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        Thursday, March 31, 2005

    There Is Nothing Like...

    ...coming home, after a long trip, and taking a shit in your own toilet. I actually went to and looked up toilet just now. Perhaps due to the vodka, the word di'nt look right. Dain Bramage...

    Speaking of, Johnny looks just like Angel, or Spike when they get all pissed off and neck-chompy. I'd love to take him to a Whedon-centered convention, and go for the best make-up prize. He comes complete, with real, oozing blood!

    He actually walked up the stairs a bit ago, under his own power (me hovering, of course) to get to his cocoon in Mommy's room.

    Two days ago, his scalp was split open, pulled down over his face and the back of his neck like you'd peel a chicken, and dire ironworks were inserted into his jaw, others were removed, and right now he looks like a vampire who said the wrong thing in the wrong vampire bar.

    Two days ago.

    Two days ago.

    There's a lot of God-Lovers who read this blog. I'm not talking to you. You are already 'there'. Or maybe not. Some of yall's rubber might have not met the road, yet, and when (if) it does, you may skid off over the embankment. Or not.

    Sad, but true. Not for me to judge. Good luck. God Bless. Not my problem.

    No, this is for the doubters. The Reprobates. The athiests. The God Haters. Cuz you know, He's the Ultimate Daddy, and it is so fashionable, of late, to hate your Da...

    I, though a Certified Genius, am shitty at math. For some reason, MENSA Geek types have determined that math is a prerequisite for being smart. Whatevah...

    I have taken a Statistics course or two, and I've gambled here and there, and I would like you doubters to 'splain me this...

    How, just days before John's surgery, our huge multi-year tax debt was forgiven by the government. Thousands of dollars. Forgiven. Is this standard government operating procedure? And the fat refund check arriving on the day we left is...normal? Three days after the phone call, and one day after the letter? Do your experiences with bureaucracy mirror this?

    Mine don't. Until now.

    I'm too tired (and drunk) right now to detail all of the other many coincidences, bizarrities, and weirdnesses that have occurred this week, except...

    ...let me detail this one, to the best of my poor ability, that happened today.

    I was frantic to clean our room in Ronald McDonald House. I had been working on it since Nat and I had woke up. The Wife was up in the hospital with John, and I was on my own with a four year old, trying to take care of our commitments.

    To stay there, you commit to basically sterilizing the room of your presence, and that means down to the last washcloth. I did perhaps 15 loads of laundry, and packed our food from the kitchen. We did not have a firm idea of when (or if) John would be released, but we knew (from experience) that it would occur. I needed to pack our car with most of our luggage and food (and Nat), the wife needed to get medical transportation for her and John, we had to clear the room by four, and all of us were (are) wiped out.

    I went to the Director to ask for a little additional time (we had to be out by 4pm, and it was 3pm) and she nearly burst into tears from relief. They had a family coming in on emergency status, and they had originally been two, but the party had grown to five, our room was perfect, and would I please allow her staff to finish cleaning the room so I could get out early? Would I? Would I.

    I felt like Swiper The Fox. Thanks, God.

    Those of you who prayed, it showed. I mean it. It really showed. You doubters have the responsibility to explain 'coincidence' after 'coincidence' as a statistical model, and how my situation managed to defy all logic.

    You must factor in the four surgeons, from different disciplines, who had never met before in the same operating theatre; the nursing staff who did not have a clue as to what Johnny's syndrome was all about. I literally held several impromptu seminars, for professionals who had no clue as to what they were working with.

    Well, G'night, and thanks to those of you who have hung with me. Thanks to the rest of you who read here, and give a shit.

    I am chock full of stories, nonsense, and bubbling over with words and consonants and stuff.

    I also have to deal with a little guy with Vampire Face Syndrome, an exhausted (horny) wife, a four year old who has, as of tonight, declared herself PRINCESS SUPER-HERO! I am also getting calls from one of my Marines, on active duty, that are so funny ("We're rioting against the Canadians!!") that I almost wonder if I'm hallucinating.

    I have read all of your comments...I want to sneak out tomorrow and see 'Sin City' so bad I can taste it.

    I have been mourning Terri Schiavo all day. Just crying in the back of my throat, no big deal. I could care less about her family, or anything else. It was just such a shitty way to go. You'd be pissed if someone treated your favorite Ficus that way. This was a definate 'Wheat from the chaff' moment.

    Some folks think that God is a mean old hardass. I just think He knows what you have waiting for you when you shed this cocoon. Your current configuration is irrelavant, and He knows it. hurts.


        Sunday, March 27, 2005

    You scored as Christianity. Your views are most similar to those of Christianity. Do more research on Christianity and possibly consider being baptized and accepting Jesus, if you aren't already Christian.

    Christianity is the second of the Abrahamic faiths; it follows Judaism and is followed by Islam. It differs in its belief of Jesus, as not a prophet nor historical figure, but as God in human form. The Holy Trinity is the concept that God takes three forms: the Father, the Son (Jesus), and the Holy Ghost (sometimes called Holy Spirit). Jesus taught the idea of instead of seeking revenge, one should love his or her neighbors and enemies. Christians believe that Jesus died on the cross to save humankind and forgive people's sins.



















    Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
    created with

    Lifted from Vox Day, who needs to change his 'width equal=' from 600 to 300.



    Fuck Easter...

    ...and all other pagan-ass holidays.

    That is all.


        Saturday, March 26, 2005

    Alien Apocalypse...

    Bruce Campbell. 'Nuff Said. In 30 minutes. Sci-Fi Channel.

    I am stoked. Pickled, as well. May live-drog. May just enjoy, and drink more, and get a therapeutic blowjob.

    I am a little tense.

    Hmmmmm...we'll see.


        Friday, March 25, 2005


    Everyone who thinks today is holy, for some reason, just clutched their chests.

    My work here is through.



    This... cool...



    Friday Nacht...

    The wife, off at her church, to see 'The Passion'. The kids, downstairs, watching 'Veggie Tales'. Me, watching Sci-Fi upstairs til 11, and parenting during the ads. And drinking. A bit.

    HEY! On USA Network tonight, from 9-11, is 'Kojak', starring Ving Rhames in the title role. I am taping it, so I can watch it at my leisure. Maybe from 11-1.

    I loved Kojak, as a character, but I hated Telly Savalas, as a person. He had one good role, in 'Kelly's Heroes' (a movie that badly needs to be remade, so there can be sequels).

    I love Ving Rhames. He is one of my heroes, and except for the steroids, he (the characters he plays) is a lot like me. Oh, that, and the whiteness. White people spend billions a year to get brown, and brown people bleach themselves. Go figure.

    Anyway, USA reruns the crap out of shit, but their promotion is for shit. Tonight is the first time I even heard of this new Kojak show.

    I hope it's a series.




    If this is true, and not some sort of Islamic con, I find it fascinating.

    I never liked Ghandi, anyway. Carl Marx in a diaper. A study of the man and his deeds and habits reveals a monster, a weirdo, and a sexual pervert. He drank a glass of his virgin daughter's urine every day for his health. Hate to be around that fucker when he burped. Gack.

    For the record, I see all the human hues as different races that happen to be able to interbreed. People will tell you passionately that one breed of dog is smarter or better at some thing or other than another breed of dog, but they will call you bad names and ridicule you if you try to suggest it is the same way with human breeds.


    If you cannot be honest about that issue, you cannot be trusted to be honest about anything.




    At least it's not terrorism. Or so we are told.

    Ignore that pesky Islamic website that says they did it. Ignore those photos of the parking lot that appear to show an explosion emanating from there, into the building. Move along, nothing to see here, just another refinery explosion.

    Ever been to a refinery? I'm nervous the entire time I'm there. The places are the size of a small city, with the population to match. Just one big ole gas can, lookin for a match.

    Interesting that it was mostly 'contract workers' who were killed. People who aren't part of the normal work force. Surely no diaperheads could get a job with an outside contractor in order to do mischief. Surely not.

    Those places have safeties on their safeties. They are safety obsessed, and with damn good reason. It is telling that only one area blew and was then confined. That is American Engineering, right there, to be able to keep the whole gas can from blowing up.

    The only way a raghead could get a job at a place like that today is because of some white man's greed and/or stupidity.

    So it can't be terrorism. Naaaah. Because all it would take is one raghead with a wrench and a lighter, in the right place.



        Thursday, March 24, 2005

    Now That's...


    A 70-million-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex recently discovered in Montana, scientists reported today, has apparently yielded the improbable: soft tissues, including blood vessels and possibly cells, that "retain some of their original flexibility, elasticity and resilience."

    Puh-leeze. I've had Cheeto's petrify in a week.

    Repeat after me: 70,000,000 years. Soft tissue.




    Out On A Limb...

    I'm going to make a recommendation here on two shows I have never seen, but the previews crack me up.

    Tonight at 9:30, on competing networks, is 'Life On A Stick', and 'The Office'.
    Time for the VCR.

    I usually despise sitcoms beyond all reason, but there are some that shine. I love '2.5 Men', 'Scrubs', and 'Committed'.

    But I would cheerfully kill every member of 'Friends', and any station manager who shows the reruns. 'Arrested Development' is genuinely awful, and I went into it wanting to like it, a lot.

    I loved the first couple of seasons of 'Malcolm in the Middle', but it grew tiresome. Nearly every sitcom Fox or UPN or TBS puts out sucks hog balls, raw, through a straw. I can't offhand think of one that doesn't.

    I've tried to get into 'Everybody Loves Raymond' and could, if they just killed his mother. She is every female relative of mine that I hate, poured into one douchebag, and she makes me retch. Too bad, because I love everybody else in it, especially Raymond's 'wife'. After being with her, I'd have to put a splint on Gargantua, and give him plenty of butt bed rest.

    Hey, don't be hatin on me because I'll be watching TV with my family, while you are out spending fabulous amounts of money on fabulous drinks and trying to get some fabulous stranger to have sex with your fabulously empty and meaningless and skanky self.

    I can't remember the names of 99% of the chicks I nailed like that, but the little one who'll be sitting on my lap tonight, us covered with dolls who want to watch, too, is called Nat. And that's her brother against my left leg; he, too, festooned with dolls. And that hottie playing footsie with me on the ottoman is my wife.

    And I like that just fine.



    Click On This, Bill...

        Wednesday, March 23, 2005

    Another Gem From The Comments...

    Via ajw308, I give you The First Drink of the Day!.

    Epilepsy Warning: If you are blessed with the Falling Sickness, you will crawfish like a motherfucker over this one...

    As a bonus, I give you the rare and valuable Viking Kittens!

    Give me money.

    (yeah, yeah, I ripped it off from Whoseparanoid, but he ripped it off from me, and I'm too lazy to go back through my archives and find it, so fark off, plus I've also had both the first, second, and third drink of the day. And if you are proud of not drinking, I do not want to hear it. My blog drunk, can kick your blog's ass, sober. so there. Now, gimme your fucking wallet, and nobody gets hurt. Too bad. Fuck, is it Friday already? Those fucking kittens rock, don't they. I gottem playing on repeat. Fuck. Spilled my wine. A little. S'cuse me, I gotta take care of this.)




    ...fucking reprobate.

    Found him via my comments. I keep telling you people, but do you ever listen?



    The Goddess Copies Me!

    Go and worship!

    Actually, I know perfectly well she may have written her column days ago, but I was thunderstruck as I read her first paragraph.

    She and I would make beautiful babies together.

    Honestly, though, I had not read her column when I posted my update, though I did wonder why I hadn't heard others say what I was saying.

    Serendipity is cool.



    I Realized...

    ...that some of you are lazy bastards, and may be too languorous to scroll back down to articles you've read, so I will post this update up here as well, because I think it is too important to get lost in my postarrheac shuffle. Here goes:


    I am seeing liberals use the false argument (do they have any other kind?) that because Republican's have most recently been crusading so strongly about the 'sanctity of marriage' by defending it from homosexuals, they are somehow hypocrites for 'attacking' marriage by trying to 'attack' Michael Schiavo's marital right to kill his wife. Click! Did you hear that? That sound of disconnect occurring? Ouch. Rereading that paragraph I just wrote gives me a little pain, right in the forehead.

    Apples and oranges, people, and false logic by the bucket load, that just exposes your own bias and prejudice when you babble it.

    And you can prattle on about the law and the courts and blah blah blah all day long. Do not then try to tell me there are any bad laws, as you defend this one by saying, pedantically, "But it's the law!"

    Yes, that may be, but it is still wrong, it is still injustice on several meaningful levels, and it should not be allowed to continue.

    You wanna cite precedent? Okay, I'll give you one, and it involved a President, and Florida.

    Elian Gonzalez.

    There is already precedent for machine-gun toting federales to burst onto private property and spirit someone away and do with them whatever they want. You always hear about "Oh, if we do that, then someday someone different than us will be in power and pull the same thing!"

    Fukkem. They did it first...

    Now it's our turn.



    Hey, G-Men!!

    I get routine traffic from .gov IP's. That gives me a bit of a turn, especially the ones.

    If you are a govenment employee who is just reading my blog while eating a sandwich on your authorized break, I wish you would drop me an email and tell me so.

    This shit is making me paranoid.




    Apocalypse In A Can...

    or, Opening A Can of Silly String Theory...

    Discussion of the 'Mini Big Bang' continues.

    I wish they'd just cut it out. There may be a reason we are not being flooded with radio signals from other galactic civilizations. Maybe, when they reach a certain point in their development, they do something stupid like this, and astronomers elsewhere see the bright flash in space and go "Ooooo, pretty!"




    The Final Final Word(s)...

    ...on all this Terry Schiavo bullshit.

    I have gone here, here, and here to collect the only intelligent discourse I have seen (next to mine, of course) on this subject.

    And then on Moxie's blog, I find both sides of the argument perfectly juxtaposed, one right after the other, in her comments:

    Assuming what the husband is saying is true, his case is not as vicious as you seem to make it out. If my wife of several years had told me that she did not want to be recussitated if she fell into a vegetative state, that she wanted to let God's will take its course, and then when I attempted to fulfill what were basically her last wishes, her family began accusing me of poisoning her prior to her heart-attack, during her treatment, or trying to kill her to get her money, I would surely fight the case with everything I had left. The fact is, if the situation was reversed and it was the family saying that she wanted to die, and he wanted to keep her alive, this would be an open and shut case and I'm sure anyone here likening the husband to Scott Petersen would be doing the same to her father. In fact, just about all of your character assumptions (doing it for the book/movie deal, for example) can just as easily be attributed to either side. Clearly this is a complicated case, and my general belief is that when both sides are muddled, you might as well err on the side of life. On the other hand, I do not consider the husband to be some sort of monster for trying to fulfil his wife's wishes and end her suffering.

    Posted by: Alex at March 23, 2005 09:26 AM

    This whole Schiavo episode is not about whether her husband wants her dead or not as much as it is about the fact that this is a valuable precedent to the state. This is a case where the state will get to decide whether a disabled human being lives or dies. This is a glorious moment for the state, since it finally gives them an excuse to expand their ability to make life-or-death decisions for the disabled. We've already got a state-approved way for getting rid of children, it's called abortion. We'll now have a way to get rid of the disabled. Next on the list will be the elderly. You know, those elderly who have to be bathed and fed because they can't do it for themselves. There's lots of them. Then the rest of the elderly. They do nothing productive and are the reason why Social Security will collapse right?? And when the children, the disabled, and the elderly are controlled, who do you think they'll be coming after next?

    By the way, if the above seems in some way familiar, read up on the history of Nazi Germany. Y'all think Hitler was bad?? Just wait.

    Posted by: High King Frog at March 23, 2005 10:10 AM

    I know where I stand, and now, thanks to these very bright people, I know why.

    There is a place for judgement on a 'case by case' basis. And this one is it. She needs to be restarted, and an independent, third party group of doctors, jurists, and perhaps ethicists (though I am somewhat suspicious of those last) should be given subpoena powers, all of the facts of the case, and it should be looked at from the perspective of should we be keeping Terry Schiavo alive, or euthanise her.

    Not States Rights. Not the Sanctity of Marriage. Just, should We, The People, allow Terry to die, or not.

    No precedent set. No repercussions. Thumbs up, or thumbs down. Prison time for Mikey if he is shown by new evidence to be criminally culpable.

    That's it.


    I am seeing liberals use the false argument (do they have any other kind?) that because Republican's have most recently been crusading so strongly about the 'sanctity of marriage' by defending it from homosexuals, they are somehow hypocrites for 'attacking' marriage by trying to 'attack' Michael Schiavo's marital right to kill his wife. Click! Did you hear that? That sound of disconnect occurring? Ouch. Rereading that paragraph I just wrote gives me a little pain, right in the forehead.

    Apples and oranges, people, and false logic by the bucket load, that just exposes your own bias and prejudice when you babble it.

    And you can prattle on about the law and the courts and blah blah blah all day long. Do not then try to tell me there are any bad laws, as you defend this one by saying, pedantically, "But it's the law!"

    Yes, that may be, but it is still wrong, it is still injustice on several meaningful levels, and it should not be allowed to continue.

    You wanna cite precedent? Okay, I'll give you one, and it involved a President, and Florida.

    Elian Gonzalez.

    There is already precedent for machine-gun toting federales to burst onto private property and spirit someone away and do with them whatever they want. You always hear about "Oh, if we do that, then someday someone different than us will be in power and pull the same thing!"

    Fukkem. They did it first...

    Now it's our turn.


        Tuesday, March 22, 2005

    Simply Amazing...

    This is a photo of a toy! I doubt if too many of you know I collect dolls highly articulated action figures. This series of figures is coming out in May, and I am drooling, and bumming hard that I'm too poor to even think about it (waaahh!).

    When I first saw the photo of the Recon Marine figure on the cover of one of my magazines, I thought it was a photo of the real thing, or maybe a highly detailed painting.

    Just, amazing.



    I Just Got This... email. It cracked me up. If you've seen it before, move along. I have no idea of it's veracity:

    Thought you'd see something here to laugh at...I did...

    For all frustrated writers:

    Prof. Miller's In-class Assignment for Wednesday: Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story.

    The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will email your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth.

    Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

    The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted).

    THE STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question. ------------

    (second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,....", he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit. -------------

    (Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.---------------------

    (Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"-------------------

    (Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.---------------------

    (Gary) Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of f*****g TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."-----------------------

    (Rebecca) Asshole.----------------------

    (Gary) Bitch.----------------------------

    *******(TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one. Only group to get an A.



    Another Chick Blog...

    ...that doesn't suck. A rare bird, indeed.

    I found her quite by accident, and got lost for nearly and hour reading around in there.

    Hot, funny, Asian...what's not to love?



    I Just Lost...

    ...the Turd-Blogging Crown.

    Wear it proudly, JonnyB, you've earned it fairly.




    ...for the ladies...



    Housekeeping Notice...

    This time next week, Johnny will have been in surgery for hours, getting his hardware removed from his head. Thank God.

    This blog will be closed, starting Monday. I'll have a house sitter, with at least one of my guns, so you burglary minded felonic types can just fark off. I may be able to slip in a quick update or two, but I doubt it.

    Any of you so inclined (ahem!) to donate money to the cause, should doubtless do it now. It takes five days for Paypal and Amazon to process it into my account where I can reach it by ATM. Any of you. Anybody. Anybody at all. Going once...

    Well, here's hoping the weather shapes up and gets less shitty up there, cuz the trips back and forth from RMH to the hospital suck in the rain. Nattie gets a damn bug every time.

    Prayer is free and, as always, greatly appreciated.


        Monday, March 21, 2005

    The Final Word...

    ...on the Terry Schiavo case.

    Well, not quite. Before you run over there and read Steve's wonderful judicial opinion (and exactly why aren't he and the Goddess Ann on the Supreme Court? Hmmmm?) I just want to say, in front of witnesses, that if I get heinously fucked up, but I'm not in pain, I want to live.

    I have enough kids...hey, you ungrateful little bastards, trade me around! A month here, a month there...

    As I've said elsewhere, just prop me in front of a TV, pour booze down my feeding tube, and change the channel every so often. Pretty much my life now, with less yelling.

    I repeat, I want to live, and fuck you and your opinion as to my quality of life.


    If you can't afford it, and it will severely diminish your quality of life, kill me. Or if you ever think about putting me in the care of others. Kill me. Those places are hellholes. I wouldn't let them watch my fish.

    Just get a big old cardiac needle, fill the syringe full of enough smack that would kill ten normal junkies, and slam that fucker into my heart. Quickest way I know of to go, and painless to boot.


    As long as there is one person who wants me alive, and who is willing to feed and water me, and clean up my shit, YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO KILL ME!!!




    So Much For The Badass Hollow-Point...

    ...I guess.

    This is interesting.

    via Kim du Toit.




    But wait! There's more!



    This... just cool. Well, hot. But cool.



    Must Read...

    I'd like to think I coulda written this, t'were I an Irish cunt.



        Sunday, March 20, 2005

    The Shield...

    Tonight, at 10. A repeat of the premiere. Tuesday at 10, new episode.

    I predict Vic is going to kill Shane.

    I would.


        Saturday, March 19, 2005

    Soccer Is For Pussies...

    Having cleared that up, I know for a fact that there are people who read this blog who are fond of that crap, and have disposable income. Me, I'm broke as shit, and no one (well, maybe a couple) of you fuckers see fit to hit my tip jar, but this seems like a good cause, so I'm puttin out the call, eh?

    Is THIS not clear enough for you?

    You should give, if only to pay admission for watching this. Damn good job, Chris. Made me homesick. Were you guys OPFOR? I laughed out loud, and that's hard to make me do.

    This blog is really beginning to grow on me. I see a bright future if he keeps it up, or some raghead doesn't kill him.

    Pro Patria, dude.



    I Don't Care...

    ...if you shit your fucking pants. You ain't using the bathroom in my store.

    It's mine. You are a guest. Fuck off.



    Fuck You, Islam!

    I love a good Crusade, and they were all good. They just didn't go far enough, because there are still Arabs left alive.

    Well, there's still time to take care of that. Killem all, every fucking damn one of them. They are rotten right down to their DNA, their very souls. You don't even need to be a Bible believing Christian to believe that.

    Either dominate them, tame them, and fence them off for both of our protection, or exterminate them to the last infant. Maybe save some of the hotties to breed prostitutes.

    I'll feed them feet first into plastic shredders myself.





    A Good Reason... avoid eating in restaurants that hire foreigners and illegals?

    I'm certainly rethinking where I spend my money. Too bad, because I absolutely love two of the Chinese restaurants in my town, and I love the Chinese people, especially their women.

    But, TB at 20 times the rate? No thanks. And if I see a beaner washing dishes, I'm outta there.

    Good thing the wife and I love to cook.



    Teenage Wasteland...

    I didn't understand this kids death a bit. I was taken aback, nay, stunned. It didn't make any sense at all.

    And then I read this:

    For his high school graduation photo, Brandenn darkened his hair, wore round wire-rimmed glasses, and threw on a red cape to look like one of his favorite characters -- Harry Potter.

    Hmmm. Garbage in, garbage out.

    Nobody's immune, and nobody gets out alive.

    Take that however you will.



    The Best Post Ever...

    ...about Hillary Clinton. Why that guy doesn't have a column, and Oliver Willis does, just shows how out of whack the world is today. Seriously. Best Post I have ever read on that bitch.

    My favorite line:

    --but is it really progress when a cannibal uses a fork?

    Reading stuff like that nearly causes me to give up the hope of ever being a writer.




    Laugh Out Loud...

    Here is one Irishman that I may let live when we take over. I think this may be my favorite post of his.

    Here's the post that first brought me there, where in the comments, I smite an Irish dog properly upon the nose, and remind them of the general all around superiority of all things American.

    Go, enjoy. Wash up after. Lord knows what you could catch from those beasts.


        Friday, March 18, 2005

    Status Report...

    I have been having an incredibly fucked up time posting on Blogger for the last several days. Extremely slow, dropping out, all kinds of trouble and frustrations. You people should appreciate me more. It has been so painful to post, I've been tempted not to each and every time.

    I went here to see what was up, and what they wrote there gave me an idea. As you can imagine, I have a shitload of posts in my archives. And on my 'Edit Posts' Blogger page, I had my 'show posts' set to 300, the maximum.

    I reset it to show 25 posts, and: Problem Solved.




    Have I...

    ...linked to this guy? I forget, but I'm gonna do it again.

    I just went and saw his videos and pictures. Really cool. Stay away if homosexual sex acts, graphic scenes of animal torture, and blood bother you.




    Could I just walk in and shoot Terri Schiavo in the head right now? Would she be a freebie?

    Hey, if she's gonna die anyway, why can't I have a little fun?

    I'll use a big gun. It'll be more painless than starvation, that's for sure. I'm surprised no one has played the 'Cruel and Unusual' card, yet. They play it for vicious murderer's facing the death penalty.

    I hope the kind of people who are willing to go that extra mile for their belief's and shoot an abortion doctor, go after Terri Schiavo's 'husband' with a vengeance. Even if she somehow manages to survive, I don't like assholes like him breathing my air.

    What a waste of perfectly good chromosomes he is.





    Andre Norton has died, and the light of the world is a little dimmer for it.

    I was a young man before I found out Andre Norton was a woman. Her books were so full of adventure that, coupled with her psuedonym, I had just assumed she was a man.

    I haven't read any of her books in years, but I devoured her works when I was a kid. It is worth it to go find a place that sells old paperbacks, and buy a stack of old Avon novels she wrote. Mind the copyright, as like many authors, some of her stories continue in other books.

    I enjoyed her books more than I did Heinlein's, who tended to get too preachy, or go all techo-Tom Clancy. Yawn. Most people who write so-called 'hard' science fiction forget the 'fiction' part. That it's supposed to be fun.

    Oh well, she's dead, and I'll miss her. If you haven't, you should read her stuff. Some of it is a bit juvenile, but then again, so is all that Dragon Rider crap.

    Just trust me.


    A nice resource.



    A Passing Thought...

    Some of the same people who will wonder aloud how the idiots in New York keep voting Hillary Clinton back in, will then turn right around and vote John McCain back in.

    Think about it.



    Two Damn Good Posts...

    One inside the other.

    Now that's the kind of surfing I like.




    This is a tad troubling.

    Scientists. We invest them with far more worth than they actually possess. All you have to do is put on a white lab coat, drape a stethoscope around your neck, and people will let you feel around in their ass.

    Or build a lab and do experiments that can destroy the planet.

    People are stupid, and I hate them.

    Reminds me of the best line I heard this week, yesterday:

    If anyone at work tries to pinch me I will kick them in the cunt.



        Thursday, March 17, 2005

    From Another Blog...

    xtx said...

    Bane was right.

    3/16/2005 1:41 PM

    The Fly said...

    Oh hell yes.

    3/16/2005 3:44 PM

    Anonymous said...

    No he wasn't.

    Bane's a white trash internet troll fag.

    With a bolt head Frankenstein for an offspring.

    3/17/2005 5:34 PM

    Hey! Somebody's paying attention!

    I have fans!

    They don't mind whuppin on crippled kids!

    And it's 'Bolt-Head', fart-knocker. It would be almost worth it to find out where you are, and turn my death-dealers loose on you.

    Naaaahhh. I just cut a fart I value more than your anonymous ass.

    Hey, Lycan, can I have it's IP, just for fun?

    We old guys need a hobby...



    Animals Are Not People...

    I posted this over on Vox's blog, in the comments of this post. I had too much fun writing it, and hated to see it fall into comment obscurity. I present you:

    I'll cheerfully admit that many of the housing and processing procedures on farms are cruel to animals. I don't care. If it could be proven that it makes them taste better, I would encourage it. I would gladly pay extra for a tastier steak, even if the animal was tortured to death while the butcher made it's children watch.

    I laugh cruelly when I find some vermin in a trap I've set that struggled all night to stay alive, and died in agony. "Ha! Mickey!" I say to their dessicated little corpse, "that's what you get for messing with me!"

    I would cheerfully compete in the launching of small animals (and children) from a trebuchet as sport, and pony up a substantial entry fee as well. Of course I wouldn't use my own children. I love them, duh. Perhaps orphans, or minorities.

    I have rigged spring traps that have sent outraged and squalling felines flying like furry frisbees over the neighborhoods rooftops, to land with a thud on a car or splash into a neighboring pool.
    Animals are just toys that crap, and don't need batteries.

    Now, wasn't that fun? Sorry, WTG, you know I love ya, darlin, but taking things apart to see what makes them tick is a time-honored tradition, and not every little boy who disassembles a kitten is going to grow up to be Jeffrey Dahmer. He just might become Louis Pasteur.

    Little boys (and girls) can be cruel, just for fun, and it is the adult's job to teach (or beat into) them the values of a semi-civilized society.

    When I walked through the woods at the age of 12, with my .22 automatic, I left a swath of death and destruction Sherman would have been proud of. And God help that forest if there were several of us. A fire swept through an area we boys shot up frequently, and when we went back to check the damage, the trees bled silver icicles out of probably a million bullet holes where bullets had been deposited, waiting for years for such an intense heat to come along and pour them out into glittering silver strands, blowing in the wind, or pouring from their holes, down the trees like death vomit.

    Eat what you kill? Fuck you! Man, I/we shot frogs, butterflies, tweetie birds, buzzards, telephone wires, rocks, shadows, squirrels, snakes, fish, twigs...crikey, we would go out with our day-packs crammed with sandwiches and a couple of bricks of .22 ammo (that's thousands of rounds, dearies) and shoot til our guns were so dirty we had to load in rounds one at a time.

    Deer? Fuck yeah! Fawns? Ditto! We took those home for our Dad's to barbecue, though. If I ever get rich, I will eat pheasant and fawn meat every day. Porcupine, yep. Never ate those, though. Every one I killed was rotten with parasites. Their guts writhed with them, long after they were dead.

    Okay, okay, you know how I like to personalize stuff. So, what if I found Nat torturing a baby bird to death with an odd gleam in her eye?

    Why, I'd beat the shit out of her, of course. Gotta put a stop to that crap; baby birds are cute, and we're in a whole new world, where Dark Things squirm in the shadows.

    Can't take any chances...




    Interesting choice of name for a blog.

    ...and no, that's not me, nor he I, nor I him.



    I Hate The Irish...

    I don't mean to go off on a rant, here, but some Paddy O'Fuckhead thought it would be cute to turn Google's search page all Irish and shit, in honor of our caucasian Palestinians, and it's been pissing me off all day.

    So I've been using Yahoo, but even they have a spray of that damn Irish weed, clover, on their damn logo. Fuck and buggorrah.

    Outta nuke the whole fucking country, and New York. God was trying to make a Scotsman, and made an Irishman first by accident. I like the Scots. I like darn near everything Scots. 'Course, I be likin the Corned Beef, too. A lot. My favorite. And I relish anything potato, and curse the Irish before every bite.

    The wife is cooking up Corned Beef and Cabbage and potatoes and whatnot as we speak. There could very well be a death in the family tonight as the farts replace the oxygen in the house. We are having family over, and I will drink and wax obnoxious against the Irish, which will disturb my Irish-loving Scandanavian traitor of a mother to no end, and amuse my Dad, and pucker my prissy sister's bum. Fukkem. My house, my food, my booze, my opinion, so get buggered.

    The blacks couldn't help it. They came over against their will. But these red-headed freckle-faced niggers came over like a lice infestation and have been screwing up everything since. The most vicious gangs ever seen were (are) the Irish gangs. They taught the Columbians everything they know.

    And this Saint Patrick's Day bullshit justs frosts my ass. The same thing I hate in Mexicans, or any other group that comes over and won't assimilate proper. I hate this Cinco de Mayo shit, too. Fuck your 'Old Country' holidays. Though I am fond of Oktoberfest...

    If there are two things I hate more in the same package, it's Irish and Catholic. Add priest, and you've got Father Seamus O'Buttfuck running amok and driving drunk and distracted while getting blown by an altar boy.

    Irish terrorists have taught the Raghead Terrorist everything he knows, too. Why England hasn't swept the Emerald Isle clean of it's true snakes is beyond me. The IRA has been associated with every criminal and terrorist organization there ever was. There have even been Mafia 'Made Men' who were Irish. And the fucking Irish over here, giving money to the IRA, taking up collections in US pubs, so the fuckers can go back and blow up Irish pubs.

    Aaaarrrggghhh! An dinna be tellin me of yer 'foin Irish heritage', ye kennit? I'll think less o ye, will I.

    Irish...the other Dark Meat.



    God Bless Al's Wife...

    Everybody go wash your mouths out with soap, pray for the forgiveness of your sins, and when you get things straight between you and God, pray for His Will to be done for Al's wife, please.

    A lot of people going through a lot of crap, lately, and Al's family has been served more than their share. Sounds like her ticker is having trouble tocking, so let's pray the tune-up works, eh?

    I pray for all...well, most of you people all the time, anyway, but I think special prayer can have a beneficial effect, too.




    I've Never Done This Before...

    I'll clean up any spelling in the morn, cuz I'm shrunker than dit, but I have to share a revalation with those of you who actually write, that hit me so hard that it got me out of my bed, made me restart this infernal machine, and, here I go...

    I had left the TV on, to light my path to bed, and, haphazardly, and through no fault of my own, the movie 'A Knights Tale' was showing, and it just happened to be at the part where the knight guy was being taught how to dance. And then it went on into the whole David Bowie 'Golden Years' dance bit...

    Okay...that bit was maybe the most inspired part of the entire movie, which, in and of itself, may be the most inspired piece of film ever made.

    Yeah, I said it.

    Most inspired.

    The writing in this movie defies all convention...says Fuck You! to all ideas of what it should be, screws it's wet tongue into your grandmother's ear, all the while lifting up the skirt of your daughter's best friend and checking out her bum.

    And never being nasty, but standing up for itself boldly, and daring you to say 'The Aviator' is even close to breaking this kind of ground.

    Yeah...I didn't think so...punk.

    This movie takes in all of history, re-inputs all ideations of humanity and psychology, ignores convention, and says...

    ...what if. What The Fuck If.

    Yeah. That's what I'm talkin about...

    What the fuck if.


        Wednesday, March 16, 2005

    The Goddess Speaks!

    Go, and worship.

    According to the statistics in the studies she cites, those Atlanta cop shootings were, what, 125% guaranteed to happen?

    Sounds about right.



    I Suppose These Are Fake, Too?

    But wait! There's more!



    Hey, Al Queda! Russia! China!

    Come check this out.

    So much for secrecy.



    This Rocks...

    I have loved and enjoyed Michelle Malkin since the first time I became aware of her. To see her post news this wonderful just doubles my pleasure.

    She is one of my daily reads. She still is second to Ann Coulter, but she doesn't sit in the back.

    She rides shotgun.


    Damn, she's good. We sooo missed a bullet when we didn't let Kemp anywhere near the Presidency. I have always despised him, but I could never quite put my finger on why. Now, thanks to Michelle, I can.

    Kemp needs a taste of Guantanamo, methinks.



    A Cautionary Tale...

    Maddox gives multiple good reasons for no one to use Orbitz ever again.

    Well, that makes Orbitz join Delta on the growing list of 'People I'll Never Do Business With Again.'

    This is one of the major benefits of the internet. The 'Silent Majority' is getting a voice.



    It Doesn't Matter...

    ...I still hate JAG.



    Is This Safe?


    An Instant...


    Writing and content. Bonus.



    Yew Feel Lucky, Punk?

    I haven't posted this link in a while. No, don't thank me for wasting your time.

    And, if you don't think it's funny...

    Git Offa My Blog!!!


        Tuesday, March 15, 2005


    ...I never (do I?) do this. This may be the first. Oh, sure, I post other peoples inane polls, because they amuse me, and I want to share...but this one is mine, and I really wanna know...

    Whether you be blogger, or mere consumer, or both, what do you look for in a blog?

    I'll give you only two choices:

    • The Writing (how the material is presented).
    • The Content (the knowledge imparted, the pictures, the links).

    On the first line of your comment, type one, or the other. Any deviation gets you a frowny face, and 'no dessert' marked on your meal ticket. And I may come to your house and make your dog walk funny. Do not toy with me.

    You may then double space, and natter on with whatever gems or 'thoughts' you care to share with the class.

    And if you are chewing gum, you had better have brought enough for the entire class.



    Just For You Know...

    The new season premiere of 'The Shield' is on FX at 10pm tonight for those of you on the West Coast.

    Screw the rest of you, you missed it.




    ...and pissed off. Not a good combination for me. My motto is 'Only Boring People Get Bored', and that pisses me off even more right now.

    One of my asshole retard neighbors is celebrating the arrival of Spring(like) weather by running his gas-powered radio controlled Monster Truck back and forth up and down the street. It sounds like a Keebler Elf with a smallish chain saw is mowing down a grove of elf-sized oak trees out there.

    Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He is gainfully unemployed, as am I, but whereas I am hip and urbane, he is a toothless Deliverance extra, too inept to even be allowed to sodomize Ned Beatty, but had to stay back at the mountain cabin and fuck a chicken.

    I mean it, literally toothless. Well most of them, anyway. Gone. Bald-gummed mother-fucker. I heard a black guy call a white guy who wore dentures that when I was in the military. They were arguing about something and the black guy shouted "Shut the fuck up you bald-gummed mother-fucker!" and I just fell out laughing. So hard they both stopped and stared at me.

    Much of what I know about putting down and insulting my fellow persons I have learned from black people. Kinda makes you wonder what the root word of 'denigrating' is...heh.

    Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

    I am looking at a box I have of Colibri .22 ammunition. They are sub-velocity rounds, and very quiet. I have fired five shots from a pistol in one room, and people in the next room didn't hear it. And the door was open.

    One of my .22 rifles is scoped, and I know I could pink him from here. It's about a seventy-five yard shot, with no wind. He'd say "OW!" and grab at the little bloody spot on his leg and think a horse fly bit him. I know the shit-kicker mind-set.

    Maybe I can try for the car. Have to fire where I expect it to be, not where it is. Hmmmmm...

    'Scuse me, I just heard the wife's car pull up...


    Blessed peace. They just stopped in for snacks and urination, and a dry shirt for Johnny, the little sweat-hog. Then away, away, and I'm left, bereft.

    Otis Fuckmeyer has put away his toy for the nonce. Dang.

    It occurred to me today that people think I make this shit up, because they themselves do. I don't. I was at this lovely blog today, and in a comment to me, she said what she had written was fiction. I was astounded. I thought she had actually done all that stuff she writes about, because I have had many similar experiences. Oh well, she's still cool with me. Not her fault I have lived the life I have.

    Just for quality assurances purposes, if I say I have done something, here, I have done it. I don't care what you think about me, it's what I think about me that counts. And telling the truth, here, is a point of honor for me. You cannot imagine the stuff I have held back. I have lived in some very interesting times and climes, and weird stories just line up begging to happen to me.

    Except for today.

    Today I am fucking bored.



    Ha Ha...

    ...told ya so.

    I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Anybody who thinks those primitive middle eastern screwheads will not use their nukes and naughty vapors the first chance they get, is an idiot.

    They've used them on each other, and now the Chinks are using technology stolen from us to make them fly farther.

    They'll start by hitting our overseas bases (i.e., Diego Garcia...I would) and then weapons already or nearly in place will be exploded over here and in Hawaii.

    Look at how we are scurrying today from just a little maybe Anthrax in the D.C. post office.

    Now, imagine our cities burning.


    It seems that there are others with valid concerns. Very interesting.


        Monday, March 14, 2005

    For What It's Worth...

    I don't remember if I posted on this or not at the time, but several people I knew (or knew of) all prophesied within the span of a few days (in their own churches, or to groups of like-minded Christian friends) about an incident that would occur near China, wherein an American carrier would be destroyed by a nuclear weapon and thousands of sailors would be lost.
    These people did not know each other, but their stories all contained a bright flash, and the loss of a US carrier, and China. I was the only common connection to the disparate groups and individuals.

    Like I said. For what it's worth, eh?

    Then, a few nights after I had put those bits of oddness together, I was listening idly to Art Bell and reading blogs. I am not a regular Art Bell listener, and am far from a fan. He had as his guest a 'remote viewer' that again, for what it's worth, had once been employed by US Government spy agencies in his psychic capacity, until Congress cut the program's funding for fear of looking silly to their voters.

    I heard this remote viewer tell Art Bell that he and his team had remote viewed the future destruction by nuclear device of a US carrier near China with enormous loss of US life. Hmmmm.

    Today, I hear that China is being persnickety, and we are moving carriers into the area.

    For what it's worth.



    Abusing The Force...

    This is hysterical, and very well done.


    PS, if you're nervous about following my links because you might end up at and be exposed to someone orally outraging a Billy Goat, just hover your cursor over the link and look at the bottom of your browser. It should show the URL that the link directs to.

    If not, you're a dork and should have clothes-pins attached to your sexual organs while shown nude photos of Kirstie Allie doing it with Dom DeLuise.

    Speaking of which, has your spouse or significant other ever caught you masturbating? If so, do they a) yell whoopee! and join right in, or do they b) bitch at you because tonight was sex night, or c) shriek and run from the room and call their mother.

    Just wonderin.



    Rated R...

    Perhaps blogs need a rating system. Something to warn the casual browser that here, there be dragyns.

    From recent comments:

    Hell, chicks should pay us to get to swallow our seed.

    There were times in college that toilet paper was rare. Up till then I was a clumper. I'd use a fresh wad of paper, big enough to do the job, for each wipe.

    Sheesh. Dragyns indeed. I hope I don't give someone's Sainted Granny a stroke. Well, actually that would be kinda cool.

    Wrong, but cool.



    Noob Alert...

    A 'noob' is what people who are cool and hip call a novice attempting to begin doing something that they themselves were 'noobs' at once. I hate that crap. We were all newbies at everything, once.

    That being said, I seem to be encountering a lot newbies here lately, so I want to throw out some syllables of advice.

    When I see real names, coupled with personal photos of family members, on a blog where strong opinions are sometimes expressed, I just cringe. "A teacher, eh?" some evil-doer may exclaim to themselves..."and I now know the State and the very city wherein he or she teaches....I know her bosses would love to hear they have a right-wingnut hate monger working with their precious kiddies....Muahahahaha!" and he skulks off to do his mischief.

    Just be careful out there. I have heard too many tales of people getting fired, stalked, and even physically attacked, so tighten your shit up. I have been tempted to put up a photo of Nat and John several times, but the thought of the FBI finding one of those photos on some child molester's hard drive someday stills my hand, and chills my blood. Too bad. You've missed out on some wild and crazy shit. There are only about five people who know whether their names are really even John or Nat, or that this is my blog.

    I used to post out in the open, back in the day, until one morning at about three AM the phone rang, and some freak using my real name began to tell me the bad things he was going to do to me and mine and I hung up and the phone rang again and it was him and I fired a shot from my .22 across the mouthpiece into the phone book on the floor and he never called back.
    "Yes officer, you'll want to keep an eye out for a man with blood running out of one of his earholes..."

    If I had to do it all over again, I'da used a blank, but I was improvising. Scared the shit out of the wife, too.

    See? There's crazy people out there. And mean ones, and sick ones, and why yes, as a matter of fact, they don't have anything better to do than make your life a living hell (I heard that line from one of my Drill Instructor's as I was face down in the mud and he was standing over me).

    Just be careful. If you want to be read by all the world, just remember that all the world just might grant you your wish. If you just want to post photos of family and friends, and tell funny stories about your day, you might want to consider pass-coding a new blog and putting that stuff there and giving out the password by invitation only. Keep the volatile stuff separate and anonymous.

    Just a thought.


        Sunday, March 13, 2005


    I lusted after her in public, and then found out she was married. Mea Culpa, Mea whateveris Culpa (I don't speak Catholic).

    So, go to her blog, enjoy the view, taste of her life, and behave yourselves. Yeah yeah yeah, I know all about nurses...I was married to one, and dated (read: mostly screwed/was screwed by) busloads of them. They are some of my very most favoritist people.

    Speaking of sick people, did anybody see the Dateline NBC thing on fast food restaurants tonight? Yeesh! My two fave junk joints came out best, Jack In The Box, and Taco Bell. Hardee's/Carl's Junior and Mickey D's came in dead last. Figures.

    Dammit, she is hot...



    Right, Twice A Day...

    Via Vox's blog, I am directed to this post (scroll down to 'Lessons) which is, surprisingly, spot on.

    And then I run across this picture, and, not surprisingly, the dumbfucks never learn.

    Now, you know I loves me the ladies, and I don't be hatin on them, nor do I tolerate such, with rare exceptions such as Madeline Halfbright, The Hellbitch, and, increasingly, that twat Condi Rice (I shudder at every mention of her as a viable candidate).


    Ladies, which would you choose to run up the stairs, bash in your door, pick up your fine, smoke-inhalated ass, toss it over their shoulder, and run you out to the waiting ambulance?

    The 5'3" 110 pound woman? Or the 200 pound, 6' tall man? Uh huh. Thought so.

    Who do you want standing between you and your restraining order violating son of a bitch of a soon to be ex husband who has shown up at your door to take your kids for an unauthorized visitation? Uh huh. Thought so.

    It is just another sad joke played on us by our old friend Political Correctness that allows women to even be considered for positions for which they are patently, demonstrably unfit. And who knows how deep the rot has reached?

    When a contractor uses substandard building materials, you might not see the results for twenty years, during an earthquake or freak storm. How do we know that a woman, with weak math skills, but promoted over a more skilled male math expert due to PC and/or affirmative action, didn't make the vital error that sent the missile of course to crash and destroy the satellite, or skew calculations for vitally needed anti-virus supplies for some epidemic? We don't.

    Now, men are every bit as capable as women of being incompetent wimps, but by falsely 'leveling the playing field', you increase exponentially the opportunities for women to fuck up.

    I'm all for women being placed on naval ships. I think all-male ships are as unnatural as celibate Catholic priests. But for gosh sakes, insist that the women sailors be spayed or Norplanted, first. And put them in jobs they can reasonably do, and carry their own weight, and not make other men carry her load (now there's a line pregnant with possibility).

    I've gone through a police academy with a bunch of women. Most of them washed out in the first few weeks. None of them would I have wanted to work with. Women make very good investigators, especially of sex crimes and crimes against children. Women make terrible street cops, for the most part. I only know of one exception, personally.

    I was asked by a friend in the CHP to work for a week as an actor at a training site. I had loads of fun, playing a criminal, or an irate landlord. I shot lots of cops. One day, I was in the landlord/tenant scenario, and my job was to portray the landlord, and run up to the arriving cop, waving a baseball bat and yelling incoherently.

    This big (note: Big) female Deputy Sheriff came pulling up to the scene of the call, and I dutifully charged at her with the bat, hollering gobbledegook. I started my charge just as she was exiting her vehicle and stepping out onto the curb. In a flash, she dropped back into her car, started it, burned rubber backwards about twenty feet, put her car between me and her, got out with gun drawn and pointed, and yelled for me to drop the bat and step away from it.

    She passed. And I'll bet you that woman could buck hay beside a man all day long til suppertime, too.

    Was she the rule? Heck no. If she was, we wouldn't be talking about it. I made lady cops cry all week long. It was easy. I've been in real life situations where an irate man has punched a lady cop right off the porch and onto her back, and that escalates a situation like you wouldn't believe. Think "He hit a cop!" mixed with "He hit a girl!' and you get some idea.

    Well, I'm done talking about this. I guess the saddest part of the whole thing is the women who are so deluded by social programming and propaganda that they believe they can hack it, and apply for these jobs. That's pretty telling, right there.

    And damn sad.


    One of my regular readers was posted on Michelle Malkin's post commenting on this nonsense (I'll never tell who, but they should ask Ms Malkin to use their alias in case she wants to quote from their email).

    The saddest part of Malkin's post were the quotes from male officers who just had to paint with the PC brush, and they appeared to believe what they were saying.

    Ladies and Gentlemen, and you Southern Boys...if you attack one cop, you've attacked them all. While this is a fairly admirable trait, it is bullshit, because if you're a cop, and some cop(s) want to 'get you', they will all turn on you just as quick, to save their own asses and pensions and benefits, which are considerable.

    Let me tell you another dirty little open secret about Courthouse Cops, i.e., jailers and bailiff's. These cops are the dregs, the can't hacks, the alcoholics, the close to retirement (read: Old) short-timers, and yes, the little women no man wants to ride with.

    One of Malkin's emailers stated that "No one even made a big deal out of this until their genders were published."

    Sorry, but bullshit. I wondered "What the fuck?" the moment I heard this story. That many kills in a courthouse is practically unprecedented. I knew something was terribly wrong, and that the truth would out, and it did.

    Again, personalize this. You are there at court to pay a parking ticket and this big animal (I almost typed 'ape', but who needs the drama) bitch-slaps the little girl who is supposed to be guarding him and then he shoots you in the stomach. Or your mate. Or one of your parents. Because someone has decided little girls are sufficient to a task they most obviously are not.

    This stuff isn't that hard to figure out. Well...maybe for some people.

    Disclaimer: Yes, I know there are some kick-ass female law enforcement officers. I also know that many of them take steroids to keep up (do chicks suffer from Roid Rage? I'll have to look into that) and most are lesbians not that there's anything wrong with that. I'd rather ride with a tough-assed lesbo who can outshoot me every time, and drag my shot-up ass behind some cover one-armed by just my belt if she has too.

    I also know they are as rare as heterosexual male florists.

    And Furthermore...

    Read this. Thanks, Bill...I'd forgotten that.

    I rest my case.


        Saturday, March 12, 2005

    I Came Up With A Word... describe an ex-wife: Femorrhoid. 'Course, that works as Himorrhoid, too.

    So, I'm falling into a ritual for Saturday nights. I watch the Sci-Fi Channel's Saturday Night Movie, and 99 out of a 100 of them make 'Plan 9 From Outer Space' or 'Ishtar' look like Oscar winners.

    Alcohol helps.

    Tonights offering? 'Mansquito'. The possibility for awfulness are nearly endless. Often, I turn off the box in disgust, and read a book.

    I have 'Gladiator' playing in the background as I type, and I just got hit by it's fatal flaw. The Emporer of Rome is going to confront his pussy, mentally fucked son, and tell him he can't be Emporer, without a bodyguard? And having it notarized first? Bullshit. Patricide was much too common in those times. Double extra secret bullshit, with a side of bullshit sauce. And, while I enjoyed the opening battle scenes just fine, the Romans lost more often than they won, and were fucking terrified (and rightly so) of their barbarian foes.

    The swordfighting was fine, though. If I had to choose between edged weapons, I'd choose the Gladius. I have trained with foil and saber, and played with the cutlass, and I'd prefer the Gladius, or a good British machete.



    When I'm Not Here...

    ...I may be reading here. Just for you know. I'd suggest not commenting. You'll startle him, and he doubtless hates you. Just for being you. And yes, I have read all of his archives.

    He may be America's Johnny B, only more psychotic. Not that Johnny B is psychotic. In any way...




    Go see it. Rated 'R' for 'Rough'. Rough, as in hard to take sometimes. Stop watching previews, right now. The matinees have substantial amounts of people, so forget the evening shows.

    This is a theatre movie, pure and simple. Listen to the musical score, and it may have the best beginning credits I have ever seen. That's all I'm gonna tell you, except that there's gonna be some best picture best actor nominations for this one.

    And try to guess which character most resembles me when I was in High School. Good thing I made it through. Lucky, too. Just luck, and God's Will.

    That should frighten you.

    As usual, Spoilers will be brutally stifled. Give it a couple weeks before we talk about it.



    On Losing A Parent...

    Acidman's Momma died. The Cold Train came, and she got on board. It was her time, and I bet she had a smile for the conductor.

    About the only thing I can imagine that's as bad, or maybe worse than that, is losing a child. I'm trying like heck to kick off before any of my kids do, cuz I don't think I could take that.

    I still have both of my parents. My wife just lost both of hers. She still cries over it. I see her reach for the phone, to tell her Mom something, just to share, and then she crumples, all her air knocked from her.

    She is terrified of losing me. When I fake a heart attack (or electrocution or something) she genuinely hates on me for it. So I don't do it. Often.

    Losing my maternal Grandpa in my teens nearly killed me. He had been such a huge part of our lives, and then he was gone. My Dad's Dad, not so much. He died from TB, and was darned tired of living.

    He got gassed by the Germans in WWI, where he was a motorcycle courier. His kids still fight over who gets his 1911 .45. The gas tore up his lungs, and made it so the TB could take root, and he died in the early 1960's. I had only seen him a few times in my life, but I knew he was proud of me, and loved me. I used to read the Bible to him when he would come home from the VA hospital, and I was up to Grandma's for a summer visit. He liked that.

    Death is a constant, and he gathers who he will. One at a time, or in big, screaming bunches. It's not the death I fear. It's the loss. The separation. The empty place at the table. The gathering of the effects, and their disposal. A permanent, irrefutable reminder that there is a good chance you may never see that person again, ever, anywhere.

    Or just maybe, if things were right with them, and things are right with you, some sunny day somewhere you might be privy to a joyful family gathering, and there will be barbecue and laughter and beer, and much catching up to do, and babies will goggle at people they have never seen before.

    I like that idea. A lot.


        Friday, March 11, 2005

    Mercy Links...

    Al has gone and taken the AOL training wheels off and got himself a real blog. It's under construction, but he'll get'r done.

    While I'm at it, this guy's blog is shaping up nicely, and I enjoy the read. Here's another one, and another, and another, and another, and another. They link to me for some reason, and that's a rare thing.

    There's bloggers out there that act like linking to you is the biggest shit in the world, and want you to kiss their ass or their ring, or both. I'm not that way, with a caveat:

    If most of your readers are your church group, I wouldn't link to me, nor would you want me sending some of my commenters over there. Let's use some common sense here, folks.

    Like I say, if a commenter leaves their URL behind under their comment, that means they are prepared for you to follow it and drop by. Odds are, you'll get some enjoyment out of it.

    If I missed linking anybody, sorry...I know there's more, so just leave a comment on this that says "Read Me!" Folks will, or they won't.

    Heck, when I first started, I didn't even have comments. Had no idea anyone read this crap until the emails started. So when I first put up comments, they filled up right away with folks who had just been readers up til then. Surprised the crap out of me, but I ain't gonna turn this into a turd post, nossir.

    Bout one of them a day is all ya need.




    Haloscan Stats
    -244,560 members
    -174 members online

    Just, astounding.



    What Kind of Flame Warrior Are You?

    I think I'm Big Cat. It's all so funny, because we've seen all of them before, and can fit a moniker to a type immediately.

    Via SondraK.



    Proud White Trash...

    Me. Yep.

    Inadvertently saw the preview for the latest (last?) Star Wars movie. I would have avoided seeing it if I could, but it popped up while I was watching 'Pointe Pleasant' and started rawking immediately so I had to watch it. I, of course, planned on seeing the movie anyway, but now, thanks to the preview, I am going to buy tickets for consecutive shows, sneak in extra whiskey, and just stay glued to my seat. I'll pick up my feet when the ushers sweep. For some reason they don't ask me to move.

    I was drinking a glass of water a bit ago, and the spirit moved me to spit a squirt of water over the microwave and into Nat's right ear. She, of course, came unglued. "DAAAAD!" she screamed. Why does everybody always blame me for stuff? She was watching Dora raptly, and couldn't have possibly seen from whence the stream emitted.

    She just came up to me and asked "when is Mom coming Home..."




    "Don't say that! It's mean."

    I'm mean.

    "No yer not!"

    C'mere, let me pinch you.


    Quit yelling. The neighbors will think we have a crazy girl. Are you crazy?


    Then quit yelling.

    "NO!" I grab my bug zapper and wave it at her and she runs off.

    Kids. My wife came back from the hippy store with a bag of pretzel sticks. She fills our water jugs at their machine there, as we assume that anybody prissy enough to give a shit about organic foods probably (hopefully) is as finicky about keeping their filters clean in the water machine.

    The pretzels are 'Newman's Own', and they suck. Badly. Thick as a pencils, and tooth-chippingly hard. You could use them for tent stakes. I badly want to hate on Paul Newman, but I can't. He races cars, and drives around in big custom busses, both activities being highly un-organic, so I figure he's just confused, and I liked his movies.

    Organic. The best marketing ploy since the Pink Power Ranger. Want a blowjob? Tell her your dick's organic. Want her to swallow? Ditto. And tell her it's got Vitamin C, and it's good for her hair. I've used that one forever. Oooo, tell her it's lo-carb, too. That'll seal the sale, and have her snaking your pipe in no time flat.

    So, I'm taking a grizzly dump a bit ago, and Nat(an) comes to the door and begins to natter on about some infernal device heartless bloodsucking adverts are pimping to her between an episode of Dora and Blue's Clues.

    Defenseless, sans pants, fully dilated, I say "Come in here and smell my poop!"

    Silence. Good, maybe she has fled in shock and disgust. Alas...

    "NO! That's yucky!"

    Quit yelling like a crazy girl...

    "I'm NOT CRAZY!"

    Go away, I'm pooping...

    "I'm not tuh-al-king!"

    ...and she thumps down the stairs. Oh well, her loss.

    Man we go through a lot of Charmin around here. How many squares do you use? I generally stick with three at a time. I hate that wax paper they give you in public restrooms. I will go home to crap, unless it is some kind of gastric emergency.

    I am really loving all of the automatic flushers and paper towel dispensers, though. I can make it out of most bathrooms at places I go now without touching anything, which is just fine with me. And the urinals don't stink like piss hell, either, from all the limp-wristed dickheads who weakly flap at the handle, when they bother to flush at all. Now all the urinals flush just from you walking by, and that is cool.

    Men are fucked up. I hate them. I see an unflushed log in a public toilet and I want to kill somebody. It's even worse when several other morons take their own shit on it, and you get a heap of Jurassic Parkian proportions. And pissing on the seat. I would slip a dollar into a pay slot if I could be assured that the stall door would lead into a clean, sterile toilet. I could keep going on this all day, and don't even get me started on porta potties, or college students who puke and piss on your lawn, or bums who just shit right in the street.

    Gosh, I hate people.


        Thursday, March 10, 2005

    Bolt-Head, Redux...

    Well, Johnny goes back into the shop to have his bolts removed the 29th of this month. Thank God.

    You're lucky if you can't imagine what it's been like to wrangle an all-boy seven year old who wants to travel everywhere at Warp 9 and has the balance of a drunk, the aerodynamic qualities of a Bumble Bee, and alien hardware that pokes out of him everywhere. Well, mostly his head.

    He told me when he got up this morning "Daddy, I had a dweem..."

    About what, son?

    "I was in duh hothpitow and dere wuth elebatorth an I wuth puthin all da buttonth..."

    Wow, that sounds like fun, was it fun?

    He brightened..."Yeth! It wuth lot-th uf fun...I wuth habbing a GWEAT time!" and he bounced away like Tigger to get into something.

    Apparently, this surgery is less drama than the last one, because they told us he will doubtless be released on the 31st. Or maybe it is just because we are indigent and they need the bed. Who knows. If I gave a shit, I'd have become a doctor when I had the chance now, wouldn't I.

    I suggested, last time we were up there getting him cracked, that they put a zipper on his head, since they go in there so often. Two of the doctors actually got the "Hmmmmm..." look on their faces for a moment.
    Seriously, why not put a flip top lid or something on him? Nahh, he'd probly slip and fall and his brain would go squirting across the kitchen and the wife would faint and fall on it and squish it before I could stick it back in. Can't have that. Ruin dinner.

    Oh well. It'll certainly be easier to keep my gorge down once they get that nasty forehead bolt out. I won't miss that. We don't have to cover it anymore, but we do when we go out with him so he doesn't yerk folks out. Plus, I get tired of telling people it's his volume control. Then, while they process that, I reach out and pretend to turn it, and he, of course, horrified, yells. "See?" I say. "I just turned him up!" Flight is the general, and quite natural, I must say, response. Did I say tired? Pish posh, that never gets old.

    My proudest moment, though, is when I made a full-grown grocery cashier cry. He was aware of our struggle with John, and knew all of our business the way grocery men do at a store you patronize often. He struck up a conversation right away, as I was placing my groceries on the conveyor belt. Something along the lines of "Well, how's my little man doing?" or other. 'My' little man? I don't recall you being there at all, but instead, I said "Well, he's surviving, but we're just renting his toys." The man actually burst into tears.

    Score! I kill me.

    So, once again, we're off on another adventure, with nothing but our faith in God to provide according to His Will. Been there, done that. Got the bear.

    The bears we have gotten from various hospitals would fill a good sized car trunk. It's no wonder Johnny is not terribly fond of stuffed animals.



    D&D Nerdiness...

    I Am A: Chaotic Neutral Dwarf Fighter Thief

    Chaotic Neutral characters are unstable, and frequently insane. They believe in disorder first and foremost, and will thus strive for that disorder in everything they do. This means that they will do whatever seems 'fun' or 'novel' at any given time.

    Dwarves are short and stout, and easily recognizable by their well-cared-for beards. They are hard workers, and adept at stonework and engineering. They tend to live apart from other races; generally in deep, underground excavated systems, and as such tend to be distant from other races.

    Primary Class:
    Fighters are the warriors. They use weapons to accomplish their goals. This isn't to say that they aren't intelligent, but that they do, in fact, believe that violence is frequently the answer.

    Secondary Class:
    Thieves are the most roguish of the classes. They are sneaky and nimble-fingered, and have skills with traps and locks. While not all use these skills for burglary, that is a common occupation of this class.

    Tempus is the Chaotic Neutral god of war. He is also known as the Lord of Battle and the Foehammer. His followers believe in the glory and joy of battle, and are never far from it. They typically wear battered armor, and carry a variety of weapons, but do not use missile weapons. Tempus's symbol is a flaming sword.

    Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

    I don't Like the Dwarf part, I am much too stately.



    Hmmmm, I Expected Mars...

    You Are From Saturn

    You're steady, organized, and determined to achieve your dreams.
    You tend to play it conservative, going by the rules (at least the practical ones).
    You'll likely reach the top. And when you do, you'll be honorable and responsible.
    Focus on happiness. Don't let your goals distract you from fun!
    Don't be too set in your ways, and you'll be more of a success than you ever dreamed of.




    Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

    You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well.
    An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly.
    You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view.
    A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary.

    You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

    I guess I can live with that.