Banana Slug

The resemblance is uncanny

2012-01-29T10:10:00.002-05:00

Not sure why I didn't see it before now.

Diaper Wars

2012-01-27T08:15:00.002-05:00

Wherein one Depends user bitches about the enemy camp trotting out a fellow member of the tribe.

The jokes write themselves anymore. They just aren't very funny, more just pathetic.

Keeping Score

2012-01-21T10:47:00.001-05:00

Just sayin'
Newt Gingrich, who has called gay marriage "a temporary aberration" has officially killed two more marriages than all the gays in America combined.

Asshole.

Maine Vacation, the Important Part

2011-12-10T11:41:00.003-05:00

figu7es here. Rrrrrooowwwwwwrrrrr!
Just took a week in Maine searching for the lovely and talented Jessica Fletcher, a.k.a. Angela Lansbury and I was not disappointed (except by the bastards in Boothbay Harbor, who will pay in some unspecified way and not by my hand if police are reading).

Those sons of bitches had the nerve to close the entire town, even the candlepin bowling alley. Needless to say, it left me somewhat stressed. Of course, my hatchet was taken by some drone from Homeland Security (I had a Club on it so I couldn't use it on the plane) so I couldn't exact my revenge.

Of course, my patience was eventually rewarded, at least I think it was. I am nearly certain the photo below captures one Angela Lansbury a.k.a. Jessica Fletcher on her way from the twice monthly Boothbay Harbor writer's meeting (1st and 3rd Tuesday). Of course, it was dark (when isn't it---I swear the sun went down around noon) and I had been lying in wait for approximately 30 hours by that point in time so I could be mistaken. Ever the temptress, I see she is still advertising those furs, just like the 60's.

One thing I know, she has pretty large feet. I found a size 18 pump after the photo was taken.

figu7es waited in the woods with only a camera, several lobster rolls and a couple of rolls of duct tape to get this shot. Luckily for Ms. Lansbury he had fallen asleep before the crucial moment and couldn't move quickly enough with the cable ties and net.

Maine Vacation

2011-12-10T11:11:00.023-05:00

So I'm boring the entire internet with my vacation photos now.
Things have been a bit stressful of late so I decided to go into seclusion for the week in Maine. Just the ticket.
figu7es went along to continue his interminable search for Angela Lansbury and in the process developed a resentment against the fine people of Boothbay Harbor who are apparently wintering elsewhere and wouldn't even let him go candlepin bowling.
They should feel lucky his hatchet was confiscated by security at the airport.
All photos were taken with the iPhone and, yes, I have about 125 more if anyone is interested.

Safety First. figu7es proved an exceptional navigator. He's also glad he dressed for the weather.

This trip is already looking solid.

Beneath Route 1, Bath, ME.

More Bath, ME.

Apparently Afrin gives me the shakes. It rendered every single picture from the Maritime Museum in Bath worthless. Damn sinuses.

I think this artful rendering almost saves the photo of plastic lobstahs being massacred at the Maritime Museum. Great Museum, by the way.

Kennebec River, Bath, ME.

The coolest store in Maine. This one is in Damariscotta. They give you a fair deal.

figu7es insists it's never too early to be prepared for my inevitable incontinence and senescence.

I drove out on the islands until the road ended at the ocean.

Bailey's Island, ME. 2 pm. Gray.

Brunswick, ME, 3 pm. Yup.

Now that's why I picked Maine in December.

It rained a lot. Still, warm for December.

figu7es needed a moment to compose himself.

A quick reminder of home. Moe does this to me constantly.

Camden, ME. Crunchy, but cool.

Rocks on a beach.

The LL Bean tree in Freeport. The remarkable thing about this photo is that I took it at around 4:30 pm and it was pitch black out.

Visited Portland on Friday and wanted to give a shout out to the 99%.

The Christmas Rapture is Again upon Us! Ignore This at your own Peril!

2011-11-26T13:12:00.010-05:00

Santa will return soon---ask yourself, are you ready?

We're guessing he got hit on the head at one of those Crimean War reenactments he's always leading.

Figures here. And a rrrrroowwwwrrrrrr to you! I've been 'away' again (editor's note: He was serving time) and haven't graced these pages in some time, but I felt compelled to return to issue this warning.

I have had a premonition and I suspect it will be as accurate as this one, this one and especially this one.

The Christmas Rapture is coming soon and the world will change abruptly. Santa's soon return is nigh and the believers will share in a wealth of great gifts while those who've been naughty are cast into hell to wear sweat socks and crappy ties.

According to my extensive calculations, the Rapture will occur sometime around December 25th or so.

But, as this post shows, I will not let my fellow man be thrown into the abyss without a fight. I've recruited the cow army, who till now have mostly stood in fields together waiting for orders, to spread the word. I've outlined some of the placards we will be using here in the post.

Save yourselves while there's still time! Santa will not suffer the naughty, but will instead consign them to the flames of bad gifts and generic air hockey tables with one short leg!

Also, if you'd care to give to this enterprise (which isn't cheap, even though the cows are volunteering their time rather than be, um, repurposed into, um, meat) send along a contribution. I assure you all donations will be used to spread the word about the Christmas Rapture and not my (hopefully) upcoming exodus to Las Vegas.

Figu7es, out.

Unnecessary Sequels IX: The Unnecessarier!

2011-11-13T11:22:00.007-05:00

Joseph Heller would never have stooped to writing a sequel to what is considered by many to be the great American novel. Look, you ignore Closing Time.. It didn't happen. No, it really didn't. I refuse to discuss this further as my head is starting to hurt again.

An ongoing series in which we imagine what Hollywood executives would do if they could raise the deadl. It also provides an opportunity to indulge our love of utterly witless literary references. Grouped by author in no other particular order. And, no, you should really know these. Nothing obscure going on here.

A Tale of Two Suburbs

Littler Nell

Martian Chuzzlewit

Bleaker House

The Left Arm of Darkness

Extraordinary People

The Grapes of Wrath II: Okie Reckoning

Of Mouse and Man (technically a prequel, I suppose)

UPS

The Scarlet Letter, B: The Bitch is Back

Cats (and Dogs): It’s Raining!

(Yeh, I know. Get off my ass. It amused me.)

A Reintroduction to Arms

The Old Men and The Sea

A Forest Grows in Brooklyn

È la Morte un Giorno Personali (Death Takes a Personal Day)

Side Street

To Resuscitate a Mockingbird

In Colder Blood

Brunch at Tiffanys

The Appeal

Naked Dinner

Catch Twenty-Too

Something Else Happened

Raven II: The Ravening

The Pit, The Pendulum and the Preemie!

Cat’s First Big Boy Bed

Slaughterhouse Five: The Final Slaughter

That was Then, This is Now. Again.

The Outsiders: Inside Job

Okay, I'll grant that this one seems like a really good idea. I think we can reimagine Mr. Pecksniff as a hapless arthropod.

2011-10-07T14:15:00.000-04:00

Nope, nothin' here

2011-09-18T16:17:00.003-04:00

The Combover in the Room

2011-05-01T22:30:00.015-04:00

With the news that Donald Trump is deluded enough to think he should actually run for President, it is time to help him face his greatest obstacle to election.
Unless The Donald actually believes a bunch of fogies concerned with nothing beyond the current President’s melanin levels will propel him to victory, it is time to face the cold, hard truth.
No, he can’t do much about his monumental ignorance or his lack of even a basic grasp of the most elementary issues.
He can’t get a do-over on the multiple divorces, the multiple bankruptcies or the idiotic trailer-trash melodrama that is Donald Trump.
He can’t shake his image as a pompous, grandstanding jackass.
But there is one thing he can do something about.
That hair.
Yes, the hair. Longtime companion of late night comedians, national laughingstock and the single worst advertisement ever for combs.
Everyone notices it, everyone laughs at it and no one will ever take him seriously as long as he still has it.
So as a public service (and because we know he has about as much chance of becoming President as we do), we’ve detailed some options below to help The Donald expand his support beyond the terminally simple minded.

Some Possible New Looks:

The Norris

Pros
A teabagger classic, it combines the rugged masculinity and wooden acting of Chuck Norris films with a scent of conspiracy and longed for self importance
Polyester is low maintenance and doesn’t require ironing
Low cost, available in multi-packs at any Sam’s Club
Cons
Already has teabagger vote pretty well locked up until the next shiny object that isn’t President Obama is dangled in front of them
Reeks of desperation and poor production values
Itchy

The Beaver

Pros
None really, as Trump has already locked up the Mel Gibson constituency
Cons
Too similar to current style

The Bieber

Pros
Fashion forward, will appeal to younger voters, tweens
Cons
Auto tuned
Canadien birth could complicate sole campaign issue to date

The Obama

Pros
Will help popularity with "the blacks"
Can be styled with messages in the back
Salt and pepper looks distinguished
Cons
Teahadists will begin looking into Kenyan birth
Political rallies will empty quickly as supporters look to cross the street to avoid being mugged

The Willis

Pros
Ballsy, shows a don’t give a damn attitude about male pattern baldness
Guaranteed to make 40 something mid-westerners weak in the knees
Cons
Temptation to grow awful goatee and moustache to compensate
Requires balls, recognition of male pattern baldness

The Rachel

Pros
Made a star out of Jennifer Aniston
Easy to care for
Millions of American women will identify with the time they tried this hairstyle and discovered it did nothing for them either
Cons
Voters might mistake failed campaign for failed rom-com
May draw David Schwimmer out of alley he’s currently living in

The Whoopi

Pros
Will solidify support with housewives and daytime television viewers
Still presents a modicum of cool despite Sister Act 2
Cons
Joy Behar and Elizabeth Hasselback

The Washington

Yeh, that didn't work.

Let's just pretend that didn't happen.

And the winner is:

Natch. Everyone looks better with The Norris.

The photo below provides undisputed proof. The Norris it is.

Presented without further comment

2011-04-10T16:40:00.001-04:00

A hat tip to Ms. round guy for pointing out how much Speaker Boner resembles the grinch.

At least I know why I'm feeling like this

2011-04-05T13:53:00.003-04:00

We're not sure what it's supposed to mean either.

So I've been angry a lot lately. Not angry at my friends or my life or any of the things happening in it. Things are fine there, really. But I"m wandering around with a ton of unfocused rage and it doesn't want to go anywhere.
Here are some of the things I am angry about:

Craven, Invertebrate Democrats
Lying whores using government to destroy hard won social progress
Our media
The vilification of hard working teachers
Class warfare against public employees
Anyone who takes the idea of Tea Partiers seriously and without realizing they are the same 29% that had Bush's back all the way till the end
Michele Bachmann
Tired arguments from right wingers about how we 'can't afford' things after they've just cut taxes on the wealthy again
The cancellation of Terriers by FX (I'm still getting over that one and it's going to take time)
Our media
Uninformed jackasses

Trust me, there's plenty more.

But the unveiling of the latest Republican atrocity did me in. I'm speaking, of course, of the attempt to destroy Medicare and consign senior citizens to inadequate, overpriced insurance in the name of budget balancing. It's a lie from start to finish and is only about destroying one of the most successful government programs in existence.

The plan was introduced by Rep. Paul Ryan, the right's new darling, and it pledges to end Medicare within 10 years and replace it with a voucher system to purchase 'reasonably priced private insurance,' leaving seniors completely at the mercy of said private insurers (not to mention on the hook for any cost increases over time). The fact that seniors will be unable to purchase reasonably priced insurance apparently hasn't occurred to anyone.

Anyway, Paul Ryan in 2010:

Now, when you take a look at the Medicare cuts, what this bill essentially does is treats Medicare like a piggy bank. It raids a half a trillion dollars out of Medicare not to shore up Medicare’s solvency but to spend on this new government program.

Yes, that's Paul taking President Obama to task for making cuts to Medicare---the same plan he wants to eviscerate and destroy.

The world is fun that way.

Now I could seethe quietly or just rail at Ms. Round Guy about the state of the world (and she has had to listen to lots of it lately), but I sense she's getting tired of it and, besides, she's in a constant state of outrage lately as well (see note above regarding teachers). It's not good.

So I'm reassessing my options and I've decide to reopen this little web portal again for a bit, to vent about the nonsense surrounding me daily, politically and otherwise.

I thought I'd gotten past it, that our country had perhaps finally gotten past it, but if the events of the past two years have shown anything at all, it's that people can always find a way to disappoint further.
And that Republicans are lying, fucking scumbags who care only about lowering taxes on the wealthy and fucking over the rest of the people. Oh, and that Democrats are their chief apologists (maybe right after the media) and will do anything to look bipartisan, especially if it involves selling out to the people who elected them in the first place.

So, we're open for business again, not that I expect it to make any difference to the world at large (even blogs with readers don't affect things much, so I'm not sure what this might do). But I've got to do something, so I guess sporadic ridicule and an intermittent finger pointed at some of the most egregious nonsense is what I've got.

So long Farewell Auf Wiedersehen, well not totally

2009-07-24T00:08:00.002-04:00

As has been apparent to even casual observers, my interest in the day to day operations here at Banana Slug has waned considerably over the past several months.
While it has always been fits and starts here, I have realized I no longer have the will to continue this venture; it has been five years and while I’ve enjoyed having this particular portal on the intertubes the site kind of spun away from what I’d originally intended and took on a more political flavor than I would have preferred.
We had some fun in that vein for a bit and I’m certainly guilty of beating on the comedic dead horse that was George W. Bush, but I’ve grown tired of the rancor and with the new administration (for all their faults) I don’t feel so angry I want to vomit blood continuously anymore.
And that's a good thing.
Certainly we tried to get past it here and continue soldiering on in a different direction but honestly this site has its own I don’t know what (that’s from the French, kiddies) and everything has felt a bit forced.
So I stopped, reassessed, and worked on some other projects. I went to France. I ate some really good triple chocolate Klondikes. I let my beard grow out (for what it’s worth I looked rather Amish) and took up yodeling.
And then after much discussion between figu7es, sslugger and the rest of the editorial board we agreed it was time to put Banana Slug into mothballs for the time being.
This wasn’t an easy choice as a number of people have put a lot of work into this over the years and I personally have expended a great deal of effort in trying to bring the funny to the three or four people that trip over this site seeking to feed their disturbing gliemizes fetishes. Plus, this obviously a labor of love as it were, since it certainly has never been a paying gig, so I’m a bit saddened it will be going away.
We’ll keep the archives up, but Banana Slug is officially no more for the time being.
We want to offer a huge thanks to all those who have read us over the years (and it’s a surprising number frankly, given the unremittingly poor quality of the work).
Now are you ready for the really bad news?
We are starting over at some new digs.
And we are taking Mr. Laughing Wolf with us. Not only has he been indispensable in handling the heavy lifting while I moldered in existential crisis, he’s damn funny in his own right. Plus he thought up one of the new names and we already owe him $18 and don’t want to pay.
So, please visit us shortly at our new homes (did he say homes? As in plural? Okay, so the idiot can’t keep up one web site but thinks he’ll do better with two? Dumbass):
Cheeky Monkey, which should answer the ages old question, WTF? Our thanks to laughing wolf for the name and for his continued contributions, whatever they may be.
and Well Hanged, where we will attempt to dissect the human condition, drink lots of coffee (or diet Coke) and perhaps post some short fiction now and again.

Why exactly do I think I will keep up two web sites when I can barely function on one?
Frankly, I don’t know. But it seems worth a try.

We should be open for business at both some time shortly. If we have any readers remaining I hope you will all consider a visit.
Until then, goodbye and thank you; this has been a lot of fun.

Jack's Fat Girlfriend

2009-07-09T20:36:00.016-04:00

Jack owns the hearing-aid place just down the hall from my comic shop. He has been in business there for fifteen years, the same amount of time that my store has been open, and, thus, we have known each other for a while. Jack is one of those guys who, though pushing forty, is still mentally and emotionally stuck at age thirteen. Farts are the height of humor and he waxes poetic about "boobies" like he has never actually seen a real one. I'm sure that you know the type. We talk a lot. Mostly because he knows where to find me and I am sorta trapped in my shop all day. Jack says that we are friends. I tell him that the only reason I don't choke him into unconsciousness with his own tongue for using that particular F-word in regard to me is that he lets me steal internet service from him. Jack comes to me for advice and as a sounding board for his personal and professional issues. I, in turn, point out his many flaws, verbally abuse him and, in general, crush his dreams and make his soul bleed. It is a win/win situation.

A little over a year ago, Jack went through an ugly divorce. It was ugly not only because I had to listen to the details, but also because his wife was bat-shit crazy. (As illustration of the magnitude of the woman's flying mammal-guano insanity, I offer this little anecdote: She bought a puppy, a Springer Spaniel, because the granite counter tops she wanted to make her life complete were too expensive. The pup, at seven months old, was a tad too eager when taking treats from her hand and, occasionally, nipped at her fingers. Because she had read on-line that Springers were supposed to be "soft-mouthed" dogs, she believed hers to be defective. So she shot it. Duck to avoid falling bat poo). When the divorce was final, Jack began to wade into the dating pool. Lucky guy that I am, Jack found it necessary to share the trials and tribulations of his awkward re-socialization. Blind-dates from hell, the crash and burn of an internet dating service, Russian mail order brides (who, he informed me, he would not ask to say "moose and skverrel" as a method of checking authenticity. Dick.), and sleazy one-nighters were all moaned about on a daily basis. I was actually hoping that he would find true love quite soon because I had grown concerned about the adverse effects of bleaching my brain every night. Even Ian, the snarky and more evil than Laughingwolf voice in my head, was growing bored. ("Wolf," he whispered to me during one particular whine-fest, " this guy makes my ass tired. And, being imaginary, I don't actually have an ass.)
Eventually, proof of the existence of a Higher Power arrived on the day that Jack announced that he had met "the one".
"If I give you a dollar," I asked, "will you not tell me about her?"

Jack did not even pause to consider my more than generous offer. "She is bigger than the women I am usually attracted to," the mutton head stated with a straight face.

"So, she is a giant? An ogress?"

"No. She is just, you know," he puffed out his cheeks like a blow fish, "big."

"You have a new girlfriend and, before telling me her name or occupation or astrological sign, the first thing you mention is that she is fat? You must really like her."

"Not 'fat', just...", he waved his arms around his hips,"..big." (At this point, Ian began to do a happy little dance. Ian's happy dance leaves scuff marks on my psyche). "Bigger than normal."

"Bigger than normal for a person, or bigger than normal for, say, a rhino?"

"For a person that I would be attracted to," the idiot assures me. (Ian is now having a hoe-down. I think my ears are going to start to bleed).

"Is she crazy? The women you are drawn to seem to be crazy." I give him a concerned look,"I only mention this because a crazy, fat, nameless, unemployed rhino-woman sounds a bit dangerous. You could be trampled in a mad rush for a donut or something."

Again, Jack is serious, "No, she isn't crazy. And she is allergic to gluten."

"Then, you are safe from pastry induced stampede," I point out as I usher him out the door. "She sounds like quite the catch."

Jack grins and nods his head proudly as I casually flip the "closed" sign and pretend to lock up and go to the library.

For the next couple of weeks, whenever he starts to annoy me (basically, every time he talks to me), I can send him on his way by asking,"How are things with your fat girlfriend?" (By this time, I must add, Ian has invited other people's head-voices to join the party). This goes on until Jack confronts me and says that I am being mean to a woman I have never met. He feels that I am being unfair. It is with unholy joy that I get to point out to him that he was the one who introduced the whole "fat" thing. That, due to his extremely shallow nature, the first and only thing that I know about his new flame is that she is "big."

"I am not making fun of her," I explain in the tone I use to correct Caleb, my dog, when he misbehaves,"I am making fun of you."

The puzzled expression slowly morphing to embarrassed understanding on Jack's face reminds me of why I put up with this crap. (Ian does a quick-step, jazz-hands, takes a bow and drops the curtain. Ian is a wise ass, but a great showman). "I am a douche," Jack says as he heads back to his office. I smile my agreement.

Yesterday, I met Jack's fat girlfriend. She is a teacher, a Virgo, likes Lost, has brown hair and eyes (and a name), and owns two dogs. I found this out in five minutes of charming conversation with her.

Also, though curvy in a Sophia Loren fashion, she is normally proportioned. For any kind of woman. Jack, you see, is a douche.

There is no "ME" in Team

2009-07-08T15:09:00.006-04:00

(Unless, of course, you shuffle the letters a bit. Then there is a "me". Also, a "meat", which is just so disturbing on any number of levels that it is probably for the best if we avoid anything even resembling shuffling. I believe that we will all sleep better that way. Thank you for your cooperation).

I don't get it.

I have tried to wrap my head around the concept for most of my life, but the pieces never seem to snap into place. I am befuddled. Granted, I have never been much of a team player ( though I once enjoyed playing hockey...mostly because of the ample opportunity provided to knock idiots on their asses); fencing and archery were more my thing because achievement was based on my skill and the competition was against myself. Never found the need to prove myself to anyone else. And group, "hive mind"-type settings tend to give me the heebie-jeebies. Besides, given that any sport I played was on a non-pro level and there would be no big payday for the winner and that the average jock, who wouldn't know a book if it kicked him in the jock, tends to make my head all hurty (thinking is fun for me. I know, I'm a freak), I have never been able ( or wished) to conform.

As a result, I just don't get the whole sports-geek thing.

I understand the folks who play. They are in it for the cash, fame, babes and because they are unable to earn a living where anything like...you know...intellect... would be required. What I don't get are the geeks who don't play, but still get all emotionally involved in the whole shebang. Do not get it at all. And no one has ever been able to adequately explain the syndrome to me.

You will have noticed, by the way, that I have used the term "geek" in reference to these people twice thus far. Before you get all huffy about that and go thinking "Ha! Old Laughingwolf done made him a mistake right there", let me point out that I use the word because it does, in fact, apply. (And, for the record, how dare you doubt me? After all that I have done for you. Ungrateful is what I call it). I says what I means, and I means what I says. Geek. As in comic book geek, Star Wars geek, computer geek, sports geek, etc. They are all the same. Want the logicallies of my argument? (Glad you asked). Here, in no particular order, is the list of similarities:

They are way too emotionally involved in something they are not active participants in.

They wear clothing bearing names, insignias and pictures of people who are not them and groups in which they are not members.

The collecting of...stuff: toys, cards, action figures (a bobble-head is an action figure. Last I checked, bobbling was still an action) and assorted memorabilia as indication of their devotion is a shared trait.

They memorize lists of dates, names and statistics which they recite as if it actually had some sort of meaning or importance in the grand scheme of the universe. Said trivia is seen by them as a form of knowledge of genuine value.

When in groups of their own kind, they utilize jargon which is undecipherable to the uninitiated.

They nit-pick the details and truly believe that they, the non-participant, could have done it better.

Rivalries between fans of a particular team/movie/player/character/sport are the norm. Much energy goes into futile arguments and not enough blood is actually shed for my liking.

I could go on like this forever, but I feel that I have made my point. A geek is a geek, no matter what his/her goofey hobby is. So there!

Substitute Brett Favre for Boba Fett and watered beer and hotdogs for soda and ding-dongs, and you have yourself, what we in the business of calling people things label, a geek. Like the poet shoulda said: a geek by any name would smell as rank.

But, I seem to have wandered from my original point (Big surprise there, right?), which, I believe was: "Why is it such a big deal that your favorite team won a game which you neither played in nor got paid for?" and "Why do I have to hear about it? Or pretend to care?"

Your team wins the cup/bowl/spork and the entire town goes parade-having, drunk-rioting, car-burning and fist-fighting nuts and Dr. Salk discovers the polio vaccine and...not so much. Hell, I once spent what seemed like an eternity listening to an ex-marine ramble on and on about his time in the "P.I." and successfully fought the urge to jab something sharp into my own neck (a much tougher feat than catching a football I assure you) and didn't even get so much as a greeting card!

I asked a sports geek of my acquaintance to explain it all to me once. He said, simply, "Bragging rights". Which did not help at all, really. Bragging rights? A group of people whom you do not know personally but happen to have their base of operations in a city which is geographically located in your general area, beat a similar group from a distant place in a game that you did not play with them and you get to brag?

Uh...um...you da man?

Not that anyone cares

2009-07-03T17:33:00.002-04:00

But it's possible I'll be back at this soon.
Or not.

Techno-Babble On

2009-06-15T14:56:00.016-04:00

Ignore what I have told you in the past. The end of human civilization will not be caused by Oprah, evangelists, ambulance chasers or midgets. These things will, of course, be contributing factors (along with our old pal, stupidity), but they will not be, in and of themselves, the main source of society's downfall. Nope. That honor will be reserved for a more vile, malignant and insidious evil: the cell phone.
I realize that the previous statement makes me sound un-American, as the malevolent devices have become such a component of every day life, but it is, none the less, true. I also acknowledge that the statement gives the impression that I am anti-technology, but this is not at all the case. I am way too devoted to my DVR and X-box to even consider membership in my local Luddite chapter. (I am also quite fond of TV, the wheel, the printing press and machine knitted socks) . Justifiably, I have, at times, been labeled philistine, cretin, misanthrope and ass-hat. I not only accept this, but revel in it. Accusations of Ludditism are way out of line, and I will happily burn the mechanized loom of anyone who says otherwise. I do not, will not, however, own a cell phone and must confess that I tend to look disparagingly upon those who do. Because the damned things are evil I tell you!
Let Uncle Laughingwolf 'splain:

It is an established fact that people have become less considerate of others, more self-centered and prone to the belief that they actually have something important to say (the truth being, in fact, that they are yammering idiots). The cell phone merely supports and contributes to these things. Who hasn't had their enjoyment of a movie interrupted by a jerk who believed that the "please turn off your phone" message was not meant for him? Never had their life endangered by a phone wielding nitwit driving a car? Had to listen to some moron's "private" conversation while waiting on line? (My solution to this one, by the way, is to start to whistle whatever tune comes to mind. When the numskull on the phone inevitably hushes me and asks "Do you mind?", I either reply, "No, not at all. Mind if I whistle?" or, "Shhhhh! The chorus is the tricky part." This is why I am sometimes called an ass-hat). These little annoyances build up in the psyche and people become more angry, irritable and likely to climb a bell tower with a high-powered sniper rifle. Bang! Society crumbles. (True story: A while back, there was I guy in my store who had the misfortune of receiving a phone call while still in the shop. He demanded that my customers and I "keep it down" so that he could hear. Guy was surprised to learn that his cell phone had a colonoscopy application).

And, look at the toll these pernicious little gadgets are taking on our children.

It is reported that school bullying continues to rise and experts are not sure why. Well, experts, I can tell you: cell phones. The kids are in each other's business twenty four hours a day and, as everyone knows, familiarity breeds contempt. Your kid isn't getting picked on for old fashioned legitimate reasons like being a band geek or wearing the wrong shoes, he's getting wedgied because he didn't know when to shut up. What is worse is that, because of the phones, the bullying doesn't stop at the schoolyard, but continues to follow the kid home because he is too much of an idiot to turn the damned cell phone off! After all, the call might be important. Because 13 year olds have such a firm grasp on what is truly important. (Unlike adults, who have no grasp whatsoever. "We are out of eggs" is your emergency? I will alert the local news networks you dimwit). No wonder the kid's can't read and are failing in school. They spend too much time yacking on their damned phones and meddling in each other's affairs. Rather than handing your kid a phone and condemning them to a slow mental and emotional meltdown why not just take them to Sea World, slather them in chum and toss them into the shark tank?
It will be much quicker and, if you take your phone, you can snap some cool pictures to send to your friends. That will give you all something to natter about.

2009-06-10T12:29:00.001-04:00

2009-06-09T10:58:00.002-04:00

2009-06-07T10:34:00.002-04:00

Okay, now this is just getting silly. I mean, how hard is it to come up with something to write about? Just sitting here now, I can think of a dozen topics. For example, you could do a piece on...uh...that thing with the...uh...those people who...um...doesn't it tick you off when...crap.
I see what you mean.

2009-05-28T09:46:00.000-04:00

Um. No, wait.

Sorry. Still nothin.

2009-05-28T09:34:00.002-04:00

I still got nothin.

We doan neat no steenkeen badgers!

2009-05-08T13:57:00.007-04:00

This morning, there was a turkey in my front yard.
Not a frozen, steroid injected, pop-up timer sporting, plastic-wrapped Butterball, but a real, live honest to gawd turkey. (A Butterball in my lawn would have been less odd, as my neighbor has a habit of chucking frozen poultry out of his attic window for reasons I fear to imagine. Ah, the charms of suburban life). It scared the be-jesus out of me. Gave Caleb, who I'd just let out for his morning wizz, a bit of a start, too. The damned thing was just standing there, gawking at us and acting as if we were the intruders. That's a fine how-do-ya-do.
Don't get me wrong...I am, though way short of tree hugging, quite a wildlife fan. Most of my best friends are animals. But, since I have resided here most of my life and never encountered a non-Thanksgiving-prepped turkey in my living space, I was a tad taken aback. Sure, my home is in a suburban area that is just a stone-toss from rural (the roads weren't paved until sometime in my mid-twenties), and there is a lot of field and woodland which has not been processed into housing development, but, until now, if I had decided that I craved the company of a wild turkey I would have had to go out and hunt one in its yard. Guess no one informed the turkey.
The confusion, however, is not the bird's fault. It seems that the reason it was in my yard was because there just wasn't any room for it on its own turf. The other tens of thousands of wild turkeys simply crowded it out. Seriously. We are almost arm pit deep in turkeys these days, and over-population is forcing them to range far from their natural hang-outs. Soon, the birds will be moving in next door, dropping by to borrow a cup of sugar and playing their music way to loudly on school nights. And, this nightmare scenario is not a result of global warming, stem-cell research or the Rapture. (On Judgment Day, everybody gets a drumstick!). It is because the good yet mildly retarded folk at the Pennsylvania Game Commission decided that there were not enough native turkeys in the state. So, they imported them. And they bred like rabbits (also imported and, at present, breeding like...turkeys).
You see, what these well-meaning conservationists forgot to factor into the equation is that all of the large predators (wolves, mountain lions, Indians, velociraptors, etc.) had also been eliminated from the Pennsylvania ecosystem. This means that, with nothing in place to keep the population in-check (no, your car does not count) and turkeys not having wallets to carry condoms in, presto...over-population and terrifying early-morning encounters with disgruntled avians. Fortunately, the folks at the Game Commission have a solution.
In order to control the turkey population, they are re-introducing coyotes to the state. Coyotes (which, contrary to popular belief, prefer turkey to roadrunner), by use of elaborate and not too carefully thought-out mechanical traps, will soon cull the bird population to manageable numbers. Also on the list of possible predators to ship in: bobcats, foxes and badgers. (Really? Badgers?).
Problem solved! (Right, like it could be that easy. Do you people not pay any attention?).
See, coyotes, much like raccoons, are highly adaptable to human-crowded environments. Trash cans do not run as fast as turkeys do, and with the all-you-can-eat buffet of Monday morning trash pick-up available, it is far more likely that they will choose the option requiring the least expenditure of energy. They are very much like people in that way. So, the coyotes grow fat on your left overs and the turkeys continue to do what turkeys do when they are not hanging in my yard. The only way this plan will work is for the coyote population to grow so large that the turkeys are forced to move to Ohio in order to get a little breathing room. The coyotes, with nothing to eat them, then take over the neighborhood and soon wild packs of the canids are hanging out on street corners or taking jobs from honest citizens. And we have to import tigers to weed them out. (Or, like that weird "Lady Who Swallowed A Fly" song, goats, horses and cows. I know. That crap is disturbing.). Then, genetically altered weasels or mongooses (mongeese?) for the tigers and cyborg chinchillas for them, and so on.
Some things, once broken, are not fixable.
And, all I want is for my dog to be able to pee without fear of being pecked at.
Thanks, Fish and Game.

Rrrrroooowwwwwrrrrr?

2009-04-26T17:31:00.003-04:00

Happier times.

I am, simply put, bereft. Tonight, I rrrrrroooowwwwwwrrrrrrr for you, Ms. Arthur.

Pull!!

2009-04-17T14:03:00.004-04:00

Governor Palin and friends go skeet shooting back at home. That's Russia back in the left corner, beside the mini-mart.

Just in case you haven't had your fill of Sarah Palin, Talking Points Memo updates us on what she's been up to since the election.

M.Y.O.B.

2009-04-17T11:45:00.000-04:00

It seems that some of you have been wondering: "Laughingwolf, who appointed you spokesman for society?" (It also seems that you ask this question in a whiny and petulant tone of voice. Knock it off. It's so damned irritating). If you had been attending the monthly meetings, you would know, now wouldn't you? Please, do not take your lack of civic responsibility out on me. And, while we are on the subject, I have to tell you that a few of us have gotten together for drinks after the last few meetings and, not surprisingly, your name came up. Not in a good way. Society is a tad frustrated with you these days(you have not been pulling your weight, it feels), and serious thought is being given to the idea of asking you to turn in your membership. Just a friendly warning. I am only the spokesman, not a member of the board of directors, so don't blame me. (And, don't tell them that I mentioned it, please. Last thing I need is society giving me the stink-eye for associating with you. Life is tough enough these days). Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's talk about me. More specifically, let's talk about what's pissing me (and, by extension, you. At least, if you have any sense at all) off of late... people who don't mind their own business.

These days, it is not at all uncommon for a total stranger to walk up and, without solicitation, offer their unique (and most often, idiotic) opinion on what ever it is that strikes their moronic fancy. Seriously. There you are, doing your own thing, without a care in the world, and some guy that you don't know from a bag of assholes (credit for that delightful expression must be given to Big Guy, father of Round Guy, who first introduced it into my lexicon. I have never been quite sure what a bag of assholes would look like...spaghetti-os, maybe?...but the image always makes me chuckle), starts to yammer on and on about his view on what ever it is that you are currently doing with your own thing. Like it should actually mean something to you because someone you have never met has taken time out of their worthless day to say something of no practical use about something that is none of their damned business anyway. Now, I am no fan of wanton blood-shed (at least, not where I can be caught), and living with Ian (the snarky and often malicious voice in my head) doesn't make it any easier, but I find it progressively more difficult to resist poking violently at these busy-bodies with the nearest pointy object until the doltish yammering stops.

Look, I realize that Oprah has told you that you matter, that your opinion counts, and that folks care what you think. The truth, though, is that she lied to you. You don't, it doesn't, and the rest of us do not give the proverbial tinker's damn what is rattling around in your pea-sized noggin. Not in the slightest. You may know a person or two who waits with baited breath for pearls of wisdom to drop from your lips like drool down the chin of a side-show geek, but it ain't us. Chances are, those folks you think give a poop are actually just going over their shopping list in their heads while you ramble. That is not a rapt look of attention you see, but the glazed visage of indifference.

In the good old days, people knew how to handle such buttinskies. They were mocked, shunned, or, my personal favorite, tossed into the nearest pond to see if they'd float and then promptly burned as a witch. Gotta love those old time family values. Now, however, because we live in PC society, we have to take it on the chin and let these blathering imbeciles have their inane say. Bad enough that we must be afflicted with the pestilence that is Fox News. How much more crap will we be asked to take before we go completely bat-dookie crazy?

And, for the record, there are already people who's job it is to offer us unasked for and often times demoralizing, humiliating and incorrect advice. They are called Family! They take great pride in their work and it is an insult for you, a total stranger, to poach on their territory. So, knock it the hell off.

Consider this your final warning. There is a nice, deep pond by my house, and I am gathering fire-wood even as we speak.

George Will gets the vapors

2009-04-16T16:05:00.007-04:00

Someone fetch the smelling salts.

We aren't the first (by a longshot) on this, but it seems as if old George Will has his (elegant silk) panties in a twist again---this time about that most American of fabrics, denim. From his latest droppings:

Writer Daniel Akst has noticed and has had a constructive conniption. He should be given the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He has earned it by identifying an obnoxious misuse of freedom. Writing in The Wall Street Journal, he has denounced denim, summoning Americans to soul-searching and repentance about the plague of that ubiquitous fabric, which is symptomatic of deep disorders in the national psyche.

Will apparently agrees that anyone wearing something, god forbid, comfortable, should be pilloried, and goes on to say "Denim is the infantile uniform of a nation in which entertainment frequently features childlike adults ("Seinfeld," "Two and a Half Men") and cartoons for adults ("King of the Hill"). Seventy-five percent of American "gamers" — people who play video games — are older than 18 and nevertheless are allowed to vote."

He does offer the caveat that he wore jeans (once!!!!) when forced to do so for Sen. John Danforth's 70th birthday (which also says scads about the state of our media as well).

He goes on to quote Barack Obama quoting St. Paul (who knew they were deriding blue jeans!) exhorting America to put away childish things like ~~short pants and bow ties~~ those damned dungarees and dress like civilized people.

To his credit, Will does offer a solution to this national disgrace:

"This is not complicated. For men, sartorial good taste can be reduced to one rule: If Fred Astaire would not have worn it, don't wear it. For women, substitute Grace Kelly."

I look forward to the legions of tuxedo clad single dads preening around our local Panera bread on Saturdays.

Fred Astaire exhibiting 'sartorial taste.' I understand that Brooks Brothers offers a helluva deal on burnt cork makeup. We couldn't find any similar photos of Grace Kelly, although figu7es notes that she was once arrested for wearing coulottes to an IHOP in the early 50's. We report, you decide.

As a public service, I would like to try to distill the appeal of denim for George: jeans are comfortable, durable and relatively inexpensive. And they go with everything. They are low maintenance, look better the more you wear them and hide dirt really well.
In short, they are near perfect clothing, dumbass.

You can catch George's presumably senile ravings here (be forewarned--no shoes, no shirt, no service).

And remember----people pay him to write this shit.

And they wonder at the death of newspapers.

UPDATE! Chet the Dog speaks on the George Will controversy!

Chet the Dog shows real sartorial taste.

F*k you Mr. Will. You'll get my pants when you pry them from my cold, dead paws.

Mother

2009-04-14T21:22:00.002-04:00

I have been quiet for the past six months. Nothing of importance to pass on to the world at large I guess. But tonight I am once again thinking about “stuff.”

There seems to be a terrible sadness that has cast a pall over our day to day lives. It is so down I am wishing for Brittany Spears to start acting up again. That was at least a diversion from the problems we chose to ignore. No money, jobs no longer there and the loss of homes. Where do the people go? What do they do? What happens to the children when there is no safe harbor in their lives? Maybe what bothers me the most of all this horror is how did this happen? Did we all think everything was swell and we shouldn’t worry or question what was going on in our country. We were told that it was a small recession and not to worry. So we didn’t. We accepted a war without any cost. It was like a movie or TV show far away and had no bearing on our comfort zone. Unless you have someone you know involved in it. Then you pay attention.

My thoughts are that history is once again repeating itself. I believe that what is being experienced now is the same thing that was occurring in the 1930’s. My parents learned how to survive during hard times and it stayed with them. They never spent more than they had. Charging things wasn’t done and loans were for homes and cars. My generation proved to be the ones who profited by their example and did well. Now the next generation felt they did not have to save, bought whatever they could charge, and have been on a spree for years. The Boomers and their offspring believed what the ads said and they did not have to wait buy whatever their hearts desire. Get it now – why wait!

It now is time to pay the bill. The generation that is now up to bat should be the ones who profit from this downturn. I believe they will become stronger, wiser, and not so easy to fool. Maybe, just maybe, this time we will learn and not make the same mistakes we have made to get into this mess. I am sorry Gordon, greed is not good.

Damn, I Thought That Guy Would Never Leave...

2009-04-07T11:44:00.006-04:00

I am sure that all of you faithful banana-slug readers (both of you) join me in wishing R.G. a safe and pleasant trip. If any one deserves a break from the hard work of not posting on a regular basis, it is him. And, I was as surprised as you to discover that round guy was able to not post in multiple languages! He is a round man of hidden depths. (Little known R.G. fact: in our high school yearbook, he was chosen "most likely to walk erect." I believe that this was a reference to his potential in progressing up the evolutionary ladder and not a prediction of a life-long battle with priapism). Bon voyage, mon ami. N'oubliez pas de porter des pantalons. Mefiez-vous des champs de mimes! (Dang, puns don't translate well).

At any rate, this post is meant to inform you all that, while the Round Gentleman is off gallivanting in whine country, I am taking charge here at Slug central. That's right, folks, there is a new sheriff in town and things are going to be done quite differently. The days of the head honcho going long stretches of time between posts is over. From now on, when you check in at the Slug to see what's new, it will be me who hasn't bothered to put anything fresh up. Hey, the editorial policy has worked so well until now, why change it? Just thought it would be cool to experience life from the cat-bird seat. After all, not posting has got to feel more fulfilling when you are the guy in charge of not doing it, right?

Anyhow, I'll let you know how it works out for me.

Au revoir surgeons!

2009-04-05T13:18:00.005-04:00

Je vais à Paris.
No, not kidding.
At least you'll know why I'm not posting this week.
Figu7es is remaining stateside (something about a misunderstanding with Interpol) so you may hear from him.
And, yes, it is about the oneupsmanship.
Just remember,Tandis que vous travaillez fort à votre travail dégoûtant, je flânerai sur les Champs-Elysees or as is more likely, we'll be huddling over a trash barrel fire in some far flung Parisian project after we take the wrong train and lose everything to a roving band of vicious mimes.

Should Mrs. Round Guy and I decide to return, we promise pictures, as if anyone still cared.

Moe is tense about the upcoming trip. No, he is. Really. Bundle of nerves.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHRG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-03-02T21:51:00.004-05:00

That feels better.
Thank you for your time.
I'll let you get back to what you were doing.

Some quick hits in lieu of actual work

2009-02-28T11:09:00.012-05:00

As a public service (and because we are too lazy or preoccupied (lazy) to do anything more, we present some quick notes from this week's news:

13 Year Old Conservative Wunderkind Wows Joe the Plumber

[Ed: I think we may have screwed up the photo order.]

Leaving aside the fact that Joe the Plumber could be equally flummoxed trying to feed a parking meter, apparently memorizing some talking points from Bill Bennett really knocks ‘em for a loop at CPAC. Given that these are the same people wowed by Sarah Palin, I’ll reserve judgment.
As a public service we feel compelled to note some other things Joe the Plumber would be similarly overcome by:
a.) a burrito (how’d they get all the stuff in there?)
b.) a pocket calculator (“Math is hard!”)
c.) a shiny new penny (Pretty. Hurt teeth though. Not eat next time.).

UPDATE: And, as usual, someone does the funny better than us:

Via Tbogg (and from the lips (keyboard?) of beef supreme, the comment that wins today's internets: here

I’ve only got 2 minutes, so I better make this quick.”

I bet a thirteen year old boy hears that a lot at CPAC.

We submit.

Sam Donaldson’s Toupee retires from ABC News

[Ed: no, this one seems right.] Donaldson got to keep the eyebrows as part of his separation agreement.

After nearly 42 years, Sam Donaldson’s toupee is calling it quits. Donaldson himself, who has been basically phoning it in since about 1978 or so, could not be reached for comment.
The toupee will occasionally deign to appear on This Week with George Stephanophoulos’ Toupee when George Will's toupee (natch) and Cokie Roberts’ hackery prove insufficient.

Bobby Jindal admits making up story about Hurricane Katrina.

[Ed: no, this seems to be just another GOP old crank. Can someone get that Marianas Island photo sweatshop on the horn?]

Say it ain’t so, guvner! Boy, this is sure going to ruin the impression you made on everyone the other night.
After that speech all of America had you pegged as a cross between John Wayne and a ‘roided up Ronald Reagan.
Who knew you were merely some goober who listened in on other people’s phone calls? And then took credit for things you weren’t even involved in.
And, for the record, the 13 year old noted above has more gravitas. I know it’s not fair to compare the two since one of them hasn’t hit puberty yet (don’t worry Guvner Jindal---it’ll happen someday!), but if our past here has proved anything it’s that, well, we’d rather make fun of others than look at the sad wreckage of our own lives.

Zombie Republicans Attack Capital

[Ed: What the hell is with these photos today? Look, we apologize.]

Arlene Golonka! Rrrroooowwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!! Double Rrrrrrroooooowwwwwrrrrrr!

[Ed: figu7es! I should have known.]

plenum reducti

2009-02-27T09:27:00.000-05:00

Haec parutn perpendiffe videtur Jo/l
Ftf/^r/jquumgenuinam pii auftoris ora-
tionem emendare aggreffus eft. At quae
crat prsejudicata ejus de vero auftore
bpinio, Rbros de Imitatione Chrxsti non
emendare non poterat ; quomodo enini
teutpnifmos tuJiffet in opere, quod Joanni
Gerfen italo adfcribebat & Th^ a Kempis
teutoni abnuebat ? ^"

A tale of redemption

2009-02-26T17:23:00.003-05:00

One day a man awoke to find himself walking with God through a garden. Thinking it was a dream, the man found himself pouring his heart out to God, almost in spite of himself. Such was God's seeming sincerity.
Eventually the man began asking God some pretty pointed questions about the life and meaning and why pain and sin and the CW exist.
God, suddenly defensive, became reluctant to answer and soon the man felt God's hands around his throat. The man ended up getting smacked around pretty good and God left him for dead next to the highway, after stealing his credit cards and shoes.

Why I Shouldn't Read TV Guide...

2009-02-17T16:35:00.026-05:00

In a recent issue of TV Guide, George Sporl of Birmingham writes:"Jeers to Lost. My wife and I have been avid followers since Episode 1, and now we are lost. It's too convoluted...we want to be entertained, not challenged to follow the story line. The producers have ruined a really good show." I hear ya, George! I try not to hear ya, but your witless braying is like a rusty bayonet shoved into the very core of my soul. (And jiggled back and forth). I suspect, George, that you and your wife become hopelessly befuddled by the intricate plot-twists contained in an installment of "Wheel Of Fortune". Perhaps, though, the problem is not with the producers but with you.

As I have said before, the key to understanding stupid people is to realize that they are not bright enough to know how stupid they truly are. Somewhere on the brain gene, there is a tiny cluster that causes the profoundly moronic to be unable to grasp the full scope of their own moronitude; thus keeping them from throwing themselves under moving locomotives in despair. It is an evolutionary blessing, really. After all, if all of the lack-wits offed themselves due to the knowledge of their own stunted cognitive state, who would deliver my pizza, ask if I want fries with that, or make up the voting body of the Republican party? Who would watch Bill O'Reilly or keep Cornerstone Television in business? But, I digress (that means I have gone off topic, George)...

You pretty much point out the crux of the problem by saying "we want to be entertained, not challenged". You see, George, there are some of us who actually find the challenge to be entertaining;people who do not find thinking to be an arduous task but, rather, find thought provoking, well-told stories to be...well...fun. (I know that that may be hard for you to believe, might even cause hurtiness to your think-making thingie, but it is, none the less, true). Some of us prefer to be challenged intellectually as opposed to, you know, just being intellectually-challenged. I understand your frustration with the show. After all, no one sings and dances and you can't call in to vote someone off the island. Plus, there is that annoying waiting for the writers to let you in on how the whole thing ends(the nerve of those bastards!). Allow me to say that it is kinda cute that, in your little tantrum, you point out that you are a bit of a mutton-head. I imagine a young Georgie Sporl (mid twenties, maybe) firing off an angry epistle to his favorite publisher: "Jeers to Green Eggs and Ham! I was a fan on page one--the characters are so clearly defined. And, that mystery guy with no name really hates that Sam I-am. It is funny. Then, it gets too convoluted! Who is this fox and why is it in a box? Will he eat the eggs? Will he eat the ham? Well? Tell me now! The writer has ruined a really good book."(In my imagination, this ranty little brain-fart is scrawled on pulp paper with huge spaces between the lines. In brown crayon.).

For the most part, George, TV is a vast and vapid wasteland filled with Nascar, American Idol, and 24; the sort of things that you and your SpEd compatriots seem to thrive on. Once in a great while, a show comes along which appeals to me and mine. Rarely, we are treated to a show that relies on creativity, character development and, yes, complex plot lines. Firefly, Pushing Daisies, and Arrested Development are a few of those programs; all casualties of your kind crying "but...I don't get it!". Please don't mess up Lost for us, too. Here is the deal I will offer: shut your mewling pie-hole and give us this one stinking hour of TV time and you can have all of the rest. That seems fair, doesn't it? I promise to stop making fun of your limited IQ if you do.

And one day, when you grow up and, maybe, get to write a TV show of your own, you can tell the sort of insipid, pre-digested tale that you yearn for. You can call it Look... Shiny Stuff! I am sure that it will be a big hit.

Time to help out an EX-President

2009-02-14T19:57:00.007-05:00

I have returned from my self imposed exile---and believe it or not, this time I intend to help out one George W. Bush. The piece excerpted below caught my attention today and I realized that W needs the assistance of every American to realize his dream!

George W. Bush is Fundraising Personally for His Library
February 14, 2009 01:21 PM ET | Paul Bedard | Permanent Link | Print

By Paul Bedard, Washington Whispers
Don't say that former President Bush hasn't been hit by the crumbling economy he handed off to President Obama. Friends tell us that it has slowed the drive to raise some $500 million to build and endow the George W. Bush Presidential Center at Dallas's Southern Methodist University. "It's a bad environment," says one. Bush is taking no chances: He's making donor calls himself, and even his dad, the 41st president, is helping out, as are former aides like Karl Rove. In the future, say associates, look for Bush to host fundraising events in order to meet a goal of completing construction in 2013. But for now, "he's laying low," says one.

Here is what I propose---everyone should mail the President one book, whatever they think defines his Presidency. Since this was my idea, I got to order this delightful tome from Amazon. It's called Reading Mastery Level 2 - Storybook 1.

It's been a couple of years, so perhaps he's ready to reread it.

It contains a whimsical little tale called "The Pet Goat." Some of you may remember that one. It seems like W really enjoyed it. God knows he seems to have spent plenty of time with it one morning.

I happen to think "The Pet Goat" pretty well sums up the entire 8 years. If that's the only book that makes the Library we're good to go.

By the way, the address for the Library is: George W. Bush Foundation, PO Box 600610, Dallas, TX 75206. Send your contributions there. And, no, I'm not kidding. I really did ship "The Pet Goat." Since times are hard though I sent them the $2.99 used version. Damned if I'm springing for $47 for the new one.

I'm willing to believe that we can find many books appropriate to the library. Times are hard so feel free to save money and recycle.

It would be great if anyone reading this could spread the idea beyond my readership (3?). Tell everyone you know. Feel free to email the idea too (except to me).

Remember: it would be an absolute disgrace if George W. Bush didn't get the Presidential Library he deserves. Only we can make it happen.

Feel free to leave any suggestions (or a book you shipped) in the comments. Winner gets what I probably will---a perfunctory visit from the Secret Service.

Some Insight Into What Passes For My Mind

2009-02-12T13:22:00.021-05:00

Those of you who have read any of my postings in the past may have gotten the idea that I find people to be slightly annoying. If you are one of those folks, I would like to take a moment to inform you that this impression is not, in fact, correct and actually hurts my feelings a bit. In reality, I find people to be, for the most part, extremely annoying. At the risk of coming off as a total misanthrope(for the record, I do have friends and, not counting the voices in my head, a few of them are not imaginary and mostly human), my general philosophy tends to be that society would be a grand thing if it were not for all the damned people gumming up the works. Sure, humanity has its good points. It just seems that they have a tendency to leave them in the pockets of their other pants when they come within twenty feet of me. Briefly, when I was much younger, I thought that this was, in some way, my fault; that I was causing those around me to behave like twittering imbeciles. Experience, however, taught me that I was innocent of wrong doing and that the twittering imbeciles were just behaving as they believed they should. To illustrate this, allow me to share an encounter which occurred in my store the other day. As always, I promise that this story is no more nor less true than any other story I have ever told you...

I was sitting behind the counter and working on next month's comic book order(as the owner of a comic book shop, I find it necessary to, occasionally, order comic books), when an older fellow-60-ish, about 5'3" tall (safely out of midget range), hump-backed and bow-legged, stomped his way through the door. Upon looking up from my paperwork to issue my standard greeting "Hello. Can I help you find something from the shelves?", I noticed two things. First, the little fellow was completely bald and seemed to be wearing what appeared to be a huge Cossack hat. Second, the guy's expression gave the impression that he was not, in even the most generous definition of the phrase, a "happy camper". As we had just met, I felt justified in assuming that I was not to blame for his foul mood. He barked a "No", and shook his head in so vigorous a fashion that I feared his fuzzy hat would fly off. ( It wobbled a bit, but maintained its perch. ).

"If I can be of any help," I assured him as I returned to my work, "please let me know."

He grunted, hitched up his pants, and proceeded to trudge around the shop, marking each circuit with a grumble of what sounded like disgust. After the fifth lap, he cleared his throat loudly to draw my attention. I looked up.

"This isn't a used-book store!" he accused.

"No, sir", I responded, "it's a comics shop."

The glint in his gimlet eye informed me that, somehow, this was the absolute wrong thing to say. "Sign says 'used books' ," he curled his lip and snarled.

Just to check, I glanced toward my front window, where the brightly lit neon sign has hung for almost fifteen years. In glowing fourteen inch tall letters it read "COMICS", assuring me that vandals had not raided the shop while I was out and fiddled with the signage. The voices in my head breathed a sigh of relief. Neon is expensive.

Noting the direction of my gaze, my "customer" growled, "Not that sign. The other one. In the hall." His tone suggested that I was a damned fool for even thinking that he could have been referring to the actual sign hanging in my window.

"Careful," whispered one of my head-voices (I think it was Ian), "this guy is a bit dodgy. Don't ruffle his feathers. Really like this whole talking in italics thing, by the way."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I calmly explained, "I thought you meant my sign. The one in the hall belongs to the used-book store. It's down the hall and to the right."

He gave me a whithering glare, endangered his hat with a disgusted head shake, and trod out the door in the direction I had indicated. As he left, another of the voices(Marcus?) pointed out to me that, at Halloween time, the guy most likely had to stay indoors or run the risk of a group of kids trying to carve a jack-o'-lantern from his misshapen and gourd-like head. (Ian, somewhat out of character, shushed him.).

Thinking that this was the end of the whole thing(what a fool I can be!), I returned to my order.

Moments, later, my "visitor" stomped back in.

"Ain't no one there."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, confused.

"The book store. Ain't no body there." Some how, it seems, this was my fault and he was going to make me pay.

"If it is after two, they are closed. They close at two on weekdays."

He turned an odd shade of red and began to shake slightly. Wobble-wobble went his hat. "You didn't tell me they were closed. What are you playing at? Am I a joke to you?"

In my head, Ian whispered, "Oops, now you've gone and done it. Rumpelstiltskin there is gonna kill you. Oh, and by the way... that isn't a hat. I think it's his hair. Quit staring. You'll only make it worse." (Ian can be a bit of a dick sometimes. Now that he had pointed out the hair thing, I couldn't help but stare a little. Bastard. I really need to get new head-voices.).

"No, sir, I don't think that you are a joke. Not at all. I just was not aware of the time. Sorry."

"Well, if this is the way you do business, I won't be coming back here again!" Mr. Stiltskin snapped as he stormed from the shop and ran smack into the exit door in the hallway. I heard him curse and bang on the handle as he struggled to push the exit open.

"Just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?" Ian taunted.

"It's a 'Pull" door, sir," I tried to help, but I don't think he heard me over all the banging and cursing. I believe that he had begun to throw his entire body at the door, which would do no good at all. You see, the building is old and the entry-way is not recessed from the side walk. For the safety of passers-by, the door has to open inward so as to not smack them in the face when people exit the building. There is a sign on the door which reads "PULL", but people rarely take time to read these days.

"If this guy can't even read one word signs," a voice similar to Ian's, but with less of a British accent, asked in my noggin, "why's he even bothering with a book store?" (Just because they are imaginary does not mean that they are stupid.). Before I could respond, my enraged "customer" had returned.

"That door is...wrong." He was, as my Grandmother would say, "fit to be tied". (No, I am not quite sure what it means, either, but my Grandmother would say it at times like this.). "It is an illegal door. It violates fire-code! People could be trapped in here and over-come by smoke! I should turn you in to the fire marshal. That'll teach you." He was actually stomping his foot to punctuate each proclamation. Thankfully, now that I knew about the Cossack-hair thing, I could focus my concern on other things. Like, for instance, my own safety. The voices began, quite unhelpfully, to babble amongst themselves: "He's gonna blow! Run for your life!", " Yep, if ya scooped out the seeds and shoved a candle inside, that thing would scare the pee outta trick-or-treaters." and "Why don't I ever get to talk in italics?"

"I'm sorry, sir," I began to dog-paddle for the rapidly vanishing shores of sanity, "but I just rent this little space over here. My door opens outward, just like it is supposed to. On matters concerning the door to the building, you would have to talk to my landlord."

"I don't want to talk to your stupid landlord," he screamed, "I could have died!"

"But, there wasn't a fire..."

"I know there wasn't a fire, but what if there was? Huh? What then?". He was now waving his arms wildly and spittle sprayed with every utterance. "I could have been crushed in the stampede to escape. Is that what you want? Is it?". This last bit included a good deal of frantic hopping, which made his odd little hair-do jiggle like a fur-covered jell-o mold.

"There are just the two of us here," I reasoned before thinking what a bad idea it was to point out that I was alone with the lunatic, "I doubt that there would have been a stampede. I know how the door works and would not have crushed you. Honest." This, for some reason, pissed him off even more.

"Crap, Wolf, now you've done it." Ian warned, "I think he's going to explode. Pop! Innards all over the place. That will be a bitch to get out of the Spider-man comics." (See? Ian is a jerk.).

"What the hell kinda business are you running here, any way?" Rumpelstiltskin continued to rant, "All I wanted was a cheap book. I didn't come out today to get disrespected and crushed to death trying to leave a burning comic book shop! And who the hell even buys this crap, anyway? Idiots! Idiots and mental defectives, that's who!"

"I could have thrown a chair through the window."

"What?!"

"The window. I could have thrown a chair through...in case...you know...there was a stampede."

"I ain't going out no damned window. I could fall to my death going out the damned window you dumbass!"

"But, it is only a three-inch drop to the sidewalk. You would survive. Without...um...any crushing...or...um...burning."

Again, my efforts were futile. The guy just got more angry. I swear, I saw the sweat on his shiny head begin to steam. In the back ground, Ian and company began to head for the exits in a panic, whooping and yucking like a Big Top full of spastic clowns. Great. As if things weren't bad enough, now I had contracted a raging case of head-Bozos.

"You are a moron! An idiot moron! With jack-ass traits tossed in! And, for your information, the sign in the hall implies that you are a used- book store. It's like a bait-and-switch scam."

At this point, Ian paused in his escape to ponder the possibilities of convincing someone in search of a dog-eared copy of the latest Jackie Collins book that, while we were currently sold out of that particular item, Detective Comics or The Fantastic Four were very much the same and, cheap at half the price. (My inner voices are a tad mercenary at times.).

"Implies? Implies? What in hell does that even mean? There is a freaking arrow on the sign which clearly points, you stunted and misshapen little troll, in the direction of the book store.

Are there no brains in that gourd-like head of yours? And, what's with the attitude? I have been nothing but polite since you darkened my doorstep with your ridiculous fright-wig of a hair-do, and all you have done is rant and rave like a fairytale goblin. Do I look like some one who gives the tiniest crap if you are crushed in a flaming stampede? Do I?" At this point, I heard Ian gasp and I realized that all of that was not, in fact, an inner monologue but had, instead, been shouted out loud. That, and the fact that Mr Stiltskin's eyes had gone very wide, his hair had dropped across his forehead and he had gone, for the first time since his arrival, totally quiet. The voices, Ian included, were also stunned.

The guy gulped, took a slow breath and said, "You know, it's a wonder you stay in business if you are this rude to all of your customers." He then walked out of the building(remembering to pull on the door, I must add) and strolled away.

"Have a nice day," Ian murmured, sarcastic ass that he is.

And, that, my friend, is why I find people so annoying.

Yep, I wish Round Guy would come back soon, too.

So, Sue Me...

2009-02-02T16:32:00.024-05:00

Hi, there. Miss me?

As I was enjoying my breakfast the other morning (peanut butter toast, for those of you who keep a log of that sort of thing. I loves me some PB&J. Hot diggity-damn!) , I was dismayed upon catching another in a nauseating string of TV ads from one of those bloated, self-important ticks on the scalp of society. No, not bloggers. I am talking about the other self-important ticks: lawyers. Granted, not all lawyers are evil. Some are quite necessary. We live in a society, after all, and somebody, has to keep track of who should be punished for what. Besides, who else will I be able to turn to in order to get the charges reduced to manslaughter when I eventually go on that long over-due shooting spree?(Not that I endorse that kind of activity, mind you, but, when I do it, it will be for the betterment of humanity as a whole). No, I am referring to the more nefarious breed of attorney, the ones who ply their heinous trade by appealing to the basic, primal greed of that which passes for the average citizen...the ambulance chaser. Here is what I mean...

In this particular ad, the attorney, who we will call Egbert Spyder (dude is like the Nosferatu of ambulance chasers. If I use his real name, I am sure that he can use some sort of necromancy to suck my bank account dry.), pretty much says:

"Hello. I'm Egbert Spyder. Are you tired of watching your neighbor enjoy the fruit of his own hard work while you just sit around, slug-like and suckling on the dried up teat of the dole, waiting for a wind-fall? Don't just envy him...do something stupid, blame him and then sue the bastard! It's not only legal, it's the American way! Does he have a dog? Poke a stick at it until it bites you! I'll get you cash. No dog? Why not trespass in his yard until you fall and snap a leg? There is plenty of cash in that. Too moronic to come up with your own plan? Not to worry. Give us a call, and let us find a reason to mine that guy's wallet...how dare he think he can get away with rubbing your nose in his well-earned success. Cripes, just thinking about that hard working, self-supporting jerk makes us hate him so much it makes our gums bleed! Sue him! Do it now! And...there is never a fee until we completely break the unsuspecting idiot!"

Egbert Spyder and Associates

See what I mean? Douche-baggery in its purest form. Given that it is a proven fact that the average American puts more effort into trying to make money without doing any work than it would actually take to earn an honest living, he is encouraging the slack-jawed, mouth-breathing public to take advantage of their neighbors in any way possible. Tough to decide which party is scum-waddier. Of course, we do need to protect ourselves from the irrational behavior of others. Say, for example, that I willfully and with malice of forethought, lob a midget out of a five story window so that it lands on a passerby. I should be held accountable and pay damages. Not to the midget, obviously (he would just spend the cash on cheap booze and hookers. Tall hookers.), but to the innocent victim of the defenestration of the wee one. I would have clearly been at fault and deserving of a legal spanking. If, on the other hand, said passerby, looking for an easy buck, coaxed the midget to jump on him, then in what universe should this be my problem? (Okay, in this example, I would be a complete idiot for owning a midget in the first place, but my stupidity can't be held against me if the passerby is even more stupid than me. Can it?). So, society is falling apart because the law favors the idiots amongst us, and Spyder and his parasitic ilk are feasting on its bloated carcass like blow-fly larvae (thank you, CSI!).
And, neighbor preying on neighbor is just the top layer of the compost heap. Lest we forget, we live in a nation where trash bags have to be labeled "Not A Toy. Do Not Give To Children" and commercials featuring morons doing moronic things have to include "Do Not Attempt" in that tiny print at the bottom of the screen, in order to avoid liability should some idiot decide that punching a moose would, in deed, be quite fun (take my word, please, it is not. Mooses is mean.). Wonder why your health insurance is so expensive and doctors are having trouble paying their bills? Spyder, with the aid of litigious Americans, did it. After all, somebody has to pay to keep society's intellectually impaired in bon-bons and mu-mus.

Corporations are regularly subjucted to this legal jiggery-pokery, too (heavier on the pokery than the jiggery). Remember the coffee-on-the-cooter lady? This dim-bulb made a gazillion dollars because she bought a beverage (which, I am told, is ususlly served hot) at a fast food drive through, stuck the cup between her legs (where cooters are usually found), and burned the be-jesus out of the poor critter. Now, I do not own a cooter of my own, but through the grape-vine, I have learned that they are rumored to be a tad...sensitive. This, I assume, includes a tendency to react poorly to extremes of temperature. If I, an individual of the non-cooter sporting persuasion, know this, why didn't she? (It should have been confiscated and found a more loving and protective home.). Thanks, however, to the machinations of a Spyder-like law firm, the dumb-ass got cash, lots of it, for doing something totally idiotic. Also, thanks to her labial abuse, there is now a federally- mandated safe temperature at which coffee must be served. I would hate to have been present at the Nazi-esque experiments to determine that.

Surgeon General's Warning: Quitting Coffee Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risk To Your Cooter.

(Hans, zey call me mad, but zey are wrong! It iz ziense! Brew un udder pot of Sviss Mocha und make it hot! Klaus, brink in un udder box of cooters! Bwa-ha-ha!)

By the way, on the off-chance that this little morality tale has given you the idea that you, too, can be a millionaire if you were to, say, tea-bag the food processor, I strongly advise that you do so. Not because Black & Decker has deep pockets and hasn't protected themselves from liability (They have. It is in the small print; I checked), but because it would render you incapable of spawning more idiot-babies willing to do dopey shit to make a fast buck.
Due to the unsightly infestation of parasites like Egbert Spyder, we are killing ourselves off as a society, one frivolous law-suit at a time. While we go around sipping tepid coffee, dodging plummeting midgets and looking for a pit bull to taunt( in order to buy that new X-box), they get rich. The trouble is, though, that these ambulance-chasing maggots are merely a symptom of society's erosion, and not the root cause. No, my friend, there is an evil in our midst far greater, far more malevolent, than lawyer-kind. The true author of the fall of American society is none other than...Oprah.
Unfortunately, I will have to 'splain this in a future post.
I am Joel Laughingwolf, and you have my word on it.

Oooooohhhh, I just want to say it.....

2009-01-20T19:06:00.004-05:00

Exxxxxx-Vice President Dick Cheney.

I'll try to control myself from here on out.

KKKKKKHHHHHHHHAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!

2009-01-14T21:11:00.002-05:00

Ricardo Montalban, passes away.

Prisoner Number 6, Patrick McGoohan passes as well.

Sad.

A buttload of photos for your enjoyment

2008-12-21T16:00:00.015-05:00

It hardly seems like weeks since figu7es rashly promised pictures of the blue Christmas tree while at the same time warning you of the imminent peril that is the Christmas Rapture, but we've finally come through.

Enjoy these in lieu of actual writing on our part. We hope they make you feel festive, or at the very least not too queasy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we give you perhaps the Greatest Christmas tree ever. Or at least the bluest. You can't know how happy this makes me. And although it might be hard to judge by the photo, the tree is almost 7 feet high.

Moe doing his thing.

figu7es and sslugger enjoy their tree as they await the Christmas Rapture.

One of my favorite tree ornaments.

figu7es asked that I throw this one in. Um, rrrrroooowwwwrrrrrr, I suppose.

Moe again. Still napping.

Another classy ornament on the tree.

The Heinz picnic ants are a Christmas staple around these parts.

We saw this hawk in Rittenhouse Square in Center City a couple of weeks ago. Although probably not a full grown adult, it is still fairly huge, especially for something sitting about 20 feet away in what amounts to a one square block urban park.

And finally, just to prove that he is, indeed, alive and not a stuffed cat we perversely pose for the internets, I bring you Moe, awake and obviously in the middle of what was probably a vigorous game of ribbon.

Deep thought for the day

2008-12-13T08:05:00.001-05:00

Do you think Senator Vitter paid that prostitute more than $25 an hour?

The Christmas Rapture is Nigh Upon Us

2008-12-07T20:25:00.004-05:00

By Banana Slug ~~Investigative Reporter~~ Devoted Acolyte of Santa, figu7es

EDITOR'S NOTE:Apparently figu7es has been loading catnip into the bong again.

Oh, ye of little faith---heed my warning call!
The Christmas Rapture will soon be upon us all.
Yes, that fateful day prophesied since time immemorial when all are divided, both naughty and nice, and Santa returns to rain down condemnation on the unfaithful.
Although there be scoffers, with their scoffing and such, the Christmas Rapture is real.
On that glorious day, believers in Santa will be showered with presents beyond their wildest imagining while the naughty ones will be cast wholesale into the burning lake of fire there to spend eternity with crappy gifts like socks and argyle sweater vests made of polyester and one size too small.
As the prophecy says, “He knows when you’ve been sleeping/He knows when you’re awake/He knows if you’ve been bad or good/So be good before you are cast into hell to writhe eternally in flames while being sodomized endlessly by demons.”
You have to ask yourself---have I been nice, or have I failed Santa, leaving my soul and presents at risk?
Will you get that coveted Guitar Hero, World Tour game you know you’ve got your eye on or will you be pierced by the flaming pitchforks of untold demons for all eternity while unsuccessfully trying to locate the gift receipt for that Chia pet?
The choice is yours.
The Christmas Rapture could be upon us at any time. It is imperative that we are ready when Santa comes.
Though no man knows the day or the hour, my calculations, coupled with an exhaustive look through the prophecies airing nightly on various cable channels, tell me that it may come somewhere around the 25th of December, give or take.
Since we can’t know exactly when, it is incumbent upon those of us who don’t wish to suffer hellfire or crappy gifts to prepare so that we are ready when the Christmas Rapture comes.

For does not the Bible say:

Now as to when this will happen, you know quite well Santa will come unexpectedly, like a thief in the night. When people are saying, “Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse,” disaster will fall on them as suddenly as the ratings for a comedy on the CW.
So be on your guard and not asleep like the others, or you’ll end up wearing those crappy faux leather slippers instead of firing up your new iPod touch.”

I know mine does.

Are you ready for Santa’s soon return?
More soon, including some action shots of this year’s blue Christmas tree!

The Day Pancakes Saved the Miss America Pageant

2008-11-23T16:24:00.005-05:00

By Banana Slug canny day trader and lead singer, sslugger

Yes, I'm back to the sombrero. In honor of the election, of course.

As we have studied previously on these pages (here, here, here, perhaps here and sometimes here), pancakes are not only Nature’s most perfect and delicious food, they have often figured in important moments in the World’s history.
Today we will discuss another time when pancakes not only tasted completely delicious, but also at the same time managed to save the newly founded Miss America Pageant from complete disaster.
Herbert Hoover, by the standards of many, had been a simply atrocious President.
Not only did he oversee the utter collapse of the stock market without so much as lifting a finger (he is famously noted at the time of the market collapse of 1929 to have said, “The government that stands idly by best, governs least”), he was also responsible for an embarrassing international incident when he was caught snickering at King George V’s wife while in Britain to attend the Wimbledon tournament and oversee the opening of a Pizza Hut in Earl’s Court (which would later figure prominently in the career of a young Winston Churchill when he served as Assistant night shift manager there prior to his election to Parliament at the start of the Boer War).
By all accounts, Hoover’s tenure was an utter disaster and the American people had seemingly had enough when, in late 1931, they hanged an effigy of Hoover’s dry cleaner during the famous Trenton riots (which were set off when horrified Trentonites realized they had been named the capital city of New Jersey and threatened to secede from the Union. The rioters were finally mollified with the delivery of some chutney from Ohio.).
Hoover realized he needed to do something to restore the faith of the American people, who faced unemployment near 30% and a sharp uptick in bootleg Enrique Iglesias LPs that had caused several hundred suicides all on their own.
He gathered his cabinet and on a fateful night in late 1931 decided on a rash course of action aimed at ending what had become known as the Great Depression (mostly because the drab clothing and sepia colored photographs common to the era led others to believe people were pretty thoroughly down; mostly, they were just poorly colored). Henceforth, Hoover and his Administration would throw their weight behind getting America out of the ditch into which it had fallen.
His plan?
Well mostly it involved a complicated Ponzi scheme that later morphed into the Amway Corporation, leaving Hoover’s descendents to sell scads of overpriced laundry detergent, pretty much forever alienating their neighbors and leading some people to cross the street when they saw anyone named Hoover coming, for fear of facing an extended sales pitch.
It didn’t work either, since he lost the election the next year to Franklin Roosevelt, who promised Americans everywhere a peak at nude pictures of his wife Eleanor if they’d only vote for him.
The pictures were eventually published in OK magazine under the headline, “The Roosevelt’s Summer Home: Andalusia in the Springtime,” and included some shots of Franklin sporting one of those fancy long pants bathing suits while he chased his dog on a unicycle (the dog, that is).
Impressive stuff really.
What’s that?
Well, I don’t suppose it does have much to do with pancakes or Miss America, but I think you have to admit people would have been a lot happier during the Great Depression if they’d had adequate access to pancakes, which are, as any sane person knows, perfectly delicious.

Obama AG Nominee Embroiled in 'Love Child' Scandal!

2008-11-21T18:39:00.003-05:00

Will Embarrassing Past Derail Holder's Nomination?

We report. You decide.

General Motors Bailout Thwarted

2008-11-21T14:28:00.001-05:00

Child trades Hot Wheels Collection for Carmaker

Some of the vehicles young Wylie traded for GM.

In a move that stunned Wall Street and is certain to have massive implications for the dissolving economy, an elementary school student has seized control of America’s largest automaker.
Nine-year-old Wylie Dugan held a press conference today announcing the acquisition.
“I traded all my Hot Wheels and now GM is mine,” offered the young entrepreneur.
Shareholders acknowledged the move’s authenticity.
“I got this cool little Mercedes Benz truck,” noted one particularly happy former GM stockholder.
Kirk Kerkorian, who had been purchasing large amounts of stock as prices fell, reportedly received a Camaro, a Mustang and a really cool funny car with a giant monster head in the drivers seat.
Most shareholders seemed content with the trade, although a few noted chipped purple paint and really amateurish looking flames painted on some of the toys.
The move was made possible by the precipitous drop in GM’s stock price over the last year, as the automaker’s market value has fallen to just over $97.
Dugan offered few specifics of the direction he intends for the automotive giant, noting that he got rooked because no one told him about GM’s high debt level, soaring pension costs and shrinking market share.
“I wanted to paint everything purple,” noted the dispirited youngster,
“But they told me there isn’t any money.
Dugan said he tried to retrieve his hot wheels but was informed of an obscure ‘no give backs’ clause inserted into the original deal.
Dugan seemed otherwise unfazed by the problems the automaker faces.
“I guess I’ll have to proceed with efforts to secure a federal bailout in order to effectively retool our manufacturing and green the company so that we can be competitive in a 21st century marketplace,” said Dugan with a shrug.
“Of course, this will mean pursuing labor concessions and addressing pension and benefit costs, as well as taking a serious look at weak and overlapping product lines as well as our bloated dealer network.
“Presumably we’ll have to rethink the company’s past reliance on cash cows like Hummers and SUVs and reassess our place in the world economy. Maybe after we’ve pared costs to the bone, eliminated waste and modernized our product line we can paint all the cars purple and put some cool flames on them or something.”
Dugan did note that cost cutting would not include getting rid of his newly acquired private jet, which he intends to use mostly in place of taking the bus to school.

Young Wylie felt understandably cheated after he discovered General Motors true condition.

Mail order

2008-11-16T18:35:00.001-05:00

The problem started when the hippo got stuck in the basement.
We never did figure out how it got down there; we always assumed it slipped in like a field mouse escaping the cold, but one morning there it was, a hippo in the middle of the basement.
You wouldn’t think it was much of a problem, having a hippo in the basement, but it was way too wide to fit through the door at the top of the steps and we soon found out that hippos are actually rather belligerent and quite territorial.
That made the laundry problematic and pretty much ended any chance of getting to the sodas we kept on the shelves next to the sump pump.
We tried everything we could think of, but the basic physics involved were against us. One ton of enraged hippo and rickety, narrow steps are not a great combination.

That was also the winter my younger brother decided against being a rock star and started a pyramid scheme instead. He spent hours up in his room, painstakingly explaining his can’t miss proposal on the phone to complete strangers or writing long, earnest letters to would be prospects.
This was in the days before the internet so running a pyramid scheme took real gumption and a great deal of fortitude, as most of the contacts were one on one and you couldn’t just email a million people and hope the gullible would surface on their own.
He ran that same scheme for nearly three years, eventually taking over a portion of the garage and recruiting the slow kid from down the street to help handle the mail volume.

Sarah Palin Gives Yet Another Press Conference

2008-11-16T16:55:00.001-05:00

Mr. Pickles wouldn’t think to ask a ‘gotcha’ question.

In a sign many interpret as an inability to face political reality, former Republican Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin today continued her campaign for the Vice Presidency with her second press conference since the campaign ended, this time answering questions for the stuffed animals in her daughter Piper’s bedroom.
The press availability, advertised extensively during Palin’s appearance at the Republican governors’ Conference in Miami, included 3 dolls, a stuffed dog named Mr. Pickles and 4 Beanie Babies. Asked about it afterwards, Palin revealed that the questioning was “brisk, but professional” and that the entourage had refrained from asking any “gotcha” style questions, preferring instead to focus on how pretty Governor Palin is and how she would make a much better Vice President than wrinkly old Joe Biden.
Unnamed sources reported one testy exchange during which a Bob the Builder action figure questioned Governor Palin about promises made to Joe the Plumber during the campaign. Palin mistakenly referred to the toy several times as “Tito” before promising lower taxes and better storage for the assembled toys.
Experts were divided on what this latest media blitz meant for Sarah Palin’s political future.
“This is another prime example of Sarah being Sarah without the filter of the Mainstream media,” offered Bill Kristol of Fox News.
“She no doubt sees this as an opportunity to spread her message of change without facing media criticism over her complete and utter lack of understanding about any issue facing America. I’d score this a huge win. Obama is no doubt already worried about 2012.”
Others had a less favorable view of the whole affair:
William Miller of the New School for Run on Candidates offered, “Sarah Palin’s inability to face her oncoming irrelevance is astounding in the extreme. Unwilling to fade into well-deserved obscurity, she seems inclined to stay in the spotlight, no matter the impact on her future career.
“And no matter how much Mr. Pickles compliments her hair and commitment to change, the American people have already spoken.”

McCain Declares Himself President of Real America

2008-11-05T10:32:00.004-05:00

Rump Portion of America to Consist of Several Counties in Wyoming and an Empty Stretch of Highway in Western Nebraska

John McCain reacts as real Americans embrace their new leader.

In a stunning turn of events after last night’s gracious concession speech, Senator John McCain has, after a reexamination of election results, declared himself President of Real America.
“My friends, Real America has not voted for change. They have voted for me. And by me I mean change.
“And apparently Sarah Palin.”
Real America, which as everyone knows, is exemplified by small towns, rural areas and Southern Virginia, welcomed its new ruler.
“Senator, I mean, President McCain will do well by us,” noted Real American Joe Tucker, of rural Arkansas.
“We set him up an office at the back of the barn behind that old Ford truck up on blocks and we can’t wait for him to take office.
“He is bringing Sarah Palin, right?”
Real Americans across Real America celebrated as the news of the McCain coup reached them on their old fashioned rotary phones and through the grapevine at local diners. Lacking the internet and big city newspapers, many had been unaware that the election had been decided at all.
“This has to be the best news I’ve had all week,” offered one grizzled farmer at a lunch counter in central Kansas.
“I don’t think I would have liked being a socialist or nothing. No, Real America will be just fine on its own like this.
“He did say he was bringing Sarah Palin, didn’t he?”
Experts from unabashedly liberal think tanks in Faux America scrambled to make sense of McCain’s bombshell. Morris Sidney, of the New School for Real American Studies:
“McCain’s takeover of Real America could be the death knell to the remainder of America.
“It’s well known that America’s small towns and rural areas contribute nearly 4% of America’s overall wealth and nearly 5% of its diversity.
“This could be a crushing blow to the rest of America. Without Real America, who will chide them for their godless big city ways?
“On the plus side, he is taking Sarah Palin with him, right?”

the morning after

2008-11-05T09:52:00.002-05:00

A few quick thoughts on what amounts to about 4 hours sleep:

I feel as if our country has grown a bit through these last tortured eight years. Yesterday gave me hope that maybe we can work to become better, that we don't have to give in to fear or selfishness or hatred. I know this country faces monumental challenges over the next several years, but I'm certainly feeling better about them than I was.

It has been difficult to see the Promise of America over the past several years, as our discourse has grown filled with hatred and intolerance. There remains much to do and this is just one more battle, but our country made me proud last night. For all of our flaws, we can still stand to do the right thing.

Senator McCain gave what I felt was a gracious and I think heartfelt concession speech last night, certainly his best speech of the campaign (and I mean that in the sense that it appeared honest and sincere); it probably doesn't make up for all the nonsense of the campaign, but it should be noted that he acted commendably in what must have been a heartbreaking and difficult moment. I'm not an ambitious sort by any means, but I know this is a crushing moment for him and his supporters. I can sympathize with that pain. It's a pity though that the crowd at his headquarters didn't have the same level of grace as he did.

Senator Obama's speech was moving and watching the spontaneous celebrations around the country was quite emotional. We even had a parade here in Philly that appeared out of nowhere and ended up at City Hall.

Mrs. Round Guy is a 4th grade teacher at a largely African-American school here in non-real America and watching this election through their eyes and the eyes of their parents has been interesting and inspirational. I can't remember where I read it this morning, but someone quoted Richard Belzer as saying that every black child in America grew an inch taller today.

Finally, I should note that those of you in what had heretofore been referred to as Real America will come to enjoy the reeducation camps and our new regime. Remember to work hard for the greater good and take heart that all you earn will be enjoyed by the slothful remainder of us who do not toil but merely reap the bounty of your sweat. (Disclaimer for those convinced no liberals actually hold jobs---I am actually management, bitches).

Now that this is all over hopefully we at Banana Slug can get back to making fun of poop eating dogs, posting pictures of the cat and checking in on the lives of Al Roker and Angela Lansbury. Oh, and hot dog powered home appliances.

Good times.

a transformational moment

2008-11-04T23:09:00.002-05:00

I feel perhaps that we've moved just a bit closer tonight to what we've always thought we could be. Beautiful.

significantly less nervous liveblogging

2008-11-04T22:48:00.008-05:00

11:08 All joking aside, this is fulfillment of the American Dream.

11:03 I just spoke to my mother. She mentioned that she has seen people bar the door to black school children and now seen this. I can say I'm a little prouder of my country tonight. They didn't fall for the big lie.

11:00 MSNBC calls it for Obama. 284 to 146

10:56 CNN needs a bigger table for its roughly 700 pundits. Do you think Bill Bennett dropped a bundle on this thing?

10:54 Cokie is blaming the economy. I just noticed that all of the ABC pundits' laptops have a huge sticker that says 'POLITICAL ANALYSIS' on them. What's up with that.

10:53 Apparently ABC News has a kid's table. And George Steph's toupee is looking more Sam Donaldson as time goes on. Did he buy that thing from Bob Costas? Jesus.

10:51 Charles Gibson is not ready to declare that anyone has won the Presidency.

10:49 Mark McKinnon is backtracking like hell on ABC. He's given up. The writing is on the wall folks.

slightly less nervous liveblogging

2008-11-04T22:06:00.018-05:00

10:46 I swear Brit Hume just bitch slapped Karl Rove. Now Fox News is talking about the Fairness Doctrine. It looks like everyone at Fox went home except Chris, Karl and Brit. And Brit is not holding up well.

10:45 Unfrozen Caveman Correspondent Gregory probably should have rethought the pinstripes.

10:43 Apparently Obama is going to win the first county reporting in 'Real' Virginia.

10:40 What would you pay to see Obama use his speech tonight to outline his plans for socializing the economy, redistributing wealth and nationalizing all industry?

10:39 Call it. Mrs. Round Guy just fell asleep.

10:38 I can say one thing with 100% assurance. Harold Ford, Jr. is a douche.

10:37 MSNBC just showed the Obama rally in Alabama. 10 million white Republican sphincters just tightened up at the hip hop music.

10:34 More Tom Cruise dress up. "We have to kill Hitler." "Hitler's Germany has seen its last arrest." He's rocking those jodhpurs. This looks almost as exciting as that time he dressed up like a Nascar driver. By the way, Dick Trickle is still the best sports name ever. I wish they hadn't chickened out on Cruise's character and had just co-oped both halves of the name.

10:32 I want to take a moment to offer my heartfelt sympathies to Hillary Clinton. And, no, I'm not being a smartass.

10:31 I guess those electability arguments are looking a little less fresh.

10:29 Quick check of Fox News. It's starting to look like Lord of the Flies over there. Rove is Piggy.

10:26 Apparently Al Gore is at Cheney's undisclosed location. I am not sure why this matters.

10:21 Okay, they're still on Palin. Fred Barnes has come out of his basement to slam the media for actually investigating the totally unknown Sarah Palin. He thinks she attracted a different kind of crowd than other Republicans. I'm on the fence here, not entirely willing to class people by IQ like that.

10:17 Mayor Daley has invited the entire city to come down and join the fun at the Obama headquarters at Grant Park. And William Kristol is still defending Sarah Palin. Britt Hume is having none of Juan Williams opinion that the pick backfired. Sarah Palin couldn't be reached for comment.

10:16 Chris Matthews is now marveling that the bogus 'Bradley effect' hasn't surfaced. It was pretty much nonsense that just gave them something to talk about anyway.Ooooh, Oprah.

10:14 Indiana's going to the wire. Only 1/2 the vote is in in Fairfax County, VA. NC too close to call. Chris Matthews has switched to talking about Lippezaner stallions.

10:13 Obama wins 60% of Orange County in FL. That's Orlando. And that was Bush Country.

10:11 MSNBC is now discussing Senator Obama's 'movements.' I'm really hoping I misheard that.

10:10 Rachel Maddow rocks, by the way.

10:09 S Dakota abortion ban fails again. Colorado zygotes can haz rights law fails too. Very good news.

10:08 Chris Shays loses in CT. New England has NO Republican Congress people. Wow.

10:06 I am positively enjoying the Fox News coverage. It's like they have the night off from spewing hateful talking points. It's gone from a funeral to a wake. Rove, however, is still tripping.

I realize I'm only doing this for an audience of, well, me, but more liveblogging

2008-11-04T21:22:00.021-05:00

10:04 Fox notes the economic tsunami is something no Repub could have survived. Shouldn't that tell them something? Fox News just lost their signal to Chicago. Probably the first signs of communist intervention. Viva la nouveau Fox News, comrade.

10:02 Chris Wallace is suddenly giddy. Are these guys drinking?

10:00 Fox calls Utah for McCain. We could have done that in July. Chris Wallace just told Karl Rove to "have a cookie." Karl appears to have either lost his mind or is in the middle of overdosing on a psychoactive drug. Hard to tell which. Probably doesn't matter.

9:58 Back to Fox News. Steve Doocy just took an overdose of pills. Sean Hannity is probably flagellating Alan Colmes in the 'correction closet.' Breaking: Bill O'Reilly still looking out for you.

9:56 Texas to McCain. The surprise of the evening.

9:55 Please tell me Obama brought back the columns from the convention for his speech tonight! Man, that would be a great FU, wouldn't it?

9:53 Pee break. Al Franken ahead. "I'm in a sea of O here" Perhaps the most unfortunate comment of the night. Who is this dumbass? "Are you excited to be here?" Is he covering the freaking Emmys?

9:47 Apparently 3rd generation Cuban voters don't give a rat's ass about Castro. Who knew?

9:45 What are we, four weeks out from Sarah Palin's Fox News show?

9:42 As I play my anxieties out in the all too public forum, wait, Chuck Todd just said Obama is "overperforming" with white voters. Okay. And Chris Matthews has just denounced everything the idiot chattering class has been talking about for the past two weeks (tightening polls) as a myth.

9:40 Nice to see you back Mssr. laughing wolf.

9:36 Obama at 200. If California, Oregon, Washington and Hawaii come in as expected it's all done but the crying. Of course, McCain just won West Virginia, so Real America is still speaking loud and clear. I'm confused, do the Real America electoral votes count extra?

9:34 Okay, someone take away everyone's belts and shoelaces at Fox News. Really, it's for the best.

9:33 According to MSNBC, this election turned on voters attitudes toward cheese sandwiches. Or something.

9:28 AARP is still running their healthcare ads. Aaaaarrrggggghhhh.

9:25 MSNBC calls Ohio for Obama. "The thread has broken" according to Joe Scarborough. Scarborough is calling the election. So much for the Western half of the US.

9:22 Fox News is almost entertaining under the circumstances. Michael Barone sounds like he might start crying. And if Brit Hume's jowls sag any lower, he'll have to move to Animal Planet.

A brief interruption in the live bloggery

2008-11-04T21:22:00.008-05:00

Sorry to intrude, but I wanted to take a moment to mention that this race would have been far more interesting if:

McCain had chosen Michael Palin (the second coolest Python) as his running mate
Ms. Palin's catch phrase had been "The difference between a soccer Mom and a Pit-crew...chapped lips."

I'm just saying.

Now, I am going back to hiding under my bed.

More nervous liveblogging

2008-11-04T20:33:00.015-05:00

9:20 Fox News calls Ohio for Obama. Brit Hume looks like he just crapped himself. Karl Rove just looks old. Well, old and evil of course.

9:19 Oooohh, Tom Cruise looking butch in an eye patch. Is that movie a loose remake of Starship Trooper?

9:17 I am convinced, my friends, that this election turned when John McCain intervened in that horrid little Picts vs. Celts thingie.

9:06 There are more people sitting at the MSNBC desk than on the average NFL pregame show. Fewer shiny suits though (not a plus really). If Emmett Smith's giant necktie knot were here I'd be expecting to watch the Steelers shortly.

9:02 Obama 175 to 70. This is taking entirely too long. I really believe that this election hinges on the Bulgarians. They were trending toward Obama early, but the whole goulash incident has been played on hard in McCain radio ads.

8:58 Mmmmmm, popcorn. Thanks, Mrs. Round Guy.

8:57 NY, NM, Eastern Europes' polls close in 3 minutes.

8:53 Tom Delay???? Are they trying to torture me? Man, he's had some interesting facial surgeries.

8:47 I think we could have gotten about the same level of coherence from a bunch of poo flinging chimps.

8:46 This isn't going nearly quickly enough for me.

8:44 Talking to my nervous mother. She's afraid to watch.

8:35 I want to bludgeon Chris Matthews with a chair.

still nervous, still liveblogging

2008-11-04T20:10:00.007-05:00

8:32 Just braved Fox News. They have it 538 for McCain, goose egg for Obama. Actually, they just called PA for Obama. Maybe it's just me but they're coverage looks like a child's funeral. At least they're keeping up a facade of objectivity by eschewing the black armbands.

8:28 So will we see Joe the Plumber on a network reality show or is he purely cable fare? I'm thinking some sort of bug eating is in his future.

8:20 Alton Brown is cooking potatoes. Not on MSNBC. Also, Moe (the cat) seems rather put off this evening. He's been pretty damned vocal. Probably worried about the election.

8:19 Who made those 2 poor black kids sing with that 900 member white choir at McCain headquarters tonight? Talk about your short straws.

8:18 Adios, John Sununnu. And Joe Biden wins Senate reelection. I wonder why nobody on the Repub side mentioned he was running; they sure made hay of Joe Lieberman doing it in 2000.

8:14 "No Dem has ever won college educated whites in PA before." I wouldn't have thought that. Hmm.

8:10 Howard Dean. RRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAERRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH! That felt good. Great party chair, by the by. They laughed at him when he took over. Who's laughing now?

rather nervous live blogging of the election returns

2008-11-04T19:41:00.013-05:00

8:08 Joe Scarborough. Ugh. "McCain hasn't lost a red state." Um, yet. Joe just called PA 'fool's gold' for Repubs. Not bad, actually.

8:04 They call PA for Obama based on, I don't know, wishful thinking? No votes have been reported yet. I'm still slightly nervous.

8:03 Well, that changed in a hurry. 103 Obama, McCain 34 based on exit polls (yeh, we'll trust those).

8:00 Damn. Missed the Spam cooking competition on the Food Network. Oddly enough, I was just thinking the other day about developing some sort of Spam cuisine (yes, Spam sushi crossed my mind). Incidentally, I created a delicious pierogie lasagna yesterday that was quite delicious. Alternate layers of sauerkraut, cheese, onion mashed potatoes, kielbasa and more mashed potatoes. mmmmmmmm.

7:55 Chris Matthews is beating his dead horse for the evening, the idea that Obama has spread himself too thin by seeking to campaign in states that Clinton wouldn't have and Democrats traditionally don't. He's mentioned this maybe 832 times in the past half hour, just to make sure we know it. Curious, but I always found it more noteworthy when Dems didn't try to campaign in all of America.

7:54 Okay, there is no reason Ken Blackwell should be on my TV. That asshole is pretty much Mr. 2004 (which no one has bothered to mention).

7:53 Big poll closings at 8 pm, including Pennsylvania. Oooooh.

7:50 My deep thought for the evening, my friends. I won't miss those political ads.

7:48 McCain up 16 to 3 in called states. Mrs. Round Guy just let out a disgusted little grunt. Why do I think Senator McCain would like to call things now? Real America has voted after all (South Carolina and Kentucky).

7:43 MSNBC is interviewing TD Jakes, who while he may be an influential pastor, really isn't what I'd call a political pundit. A lot of nonsense boilerplate about how the parties have to work together, blah blah blah. I have to say I don't understand all the demonizing of partisanship among the pundit class. I am incredibly partisan as is simply anyone who cares about anything. I always thought it was important to fight for the things I believe in.

7:41 I'm certain I'll get bored with this and go to bed, but I figured I'd use the new Macbook (yes, I've finally converted from my dreaded POS PC and it is liberating in the extreme) to kind of do some half assed live blogging of the returns. I wouldn't expect much, but I figured I'd become the roughly 90 millionth person to track the dumbassery on display on the cable networks.

Our quadrennial choosing*

2008-11-04T19:14:00.002-05:00

Voting has always held a certain magical feeling for me; the fact that in the confines of that booth I, if only for a second (and only in my mind), hold the fate of our Republic in my hands really does fill me with awe.
Yes, I know that's incredibly naive.
Still, today has been an amazing day, whatever happens.
Mrs. Round Guy and I voted at 7 am when the polls opened (so she could get to work on time--I took a vacation day to do some GOTV for the Obama campaign). Lines weren't long at that point, although confusion certainly reigned at our polling place.
I should note that we live in one of the more Republican parts of Philadelphia (deep South Philadelphia), where the racial equation of this election has exacerbated normal party tensions.
Philadelphia as a whole is about 80% Democratic; the state of Pennsylvania (after factoring in the vast red middle) leans slightly blue.
Republicans have been counting on ignorance and racism to carry the day, which is presumably part of why McCain thought he could win.
But as goes Philly, so goes PA; between the city and its northern suburbs, which have been leaning Democratic in Presidential elections of late, if turnout in the SE corner is high, Obama wins.
Everything suggests massive turnout here.

Doing the get out the vote today I was again impressed at the level of organization Obama's campaign has shown; all handout materials included the voter's polling place address, voting hours and numbers to call should problems arise.

I've worked a number of campaigns and this was certainly the only one that provided that level of information.

All of which of course means nothing if he doesn't win.

Take the anecdotes for what they're worth. I realize my musings don't approach the level of actual evidence but I'm feeling okay about Pennsylvania. I will continue however to lose sleep about this until it's all over.

Man, I'm glad this day finally got here.

*Walt Whitman just seems appropriate today.

BANANA SLUG EXCLUSIVE! McCAIN'S REAL FATHER EXPOSED!

2008-10-31T10:52:00.005-04:00

Senator McCain and his "real father."

Our intrepid reporters have determined that Senator John McCain is actually the love child of...wait, What? No, you've got to be f-ing kidding me, right?
Malcolm X.
And she's not joking?

Christ, these people are making life impossible. Parody is dead, my friends, deader than John McCain's little ~~soldier~~ sailor.

Now, that, my friends, is Crazy we can believe in.

Congratulations Phillies

2008-10-29T22:49:00.004-04:00

It would appear that one of our local teams has won some sort of sporting competition.
Either that or Armageddon has begun.
In any event, it is my intention to sleep through it.
I should note for the record, however, that longtime local sportscaster Beasley Reece has either been waiting an awfully long time for this or is tripping on ecstasy and just on his way back from a rave.
He did everything but dry hump the players on the field after the game.
UPDATE: News helicopters hovering over your house for hours on end with searchlights beaming all over the place are not conducive to sleep.
I felt like I was on COPS.

McCain supporter admits making up attack story

2008-10-24T15:27:00.003-04:00

This thing sounded fishy from the first I heard about it, from where it occurred (coincidentally about a block from an old apartment of mine so I'm quite familiar with the area), but mostly after I saw the photo and noticed that the B was backwards, as if it had been done facing a mirror. Obviously, I wasn't the only one who noticed.

She now admits making this up:

Ashley Todd, 20-year-old college student from College Station, Texas, admitted Friday that the story was false and was being charged with making a false report to police, said Maurita Bryant, the assistant chief of the police department's investigations division. Police doubted her story from the start, Bryant said.
Todd, who is white, told police she was attacked by a 6-foot-4 black man Wednesday night.

She now can't explain why she invented the story, Bryant said. Todd also told police she believes she cut the backward "B" onto her own cheek, but did not provide an explanation of how or why, Bryant said.

Don't give up on me baby...

2008-10-19T17:34:00.002-04:00

I apologize for the utter lack of posting. To any of my readers (editor's note: that should probably read "both of my readers"), I offer a most hearty mea culpa, but I've been busy on a longer project not destined for these pages and I'm actually also fairly disgusted by all this election nonsense going on around me.
This stuff just isn't funny anymore.
Senator Grimace and the Trophy VP have all the charm of a German beer hall putsch and I'm pretty convinced that the national news media couldn't find a story if it was stapled to their foreheads.
It's enough to make one bitter.
Man, November 5th can't get here fast enough.
I'll try to get back to work here soon, perhaps after I've pounded out a bit more of that other thing (he said mysteriously).

Please don't forget to boil the water during your layover in the Stygian Abyss

2008-09-28T15:05:00.006-04:00

Maybe they can plan the next one for a visit to the scenic coast of Somalia.

http://www.nrcruise.com/

A worthy cause

2008-09-19T17:31:00.003-04:00

If you are so inclined, please feel free to drop by the site for Medical Students for Choice. This group seeks to address the very real shortage of abortion providers in most of the United States.

You can donate too, if the mood strikes. I kicked 'em a couple of bucks and I hope you can too.

Thank you Dawn for bringing this to my attention and thanks to the folks at Pesky' Apostrophe who are running a fundraiser through tomorrow night for Medical Students for Choice.

They say it far better than I could:

And that’s why MSFC’s work is so important. Yes, keeping abortion legal (as well as contraception, IVF, and all manner of other things that seem to offend the religious right) is vitally important to both health care and women’s civil and human rights (and men’s, I might add)...but if there aren’t any doctors to perform the abortions and be pro-choice advocates in the medical world, we are worse than sunk.

Something to think about...

Past, Present and Future

2008-09-06T21:30:00.005-04:00

I can remember my first national convention on television. The year was 1952 and the country was going crazy for Ike. My father was voting for Ike and my mother was voting for Adlai . I, being an intelligent child, sided with my mother. I think I got my tendency to go with the Democrats in my adult life from my grandfather. He was a retired railroad man and told me often that the Democrats were for the working man. The Republicans only cared about the rich people. This year, 56 years after my first on-air convention, I once again saw what Popeye, our pet name for our grandfather because he always said “I am what I am and that’s all what I am,” was talking about. The Democratic convention had the face of the America. All the colors of the human spectrum were represented. It was a veritable garden of humanity. The one thing they all had in common was the hopeful look in their eyes. This time someone is listening to us. We are hurting. Our families are hurting. Our country is no longer our country. Our children, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters and friends are being killed in a senseless war. We are losing our homes, jobs and any hope we have for a decent life. I felt a surge of pride as the convention ended. Hope was in my heart. Then I watched the Republican convention. Everyone looked like everyone else. It looked like Minneapolis had an early snow storm. White was right. And the “Right” is white. Let us preach hatred. Fear, fear, fear and more fear. Those brown people are taking our jobs. We must hate people of other religions and cultures. They are really out to destroy us so we have the God given right to kill them. The highlight of the four days was the short speech by W. The general feeling there seemed to be we have to let him speak and he better make it short because we don’t want to remind anybody he is one of us. Watching Karl Rove skulk around was also amusing. He really is a sleazebag. We were also treated to the first Republican female Vice Presidential nominee. I am not sure why she was named for this second spot on the ticket. Maybe it was because she has international experience being a governor of a state next to Russia. Then it was all over and we now go forward. The weeks up to the election will be filled with plenty of mud, smears, lies and the usual crap we have to put up with before the big day. Let us hope and pray our country will survive.

My (perhaps) final word on the Palin nonsense

2008-09-05T22:04:00.005-04:00

As les tete geant notes below, the perverse spectacle of Sarah Palin and the entire Republican Convention was baffling. I don't know if they fear she'll get the vapors if someone asks something hard or if it's just a general Republican 'protect the womenfolk' kind of impulse, but it does seem as if they're going to some extreme lengths to only trot out the Trophy VP™ for special occasions.

And there were a lot of rather odd choices at the convention, like using video of what appeared to be one of John McCain's homes as a backdrop for his speech (turns out it was Walter Reed Middle School and not, as one might assume they would want, Walter Reed Army Hospital----you can't parody stuff like this folks!).

But I had another thought about this whole thing---and I am now dead certain that the right wing views McCain as a dead man walking and they've given up on him. The parallels to Bob Dole are astounding (except his turd VP pick Jack Kemp---in 96 they felt they were ascendent and weren't going to waste anyone of prominence).

I think the uber reich of the Republican Party foisted Governor Bear Killer on McCain to set her up for a run in 2012.

Who the hell else have they got? Governor "I attend exorcisms" Jindhal? Rudy, 9-11 Tourettes, Giuliani? Mittens?

So they set her loose at the convention and let the far right of the party fling poo for the cameras and then they pack her away until after the election except for the carefully staged red meat tossing in front of friendly audiences.

Let's face it: Republicans have never cared about consistency in their narrative. One look at W tells anyone that. So they won't be bothered by the so-called reformer that ran the notorious Ted Stevens' 527 political arm or her bullying of government employees. All of that is just crap for the masses anyway. This woman is far, far right.

All this hoo hah about attracting Clinton voters by choosing a woman is mere whistling in the dark. They've never liked Johnny anyway.

Maybe I'm nuts but I think the only reason Mrs. Mooseburger got this gig is as a springboard.

And yes I promise to get back to our usual nonsense forthwith.

I'm a little confused

2008-09-04T09:42:00.002-04:00

I mean no disrespect towards Ms Palin's perfectly competent delivery of her acceptance speech last night. She is a handsome, plainspoken woman, who showed tremendous composure delivering a speech in front of a national audience while standing ankle deep in a pool of Rudy Giuliani's spittle and bile. But...what the fuck was the McCain campaign thinking?

I thought the whole point of bringing Palin on board was to quietly shore up McCain's conservative credentials while appealing to women, conservative Democrats, and independents. Even putting aside the mutual exclusivity of those ends, last night's GOP program seemed like a horrible miscalculation.

First they trot out Rudy G. in all of his vicious, shameless, mouth frothing glory, to deliver a speech that he apparently found on the front seat of Karl Rove's Wayback Machine. Never a particularly,um, diplomatic speaker, Giuliani delivered a litany of talking points from the 2004 election, derided Democrats for not using the apparently magic phrase"Islamic terrorists", led the crowd in a chant of "Drill, baby, drill", and added an air of general douchiness to the proceedings. Then, without taking the time to let the haze of brimstone clear, Palin was brought out to deliver a stridently partisan assault on Obama. I'm no campaign expert but that hardly seems like a sound strategy for either courting Clinton Democrats or protecting the flanks of a candidate who is, frankly, a featherweight. Maybe the plan was to have her energize the base at the convention and then adopt a more temperate tone for the rest of the campaign. The problem is, once you have become linked by theme and proximity to the Caligula of the GOP ,while allowing yourself to be cast as a "pit bull in lipstick", you've declared yourself fair game for a level of criticism that might otherwise have engendered some degree of sympathy. I'm not sure there's any way that Palin's assets out weigh her liabilities in this election but I'm pretty certain that her record, personal life, and political skills are going to be hard pressed to survive the body blows she's going to have to endure as a Republican attack dog.

Like the Round One pointed out in his last post, there's plenty of stupid to go around in this election. Last night might have upped the ante.

The Palin kerfuffle

2008-09-03T15:35:00.005-04:00

Well, that certainly took everyone's mind off the Democratic Convention now, didn't it? Republicans seems a wee bit defensive about the Palin pick and I'm fairly sure at this point that if it was discovered that Sarah Palin had 'interned' for President Clinton, that they would crack a couple of vertebrae contorting to explain why it made her qualified and gave her 'executive experience.'

I'm also pleased to note that I am apparently qualified to be President, since I run a larger budget and a similar number of employees as she did while doing her mayoring in Alaska. My mother will be so proud.

Lost in all of this nonsense is why the media has gone so retarded over analyzing every new little dog dropping that has followed this apparently ~~well vetted and well thought out choice~~ hastily thrown bone to the Republican base---the Convention and all the hoopla about Sarah Palin exists because John McCain is a boring cipher. There would be no way to fill four days of reporting talking about John McCain as he is perhaps the LEAST INTERESTING PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE SINCE BOB DOLE.

Palin has given everyone in the media something to pontificate about between cocktail parties and that is all they care about.

At any rate, we do wish to decry those forces who've been circulating the photoshopped picture of Governor Palin seen below; I am fairly certain there is enough stupid to go around with this pick that people don't have to resort to this sort of trickery.

We have provided the original photo beneath it for comparison sake.

This photoshopped image has been making the rounds of the internet, causing right wingers both apoplexy and turgidity.

The worst possible outcome for John McCain now appears likely; he will come out of his coronation with absolutely no one focused on him at all.

The original, unretouched photo. More horrifying? Perhaps. But sometimes truth is an ugly commodity.

And Now For Something Completely The Same...

2008-09-01T09:53:00.001-04:00

The Presidential race is well under way, the election is fast approaching, and I still have not decided who will get my vote. It isn't a question of Hope and Change versus Despair and Stagnation for me. Nor is it a Democrat vs. Republican or Liberal vs. Conservative thing. I am an issues kind of guy and, like most of the voting public, I like to idiotically latch onto one pet issue and make it the sole basis of my choice. You know what I'm talking about: "Yes, I know that candidate A is pro-cannibalism, but he is against abortion/evolution/gay marriage/stem- cell research/gun control/civil rights/midgets /Mexicans(pick one), so he gets my vote." Doesn't matter if the guy is a complete whack-job(or a dumb-ass), as long as they agree on that one thing, he's the guy for them.
Every four years, candidates trot out the same tired, old issues, blow a lot of smoke up our collective butts, and do absolutely nothing to change anything. This is done so that in the next election season they can use the same hot-button topics to woo the gullible public once again. It has been the same way since our nation was founded. George Washington ran on an "everyone gets a gun" platform, Taft flogged the 9/11 dog until it whimpered, and FDR punched a gay Mexican midget before every campaign speech. Works every time.
The trouble is that these issues are always dealt with in absolutes. There are no grey areas, no points for compromise, and both sides are so firmly entrenched that they will never stop fighting. Even if the Presidential hopeful actually wanted to bring about change, it wouldn't matter. The other side would refuse to toss in the towel and the next guy in office would put things back to the way they were before. And so on, until our heads explode.
What I am looking for in a candidate is a stance on an issue that can actually be definitively resolved in my life time; an issue that would have great impact on all Americans but which, when legislated, would have every voter cheering in accord and shouting "now there's a fella who can get a job done!" The candidate couldn't tackle just any old problem, though. It would have to be a biggie; an issue that has been ripping at the very fabric of the American Family for decades. Fortunately, I have the perfect issue in mind.

Toilet seats.

More specifically, I am referring to the whole "put the seat up/down" issue. You might think that this is a rather trivial issue to be used as a deciding factor in a Presidential election. You would be wrong. Statistics which I have just invented on the spot show that as many as 3% of American divorces ( and a surprising 45% of all gentle, while-you-were-sleeping, fatal spousal stabbings), are a direct result of pent-up rage due to the Struggle for Seat Supremacy. That stuff just festers for years and then...BAM...you wake up dead. And, as far as the Seat Issue being too silly for Congress to waste time on? Dude, have you watched C-Span lately? (Go ahead, turn it on now. I'll wait.............See? I rest my case). While Congress is blathering on and on about whether to rename a post office, half of the population of the US is standing around with grumpy faces and cold, wet asses.
It seems that the crux of the Seat Issue is that some of us fall in if the other half of us don't return the seat to the horizontal position when finished. Now, I must admit, that as a life-long, card carrying member of the National Pee Standing Up Society, I don't quite see what the whining is about. I have been the proud owner of buttocks for most of my life and have always checked that the runway was clear before touch-down. None the less, I feel their pain, and long to have the government step in to set things right. Surely both sides will agree that strong but fair legislation will only help us to move forward as a people. Perhaps a compromise: I'll put it down when I finish if you put it up when your done. Equal work, equal benefit. A truly bi-potty-san solution. (I know. Sometimes I hate me , too).
All we need now is for a candidate to take a stand (or, seat, if you will). That's the guy who gets my vote. A man who can truly make government work for the people and bring change that touches every one. Even if he does support cannibalism.

Now, piss off. I have stuff to do.

In Defense of MIdgets

2008-08-31T19:53:00.005-04:00

It has been brought to my attention that a number of my past posts have been a tad....wordy. As proof that I can, in fact, be short and to the point, I present the following......

In defense of midgets everywhere, I would like to say....uh....umm.....
Nope, sorry.
I got nothing.
Creepy little buggers.
Sorry to get you all worked up and then draw a blank.
Really.
You should probably just, you know, move on to the next post now.
Oh...oh...wait!
I have something!
I...umm...I like the Wizard of Oz!
Not so much the Munchkins, but the Winged Monkeys are super cool.
Midgets in monkey suits are way less freakish.
If they always dressed up as animals, that would be awesome.
Bunnies and stuff.
Yeah.
Oh..also...uh...I sort of like LUCKY CHARMS cereal.
They are, indeed, magically delicious.
Except for the green clovers.
Breakfast food should not be green.
Ever.
But that midget spokesman doesn't make my flesh crawl.
Much.
So...you know...um...midgets...
Damn.

sleep is the cousin of death...

2008-08-28T19:10:00.003-04:00

A photograph of Nas in concert last night at Webster Hall. Yes, I was there and yes, I had access to the VIP area. Trust me, anyone who has ever met me will find humor in this information. Fortunately the lanky doofus in front of me waving his arms in the air while wearing bright orange earplugs spared me the indignity of being the whitest guy in the room. Unfortunately you can't see 3 or 4 guys who were scrambling around handing out Samsung themed t-shirts, towels, and water bottles to the crowd. Good stuff and I'm still coming down from the contact high.

Apologies

2008-08-28T15:50:00.003-04:00

to the Round Guy for not sending Garfield Without Garfield down the proper Banana Slug channels. I guess I was just overwhelmed by my enthusiasm for the eerie and disturbing existence of Mr. Jon Arbuckle. Also, I've been distracted by my efforts to jury rig a brace for better noggin support during the morning commute. I've found a stick I can run from the base of my spine to the top of my neck but adhesion has been a major issue--spirit gum sweats off in the subway, blue tack results in permanent discoloration, and duct tape tears the hair and flesh from the back of my neck. Frankly I'm surprised that there aren't more products catering to the needs of the macrocephalic. This seems like the kind of vacuum that nature ( and a certain opportunistic pillow) abhors.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to fulfill my mandate to bring both class and pretension to this lovely blog , as well as shamelessly plug the work of my friends, by passing along this link. It is a montage of the choreography of Aszure Barton filmed and edited by my old chum Kevin Freeman. It's quite entertaining...I swear. Plus, If you squint really hard you can almost make out a few seconds of Baryshnikov performing one of Aszure's pieces. Which is kind of cool. Not as cool as, say, writing the screenplay to White Nights... but let's keep that to ourselves.

I wish to add my thoughts on Joe Biden's selection as the running mate of that Democratic fellow

2008-08-24T22:35:00.004-04:00

Yes, that's a perfectly delicious and perfectly round---dont' be fooled by the perspective---pancake on his head.

I feel I may buy this portrait of Senator Biden on that Ebay thing.

I can always cover him up. It's so hard to find good pancake art these days.

A passing thought on Senator Biden

2008-08-24T22:19:00.002-04:00

Yes, we've had our fun in the past with Senator Biden, what with his tendency to, um, talk a hell of a lot. And there are a few people we'd have liked to seen get the nod (I thought the lack of consideration given Al Roker a damned shame, while figu7es is disappointed he didn't even get a sniff at this). And admittedly I said he would become President about the time I did (which I'm still hoping is the case by the way).

That being said, I do have some quick thoughts on the choice.

On the whole, I think it's a good one, certainly better than Evan Bayh.

And as far as the nonsense about this undercutting Obama's credentials as the 'candidate of change' I can only say that if you want to change the way something works it is vital that you find someone who knows intimately how it currently works. Otherwise, all that talk is going to lead absolutely nowhere.

And say what you will, Joe Biden knows his way around the Senate. He can, for lack of a better term, make shit happen. Few people are capable of navigating the morass that is the US Senate better than Mr. Biden. This, to me, says Obama understands that change requires more than talk; it takes people who know the system and work through it to make something happen. It is a serious and substantive choice.

I also listened to him absolutely shred Lindsey Graham on Meet the Press several weeks back. It was something special.

I believe he is a pretty good choice.

If nothing else, he's not shy. I expect he won't hesitate in taking the fight to the Republicans.

Brilliant!

2008-08-22T20:41:00.003-04:00

Speaking of El Cabeza Grande (please note the, um, challenged squirrel several posts back---I swear it looks just like him), he emailed me this link to garfield minus garfield. We can only speculate as to why he didn't post it here himself, but I have to assume that the weight of that melon he carts around finally got to be too much and he's lying on a floor somewhere trying to figure out how to lift his head.

If that sounds cruel; well, it is.

At any rate, I want to thank him since I can finally understand the humor in Garfield. I think the stupid cat must have been distracting me.

ADDED BONUS: Since we mentioned cats, here's a picture of the ever charming Moe.

Yes, Moe has learned to sleep standing up. It's the only way he makes it through to nap time.

McCain found lost and shivering beside highway

2008-08-22T18:23:00.001-04:00

John McCain's confusion runs deeper than we thought.

Republican Presidential contender John McCain apparently wasn’t kidding when he replied to a Politico reporter that he didn’t know how many homes he owned yesterday.
It seems he doesn’t know where they are either.
The presumptive nominee was found standing alongside an I-5 exit ramp just south of Seattle, Washington this morning, clearly lost. It seems he wandered away from a town hall style meeting in nearby suburban Bellevue.
Onlookers noted that he refused all offers of help, merely repeating the phrase “my staff will get back to you” whenever someone tried to assist him.
Eventually he was lured inside with the promise of some coffee and donuts with sprinkles.
The media has declared this incident a winner for McCain.
“Not knowing his way home lends John McCain a common touch that his elitist opponent all too often fails to show,” offered Fox News pundit William Kristol. “Who amongst us hasn’t forgotten a second home or the way home, for that matter? I know I have.”
McCain’s campaign, when reached for comment, offered only that “John McCain, who was a POW, knew where his home was when he was a POW. Did we mention he was a POW?”

I feel dwarfed by the talent pool here

2008-08-21T10:47:00.003-04:00

I have finally found something that I felt worthwhile to post (in other words I got over my laziness). I realize that my writing would not really be on par with all the other entries, but I like squirrels....

This pretty much sums up my feelings. I will be on the lookout for more childish behavior (and squirrels), to make my mark here.

The Truble With Timmy, or, Is Our Schools Broke?

2008-08-16T20:59:00.009-04:00

People often come to me with questions ranging from "How many centimeters in an inch?"(2.54) and "What's the best way to remove ink stains?"(hairspray) to "What is the biggest threat to national security?"(midgets) or "You actually gonna read all them books?"(No, I use them as projectiles to fend off marauding hordes of 36 inch(91.44cm) tall, ink-stained, terrorist midgets.). Some times, I answer their inane questions. More often than not, I grab the pointy object nearest to hand and viciously poke at them while shouting "Who the hell are you people and why can't you leave me alone?" until they flee in pain and terror. Unfortunately, what peace I gain is short lived. Inevitably, they will return, limping, bruised and eye-patched, with continued mewling.
Of late, however, I have detected a recurring theme in the incessant chatter. Questions along the line of "Why ain't them teachers doing they jobs?" and "How's come my little Timmy cain't read none too good?" keep cropping up. It seems that the effectiveness of the American public school system has come into question. It also seems that there will be no silence around these parts until I supply answers. In a desperate act of self-interest, I will do so here. Pay attention, I am only going to say this once. (I have a stick and I am not afraid to use it.).
Let us be clear. The schools and the teachers are not at fault. Both are doing their jobs quite adequately according to the guidelines the public has set for them (over-priced day care focused on training students to do well on standardized testing required to maintain funding). In the face of the task set for them, and the limits they have been given, blaming the schools and teachers is completely unfair. The key to unravelling the mystery of little Timmy's semi- literacy is hidden elsewhere. With little Timmy, in fact.
You see, little Timmy can't read because, frankly, he is a moron. (Harsh? No. The kid can't read for gawd's sake! He is a mere pop-quiz shy of a summer job as the side-show pin head or a place in the Bush administration. If that is not the definition of moron , I don't know what is.). It may be tough to admit that your precious, the fruit of your loins, the spawn of your junk is anything less than perfect, but face facts. Kid's an idiot. (And he's dragging the curve down with him).
There isn't any shame in this. It is Nature's way. We are not all born athletic (though your kid will get a trophy just for showing up) or cover-model attractive (but keep telling the butt-ugly little troll how great his personality is). Some folks are born clumsy, pear-shaped and stupid (or any combination of the three). It is called diversity, a component of the human gene-pool, and the thing that keeps each of us from being exactly like everyone else. (If you are a religious nut, God made your kid stupid because you imagined your neighbor's wife naked once too often. If you shake it more than twice, God will give you idiot babies.). You actually do the kid a disservice by not helping him to live up to his limitations.
It has been reported that the children in other countries score higher on IQ tests than American children do. This is easy to explain. In those other lands, the kids who don't make the cut are shipped off to the mines or sweat-shops. This not only raises the national average, but has the added bonus of keeping the numb-skulls off the streets and providing cheaper labor to produce lead-tainted toys to ship to the States and further addle the brain-meats of our kids. Here in America, though, every one is "equal"(even if Nature doesn't plan it that way). If the ninny kids can't be smart, we will just drag the smart kids down to thier dim-witted level. Just to even the playing field. That way, you don't have to be ashamed because your kid eats library paste and can only count up to cucumber. All the students get to spend their class time repeating the same work until Timmy gets a clue(even if it takes 12 years. Gotta be fair.).
"What about the learning disabled?" you ask, "The dyslexic or the ADHD kids? What about them?" Different story completely. These are not moron kids, they are just wired differently, and are entitled to a fair shot. It should be noted, however, that a large percentage of the kids labeled ADHD are not, in fact, ADHD at all. They are just misbehaving brats who have parents who suck at doing their child-rearing jobs. (Why waste time raising your little love-chunks when you can just drug them into a stupor?). Most of those ankle-biters all hopped-up on Ritalin just need a good whack with a stick. (An easy way to test if your kid is a brat, has ADHD, or is a moron: take away his XBox and give him a book. If he screams and throws the book at you, he is a brat. Let the whacking begin. If he tries to read the book, but gets frustrated after a short while--ADHD. If the kid chews on the book or pretends that it is an XBox, he is a moron. Ship him off to the mines.).

And, don't give me any of that crap about "self-esteem". Self-esteem is a hard won thing, gained through actual life experience-- both successes and failures. It can not be "given" to any one and, if not truly earned, will be crushed by the cold realities of the real world. (The real world hates your kid.).

So, quit blaming the schools and the teachers. It ain't their fault. Timmy is a dumb-ass. Learn to live with it and quit your whining. Some kids should be left behind. Waaaay behind. That'll learn 'em. (or, you know, not so much).

And, that's all I got to say about that.

Go away, now. Poke. Poke. Poke.

GEORGIA BIGFOOT HOAX

2008-08-15T16:30:00.005-04:00

Hunters Apparently Bagged Rocker Gino Vanelli

A paparazzi shot of Vanelli in Northern California earlier this year.

Georgia’s purported Sasquatch hunters had nothing to show but red faces when it was revealed that they had not actually captured Bigfoot, but had merely murdered Canadian rocker Gino Vanelli and stuffed his body into a chest freezer.
Vanelli, known far and wide for his hirsute manliness, was the smoldering sexuality behind such hits as I Just Wanna Stop and the haunting, brooding Black Cars. Ironically, he had been poised to make a musical comeback of sorts and had come to Georgia only to kick off a Rib Fest in Buford.
The two Georgia residents who claimed the capture of the elusive Sasquatch, Matthew Whitton and Rick Dyer, admitted they were “all likkered up” when they downed the Montreal native Vanelli as he emerged from his tour bus.
“We thought we’d bagged ourselves one of them Sasquatches, but it turns out he was just some frog Canuck singer,” said a noticeably dispirited Whitton, who due to Georgia’s peculiar criminal system, will face charges only of taking a Yeti out of season.
“We thought for sure it was that Bigfoot critter. We had him half skinned before we realized he was wearing one of them metallic disco suits.”
Earlier reports that the Georgia natives had sighted an entire family of Sasquatch turned out to be merely several women who had wandered off an Armenian tour bus in town for Vanelli's show.

The hypersexualized Vanelli was worshipped by nearly scores of female fans, mostly Armenians.

BONUS FUN! Go to the link: Do the folks at Fox News have a sense of humor? Their original photo caption: “A still from the famous 1967 Bigfoot film, which may or may not show a man in a gorilla suit.” That’s comedy gold, folks.

"He lived as he died. Bloated and moist."

2008-08-13T21:16:00.001-04:00

My day has just improved with the knowledge that the original braintrust behind Mystery Science Theater 3000 has resurfaced at Cinematic Titanic.

It's things like this that make America worth all the bother.

Why is that dog staring at me?

2008-08-10T16:38:00.002-04:00

I can see him over there, pretending to hide behind his newspaper. But he’s staring at me.
He hasn’t looked at the paper once and his stupid basset eyes haven’t left me for at least fifteen minutes.
I don’t know what I’ve done to have this dog staring at me; I certainly haven’t done anything to him or any other dog for that matter.
But to look at him you’d think I was some kind of master criminal or something. He stopped maybe once when he leaned down to scratch his ear with his hind leg, but other than that it’s been nothing but me.
He doesn’t care that I know either. He just sits there, panting and staring at me.
I can’t even tell if he’s angry. I mean, he looks a little sad or maybe disappointed I guess, but that’s probably just him being a basset hound. They always look sad to me.
It’s probably the droopy eyes. And I might be projecting about the disappointment for all I know. I’ve always felt myself to be a bit of a disappointment to those around me although I could never pin down why.
But he’s driving me crazy with the staring. I feel like I’m on display or I’ve got something stuck between my teeth and I can’t take much more.
It’s been like half an hour, staring and staring. Not even a blink for crying out loud. Just the panting and the staring and the occasional soft rustle of the newspaper.
Stupid dog.
I don’t know what he’s doing the subway in the first place.

Armageddon Tuesday

2008-08-10T16:28:00.000-04:00

The judgment line was long and we were at the back, which makes sense since we’d been standing together when the world ended.
Not that we knew each other; he happened to be in front of me on line at the Jamba Juice when the trumpet sounded and the universe rolled up like a shitty window shade.
He’d just been handed his smoothie when the whole thing went down and he sucked on it noisily while we watched and waited our turn.
God (I suppose) sat on his throne at the center of the action while everyone who had ever lived assembled at his feet, waiting. One at a time, peoples’ lives played out in front of the entire mass of humanity, every insignificant detail, triumph and failure, every misstep or embarrassment playing out at real speed and with no particular purpose, since God had presumably seen it all the first time through and offered no hint that he was even listening or watching what went on.
He stared serenely into the distance, wistful or vengeful or apathetic. I couldn’t say.
But the people took on the whole range of emotion as their lives played out in front of them before they took their final bow.
I was amazed at the variety we witnessed. I saw a baby crawl up who in life barely had time to crap a diaper before his crippled, underdeveloped lungs betrayed him and I watched intently as some old guy sat in his garage in a bunny suit weeping as he fondled his useless member which lay as dormant as a dusty alternator at the back of a used auto parts store.
Eventually, though, everything took on a numbing sameness as people small talked their gas bills or went to work for the ten thousandth time or ate family dinners in uncomfortable silence.
People adopted a variety of attitudes as their stories progressed—a few cheered themselves as they ran for touchdowns or hunkered down in some dimly remembered back seat with a prom date while many grew red-faced as adolescent fumbling was laid bare. Others remained largely stoic. A peaceful few seemed rapt, viewing each moment as if for the first time.
We murmured amongst ourselves, anxious from the wait and worried at the same time that our turn might come. There were literally billions of us there and even after each person’s story played and they walked off into the mist to cheers or a smirk and a series of high fives, the line never seemed to shorten.
But eternity is an awfully long time and eventually I realized I was watching the guy next to me standing in line at the Jamba Juice about to get that last smoothie. I realized as I looked behind me that I was last in line, the last sad flicker of human history.
It had, all of it, come down to me.
Man, I really wanted that smoothie.

That’s 360° Kelvin!

2008-08-10T15:57:00.001-04:00

We’d been hanging around the lab, razzing the new guy for about two weeks. We were old hands by then and it felt like years we’d been together instead of just a couple of months.
But he was newer than us and in the timeworn way of things he had to face the cracks and practical jokes and the barrage of small attacks to his ego before he’d be accepted into the fold.
Ed spent about an hour showing the guy the wrong way to set up a sterile field and then the guy ruined about a hundred tests before somebody finally took pity on him and told him.
John put one the of the lab mice in the dude’s lunch bag. I’ll give him credit, he laughed, even though that mouse ate most of his sandwich.
In fact, he took it all with pretty good humor---the unnecessary decontamination showers, the fake lockdown and quarantine, even when Jacques stabbed him with that needle and pretended it was Ebola, the guy laughed it off (at least he did after we told him he wasn’t going to die while hemorrhaging buckets of blood).
We thought he was going to fit in fine.
You know, all this CDC stuff can get pretty grim at times, so we like to keep it light.
There was really no way of predicting what happened next.
We had just got back from lunch where one of the guys (I suppose it was Bill, not that it matters much now) had pretended to fill the new guy’s apple juice with a urine sample (okay, maybe not so imaginative and a bit beneath us, but you try hitting one out every time you step to the plate—am I right?).
The new guy just walks over and busts open a bunch of vials of smallpox.
And that’s how we all got here.
Some people have no sense of humor.

New Fan Club President Elected

2008-08-07T21:56:00.002-04:00

Elections for the office of president and bestest pillow lover were recently held at the figu7es fan club. Both members damn near knocked themselves silly in their rush to nominate the other. Glorb, a Romanian Collie-wobble, had the misfortune of remaining unconscious the longest. While comatose, he was elected in a land-slide (1 to 0) and, as the other member immediately fled the country, will be forced to hold the office for life. Glorb, who wishes that he could remain anonymous, promises to treat the office with the respect and dignity which it deserves.
"I can't help myself," the new president was overheard saying to his imaginary friend,"I just loves that figu7es right to death. His. Some day, I hope to prove it. He is soooooo handsome, and he don't hardly smell like pee at all. Yum."

Glorb just loves him some figu7es

We're riding on the escalator of life

2008-08-06T22:15:00.003-04:00

We're shopping at the human mall

Local rocker Robert Hazard dead at 59.

Damn.

A few programming notes

2008-08-06T20:16:00.002-04:00

Some thoughts in passing until I have more time....

Say what you will about George Bush, but at least he never offered Laura up to pull the train at a biker rally, even if it's only because his brother Neil never got close enough to suggest it.

While in Costa Rica we attended this opera at this theater wherein I learned the truly valuable lesson that you should never shoot a Frenchman, as he will take two hours to die and sing the entire time. More on that later.

I leave for one crummy week and the Republicans descend to new levels of know nothingness. How long before they seek to insult Obama by insisting he believes in gravity?

The sweet, sweet smell of cash

2008-07-24T19:43:00.004-04:00

figu7es answered an email we thought was spam and it turns out he actually won the Costa Rican National Lottery. As you can see, he's all smiles at this delightful turn of events.

figu7es ran around for 7hours screaming "show me the money" over and over. Then he cried for Cuba Gooding's career and settled in for a Boat Trip and Snow Dogs mini movie marathon.

figu7es was somewhat less ecstatic after he went to the bank to convert his winnings into U.S. currency. He blames, rather incoherently, the weak dollar.

BONUS MOE BLOGGING:

As always, Moe was quick to help out during our recent kitchen renovation.

Moe is sad tonight as the suitcases have come out and he knows he is being abandoned yet again to the capricious Frank Ly (his caretaker---thanks Frank)

At any rate, all of this is my roundabout way of saying, Adios, suckers as we head to Costa Rica for a bit of a vacation. I'll be contributing my usual nothing while I'm gone and plan a long awaited vacation from the internets and all news. figu7es may chime in from time to time as he hopes to polish off his long awaited opus, Dogs, Buttsniffers from Satan?. Unless there's something on cable of course.

See you all in a couple of weeks. If any of you others care to play while Daddy's away, feel free. Just no loud parties and absolutely no Celine Dion.

We need to have some standards around these parts.

Scary, Very Scary

2008-07-16T19:59:00.002-04:00

I have no available pictures for you to check out on this subject. The idea occurred to me when I was watching the news and some boy wonder was interviewing Bob Dole after the passing of that Great Naysayer of Civil Rights, Jesse Helms. At the first sight of this former senator and presidential candidate I was shocked. He looked like Joan Rivers with a five o’clock shadow. Howdy Doody at 80. His cheeks are so tight his hair moves when he smiles. Maybe it was all that Viagra. Maybe Elizabeth had a buy one get one at the local Plastic Surgeon place. Whatever the reason for the change in appearance. it is not something I ever want to see again. Next time I hear he is next to be interview, I change the channel fast!

EDITOR'S NOTE:

Our ~~Mariana's Islands photoshop sweatshop~~ crack investigative reporting team uncovers conclusive evidence proving Mother's theory!

Howdy Doody at 80. Those cheeks are so tight you couldn't...oh, wait that's another joke. Never mind.

Talking heads

2008-07-15T22:50:00.002-04:00

The Lichtenstein hartebeest spoke first.
“I’m not really from Lichtenstein you know,” it said from its perch on the wall.
“The Duchy outlawed the veldt in 1957 and the lot of us ended up moving to Gabon.
“You know, I don’t miss the place though. Snooty buggers, the whole of them.”
The Lichtenstein hartebeest (or more accurately the head and neck of it) hung on the wall, between the pudu and the Blue wildebeest, both of whom bore their burden somewhat more stoically.
“I say, I know we’ve just met and all,” said the Lichtenstein hartebeest with a rather conspiratorial look in its eye, “but I’ve an itch around my arse I haven’t been able to reach. Would you mind?”
He glanced at me hopefully.
I looked quickly about in the silence, amid the hundreds of stuffed heads on the wall, all of whose arses were who knows where.
The Lichtenstein hartebeest laughed uproariously and the others joined, even the Grey’s zebra, which until now hadn’t so much as glanced my way.
“Oh, that never gets old,” chuckled the Lichtenstein hartebeest.
“No doubt my arse is a bag of bones by now, given the buzzards and the natives.”
He looked suddenly wistful, drifting off to the days before he was a stuffed head on a wall.
“Well, enough of that,” he said, a trace of embarrassment showing at the rather outré display of emotion.
“So as I was saying, I’m not really from Lichtenstein, what with the way the Duchy outlawed the veldt back in ’57, was it?” The other heads nodded intently.
I backed slowly out of the room and decided I’d wait in the vestibule.

My presidential candidacy gains some steam

2008-07-15T22:20:00.004-04:00

By ~~Banana Slug Investigative Reporter~~ Supreme Ruler, figu7es

It looks like my campaign to send those canine crap eating machines to the desolate island of Wyoming is catching on with a public tired of watching those puerile pups lick themselves and gorge on their own offal!

Check out the latest news story on my candidacy below:

My movement is taking hold! I will be President!

Those pooches better start packing...

The old man slowly eats a sandwich at a park bench while reminiscing and briefly recalls the eisenhower administration

2008-07-10T21:57:00.006-04:00

The military-industrial complex, he thought pensively, has screwed me most of all.

Soiled Knickers Exposed to the Breeze

2008-07-08T22:01:00.002-04:00

It has been brought to my attention that in my God v. Polar Bears post I made an egregious error. In citing the one place in the book of Leviticus that Gays are mentioned, I refer to them as the thing that the Lord hates "...more than anything in the known universe." This is, of course, completely untrue. Leviticus mentions them twice.
There is a reason why this mistake was made, and why I risked damaging the reputation of such a high-brow blog: I lied. That's it. I am a liar. (Fetch the garden hose, my Wranglers are about to combust.). I owe Banana-Slug(and its reader) an apology. I intentionally misrepresented the facts in order to make a point. Knowing the truth, I chose , willfully and with malice of forethought , to ignore it completely. I could defend myself by saying:

We are talking about the Bible, for God's sake. I didn't think that anyone actually read it anymore. What's with all of the TV preachers, distorting scripture for their own monetary and political gain, if folks can just read the book and misinterpret crap on their own? (Televangelism. Come for the Jesus, Stay for the Hate). Why are these guys even still in business? Shame on you. If you people are actually going to read the Bible, then how are people like them going to be able to trick people like you into believing that you should be against what ever they tell you is the thing that God will burn your ass for not hating? (And, send $25 for this informative video.). God hates it when you are informed. I was doing you a favor.

The other mention of the Gays in Leviticus (20:13) is virtually the same as the first. Blah blah...man with man...blah blah...abomination. No point in pointing out that it is in there twice if it is the same thing. Identical. Except for the "they should be put to death" part. With that minor exception, the quotes are the same. (Why quibble over a little, itty-bitty, teeny-tiny "put 'em to death? Sheesh. Nit-pick much?). Besides, I was worried about what effect this information would have on the Polar Bears. For all I knew, the public would rise up in a zealous frenzy, grab every available loose stone, and rush to the Arctic Circle to put some Jehovah-Justice on an unsuspecting bear population. Even though God hates them, I did not want innocent ursine blood on my hands. Or yours. You would have really felt bad about it in the morning. I was saving you from yourselves. Also, we have reliable intelligence that the Polar Bears have WMD's (weapons of mauling dismemberment). Things could have gotten very ugly.

I can not recall the post in question.

But, Honey, I swear...we were just talking. (Oh, sorry. Wrong bag of excuses.).

It is a time honored tradition in the media to horrifically distort the facts in order to make a point. This is most effective if you wish to cause a panic about flesh eating bacteria or to get Bush re-elected ( which are very much the same thing, come to think of it), but also quite effective for keeping the down trodden masses trodden down. Fox "News" even has a clever name for this trick. It is called "Murdoching" or "pulling a Rupert" (coincidentally, that last is also Australian slang for "spanking the monkey"). I was just doing my part to uphold the thingy in that government document hickey that talks about people being able to say what ever they want to, regardless of truth. Or consequences. It was patriotic.

You've read my stuff so far and that's the thing you have an issue with? Um...I think that I am a little scared of you right now.

It was already a falsehood when I got there.

Or, about fifty other excuses (believe me, ole laughingwolf can come up with an excuse at the drop of a midget.). I figure, though, that if this relationship has any hope at all of making it, it is best to always be truthful. So...I lied. And, I am sorry. Being an American and an internets journalist-type person, however, I am not sorry that I lied...just sorry that I got caught (and I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for those meddling kids!) . Chances are good that I will lie to you in the future (Hell, I am probably doing it now). As often as I can. You know, just to keep in practice. I do promise this: I will always lie to you as truthfully as is humanly possible. You have my word on it.

That's all for this time, kids. See ya soon. Honestly.

McCain to Give Acceptance Speech at St. Paul Denny’s

2008-07-08T18:00:00.003-04:00

Event Intended to Upstage Obama’s New Nomination Venue

A recent strategy session led to this Denny's in St. Paul, MN.

In a blistering rebuke to Senator Barrack Obama’s choice of Denver’s 76,000 seat Invesco Stadium to deliver his acceptance speech at the Democratic Convention, John McCain has decided to move his Republican acceptance speech as well.
McCain’s camp has decided to move his speech to a St. Paul Minnesota Denny’s at 3:30 in the afternoon, thus capturing McCain’s most important voters before they head off to bed at 8.
“This gesture not only leaves McCain in great position to take advantage of any Early Bird specials, it will ensure that his main demographic base [cranky people over the age of 87] will be able to see his acceptance speech live,” notes New School Geriatrics Chair Morton ‘Mortie’ Dornemann.
Political experts are mixed on their opinions of the strategy.
“He should be able to draw a similar crowd to what he did the night Obama sewed up the nomination,” notes Republican strategist Fred Barnes, “but what if they run out of Moon over my Hammy?”
“This is a stroke of genius,” notes frequent McCain apologist Senator Lindsey Graham.
“Not only will Senator McCain still be awake, most of his constituency will as well.
“Plus, we get Grand Slams.”
New School Chair Dornemann:
“Politically, this is probably a winner for McCain. Not only does this highlight his frugal nature, but the expected crowd will really highlight the appeal of his candidacy.
“I heard they had to reserve three whole tables in the back.”

An ill wind blows at banana slug

2008-07-08T13:33:00.006-04:00

By Banana Slug Investigative Reporter and Innocent Victim, figu7es

We're thinking of taking him to a specialist.

That dog has about got on my last nerve.
First I allow him space to virtually lick himself for the world’s amusement and then I politely offer to allow him safe passage to an island community where he can live away from the cruel laughter of civilized society and eat whatever he likes (Hint: it rhymes with poop) for the remainder of his days.
And how does he repay my kindness? He calls me several rather unflattering things, most of which I barely understand.
I ask: when have I ever maligned dogs? I’m an innocent here.
I am just a simple pillow, indulging my love for the beautiful Angela Lansbury, seeking nothing but a rocking good episode of Murder, She Wrote and perhaps the occasional cannoli.
What do I get for my trouble? Those DNA deprived doggies gang up and decide that I’m the villain. Just because I want to live in a world free from poop breath and drool. Just because I want to live in a world where some dog isn’t bent over licking what god gave him everywhere I look.
Does that make me evil? No really, does it? Because if it does I can totally live with it.

Even our government recognizes the sad reality of canine coprophagy.

TEH BONUS HOTNESS TO RID OUR MOUTHS OF THAT TASTE

Rrrrrrrooooowwwwwwrrrrrr! Rrrrooowwwwwrrrrr! Angela, as they say, rules.

Get Stuffed

2008-07-07T21:21:00.014-04:00

again, Caleb G.B. Terrier is forced to defend his honor

You synthetics make me very angry,

very angry indeed.

Once again, I take umbrage at the insipid caterwauling of that odious sock-monkey, figu7es. Is there no ignominious level to which you will not stoop? Calling into question one's dietary habits is unpardonable breach of etiquette enough; must you also libellously impugn a canine's oral hygiene? Unconscionable! Pusillanimous cushion, you go too far. Your infantile threats of exile to the make-believe land of "Wyoming" reveal you for the craven lack-wit that you are. Am I some puling pup to be frightened by the deranged fairy-stories of an obvious lunatic? I think not. Why not fly my race off to the shores of Never-Land,the gardens of Shangri-La, or that mythological horror- scape which is home to hideous, in-bred mutants... Wheeling, West Virginia? Poppycock! Humbug and hoodwinkery! Your continued effrontery raises my ire to new heights, even as your impudence sinks to abyssal lows.

Lest it be forgotten, I remind you, figu7es, that I attempted the noble and gentlemanly path of gracious reason and offered you, despite your apparently poor breeding, ample opportunity to apologize. It is evident, now, that you are a canker on the very buttocks of that which rational beings call "reason". Sense and logic are wasted on your putrid and bastardly ilk;therefore, I shall no longer mince words. I name you knave, rapscallion and reprobate. Prepare to meet the vengeful thrust of my heart-felt and complete snubbing.

Henceforth, direct verbalization

to this appendage.

Also, you contemptuous Muppet, let me point out that your ranting of auto-scrotolingus, or, to use your crude and unlearned terminology, "ball licking", exposes the true crux of your degenerate and unseemly personal attacks. As is so often the case when the lower classes cast a jaundiced eye toward their intellectual betters, that green-eyed monster inevitably rears its horrid head. Envy, it appears, is the root cause of your asinine prattle, you posturing capon. The inherent truth to the old saw, "For what reason does a canis familiaris perform auto-scrotolingus? Because figu7es wishes that he possessed the flexibility, and the reproductive apparatus, to do so. Therefore, we canines do it to keep him ever mindful of his...shortcomings.", has never been more poetically evident. As my manservant, rough creature that he is, would say,"Sucks to be you."
Finally, for it does so pain me to communicate with you in any way, pestilent rag that you are, let me point out that while Ms. Arthur is not without her workman-like and Eastwoodian charm, the lovely and talented Ms Betty White is, by far and away, the most glittering of the Golden Girls.
Once, that is, one gets past all of the "spay and neuter" propaganda.

The irrepressible and beauteous Ms Betty White

displaying her extremely refined taste in companions.

Smashing!

As always, please extend my warm and heartfelt regards to Ms sslugger, Moe and that oval chap.

Yours in contempt,

Capt. Caleb "Good Boy" Terrier, JRT, RAF, MSW, HMS, EIEIO,Esq.

Scary, very scary

2008-07-06T20:10:00.005-04:00

I have no available pictures for you to check out on this subject. The idea occured to me when I was watching the news and some boy wonder was interviewing Bob Dole after the passing of that great naysayer of Civil Rights, Jesse Helms. At the first sight of this former Senator and candidate for President I was shocked. He looked like Joan Rivers with a five o'clock shadow. His cheekbones were so tight when he smiled his hair moved. He has taken on the appearance of Howdy Doody at 80. Do you think this may be a result of a Viagra overdose? Maybe he and Elizabeth had a buy one get one free at the plastic surgeon place. Whatever the reason I shall change channels when there is a possibility that he is coming up next.

Oh, it's so on

2008-07-06T18:11:00.005-04:00

figu7es returns ~~from another ill advised plastic surgery episode~~ ~~and an extended gambling bender~~ to battle the forces of ball licking evil

EDITOR'S NOTE: As figu7es has been abusing his pain medication of late and in the light of his ~~extensive facial reconstructive surgeries brought about by vanity and a rather obsessively dismorphic body image~~ odd behavior, management has seen fit to send him off on another vacation. He will return shortly after he completes his research on his newest piece, ~~Do Dogs Dream of Android Poop~~ Al Roker---Superman or Supermodel?.

There was a little hiccup with figu7es latest plastic surgery.

Oh, Mr. Doggie, methinks your breath betrays you.

Know only this: I’ve beaten the likes of you before. Your ball licking, dung eating brethren have long sought to lay their drooling maws on me and they have failed. I will not be silenced and I will continue to warn the world where exactly your lips and tongue have been.

In the face of this latest canine induced indignity, I today announce my plan for the forced exile and imprisonment of all dogs on the island of Wyoming. I was waiting to unveil this with my independent Presidential bid, but I see now that every second wasted is another ball licked and another bit of fecal matter consumed.

It will henceforth be my mission to remove every filthy, poop eating canine (i.e. all of them) from polite society and take them where they can no longer hurt others of any importance---Wyoming.

The vast island of Wyoming has sufficient resources for dogs to live apart from the less genetically benighted creatures of the remainder of the world. There these foul examples of evolution gone horribly awry can graze on their poop and lick themselves beneath the unrelenting sun of Wyoming’s barren moonscape without offending the sensibilities of decent citizens. The current residents of Wyoming have no doubt become inured to hardship of this sort and can withstand the onslaught of these poop consuming vermin.

As Wyoming is surrounded by vast amounts of water on all sides the canines will not be tempted to leave their new home to return to the civilized world.

Since these poop addled creatures slowly dragged themselves from the shallowest end of the genetic muck and mire, civilization has sought a means to shield themselves from the hedonistic and coprophagic displays evinced by these doggie dookie downers.

My plan can work.

All I need are some contributions for moving expenses, and maybe a couple of biscuits to trick these canine cretins into the rental truck. Send cash.

Remember Carl G.Russelll—if that is your real name, you shall not intimidate me into silence. The world must know and know well that dogs are the scourge of the earth, given over to drooling, poop eating, ball licking and all other manner of horrid vice. I shall not be silenced simply because you have managed to train that peanut sized brain of yours to work your jaws toward some other end than consuming your own offal.

At the last, I say to you sir, have you no shame? Rrrrrrroooooowwwwwwwwrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrroooooooowwwwwrrrrr.

Bonus DOUBLE hotness---Bea Arthur and Angela Lansbury. Oh, rrrrrroooooowwwwwwrrrrrrr!

figu7es has a lot of convincing to do on these doggies. Or maybe not.

SOME OTHER DOG NOTES:

This time the man goes too far. Wyoming? Isn’t that Dick Cheney’s place?
Wait, you’re saying there’s poop there?
I’m in.

A Matter of Honor

2008-07-05T20:28:00.015-04:00

an outraged response by Caleb G. B. Terrier

Mr. Caleb Terrier,B
offended reader and destroyer
of stuffed objects

As a frequent reader of the Banana-slug blog, I must confess to a profound dismay upon reading the most recent posting by that figu7es person. In the past, I have rather enjoyed the whimsical nature of the blog's content, and have nothing but the utmost respect for the majority of the staff. SSlugger seems to be a lady of keen intellect and refined taste. Moe, though he does not seem to do much, impresses me as a pleasant sort of chap...for a feline.
Even that round fellow, I must admit, I find to be quite droll on occasion. Figu7es, that simpering blackguard, however, is a completely different matter.
Prior to the posting of July 5, I marked the puerile blatherings of that insipid pillow to be nothing more than the addle-pated rantings of a urine-besotted synthetic. One must, after all, sometimes forgive the misguided behaviors of the lower classes. Though inane and frequently species-ist, Figu7es' rantings could be granted no more notice than would be due the drooling obscenities of a punch-drunk crack baby. As a canine of good breeding, it was beneath me to respond. The post in question, though, made matters personal.
By intimating that I, Caleb G.B. Terrier, am a consumer of feces, that jackanapes has called into question my personal honor. As my loyal dogsbody stated in his initial posting, I do not now eat, nor have I ever eaten, "poop". Admittedly, some of my distant and less civilized kin have, regrettably, partaken of this odious repast, but I, sir-and I use the term in a most sarcastic fashion- do not! You have sullied my good name and it will not stand. I demand a retraction post-haste, or I will seek satisfaction.

Be advised, cushion: more formidable chew-toys
than you have been cut down for lesser offenses.

It is only the affection that I have for my servant, and the misguided esteem in which he holds your employer, that prevents my from sending my second to you now. Do not force my paw, you puling lick-spittle; my tolerance is not without limit. You, figu7es, are a contemptible and filthy bit of over-stuffed upholstery and it is time some one gave you your comeuppance. I demand an apology.

I take my ease amid the corpses of the vanquished

Regarding Chet the "dog", I must ask only this: where is your spine, lad? Have you no pride, no self-respect? You call yourself a dog, a member of the noble race of canis familiaris, yet you allow yourself to play the part of toady to a jumped-up, ill-mannered throw pillow. Though I detect a somewhat ursine cast to your features, dog you claim to be and, as I am not one to judge, dog you shall be called. For Heaven's sake, boy, act like a dog! Your cow-towing to that impudent cushion brings shame to you and the machine- sewn bitch who whelped you. Remove your person from its vile and reprehensible company before it is to late, I beg you.
Also, I loved the Basket of Hats piece. Both baskets and hats are quite pleasant. Nice work, Round Person.
Warmest regards,
Caleb "Good Boy" Terrier, JRT, Esq.

new stuff at ilium

2008-07-05T16:55:00.002-04:00

Yes, that site's been deader than [obligatory Republican viagra joke deleted due to salacious content] for three years, but I've finally had time to post some new stuff over at ilium.

And I'm aware that no one cares.