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  • Your Daily Finger Eruption...



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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Friday, January 18, 2008

    Your Daily Finger Eruption...

    I got burned out reading the book on my screen...can't a brutha get a hard copy for review? Cheap bastid. Love it, so far, by the way, except for your inevitable inability to resist sniping at our Middle Eastern adventures.

    I don't mind your rabid doggy, and I don't mind it when he bites...

    Buy Vox's book, fuckers. Don't ever come before me and call yourself a Christian or an Atheist until you have read this book. I mean it. And I'm mean.

    The days are nights, and the nights are longer, and I am looking forward to Daylight Savings Time.

    The wife refused to wear the leopard suit (posted below) for me, and I said, Baby, you're dressing for the dick, not for your girlfriends. You will dress up like Little Bo Peep and carry a sheep if I say so. Or the sheep gets it...

    Well, Happy Friday, and welcome to another artificially constructed holiday (the 'weekend', for you slow learners). Enjoy your man-touching spectacles, involving balls. Personally, I'd rather see lions tearing apart illegal aliens in the arena, but hey...there's plenty of time for that. It's coming, you know.

    Comanche Moon threw a tire and rattled to the side of the road, throwing rubber, there at the last. The wife and I looked at each other and as one, said 'what the fuck?' A terrible implosion of a show that showed great promise. Writer's strike? I dunno, but when you leave the action and jump ahead 7 years, that tells me you filmed the last part first with the Second Unit, you shot your wad for ratings, and you think I'm stupid.

    I wanna see that Dungeon Siege movie, but A) I'm broke and B) it doesn't show til 7ish at night. Bane does not go see movies at night. Dark, plus dark, equals dark things with access to people of the light. And then there's that whole germ-carrier thing going on. Coughing snotrag bags of meat squeaking their nasty teeth into their popcorn and mumbling to one another, which may as well be shouting as far as I'm concerned.

    I know I've told ya'll the 'Critters' story before, but many of you are new, and it is a jewel in my crown, and probably why my older kids don't visit me. All that much...

    Remember 'Critters'? Classic Sci-Fi film, and one I wanted to see very badly. My oldest daughter hadn't been born yet, my three boys ranged from toddler to tots, the movie wasn't rated too badly, I was large and in charge, so off we went.

    BOY! was that a scary motherfucker. Ooops! Brought the kids out of the matinée (lifelong habit, the matinée) and they were shaking, and hungry, and...
    They wanted bologna sandwiches, which was just fine with me, and they sat at table while I prepared lunch.

    As is wont to happen, a spirit of evil overcame me, and I plotted. Kids, rattled: check. In the movie, the space critters would flex and shoot poisonous spines out of their backs, and into the soft white meat of various humanoids, so...

    I tore off a couple of chunks of baloney and mayo'd them to my neck, stuck a toothpick into each one, smeared some ketchup around, staggered out of the kitchen, and gargled "Critters!" Hilarity ensued. I played dead for a while. Any wonder I have two Marines, and another son who refuses to see me?

    Ha, what a joker I am. Well, it was pretty dang funny...

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go play 'Terrifying Giant Vampire Bat' with my current batch of little ones. There will be screaming.

    Tell me again how 'learning' is a marker for intelligence?