moses because when he shows up the girls part like the Red Sea. PB is a bit of a nerd…he masturbates to a picture of William Shatner. He thinks clip-on sunglasses are cool.
JAP, you freakin’ bastard. The guy has bigger boobs than Pamela Anderson, he makes her look like Paris Hilton. I saw JAP run once and had an uncontrollable urge to iron all the clothes in my closet, last time I saw skin bounce like that was the opening credits of Bay Watch.
Swanny, do you own a clock? Swanny was always a tender lover though, he always spat on his pecker before insertion. He was also conscientious enough to walk through the field and tag the sheep that kick. You should have seen the look in his eye when I got him those gloves with the Velcro palms. Once when we went to a Wyoming sheep ranch the owner was showing us around…we came upon a dewey little sheep with its head stuck in the fence bleeting pitifully, “Bah, bah.” The rancher pulled out his love rod and stuck it in the sheep’s mouth. Swanny said, “Can I get some?” “Sure” the rancher replied. Swanny then walked around stuck his head in the fence and went, “Bah, bah.”
Ekim, where you at. Oh there, I can hear your shirt. This guy’s wardrobe is so loud it comes with its own generator. But it matches his voice…Ekim’s voice is so loud when he speaks a herd of elk by Grand Junction say, “Dear Christ, what the fuck was that?” Ekim is a staunch liberal, he has a picture of Al Gore and Howard Dean in his wallet. He thinks Ted Kennedy makes sense. His secret fantasy is to cover Hillary Clinton in honey and lick it off.
Roberto’s here. He was the first Hispanic I ever knew who was gainfully employed. But Roberto is a heckuva nice guy, he shaves PB’s back twice a week. Roberto is hairy too, like Cheech hooked up with Jamie Farr.
Emi, you little tart. First thing I noticed about Emi were her enormous tits, I couldn’t help it, they entered the room five minutes before she did. When she lays on her back they pierce the troposphere. Last time her husband climbed those things he needed a Sherpa. They’re so big you’d need a gondola to reach the peak. Rumor has it she has an insatiable sexual appetite…her husband has a protein deficiency…they’ve been married two weeks. Then there’s her Catholic faith…the only organized religion where Michael Jackson is eligible for canonization as a saint. What’s it like to enter the confessional booth and say, “You first?”
I’m not saying I’m anything but pathetic…I’m a quadriplegic double amputee with an abnormally small penis who remains single and lives with his mother. My life’s a fucking festival. Last time I had sex was papa Bush’s administration and mullets were still ok. Last time I saw my own dick Britney Spears still wore underwear. Last time I had a date Kirk Cobain still had a face. I failed the bar exam more times than JFK Jr.
Truly though, you guys are the best. You’ve been a constant in my life for half a decade. I kid because I love. Take care guys.
*raises his glass to the sky*
Duditz…what can we say about Duditz…bitch is ugly. He looks like the spawn of Gollum and Rosie O’Donnell. He’s the only Buddhist gnome in history. Now I’m not calling him short but traveling with him would be a breeze as he fits in most overhead compartments. Then there’s his many beer binges…he walks around aimlessly when he’s drunk, it’s like watching a windup Hellen Keller doll. Duditz is so mellow I saw his boss walk up and kick him in the balls…he fell asleep. When you die you’re gonna be reincarnated as a sloth. Then there’s his pasty complexion and newly shorn head…I guess the Holocaust survivor motif is alive and well.
Speaking of ugly and bald, hello PB. Dude looks like a young Jason Voorhees on a BAD hair day. Hey PB, comb your scalp over, it’ll look fuller. Last time he got sex was the Clinton administration. Call him Moses because when he shows up the girls part like the Red Sea. PB is a bit of a nerd…he masturbates to a picture of William Shatner. He thinks clip-on sunglasses are cool.
JAP, you freakin’ bastard. The guy has bigger boobs than Pamela Anderson, he makes her look like Paris Hilton. I saw JAP run once and had an uncontrollable urge to iron all the clothes in my closet, last time I saw skin bounce like that was the opening credits of Bay Watch.
Swanny, do you own a clock? Swanny was always a tender lover though, he always spat on his pecker before insertion. He was also conscientious enough to walk through the field and tag the sheep that kick. You should have seen the look in his eye when I got him those gloves with the Velcro palms. Once when we went to a Wyoming sheep ranch the owner was showing us around…we came upon a dewey little sheep with its head stuck in the fence bleeting pitifully, “Bah, bah.” The rancher pulled out his love rod and stuck it in the sheep’s mouth. Swanny said, “Can I get some?” “Sure” the rancher replied. Swanny then walked around stuck his head in the fence and went, “Bah, bah.”
Ekim, where you at. Oh there, I can hear your shirt. This guy’s wardrobe is so loud it comes with its own generator. But it matches his voice…Ekim’s voice is so loud when he speaks a herd of elk by Grand Junction say, “Dear Christ, what the fuck was that?” Ekim is a staunch liberal, he has a picture of Al Gore and Howard Dean in his wallet. He thinks Ted Kennedy makes sense. His secret fantasy is to cover Hillary Clinton in honey and lick it off.
Roberto’s here. He was the first Hispanic I ever knew who was gainfully employed. But Roberto is a heckuva nice guy, he shaves PB’s back twice a week. Roberto is hairy too, like Cheech hooked up with Jamie Farr.
Emi, you little tart. First thing I noticed about Emi were her enormous tits, I couldn’t help it, they entered the room five minutes before she did. When she lays on her back they pierce the troposphere. Last time her husband climbed those things he needed a Sherpa. They’re so big you’d need a gondola to reach the peak. Rumor has it she has an insatiable sexual appetite…her husband has a protein deficiency…they’ve been married two weeks. Then there’s her Catholic faith…the only organized religion where Michael Jackson is eligible for canonization as a saint. What’s it like to enter the confessional booth and say, “You first?”
I’m not saying I’m anything but pathetic…I’m a quadriplegic double amputee with an abnormally small penis who remains single and lives with his mother. My life’s a fucking festival. Last time I had sex was papa Bush’s administration and mullets were still ok. Last time I saw my own dick Britney Spears still wore underwear. Last time I had a date Kirk Cobain still had a face. I failed the bar exam more times than JFK Jr.
Truly though, you guys are the best. You’ve been a constant in my life for half a decade. I kid because I love. Take care guys.
*raises his glass to the sky*
The movies to see before you die
I've seen several publications do these lists, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents on the movies that make us proud to be part of the collective known as man kind...
Crime/mystery…
The Usual Suspects, The Godfather II, Casino, Goodfellas, Se7en, Snatch, Scarface
Action…
Blade, Die Hard, Road Warrior, Heat, 300, all three Bourne movies
War…
Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, All Quiet on the Western Front (1933), Glory
Drama…
Schindler’s List, Das Boot, Crash, Say Anything, Gladiator, Stand By Me, Philadelphia, Finding Neverland
Sci-fi…
Aliens, original Star Wars Trilogy, Alien 3, Stargate
Horror…
The Exorcist, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 28 Days Later, Wrong Turn, The Shining
Western…
Pale Rider, Tombstone, The Unforgiven
Foreign…
Zatoichi, Brotherhood of the Wolf, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero, Heaven and Earth, Yellow River
Comedy…
Young Frankenstein, History of the World, The Holy Grail, Kingpin
All of these movies represent those few moments when the stars and planets align to usher in something truly great. I've been witness to very few instances where perfection was achieved and these movies constitute the bulk of those experiences.
*Update...
Here's the Stupidly Forgotten list, movies I should have NEVER ommitted...
All three Lord of the Rings movies (thanks Waterboy), The Killing Fields, Fandango, The Departed, Clerks, A Clockwork Orange
Crime/mystery…
The Usual Suspects, The Godfather II, Casino, Goodfellas, Se7en, Snatch, Scarface
Action…
Blade, Die Hard, Road Warrior, Heat, 300, all three Bourne movies
War…
Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, All Quiet on the Western Front (1933), Glory
Drama…
Schindler’s List, Das Boot, Crash, Say Anything, Gladiator, Stand By Me, Philadelphia, Finding Neverland
Sci-fi…
Aliens, original Star Wars Trilogy, Alien 3, Stargate
Horror…
The Exorcist, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 28 Days Later, Wrong Turn, The Shining
Western…
Pale Rider, Tombstone, The Unforgiven
Foreign…
Zatoichi, Brotherhood of the Wolf, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero, Heaven and Earth, Yellow River
Comedy…
Young Frankenstein, History of the World, The Holy Grail, Kingpin
All of these movies represent those few moments when the stars and planets align to usher in something truly great. I've been witness to very few instances where perfection was achieved and these movies constitute the bulk of those experiences.
*Update...
Here's the Stupidly Forgotten list, movies I should have NEVER ommitted...
All three Lord of the Rings movies (thanks Waterboy), The Killing Fields, Fandango, The Departed, Clerks, A Clockwork Orange
Back and in full effect...
Yes, yours truly, your Shrubalicious host, has been writing feverishly in a vain attempt to pen my literary opus, my contribution to the fantasy genre. Here's a lil' snippet of my teeny tiney lil' story/book. Please, critique at will, the comment link is there for a reason.
At last the Exile reached the citadel of Tair, the last resting place of the ancient Grundian kings. Legend said the Aquafer of Iya, the water that breathed life into this world was protected by The Citadel. It was here that the kings of yore were entombed in the hopes that the cistern would resurrect the beloved founders and stewards of earliest Grundig. And it was here the Exile brought the body of his brother Barabas.
The Exile had explored the Citadel on numerous occasions in his youth for it was his father who had been entrusted the guardianship of this hallowed place. So revered was Tair’s Citadel none dared live within its walls and few ventured through the imposing iron gates. A sect of ancient priests was charged with guarding this holy sepulcher to which they built Cadus a Iya, Castle of Iya. The fortress was built at the summit of Mount Tair, the mountain that overlooked the Citadel from the east. The castle could only be reached by a narrow stair, dubbed Iada i Iena, the Walk to Heaven. Climbing this ancient stair was for many a deeply religious experience. The priests would make the trek down then back up the Iada to symbolize the journey from mortality to the afterlife. As a child the Exile and his family had lived in the castle and these stairs were a place of wonder and a place to frolic for the boys. Even Barabas had bounded up and down the stair with youthful exuberance and it was in this valley and the Citadel that he told his twin brother he wanted to be buried.
And the Exile meant to abide by his brother’s wish. Even after Barabas had ravaged his former native land, after the damage and pain he had inflicted upon the Exile and all of Grundig, even after his malevolence had wreaked untold devastation on all who crossed his path, the Exile still meant to bury him in his boyhood playground. When the twins were children they often explored the Citadel, admiring the tombs of the ancients, running through darkened hallways, and forever using this sacred place as an endless playground. Oft times the priests would chase them, informing them that the kings’ resting place was not to be disturbed. But the priests also knew these two had indomitable wills, and truth be told, they suspected the kings rather enjoyed the magical laughter of the two.
The Exile’s wagon stopped at the gate. No one had opened the Citadel in over a thousand years and the gates were rusty with disrepair. The Exile used his medallion, the one he had inherited from his father, to unlock the massive mechanism at the gate’s center. With a loud metallic snap the gate unlocked itself, shuttered and groaned, and finally raised up into the rampart that surrounded it. Dust and dirt billowed from the open gateway washing the Exile in granulated muck. This cloud was greeted by fits of coughing from the Exile and the fervent attempt to shoo away the dust. To no avail as sediment settled in the Exile’s eyes, mouth, and nose.
After the cloud cleared the Exile, with great attentiveness, cleared the dust and dirt from Barabas’ face and clothes. This gesture finally drove the Exile mad with grief. There before him lay the last of his family of old. The site of the brother who, even in his wickedness, had exuded strength and vitality now lying utterly void of life deeply disturbed the normally reserved elven warrior and filled his heart with sadness. And it was in this moment, when Barabas’ face was not contorted with anger and hatred, that his beauty shown through. And it was this face on which the tears of the Exile now fell. Even the death of his parents and beloved wife had not affected him so; even his daughters’ weddings did not elicit such naked emotion. These were things he took with legendary stoicism. The Exile’s hand drifted unconsciously to his sword hilt. How easy it would be to cut the head from this monster and destroy him once and for all. His body would burst into flame as his mortal coil would eviscerate. But he purged this thought from his head, how he did so love his brother.
After the Exile collected his emotions he grabbed the reigns of the draft horse and led it and the wagon through the gate.
Across a huge courtyard the Exile led his burden, across to the outer cloister of the Citadel. The outer door opened with a groan and blackness assaulted the senses. This blackness had not been disturbed in millennia and did not suffer daylight easily. Sunlight illuminated barely three feet of the cold stone floor and the darkness was seemingly impenetrable. The Exile removed his sword from its sheath. Green flame would have to guide the way. Dagotai glowed green for a brief moment, then intense flames licked the blade, illuminating almost the entire entry. Even this pitch black could not withstand magic.
At last the Exile reached the citadel of Tair, the last resting place of the ancient Grundian kings. Legend said the Aquafer of Iya, the water that breathed life into this world was protected by The Citadel. It was here that the kings of yore were entombed in the hopes that the cistern would resurrect the beloved founders and stewards of earliest Grundig. And it was here the Exile brought the body of his brother Barabas.
The Exile had explored the Citadel on numerous occasions in his youth for it was his father who had been entrusted the guardianship of this hallowed place. So revered was Tair’s Citadel none dared live within its walls and few ventured through the imposing iron gates. A sect of ancient priests was charged with guarding this holy sepulcher to which they built Cadus a Iya, Castle of Iya. The fortress was built at the summit of Mount Tair, the mountain that overlooked the Citadel from the east. The castle could only be reached by a narrow stair, dubbed Iada i Iena, the Walk to Heaven. Climbing this ancient stair was for many a deeply religious experience. The priests would make the trek down then back up the Iada to symbolize the journey from mortality to the afterlife. As a child the Exile and his family had lived in the castle and these stairs were a place of wonder and a place to frolic for the boys. Even Barabas had bounded up and down the stair with youthful exuberance and it was in this valley and the Citadel that he told his twin brother he wanted to be buried.
And the Exile meant to abide by his brother’s wish. Even after Barabas had ravaged his former native land, after the damage and pain he had inflicted upon the Exile and all of Grundig, even after his malevolence had wreaked untold devastation on all who crossed his path, the Exile still meant to bury him in his boyhood playground. When the twins were children they often explored the Citadel, admiring the tombs of the ancients, running through darkened hallways, and forever using this sacred place as an endless playground. Oft times the priests would chase them, informing them that the kings’ resting place was not to be disturbed. But the priests also knew these two had indomitable wills, and truth be told, they suspected the kings rather enjoyed the magical laughter of the two.
The Exile’s wagon stopped at the gate. No one had opened the Citadel in over a thousand years and the gates were rusty with disrepair. The Exile used his medallion, the one he had inherited from his father, to unlock the massive mechanism at the gate’s center. With a loud metallic snap the gate unlocked itself, shuttered and groaned, and finally raised up into the rampart that surrounded it. Dust and dirt billowed from the open gateway washing the Exile in granulated muck. This cloud was greeted by fits of coughing from the Exile and the fervent attempt to shoo away the dust. To no avail as sediment settled in the Exile’s eyes, mouth, and nose.
After the cloud cleared the Exile, with great attentiveness, cleared the dust and dirt from Barabas’ face and clothes. This gesture finally drove the Exile mad with grief. There before him lay the last of his family of old. The site of the brother who, even in his wickedness, had exuded strength and vitality now lying utterly void of life deeply disturbed the normally reserved elven warrior and filled his heart with sadness. And it was in this moment, when Barabas’ face was not contorted with anger and hatred, that his beauty shown through. And it was this face on which the tears of the Exile now fell. Even the death of his parents and beloved wife had not affected him so; even his daughters’ weddings did not elicit such naked emotion. These were things he took with legendary stoicism. The Exile’s hand drifted unconsciously to his sword hilt. How easy it would be to cut the head from this monster and destroy him once and for all. His body would burst into flame as his mortal coil would eviscerate. But he purged this thought from his head, how he did so love his brother.
After the Exile collected his emotions he grabbed the reigns of the draft horse and led it and the wagon through the gate.
Across a huge courtyard the Exile led his burden, across to the outer cloister of the Citadel. The outer door opened with a groan and blackness assaulted the senses. This blackness had not been disturbed in millennia and did not suffer daylight easily. Sunlight illuminated barely three feet of the cold stone floor and the darkness was seemingly impenetrable. The Exile removed his sword from its sheath. Green flame would have to guide the way. Dagotai glowed green for a brief moment, then intense flames licked the blade, illuminating almost the entire entry. Even this pitch black could not withstand magic.
Testicle Tuesday...the triumphant return
This week's TT was inspired by Waterboy (not the movie you heretics). And let's just say Moore is better...
First up is a woman who has stayed at or near the top of the pantheon of hotness for over 20 years...I give you the incomperable and timeless Demi Moore...
Mandy Moore is half Demi's age but is second to none when it comes to natural beauty...
Julianne Moore is a tasty red head and a four-time Oscar nominee...
Or next uber wench has been steaming up the music scene for nearly ten years...Alicia Beth Moore, better known by the singularly sassy Pink...
Any of you pervs have any ideas for future TT installments, let me know, otherwise STFU if you have any criticism of my discriminating eye for feminine perfection.
First up is a woman who has stayed at or near the top of the pantheon of hotness for over 20 years...I give you the incomperable and timeless Demi Moore...
Mandy Moore is half Demi's age but is second to none when it comes to natural beauty...
Julianne Moore is a tasty red head and a four-time Oscar nominee...
Or next uber wench has been steaming up the music scene for nearly ten years...Alicia Beth Moore, better known by the singularly sassy Pink...
Any of you pervs have any ideas for future TT installments, let me know, otherwise STFU if you have any criticism of my discriminating eye for feminine perfection.
Prelude to a Tuesday
Since I've vowed anew to resurect Testicle Tuesday, due largely to popular demand, I thought I'd throw out a cyber suggestion box as to whom or what theme y'all would like to grace the coveted TT spot. So just throw in your two cents via the comments and I'll peruse your pearls of wisdom and decide upon TT fodder.
Of mirrors & me
Sorry y'all, feeling a bit mopey. This spiel hit my brain so I had to exorcise the demon within.
Aside from my mother’s quadrant there are no mirrors in my house.
You are probably asking yourself, “Why?”
The answer is simple…I don’t like my reflection.
The reason I abhor my own image being shown back to me is two fold. One, the broken body that now houses my soul is such a departure from how I used to feel. That youthful exuberance has not left, only grown stronger. The trappings of youth adorn my psyche but my fairly dependent condition prevents most of the simple acts that made me young…riding a bike, roller blading, snowball fights, our annual pop-bottle rocket war, walking a flight of steps to get to a girl’s apartment, all these acts made me whole, made me feel true joy. Second, that joy died when I broke my neck. I’ve not felt truly happy in 17 years, and it is that unhappy visage that I shirk, spurning it like one would a rotten banana.
So how do I know true joy again? I don’t know.
When I was 19 I hardly respected anything or anyone. This attitude doomed me to a certain extent. Girls sensed it, my friends sensed it, so did my numerous bosses, my grandparents, my family, and most painfully of all, my mother. This irreverence cost me dearly. Because most of all I had no appreciation for my own mortality. Big mistake. This mistake and foolhardy attitude would eventually cost me my independence & freedom. I constantly threw others and myself into harm’s way seemingly with little to no regard for personal or societal safety. I drove drunk, I got in fights, I stole, I slept around, and I generally spat in the faces of those that cared for me. Dumbass.
Nothing is quite as tragic as lost youth. An even greater tragedy is youth squandered. Because of my idiocy, I missed out on what should’ve been the best and worst times of my life—the age between 19 & 25. This is the stage in life when we typically discover binge drinking, road trips, and fraternity life, among other time honored American traditions. During these years we’re also developing life tracks, job possibilities, and hopefully finding the one person who will share the rest of our lives with us. With the exception of the binge drinking and a fraternity membership (Sigma Chi all the way…In Hoc), I never got a chance to fully experience this period of self-discovery. I spent most of this time in & out of hospitals and rehabbing my broken body and damaged psyche.
I’m still working on the later. I cry myself to sleep more often than I’m comfortable with. I immerse myself into fantasy worlds and recollections of what was or what could’ve been. I find this easier than dealing with reality and the day-to-day bullshit.
My everyday existence is peppered with constant fear and misgiving. I question nearly every decision too critically. I’m constantly afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. My own mortality is also an all-encompassing thought.
The only time when I’m not painfully aware of my condition is when I’m asleep. Maybe tonight I’ll have one of those dreams where I’m just riding my bike. Soon I will be going to bed. To sleep, per chance to dream. Dreams are an escape, the playground for the subconscious soul. Dreams are when we have the ability to fly, and the only times when I feel just like everyone else. Only then will I dare to gaze in a mirror again.
Aside from my mother’s quadrant there are no mirrors in my house.
You are probably asking yourself, “Why?”
The answer is simple…I don’t like my reflection.
The reason I abhor my own image being shown back to me is two fold. One, the broken body that now houses my soul is such a departure from how I used to feel. That youthful exuberance has not left, only grown stronger. The trappings of youth adorn my psyche but my fairly dependent condition prevents most of the simple acts that made me young…riding a bike, roller blading, snowball fights, our annual pop-bottle rocket war, walking a flight of steps to get to a girl’s apartment, all these acts made me whole, made me feel true joy. Second, that joy died when I broke my neck. I’ve not felt truly happy in 17 years, and it is that unhappy visage that I shirk, spurning it like one would a rotten banana.
So how do I know true joy again? I don’t know.
When I was 19 I hardly respected anything or anyone. This attitude doomed me to a certain extent. Girls sensed it, my friends sensed it, so did my numerous bosses, my grandparents, my family, and most painfully of all, my mother. This irreverence cost me dearly. Because most of all I had no appreciation for my own mortality. Big mistake. This mistake and foolhardy attitude would eventually cost me my independence & freedom. I constantly threw others and myself into harm’s way seemingly with little to no regard for personal or societal safety. I drove drunk, I got in fights, I stole, I slept around, and I generally spat in the faces of those that cared for me. Dumbass.
Nothing is quite as tragic as lost youth. An even greater tragedy is youth squandered. Because of my idiocy, I missed out on what should’ve been the best and worst times of my life—the age between 19 & 25. This is the stage in life when we typically discover binge drinking, road trips, and fraternity life, among other time honored American traditions. During these years we’re also developing life tracks, job possibilities, and hopefully finding the one person who will share the rest of our lives with us. With the exception of the binge drinking and a fraternity membership (Sigma Chi all the way…In Hoc), I never got a chance to fully experience this period of self-discovery. I spent most of this time in & out of hospitals and rehabbing my broken body and damaged psyche.
I’m still working on the later. I cry myself to sleep more often than I’m comfortable with. I immerse myself into fantasy worlds and recollections of what was or what could’ve been. I find this easier than dealing with reality and the day-to-day bullshit.
My everyday existence is peppered with constant fear and misgiving. I question nearly every decision too critically. I’m constantly afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. My own mortality is also an all-encompassing thought.
The only time when I’m not painfully aware of my condition is when I’m asleep. Maybe tonight I’ll have one of those dreams where I’m just riding my bike. Soon I will be going to bed. To sleep, per chance to dream. Dreams are an escape, the playground for the subconscious soul. Dreams are when we have the ability to fly, and the only times when I feel just like everyone else. Only then will I dare to gaze in a mirror again.
Happy Friday the 13th...
Ah yes, it’s Friday the 13th, and in my own unique fashion I celebrated this dreaded calendar date by walking under a ladder, breaking a mirror, letting a black cat cross my path, hung a horseshoe on the wall up side down, spilled some salt, opened an umbrella indoors, killed a ladybug, went sailing and shot an albatross (damn hard to do in Colorado…I’m not allowed in the Denver Zoo any longer), said “Candy Man” and “Bloody Mary” in front of a mirror, picked a three-leaf clover, and killed a spider.
So far nothing bad has happened…yet.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA (evil laugh)
Tomorrow I’ll deal with these horrible festering pustules that have suddenly risen all over my skin.
So far nothing bad has happened…yet.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA (evil laugh)
Tomorrow I’ll deal with these horrible festering pustules that have suddenly risen all over my skin.
Halle-freakin'-luiah!!!
One of my wildest dreams just came true.
But first, a little background...
In my life there have been a few of those watershed moments; puberty and my subsequent discovery of frequent and fervent masturbation, getting a high speed Internet hookup to facilitate thusly, seeing Salma Hayek for the first time, and playing Halo for the first time.
So, as the years coursed slowly by and Halo 2 and Halo 3 were released for stand alone video game platforms, Microsoft, in thier infinite fucking wisdom, witheld the release of Halo 2 for the PC until recently. But as the gods would cruely dictate Halo 2 was a Vista only game. Now an enterprising lot has introduced a patch that makes H2 playable on Windows XP.
Now the wait begins for the $50 ticket price to fall, then it'll be on you Covenent beeyatches!
But first, a little background...
In my life there have been a few of those watershed moments; puberty and my subsequent discovery of frequent and fervent masturbation, getting a high speed Internet hookup to facilitate thusly, seeing Salma Hayek for the first time, and playing Halo for the first time.
So, as the years coursed slowly by and Halo 2 and Halo 3 were released for stand alone video game platforms, Microsoft, in thier infinite fucking wisdom, witheld the release of Halo 2 for the PC until recently. But as the gods would cruely dictate Halo 2 was a Vista only game. Now an enterprising lot has introduced a patch that makes H2 playable on Windows XP.
Now the wait begins for the $50 ticket price to fall, then it'll be on you Covenent beeyatches!
What a long strange trip it's been...
This spiel will make you weep and laugh at the poetic irony that has befallen yours truly.
I just now got home from a little unexpected vacation. Where was his Shrubbiness taken pray tell? You guessed it, my favorite local hospital for treatment on an infected right leg. What did the battery of docs recommend…amputation. Woo hoo, I’m now but two arms away from becoming the dreaded Black Night. All you Monty Python fans are issuing a collective guffaw. Those who don’t get the reference just watch The Holy Grail.
Holy shit, now I’m feverishly scoping out my arms for the slightest blemish.
Just when I thought that I had heard every amputation joke contrived about having one leg I now must acclimate to two stump humor.
Now, my top ten moments from my most recent hospital stay…
10. Three hours in the ER waiting room followed by eight hours in my trauma room then followed by a bumpy ride to my cozy room on the ward where the welcome site of IV dilauded on tap filled me with warm fuzziness.
9. Watching the booty on every damn nurse in the ER…that is one collection of fine women.
8. The look on the anesthesiologists face when I quipped right before my latest amputation, “You got anything stronger dude?”
7. The look on my orthopedist’s face when I quipped right after my surgery, “Are my arms still attached?”
6. Everything about rapping with Al. The guy is a national treasure.
5. Watching the looks on the nurses’ faces as I planned a party to celebrate my amputation that featured turkey legs, chicken drumsticks, and frog legs. Alas, no one delivers frog legs.
4. Arguing for three straight days with the residents that my oral pain meds were about as effective as cleaning up a radio active landfill with oven mits…the shit didn’t work. At one point I was literally crying in front of a doctor who showed all the compassion of Ed Gein over a pot of soup.
3. Finally getting my necessary IV pain meds…God love those chemists.
2. Watching shitty television with that stupid little speaker by your head.
1. Getting the fuck out of that place…two out of the last three visits resulted in a limb getting lopped off, so you’ll understand if I bid your facility a not-so-fond fairwell.
I just now got home from a little unexpected vacation. Where was his Shrubbiness taken pray tell? You guessed it, my favorite local hospital for treatment on an infected right leg. What did the battery of docs recommend…amputation. Woo hoo, I’m now but two arms away from becoming the dreaded Black Night. All you Monty Python fans are issuing a collective guffaw. Those who don’t get the reference just watch The Holy Grail.
Holy shit, now I’m feverishly scoping out my arms for the slightest blemish.
Just when I thought that I had heard every amputation joke contrived about having one leg I now must acclimate to two stump humor.
Now, my top ten moments from my most recent hospital stay…
10. Three hours in the ER waiting room followed by eight hours in my trauma room then followed by a bumpy ride to my cozy room on the ward where the welcome site of IV dilauded on tap filled me with warm fuzziness.
9. Watching the booty on every damn nurse in the ER…that is one collection of fine women.
8. The look on the anesthesiologists face when I quipped right before my latest amputation, “You got anything stronger dude?”
7. The look on my orthopedist’s face when I quipped right after my surgery, “Are my arms still attached?”
6. Everything about rapping with Al. The guy is a national treasure.
5. Watching the looks on the nurses’ faces as I planned a party to celebrate my amputation that featured turkey legs, chicken drumsticks, and frog legs. Alas, no one delivers frog legs.
4. Arguing for three straight days with the residents that my oral pain meds were about as effective as cleaning up a radio active landfill with oven mits…the shit didn’t work. At one point I was literally crying in front of a doctor who showed all the compassion of Ed Gein over a pot of soup.
3. Finally getting my necessary IV pain meds…God love those chemists.
2. Watching shitty television with that stupid little speaker by your head.
1. Getting the fuck out of that place…two out of the last three visits resulted in a limb getting lopped off, so you’ll understand if I bid your facility a not-so-fond fairwell.
Oh the damnable misery and a few shout outs
Well kids, your Shrubbiness just did ANOTHER stint in the hospital. And as fate would have it my other leg was infected. Oh how the gods can be cruel, capricious bastards.
So, ‘tis my desire to write as much as I can on this here blog so as to assuage my fear of losing another limb. Writing is and can be a much needed diversion as well as therapeutic cyber salve to my wounded psyche and beaten body.’
Thank you one and all for your loyalty and well wishes.
Billiam the Conqueror has been a stalwart and true friend throughout. Your words gave me more comfort than you know. Thanks friend.
Emi, you little tart. I miss your unabashed goofiness. Here’s hoping your upcoming nuptials are a truly joyous event. And yes, we shall reconvene the troops for more hijinx and hilarity.
Waterboy, few have been as supportive for as long as you my friend.
PB, your unflinching nerdness is one of the few absolutes in my life. You along with Duditz, Mikey, Greg, and the rest have been treasured compadres for years. Don’t go a changin’.
Later kids!
So, ‘tis my desire to write as much as I can on this here blog so as to assuage my fear of losing another limb. Writing is and can be a much needed diversion as well as therapeutic cyber salve to my wounded psyche and beaten body.’
Thank you one and all for your loyalty and well wishes.
Billiam the Conqueror has been a stalwart and true friend throughout. Your words gave me more comfort than you know. Thanks friend.
Emi, you little tart. I miss your unabashed goofiness. Here’s hoping your upcoming nuptials are a truly joyous event. And yes, we shall reconvene the troops for more hijinx and hilarity.
Waterboy, few have been as supportive for as long as you my friend.
PB, your unflinching nerdness is one of the few absolutes in my life. You along with Duditz, Mikey, Greg, and the rest have been treasured compadres for years. Don’t go a changin’.
Later kids!
i'mmmmmmm back
Hello my children. You’re probably wondering just where the hell yours truly has been the last month. Last time I posted anything was the Imus spiel. Don Imus? Who the hell is he? Never heard of him.
On wit da show, beeyatches!
Oh, about my protracted absence. Seems the chronic infections in my left leg got a wee bit serious, so serious my body went septic. In less than three weeks the infection in my foot had literally destroyed the bones of my lower leg, necessitating a below the knee amputation of my left leg. Shit if the pain was not unbearable. But the dilauded helped.
So now my middle name is Eileen. Get it? Bwahahahaha, I’m too clever.
And now a shout out to some well deserving folks.
First, to the all knowing Booty Man. We’ve been friends since 1990 and I never knew what a good leaning post you were until the shock of amputation hit me. You were there, every damn day, whether I was coherent or looped out of my tree, and I for one am grateful. Thank you. You made a shitty situation bearable, even if was just that wry smile or a genuine inquiry into my state.
Dr. T. Your no-holds-barred approach to bedside manner was just the jolt I needed. You are the best doctor I’ve ever seen, truly. Smarts, charm, wit, intelligence all wrapped in a squishy sweet outer shell. Thank you for your tenacity and determination that I, above all, get better. You don’t hear this enough…you’re a great doctor and even better person.
Dr. Mengela, the Amputator. You were a silver haired treasure. Your smile was infectious and your kind manner befit a man of your character. You were straight with me always when only the straight shit was appropriate. Thanks.
And Al. Nuff said.
On wit da show, beeyatches!
Oh, about my protracted absence. Seems the chronic infections in my left leg got a wee bit serious, so serious my body went septic. In less than three weeks the infection in my foot had literally destroyed the bones of my lower leg, necessitating a below the knee amputation of my left leg. Shit if the pain was not unbearable. But the dilauded helped.
So now my middle name is Eileen. Get it? Bwahahahaha, I’m too clever.
And now a shout out to some well deserving folks.
First, to the all knowing Booty Man. We’ve been friends since 1990 and I never knew what a good leaning post you were until the shock of amputation hit me. You were there, every damn day, whether I was coherent or looped out of my tree, and I for one am grateful. Thank you. You made a shitty situation bearable, even if was just that wry smile or a genuine inquiry into my state.
Dr. T. Your no-holds-barred approach to bedside manner was just the jolt I needed. You are the best doctor I’ve ever seen, truly. Smarts, charm, wit, intelligence all wrapped in a squishy sweet outer shell. Thank you for your tenacity and determination that I, above all, get better. You don’t hear this enough…you’re a great doctor and even better person.
Dr. Mengela, the Amputator. You were a silver haired treasure. Your smile was infectious and your kind manner befit a man of your character. You were straight with me always when only the straight shit was appropriate. Thanks.
And Al. Nuff said.
On Don Imus...
Now that Don Imus’ career has mercifully drawn to a close we can step back, take a deep breath, and put our two cents in on this sordid affair.
“Nappy headed hos” was the now infamous infraction which led to a week of consternation and the sacking of one of the most popular radio personalities of the last thirty years. Now I don’t pretend to know or understand why the cranky, unfunny Imus was such an icon nor do I care. The guy was, in my opinion, a no-talent hack with the gift for gab. If not for his incomprehensible rise to stardom Imus would be a two-fifths-of-whiskey-a-day alcoholic trolling the bars for his beloved “nappy headed hos”. Guaranteed.
But since the gods smiled upon his crusty ass we had to witness with morbid fascination his stunning lack of judgment as he issued one of the most inflammatory comments in the history of the mass media. Then we had to watch as the river of self-righteous indignation flooded the landscape. Al “I have no idea who Tawanna Brawley is” Sharpeton, Jesse “Hymietown” Jackson, Essence Magazine, conservative radio host Mike Gallagher, Bill O’Reilly, and a whole host of others from across the political spectrum have denounced, distanced themselves from, or have flat out called for Imus’ head on a pike. All the while people like Ann Coulter, Pat Buchanan, Bill Maher, Howard Fineman, and Tom Oliphant have stood in support of the now unemployed barnacle. This is hardly one of those liberal vs. conservative dust ups we’ve grown ever so fond of.
So from whence does this controversy draw its energy? Simple, the First Amendment. That’s right, that little proviso in he Bill Of Rights that guaranteed the people freedom of speech and religion, the very same Amendment that causes simultaneous fear, revulsion, and unbridled inspiration is the foundation of this debate. Is it just coincidence our founding fathers put this tenet at the top of rights ordained by our creator? I think not.
It comes as no surprise that Al Sharpeton and Jessie Jackson have been the most vociferous cogs in this mechanism of controversy, as is their want. But seldom do so few with so little credibility hold sway over so many. The inglorious track record of these two charlatans leads one to take their vapid verbal spewing with an enormous grain of salt. Had these two not interjected themselves in countless debates, oft times being proved embarrassingly wrong, then those of us with an ounce of sense might actually take them seriously. It’s like the whole feminist deification of Margaret Sanger, she of the eugenic and racist schools of thought. Then the supporters of Sanger, Sharpeton, Jackson, et al. will eventually say, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Sure, but do you want to base your day or ideology on a jacked up time piece. Hell no!!!
The clarion call for Imus’ head is disturbing to me. Why, pray tell. Well, I'll tell you, I resent the hell out of the fact that so many in the public eye have anointed themselves the moral arbiter of this country and experts on what is permissible to say on the airwaves. To them I say, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” If I wanted your opinion about what traverses my ear canal I’d give it to you. Only the FCC can determine permissible content for broadcast, even though they’re a pack of simpering dunderheads too. The choice of what is or is not permissible media content is with the people, the great unwashed, who, in the opinions of many talking heads and politicos, are too dirt dumb to decide for themselves. Therein lay the problem with investing so much in those that occupy the bully pulpit, their arrogance in foisting their sense of right & wrong upon the people knows no bounds. Only someone who believes they to be superior would dream of crowning themselves as a national moral compass. And only someone with no respect for free debate and discourse, i.e. no respect for freedom of speech, would pull this crap.
Eureka! We’ve found the steamy underbelly of this downtrodden beast. At the heart of the soul of EVERY talking head, politician, or media darling who voices their desire to be a moral divining rod, be they liberal or conservative, is an inherent disdain for the Constitution and the will of the people. This cabal, O’Reilly, Sharpeton, Jackson, & Co. would just as soon crap on your head and wipe their ass with the Constitution before admitting their compass arrow floats around more than those they hold in such contempt.
For it is you and I they hate…and fear.
Now, I would never contend that Imus’ remarks were anything less than ignorant drivel, and anything more than callous and stupid and unfunny. But his job shouldn’t be in jeopardy because he has no control over his mouth. Look at a few historical parallels from the entertainment and media industry…N.W.A., the hugely influential rap group waxed poetic about slingin’ dope and jockin’ hos, Gunz N Roses were routinely derisive of women in their music, Chris Rock is one of the most caustic and funny comedians ever, Sam Kinnison lampooned Christ’s crucifixion and mocked the starving in Ethiopia. The list goes on & on, 2Pac, Snoop, Ice Cube, Eminem, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, Rodney Dangerfield, Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, and Bill Maher were all guilty of saying shit that was far more divisive than anything Don Imus said, yet they’re still gainfully and gleefully employed.
Why, I ask, has Don Imus suddenly been singled out as the worst America has to offer? Yes he did drag a group of unwitting young women into the spotlight for reasons other than their improbable run in the women’s NCAA Basketball Tournament. Yes his apologies were hardly genuine. And yes he eventually lashed out at those who stood in condemnation of his actions. But in an industry teeming with egomaniacal dipshits who literally make their fortune by saying ANYTHING that pops into their head it seems the height of hypocrisy that Don Imus is now the poster child for what gets you fired.
In closing (freakin’ finally!) let me say this…if you truly believe Imus should have been fired then I call you a coward. Why? Because you sit in fear of the First Amendment and the freedom of speech it guarantees. Why else would you want to squelch an admittedly horrible utterance? The First Amendment gives us all the right to freely engage in debate, be us racist assholes or enlightened minds. But those of you who would squash such openness have no appreciation for the fact if Imus’ speech is taboo then yours will follow suit…in the blink of an eye.
“Nappy headed hos” was the now infamous infraction which led to a week of consternation and the sacking of one of the most popular radio personalities of the last thirty years. Now I don’t pretend to know or understand why the cranky, unfunny Imus was such an icon nor do I care. The guy was, in my opinion, a no-talent hack with the gift for gab. If not for his incomprehensible rise to stardom Imus would be a two-fifths-of-whiskey-a-day alcoholic trolling the bars for his beloved “nappy headed hos”. Guaranteed.
But since the gods smiled upon his crusty ass we had to witness with morbid fascination his stunning lack of judgment as he issued one of the most inflammatory comments in the history of the mass media. Then we had to watch as the river of self-righteous indignation flooded the landscape. Al “I have no idea who Tawanna Brawley is” Sharpeton, Jesse “Hymietown” Jackson, Essence Magazine, conservative radio host Mike Gallagher, Bill O’Reilly, and a whole host of others from across the political spectrum have denounced, distanced themselves from, or have flat out called for Imus’ head on a pike. All the while people like Ann Coulter, Pat Buchanan, Bill Maher, Howard Fineman, and Tom Oliphant have stood in support of the now unemployed barnacle. This is hardly one of those liberal vs. conservative dust ups we’ve grown ever so fond of.
So from whence does this controversy draw its energy? Simple, the First Amendment. That’s right, that little proviso in he Bill Of Rights that guaranteed the people freedom of speech and religion, the very same Amendment that causes simultaneous fear, revulsion, and unbridled inspiration is the foundation of this debate. Is it just coincidence our founding fathers put this tenet at the top of rights ordained by our creator? I think not.
It comes as no surprise that Al Sharpeton and Jessie Jackson have been the most vociferous cogs in this mechanism of controversy, as is their want. But seldom do so few with so little credibility hold sway over so many. The inglorious track record of these two charlatans leads one to take their vapid verbal spewing with an enormous grain of salt. Had these two not interjected themselves in countless debates, oft times being proved embarrassingly wrong, then those of us with an ounce of sense might actually take them seriously. It’s like the whole feminist deification of Margaret Sanger, she of the eugenic and racist schools of thought. Then the supporters of Sanger, Sharpeton, Jackson, et al. will eventually say, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Sure, but do you want to base your day or ideology on a jacked up time piece. Hell no!!!
The clarion call for Imus’ head is disturbing to me. Why, pray tell. Well, I'll tell you, I resent the hell out of the fact that so many in the public eye have anointed themselves the moral arbiter of this country and experts on what is permissible to say on the airwaves. To them I say, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” If I wanted your opinion about what traverses my ear canal I’d give it to you. Only the FCC can determine permissible content for broadcast, even though they’re a pack of simpering dunderheads too. The choice of what is or is not permissible media content is with the people, the great unwashed, who, in the opinions of many talking heads and politicos, are too dirt dumb to decide for themselves. Therein lay the problem with investing so much in those that occupy the bully pulpit, their arrogance in foisting their sense of right & wrong upon the people knows no bounds. Only someone who believes they to be superior would dream of crowning themselves as a national moral compass. And only someone with no respect for free debate and discourse, i.e. no respect for freedom of speech, would pull this crap.
Eureka! We’ve found the steamy underbelly of this downtrodden beast. At the heart of the soul of EVERY talking head, politician, or media darling who voices their desire to be a moral divining rod, be they liberal or conservative, is an inherent disdain for the Constitution and the will of the people. This cabal, O’Reilly, Sharpeton, Jackson, & Co. would just as soon crap on your head and wipe their ass with the Constitution before admitting their compass arrow floats around more than those they hold in such contempt.
For it is you and I they hate…and fear.
Now, I would never contend that Imus’ remarks were anything less than ignorant drivel, and anything more than callous and stupid and unfunny. But his job shouldn’t be in jeopardy because he has no control over his mouth. Look at a few historical parallels from the entertainment and media industry…N.W.A., the hugely influential rap group waxed poetic about slingin’ dope and jockin’ hos, Gunz N Roses were routinely derisive of women in their music, Chris Rock is one of the most caustic and funny comedians ever, Sam Kinnison lampooned Christ’s crucifixion and mocked the starving in Ethiopia. The list goes on & on, 2Pac, Snoop, Ice Cube, Eminem, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, Rodney Dangerfield, Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, and Bill Maher were all guilty of saying shit that was far more divisive than anything Don Imus said, yet they’re still gainfully and gleefully employed.
Why, I ask, has Don Imus suddenly been singled out as the worst America has to offer? Yes he did drag a group of unwitting young women into the spotlight for reasons other than their improbable run in the women’s NCAA Basketball Tournament. Yes his apologies were hardly genuine. And yes he eventually lashed out at those who stood in condemnation of his actions. But in an industry teeming with egomaniacal dipshits who literally make their fortune by saying ANYTHING that pops into their head it seems the height of hypocrisy that Don Imus is now the poster child for what gets you fired.
In closing (freakin’ finally!) let me say this…if you truly believe Imus should have been fired then I call you a coward. Why? Because you sit in fear of the First Amendment and the freedom of speech it guarantees. Why else would you want to squelch an admittedly horrible utterance? The First Amendment gives us all the right to freely engage in debate, be us racist assholes or enlightened minds. But those of you who would squash such openness have no appreciation for the fact if Imus’ speech is taboo then yours will follow suit…in the blink of an eye.
Testicle Tuesday...Rachel McAdams
Rarely do I reserve a coveted TT post for just one beauty. But Rachel McAdams is so incontrovertably gorgeous she more than warrants her very own TT post. She sprang into our eyes in the movie Mean Girls and recently starred in the semi-decent thriller Red Eye. I defy any man to look into those eyes and see those dimples and not be dumbstruck.
Top albums of the last twenty years
Thanks PB for the inspiration for my latest list. This is in my estimation the top twenty albums/CD’s of the last twenty years. This music is what binds our society together, especially if cranked up to a righteous volume. So step closer to enlightenment my children.
20. Portishead-Dummy (1994)-a trippy jaunt down a psychedelic road describes the seminal recording by a largely underrated band.
19. Miles Davis-Doo Bop (1992)-produced and released posthumously following Miles’ death in 1991 Doo Bop fuses smooth and frenetic jazz with cool hip hop flavor. This album is a shining example of rap/jazz fusion
18. De La Soul-3 Feet High And Rising (1989)-This strange yet catchy album stretches between the absurd and sublime. De La Soul, along with Public Enemy, were pioneering masters of sampling and sound bytes.
17. Chevelle-Wonder What’s Next (2002)-this CD went largely unnoticed outside alternative and metal circles. Too bad because this is a great record.
16. The Strokes-Is This It (2001)-this album was on Rolling Stone magazine’s top 500 albums of all time. That’s high praise indeed.
15. The Fray-How To Save A Life (2005)-hailing from Denver The Fray's debut CD was the most downloaded album on iTunes in 2006. Fans got a taste with the release of the hit single Cable Car in 2005 but it would be over a year before the LP was made available. Believe me, it was well worth the wait.
14. Red Hot Chili Peppers-Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1992)-what can you say about one of the most commercially successful albums of the 90’s? Not much except to say that their mixing of funk, blues, hard rock, and metal is flawless
13. Faith No More-The Real Thing (1989)-More than any act of the last twenty years Faith No More is vastly underrated, especially when one considers the fact this group was the first and most influential rock/rap/funk group of all time.
12. Socialburn-Where Are You (2003)-at first this CD sounds like a blatant Nirvana rip off but once you explore the whole CD what unwinds is a sound more inspired by acoustic bluesiness and striking grinding guitar riffs. A truly underrated effort.
11. Jane’s Addiction-Ritual De Lo Habitual (1990)-this album was a sonic upheaval to those fortunate enough to brave the waters of RDLH. From the foot stomping Been Caught Steeling to the melodic dirge/riot of Three Days, Jane’s Addiction leaves it all at the table, stripped bare for your enjoyment.
10. The Samples (1989)-this gorgeous soundscape by Boulder’s own The Samples was a mainstay on college campuses nation wide. This is an absolutely beautiful recording.
9. George S. Clinton-Greatest Funkin’ Hits (1996)-the only compilation on the list is a must for any purveyors of 70’s funk music. The Godfather of funk is and was a hugely influential artist. Plus this cat is unreal live.
8. A Perfect Circle-Mer De Moms (2000)-this CD features one amazing song after another. The tone of the songs skips from the smoothness of 3 Libras & Orestas to the fervent and in you face Judith. This CD runs the gamut of emotion with seamless brilliance.
7. Rage Against The Machine -RATM (1992)-Zac De La Roca is the driving force behind this fiercely angry and antagonistic CD. Every song has great beat and De La Roca’s vocals are perfect.
6. Tie Ministry-Psalm 69 (1992)-anyone who’s ever seen Al Jourgenson & Co. live will tell you nobody thunders on stage at the start of a set like Ministry. Psalm 69 was the apex of this band’s commercial and critical success with hits like Jesus Built My Hot Rod and Psalm 69. Nine Inch Nails-Pretty Hate Machine (1989)-Trent Reznor is the creative genius behind unbelievably strong album. He played all the instruments and mixed it as well as belting out the vocals. This album is as mesmerizing as it is innovatively brilliant.
5. Sublime (1996)-the most enigmatic band of the 90’s Sublime blazed a trail through the sky with one of the most imitated sounds of their era until their lead singer died an untimely death.. Only Nirvana was more idolized and mimicked.
4. tie Pearl Jam-Ten (1990)-seemingly everyone’s CD collection includes this once in a generation type album. On the Lollapalooza 2 tour Pearl Jam was not a known entity and played second fiddle to the Chili Peppers, Ice Cube, and Ministry. Then came Jeremy, then this record shot through the stratosphere. Nirvana-Nevermind (1991)-quite possibly one of the most influential albums in music history, Nevermind stood as an anthem for the under thirty crowd. The tortured soul that was Kurt Cobain was immediately dubbed this generation’s John Lennon. While that contention is far fetched there’s no doubting the shudder the music world felt upon Nirvana’s arrival and all-too-soon departure.
3. N.W.A.-Straight Outta Compton (1988)-next to the old school Sugar Hill Gang and Run D.M.C., N.W.A. is the most influential rap group ever. This album is a scathing indictment of life in the rough American inner city and is the zenith of gangster rap, a term literally invented to describe this groundbreaking record.
2. Metallica-The Black Album (1991) And Justice For All (1988)-I couldn’t decide between these two CD’s so I included them both. No band on earth plays with the raw furry of Metallica. Seeing these guys live is akin to a religious experience.
1. The Killers-Hot Fuss (2004)-quite simply the best alternative album since Nirvana’s Nevermind and Pearl Jam’s Ten and maybe, just maybe, the best alternative record ever. There is not a bad song on this CD. Hot Fuss is the current gold standard by which all alternative and rock records are judged.
20. Portishead-Dummy (1994)-a trippy jaunt down a psychedelic road describes the seminal recording by a largely underrated band.
19. Miles Davis-Doo Bop (1992)-produced and released posthumously following Miles’ death in 1991 Doo Bop fuses smooth and frenetic jazz with cool hip hop flavor. This album is a shining example of rap/jazz fusion
18. De La Soul-3 Feet High And Rising (1989)-This strange yet catchy album stretches between the absurd and sublime. De La Soul, along with Public Enemy, were pioneering masters of sampling and sound bytes.
17. Chevelle-Wonder What’s Next (2002)-this CD went largely unnoticed outside alternative and metal circles. Too bad because this is a great record.
16. The Strokes-Is This It (2001)-this album was on Rolling Stone magazine’s top 500 albums of all time. That’s high praise indeed.
15. The Fray-How To Save A Life (2005)-hailing from Denver The Fray's debut CD was the most downloaded album on iTunes in 2006. Fans got a taste with the release of the hit single Cable Car in 2005 but it would be over a year before the LP was made available. Believe me, it was well worth the wait.
14. Red Hot Chili Peppers-Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1992)-what can you say about one of the most commercially successful albums of the 90’s? Not much except to say that their mixing of funk, blues, hard rock, and metal is flawless
13. Faith No More-The Real Thing (1989)-More than any act of the last twenty years Faith No More is vastly underrated, especially when one considers the fact this group was the first and most influential rock/rap/funk group of all time.
12. Socialburn-Where Are You (2003)-at first this CD sounds like a blatant Nirvana rip off but once you explore the whole CD what unwinds is a sound more inspired by acoustic bluesiness and striking grinding guitar riffs. A truly underrated effort.
11. Jane’s Addiction-Ritual De Lo Habitual (1990)-this album was a sonic upheaval to those fortunate enough to brave the waters of RDLH. From the foot stomping Been Caught Steeling to the melodic dirge/riot of Three Days, Jane’s Addiction leaves it all at the table, stripped bare for your enjoyment.
10. The Samples (1989)-this gorgeous soundscape by Boulder’s own The Samples was a mainstay on college campuses nation wide. This is an absolutely beautiful recording.
9. George S. Clinton-Greatest Funkin’ Hits (1996)-the only compilation on the list is a must for any purveyors of 70’s funk music. The Godfather of funk is and was a hugely influential artist. Plus this cat is unreal live.
8. A Perfect Circle-Mer De Moms (2000)-this CD features one amazing song after another. The tone of the songs skips from the smoothness of 3 Libras & Orestas to the fervent and in you face Judith. This CD runs the gamut of emotion with seamless brilliance.
7. Rage Against The Machine -RATM (1992)-Zac De La Roca is the driving force behind this fiercely angry and antagonistic CD. Every song has great beat and De La Roca’s vocals are perfect.
6. Tie Ministry-Psalm 69 (1992)-anyone who’s ever seen Al Jourgenson & Co. live will tell you nobody thunders on stage at the start of a set like Ministry. Psalm 69 was the apex of this band’s commercial and critical success with hits like Jesus Built My Hot Rod and Psalm 69. Nine Inch Nails-Pretty Hate Machine (1989)-Trent Reznor is the creative genius behind unbelievably strong album. He played all the instruments and mixed it as well as belting out the vocals. This album is as mesmerizing as it is innovatively brilliant.
5. Sublime (1996)-the most enigmatic band of the 90’s Sublime blazed a trail through the sky with one of the most imitated sounds of their era until their lead singer died an untimely death.. Only Nirvana was more idolized and mimicked.
4. tie Pearl Jam-Ten (1990)-seemingly everyone’s CD collection includes this once in a generation type album. On the Lollapalooza 2 tour Pearl Jam was not a known entity and played second fiddle to the Chili Peppers, Ice Cube, and Ministry. Then came Jeremy, then this record shot through the stratosphere. Nirvana-Nevermind (1991)-quite possibly one of the most influential albums in music history, Nevermind stood as an anthem for the under thirty crowd. The tortured soul that was Kurt Cobain was immediately dubbed this generation’s John Lennon. While that contention is far fetched there’s no doubting the shudder the music world felt upon Nirvana’s arrival and all-too-soon departure.
3. N.W.A.-Straight Outta Compton (1988)-next to the old school Sugar Hill Gang and Run D.M.C., N.W.A. is the most influential rap group ever. This album is a scathing indictment of life in the rough American inner city and is the zenith of gangster rap, a term literally invented to describe this groundbreaking record.
2. Metallica-The Black Album (1991) And Justice For All (1988)-I couldn’t decide between these two CD’s so I included them both. No band on earth plays with the raw furry of Metallica. Seeing these guys live is akin to a religious experience.
1. The Killers-Hot Fuss (2004)-quite simply the best alternative album since Nirvana’s Nevermind and Pearl Jam’s Ten and maybe, just maybe, the best alternative record ever. There is not a bad song on this CD. Hot Fuss is the current gold standard by which all alternative and rock records are judged.
Just cuz
What we’re gonna do now my children is trip down the boulevard on the Mothership Funkadelic, with a little help from Shrub’s Funkin’ Love Orchestra. Hell yeah…feel the rhythm and hear the rhyme as the music man is keeping time.
Parliament is now in session even though this is not a democracy, it’s a blogocracy, and I have the keys bitches! I am God on this blog, a blog god so to speak, and you all must tremble in awe of my skills. Or not.
The very kinky girl in the corner with the Isabelle Haze clouding her gaze as she beats a funky refrain ain’t no sage in a dry wall cage because that’s Shrub’s domain.
Why this self-indulgent sidewalk poetry you ask. Simple, it’s 25 degrees and cloudy outside with a dusting of snow covering the cityscape. And I am sick to fucking death of winter, yet I seem to wax the most poetic the worse the weather…go figure. A chill wind blows just outside my windowpane as the hands of Mother Nature show no mercy. Shit, would I like to stop the heavens, grab a big ass eraser, and obliterate the clouds so that my glorious sun could radiate the mortal realm with its warmth. I’m sick of grayness accompanied by below freezing temperatures.
I had the coolest dream the other night, its vividness was startling. I sat there cuddling with this gorgeous girl. She was the epitome of Mediterranean beauty…olive toned skin, glistening black hair, big almond shaped brown eyes, flat tummy, sexy as hell. We sat facing each other with her head resting on my shoulder while I gently rubbed the back of her neck. I swear I can still smell her hair and remember the feel of that impossibly smooth skin. To sleep, per chance to dream…
Let’s turn the volume up to a nice respectable ear shattering level, put on Ministry’s epic anthem So What, or the entire Nine Inch Nails CD Pretty Hate Machine, or The Black Album by Metallica, or maybe Mer De Moms by A Perfect Circle, or maybe The Fray’s colossal debut album How To Sava A Life, or Doo-Bop by Miles Davis, or any ditty by George Clinton and the P Funk All Stars, and let the mind flow. Find your favorite CD, put it on at the proper volume, sit back, and let the mind wander, meander, trip, skip, and flow as the music takes you on an afternoon jaunt. If you have an iPod even better…make a play list of your favorite songs and don’t fight the feeling. Dance, clean, type, sing to your heart’s content. It’s truly cathartic in a most Zen sorta way.
I just bought four more DVD’s I have little chance of watching in the near future. But I felt compelled because they look so damn good, kind of like window shopping at a steak house, everything looks enticing. Those tricky bastards, they saw me coming!
The left motor has essentially died on my wheel chair. And if you think I like spinning in circles when the thing heats up you’re freakin’ mental. I can’t even top a decently steep incline without assistance. Fucking thing!
Well, I’ll bring this tortuous tryst to a merciful close. Later one and all.
Parliament is now in session even though this is not a democracy, it’s a blogocracy, and I have the keys bitches! I am God on this blog, a blog god so to speak, and you all must tremble in awe of my skills. Or not.
The very kinky girl in the corner with the Isabelle Haze clouding her gaze as she beats a funky refrain ain’t no sage in a dry wall cage because that’s Shrub’s domain.
Why this self-indulgent sidewalk poetry you ask. Simple, it’s 25 degrees and cloudy outside with a dusting of snow covering the cityscape. And I am sick to fucking death of winter, yet I seem to wax the most poetic the worse the weather…go figure. A chill wind blows just outside my windowpane as the hands of Mother Nature show no mercy. Shit, would I like to stop the heavens, grab a big ass eraser, and obliterate the clouds so that my glorious sun could radiate the mortal realm with its warmth. I’m sick of grayness accompanied by below freezing temperatures.
I had the coolest dream the other night, its vividness was startling. I sat there cuddling with this gorgeous girl. She was the epitome of Mediterranean beauty…olive toned skin, glistening black hair, big almond shaped brown eyes, flat tummy, sexy as hell. We sat facing each other with her head resting on my shoulder while I gently rubbed the back of her neck. I swear I can still smell her hair and remember the feel of that impossibly smooth skin. To sleep, per chance to dream…
Let’s turn the volume up to a nice respectable ear shattering level, put on Ministry’s epic anthem So What, or the entire Nine Inch Nails CD Pretty Hate Machine, or The Black Album by Metallica, or maybe Mer De Moms by A Perfect Circle, or maybe The Fray’s colossal debut album How To Sava A Life, or Doo-Bop by Miles Davis, or any ditty by George Clinton and the P Funk All Stars, and let the mind flow. Find your favorite CD, put it on at the proper volume, sit back, and let the mind wander, meander, trip, skip, and flow as the music takes you on an afternoon jaunt. If you have an iPod even better…make a play list of your favorite songs and don’t fight the feeling. Dance, clean, type, sing to your heart’s content. It’s truly cathartic in a most Zen sorta way.
I just bought four more DVD’s I have little chance of watching in the near future. But I felt compelled because they look so damn good, kind of like window shopping at a steak house, everything looks enticing. Those tricky bastards, they saw me coming!
The left motor has essentially died on my wheel chair. And if you think I like spinning in circles when the thing heats up you’re freakin’ mental. I can’t even top a decently steep incline without assistance. Fucking thing!
Well, I’ll bring this tortuous tryst to a merciful close. Later one and all.
Stupid Halscan
Sorry I haven't been responding to y'alls comments, I'm having trouble with Haloscan. Every time I try and leave a comment it says there's a javascript error. Any ideas?
And now responses...
PB, you're a madcap with the heart of a prankster, even if you lack the stomach for such. Just come over to the dark side....it's funnnnn.
PS, I know Gisele Bundchen isn't pregnant, I said that stuff for effect.
And now responses...
PB, you're a madcap with the heart of a prankster, even if you lack the stomach for such. Just come over to the dark side....it's funnnnn.
PS, I know Gisele Bundchen isn't pregnant, I said that stuff for effect.
Testicle Tuesday...Brady's bitches
Few things in this world make me as giddy as football and fine women. So when I can combine both in one post, by God it's my duty to do so.
Few will deny the mad skills New England Patriot quarterback Tom Brady possesses, and apperently his deeds in the bedroom are nearly as storied. Mr. Brady is rumored to have impregnated both of the gorgeous creatures featured below.
Gisele Bundchen hails from Brazil and has shot to the top of the fashion model biz. So when she claimed that Tom Brady had planted his seed on her fertile ground football fans far and wide stood and applauded. You go Tom!
Bridget Moynahan and Tom Brady were an item for years until their recent untimely breakup. Now it seems the erstwhile quarterback has been flagged for a procedure penalty, or illegal use of hands, and left the stunning Ms. Moynahan with a little Brady in the oven.
I guess this goes to show how much I envy Tom Brady for his three Super Bowl rings and his luck with the uber hotties of this world.
Few will deny the mad skills New England Patriot quarterback Tom Brady possesses, and apperently his deeds in the bedroom are nearly as storied. Mr. Brady is rumored to have impregnated both of the gorgeous creatures featured below.
Gisele Bundchen hails from Brazil and has shot to the top of the fashion model biz. So when she claimed that Tom Brady had planted his seed on her fertile ground football fans far and wide stood and applauded. You go Tom!
Bridget Moynahan and Tom Brady were an item for years until their recent untimely breakup. Now it seems the erstwhile quarterback has been flagged for a procedure penalty, or illegal use of hands, and left the stunning Ms. Moynahan with a little Brady in the oven.
I guess this goes to show how much I envy Tom Brady for his three Super Bowl rings and his luck with the uber hotties of this world.
Happy April Fools Day!
I posted this lil' ditty a while back but thought the occasion was right for a redux.
The following is an insight to my whimsical nature. I give the best practical jokes I ever pulled.
One day my mom came home in an especially vile mood. She kicked off her shoes and yelled for me to take them, along with another pair sitting by the door, upstairs and put them in her closet. Both pairs of shoes were identical except one was black and the other navy blue. I dutifully put mi madre’s shoes away but in inverse order. So, I arranged them blue-black-black-blue. I knew she’d grab either the pair on the right or the ones on the left ensuring she’d have to walk around all day in miss-matched footwear. She didn’t disappoint.
Me and Leonard were driving down a busy street here in Denver one morning around 3 a.m. when we passed a local liquor store that frequently had those massive inflatable beer bottles perched on the front lawn. Much to our surprise the proprietors of the store just deflated the bottles and left them out front. So being the enterprising little scamps that we were we designed to pilfer the deflated bottle. We stopped, removed the mooring straps from the stakes embedded in the ground, rolled up the bottle, and stowed it in the back of L’s truck. We’d seen similar giant inflatable stuff before and knew it required a big ass fan to blow the thing back up but none was in sight. It appeared we had been stymied in our attempt at the joke hall of fame. My bladder was near the bursting point as a twelve pack of Coors light will do that so I hid in a nearby trash enclosure to drain the main vein. Eureka! The dumbasses at the liquor store had stowed the fan behind the dumpster. Our plan was nearing fruition. We took the bottle, fan, and another twelve pack to the roof of L’s school where we proceeded to inflate the giant bottle of Bud. The principal at L’s school was greeted that Monday morning by a most unusual sight, a thirty foot tall beer bottle turned on its side.
In high school we had this letch of a teacher named Mr. O. We all hated him. He coached the girls’ cross country team, ostensibly to ogle their goodies as they bounced during the daily 5-10 mile jaunts around the neighborhood. So, one day after school whilst he was at practice and the school was nearly deserted myself and several mischievous friends devised a most sadistic joke. Mr. O’s prized possession was his 1965 yellow VW Bug. Now, anyone who’s ever owned one knows they’re insanely easy to break into. So, we popped open his door, took the Bug out of gear, and pushed it next to the gymnasium wall which jutted out about forty feet and was thirty twenty feet tall and had a set of double wide entry doors. We pushed his car into the middle of the gym and closed the door. Here’s the kicker, our basketball coach/head gym teacher, Mr. G, was watching. His reaction was of utter disbelief. You could see the look on his face. Next thing we saw was Mr. G head around the corner then we heard him explode with laughter. Mr. O never found out who violated his sanctity as Mr. G was an impossible nut to crack.
There was an unwritten rule at our high school that states never be the first to get drunk and pass out at our parties. Many people went home with fairly vile and embarrassing tokens scribbled in magic marker all over their bodies. Some even had their hair dyed a different color or were stripped of all clothing save a strategically placed bear can, box, or plastic grocery bag. We were not nice people. Now, if you were the first to pass out and were disliked by a large portion of the onlookers you were screwed. One night this kid whom I’d developed a stern disliking of was the first to pass out. I chimed up to everyone to let me go take a wiz and contemplate his fate. Everyone knew I hated the guy and also knew of my reputation for creativity and inventiveness. They all laughed as I went off to do my thing. I was drunk as shit and when I’m like that I have a tendency to do bizarre stuff. After I’d emptied my bladder I started snooping in the medicine cabinet. Sweet mother of God if I didn’t find the perfect tool of torment. I reappeared and a hush fell over the crowd as they could see I was holding something behind my back. I donned a shit-eating grin and revealed…a bottle of Nair. This kid looked like a young Jason Voorhees come Monday morning.
After I broke my neck in 1990 I spent six months at Craig Hospital here in Denver. After two months in I was paired up with Zorba the Greek in room 308. We developed a tight friendship and all the staff and our fellow gimps knew it. One day we acquired the the number by which you could access the hospital intercom from any phone in the building. Nick insisted we use this to play a joke on the patients and staff. Zorba held the phone, dialed 483, and I announced, “Attention Craig Hospital patients and staff. We would like to announce a change in the education protocol. Disabled sexuality and driver training will now be taught in the same car.”
In the spirit of April Fools Day please let me know what your best practical jokes were and I’ll start a Hall of Fame. Leave as detailed accounts as you can possibly remember. Email them to me or just leave a comment via ol' Haloscan.
Taka care all!
The following is an insight to my whimsical nature. I give the best practical jokes I ever pulled.
One day my mom came home in an especially vile mood. She kicked off her shoes and yelled for me to take them, along with another pair sitting by the door, upstairs and put them in her closet. Both pairs of shoes were identical except one was black and the other navy blue. I dutifully put mi madre’s shoes away but in inverse order. So, I arranged them blue-black-black-blue. I knew she’d grab either the pair on the right or the ones on the left ensuring she’d have to walk around all day in miss-matched footwear. She didn’t disappoint.
Me and Leonard were driving down a busy street here in Denver one morning around 3 a.m. when we passed a local liquor store that frequently had those massive inflatable beer bottles perched on the front lawn. Much to our surprise the proprietors of the store just deflated the bottles and left them out front. So being the enterprising little scamps that we were we designed to pilfer the deflated bottle. We stopped, removed the mooring straps from the stakes embedded in the ground, rolled up the bottle, and stowed it in the back of L’s truck. We’d seen similar giant inflatable stuff before and knew it required a big ass fan to blow the thing back up but none was in sight. It appeared we had been stymied in our attempt at the joke hall of fame. My bladder was near the bursting point as a twelve pack of Coors light will do that so I hid in a nearby trash enclosure to drain the main vein. Eureka! The dumbasses at the liquor store had stowed the fan behind the dumpster. Our plan was nearing fruition. We took the bottle, fan, and another twelve pack to the roof of L’s school where we proceeded to inflate the giant bottle of Bud. The principal at L’s school was greeted that Monday morning by a most unusual sight, a thirty foot tall beer bottle turned on its side.
In high school we had this letch of a teacher named Mr. O. We all hated him. He coached the girls’ cross country team, ostensibly to ogle their goodies as they bounced during the daily 5-10 mile jaunts around the neighborhood. So, one day after school whilst he was at practice and the school was nearly deserted myself and several mischievous friends devised a most sadistic joke. Mr. O’s prized possession was his 1965 yellow VW Bug. Now, anyone who’s ever owned one knows they’re insanely easy to break into. So, we popped open his door, took the Bug out of gear, and pushed it next to the gymnasium wall which jutted out about forty feet and was thirty twenty feet tall and had a set of double wide entry doors. We pushed his car into the middle of the gym and closed the door. Here’s the kicker, our basketball coach/head gym teacher, Mr. G, was watching. His reaction was of utter disbelief. You could see the look on his face. Next thing we saw was Mr. G head around the corner then we heard him explode with laughter. Mr. O never found out who violated his sanctity as Mr. G was an impossible nut to crack.
There was an unwritten rule at our high school that states never be the first to get drunk and pass out at our parties. Many people went home with fairly vile and embarrassing tokens scribbled in magic marker all over their bodies. Some even had their hair dyed a different color or were stripped of all clothing save a strategically placed bear can, box, or plastic grocery bag. We were not nice people. Now, if you were the first to pass out and were disliked by a large portion of the onlookers you were screwed. One night this kid whom I’d developed a stern disliking of was the first to pass out. I chimed up to everyone to let me go take a wiz and contemplate his fate. Everyone knew I hated the guy and also knew of my reputation for creativity and inventiveness. They all laughed as I went off to do my thing. I was drunk as shit and when I’m like that I have a tendency to do bizarre stuff. After I’d emptied my bladder I started snooping in the medicine cabinet. Sweet mother of God if I didn’t find the perfect tool of torment. I reappeared and a hush fell over the crowd as they could see I was holding something behind my back. I donned a shit-eating grin and revealed…a bottle of Nair. This kid looked like a young Jason Voorhees come Monday morning.
After I broke my neck in 1990 I spent six months at Craig Hospital here in Denver. After two months in I was paired up with Zorba the Greek in room 308. We developed a tight friendship and all the staff and our fellow gimps knew it. One day we acquired the the number by which you could access the hospital intercom from any phone in the building. Nick insisted we use this to play a joke on the patients and staff. Zorba held the phone, dialed 483, and I announced, “Attention Craig Hospital patients and staff. We would like to announce a change in the education protocol. Disabled sexuality and driver training will now be taught in the same car.”
In the spirit of April Fools Day please let me know what your best practical jokes were and I’ll start a Hall of Fame. Leave as detailed accounts as you can possibly remember. Email them to me or just leave a comment via ol' Haloscan.
Taka care all!
Surgical post mordem
I just finished a four day stay at the hospital to complete the fusion of my ankle. I now have a six inch rod that is bolted into fibula down through ankle. I can taste the metal. Thanks for the well wishes!
My stay was uneventful and I consumed decent hospital food as well as dilauded every two hours. All in all it wasn't a completely horrible experience.
My stay was uneventful and I consumed decent hospital food as well as dilauded every two hours. All in all it wasn't a completely horrible experience.
Testicle Tuesday...Hail the Queen!
Last week I promised to post images of the quintessential scream queen. So, without futher adieau...
Jamie Lee Curtis starred in nearly a dozen horror movies. Her resume includes Halloween I & II, Prom Night, The Fog, Terror Train, Road Games, Halloween H2O, Virus, and Halloween Resurrection. Her storied career has been masturbatory fodder for over 30 years. She’s unbelievably beautiful and has inspired future generations of horror movie vixens.
Jamie Lee Curtis starred in nearly a dozen horror movies. Her resume includes Halloween I & II, Prom Night, The Fog, Terror Train, Road Games, Halloween H2O, Virus, and Halloween Resurrection. Her storied career has been masturbatory fodder for over 30 years. She’s unbelievably beautiful and has inspired future generations of horror movie vixens.
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