Mail Day

I had saved todays spot for hate mail but due to the dearth of intelligible hate mail, I will post a couple of e-mail pics that I received this week. I have posted the original tagline as I received them and below I posted my reply. Hopefully next week I will receive some better hate mail. But gems like these are always welcome. Come on help a lazy blogger out.





Why middle aged woman should not go to Mardi Gras and drink!!!



I think the one in the middle is a little cross-eyed.

Do not fall for this it is a scam.
Let all your loved ones know about this. This is a medical scam!




Wonder if this was in the parking lot of a Nascar Race.

Gone Fishin'

I must have to admit that I am not the most ambitious of fisherman. My idea of a perfect fishing trip is to set a trotline early in the day, go back to camp and drink beer, pitch washers, and grill up some grub, and then go back late that evening or the next morning (depending upon the quantity of beer that I have consumed.) For quite a while I haven't had the time to do any fishing of any kind.

But I have come across a type of fishing that I must try. In the Mississippi-Missouri River basin, several species of Asian carp native to China have escaped fish farms and are making themselves a pain in the ass. According to Duane Chapman, a fish biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey,' The silver carp is the real jumper of the four Asian carp species. These fish seem to hate boats and they'll jump completely out of the water when a boat is going by, apparently in response to the engine noise.'

They are so numerous in certain rivers that boaters have had to start carrying trash can lids and other solid items as C.D.D.s or Carp Deflection Devices as these big fish that can get up to four feet long and weigh up to 70 pounds. That is one hell of a fish to come hurtling through the water and peg a boater. Here is a link to a video of the havoc inducing fish and also a link to Snopes.com that contains a video of a similar fish in Brazil and is where I came across the story.

Yes once again the sheer brilliance of man comes shining through and introduces some pain in the ass critter that will wreak havoc on not only the environment but to the citizens of that eco-system. But damn that looks like some mighty easy fishing. Hell I bet you wouldn't even have to put down your beer to club one of these damned fish when it jumped into your boat.

(At last check my guest post was still up over at Beauty vs. The Beast. Thanks to all those that went and commented; no matter how you sided. If you haven't ; then what are you waiting for?)

Spreading The Sickness

Recently, two good blogfriends of mine Phoenix and Siren accepted my offer to guest post on their combined site Beauty vs. The Beast. Wednesday night while checking for hate mail I came across an e-mail from The Phoenix giving me my topic for this post.

I ripped off my beastliest commentary and sent it back. Then I went over and commented on my opponents blog and wished her luck on the topic. Weirdgirl e-mailed me a nice response back, so at least it is a friendly type of point/counter-point. I thought that I had done my beastliest best and let the chips fall where they may. At last glance I was getting spanked like a bad monkey. So head on over there and spread some love or spew some hate. Either way I can take it!

P.S. I know the Phoenix is a guy. I call it poetic license. I know that The Phoenix won't mind since all good Beasts know that a pic of a lovely lady beats out a pic of some hairy assed guy every time. In fact a pic of some nasty skank beats out a pic of some hairy assed guy 999 times out of a 1000. I can only think of one example where this rule is not applicable.



So what are you waiting for? Head over and let yourself be known!

Waxing Philosophical

While blogsurfing, I came across this post by illimitable voices. In the post he compared the blog of today to past day pampleteers such as Thomas Payne. "They stand in the forefront of our age as the wellspring of marketplace of free ideas. If our words fall upon the deaf ears of elected officials, we blog. If the NY Times is biased and refuses to listen to our concerns, we blog. If The Courier is biased and refuses to listen to our concerns, we blog. And the power of the blog is that it lives and breaths outside the natural realms of censorship that press down upon or liberties that we believe we are born with.

If we are lucky, the blogosphere will beget the freedoms that future generation will embrace as their own. Perhaps the pillars of future are being built one thread at a time?"

Those are very lofty words and even loftier goals. I once was young and idealistic so I sympathize with his words but I am also older now and more cynical. I felt that I had to comment on his post and not be just a lurker. If only to offer encouragement to this young writer. " That is a very idealistic approach to the blogosphere. I feel that it is mostly for sharing recipes, porn, and bullshit. But occasionally one finds the odd enlightening post, although I can guarantee that it will not be found on my blog. Keep hoping."

The next day he commented on my hate mail post that although I thought that his post was idealistic that blugstuff was the exact form of expression that he had been talking about and then encouraged me to keep posting. I responded that I thought that he was giving me far too much credit. I only am here to add a certain homespun twisted humor to this small corner of the blogosphere. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail miserably but I try to inject a part of myself in all that I write.

Each blog on my blogroll and each blog that I comment to has something in common. For one reason or another whether it be wit, wisdom, compassion, humor, or sincerity, they have interested me, made me laugh, or touched me. That is truly as good as it gets.

Okay, that's enough bullshit and ass kissing for today. It would surprise me greatly if anyone has made it this far down on the post. Maybe it will give the haters some good fodder for some great hate mail. But I just want to thank all those who have stopped by whether they let me know or not. And I thank illimitable visions for giving an old cynic hope.

I can guarantee that the next post will have absolutely no socially redeeming qualities. Which is just the way I like it.

D'oh Deliveries

The village where I work is home to a jewelry factory. It is quite well known around the state for the quality and beauty of their work. Therefore it is not altogether a surprise that this past Christmas, Dubya commisioned them to create a $10,000 necklace for Laura.

After the piece was finished, the factory shipped it via insured, certified next day air on UPS. After it was not received by The White House the next day, the factory tracked it online. The delivery was made to the wrong residence but not only that the homeowner was not at home that day so the deliveryman left it on his porch. The home owner upon coming back to his residence noticed the package and upon looking at the label saw that it wasn't his and called UPS to pick it up. He never even opened the package, probably fearing that it was either a bomb, anthrax, or something that would put him in dire straits should it be opened.

To give the delivery man some credit, it was a white house just not The White House. Which begs the question, 'What can brown do for you?'

(A few sidenotes: I realize that this story is not very current. At the time, I thought that it was somewhat humorous but did not know if it was interesting enough for a post. Although it might be more worthy than some of the drivel I spew here. But after telling the story to big d this weekend, he said that the story would make a great post. So here it is. The pic is a wallpaper from big d's wallpaper site and all his gotd posts are on it. Thanks for letting me steal it eventhough I did not ask permission.)

F**k Off Fuzzbox

I did not realize the plethora of great hate mail that would come after the last post. Eventhough others amazed me with the creative use of colorful curses, I have deemed this submission as the first winner. The sender receives the glorious honor of having their work displayed here. I thank all those that sent their venom but sadly there can be only one winner. Have hope, there is always next week. The submission has been copied exactly in it's original glory with all misspellings and errors in grammer intact.

It is rather long but I found it quite entertaining so kick back, light up a smoke, pull the tab off your beer and enjoy. If you are at work better pull those blinds or block off your cubicle. Your bosses might frown over that. And remember the name has been changed to protect the writers anonymity.

Dear Fuzzbox,

What a great Texan you are. An inspiration to all the young and old. I is so nice to see something funny and crative on the Internet these days. I was begging to think that the Internet was only used for spreading hatred and porn. I feel so honored to see a man using the Internet to place up pictures of women in domestic roles from the early 40's and 50's completely demeaning what womens liberation has tried to achieve all these years. I hope all young girls can look at your site and decide that the workplace is not for them.

Most writers when thay have a story really worth dealing do not need scantly cad women womento help tell but not you. You go for the less is more approach and place up these beautiful women in hopes that someone will read your story even when the pictures has absolutely nothing to do with the post. You are a strong proud man, with intelligence and creativity. Unlike other blogger's you've realized the power of the female body and realized that you can use that to get people to read your useless blog without having to writin anything meaningful.

Thats righ the fact that you have a pair of hair balls means that your special. It means you do not have to provide any kind of service but people should still come over and comment on your pretty little blog. It means your entitled to 20 to 40 comments each post even if someone doesn't like what useless story you try and tell.

No your not an Internet Whore. An Internet whore is someone that allows some guy to use her face as a toilet while a camera broadcasts the debauchery over the Internet. So no you're not an Internet Whore you are something far less than an Internet Wore. An Internet Wore would have some story about how she fell frome grace, mental illness or how she was raped as a child. I believe you suffer from severe stupidit, chronic geed, and terminal laziness, but these hardly qualify as mental illnesses.

If I were EVER pas you along in life and you were laying there dying of thirst I would not give you a drink of water. I would not piss in your month to save your life. I would let the vultures take you and do whatever they want with ya... with not ill regrets.

Sincerely,

Hate E-Mail Winner


THEY THINK MY BLOG IS PRETTY!!! :-)

Bluggin'

I have always wondered about the disparity between the number of hits that a blog receives versus the number of comments on any given day. I have come to the conclusion that there could be three main reasons that people stop by Blugstuff but do not comment. 1) Somehow they stumbled upon this blog and were bored or disinterested. 2) They really liked it but did not want to publicly display their love of such a warped mind . 3) They hated it with an all-consuming hatred. Akin to an ultra-liberal listening to Rush Limbaugh just to rid aggression by screaming and cursing at the radio.

I cannot do anything to remedy the first reason. I do not foresee a time in either the near or far future where my writing will change from Fuzzbox to Faulkner. However for the next two reasons, this post gave me the immediate answer.

So I placed a call to my intrepid web guru, Big D, and asked him to place a link to my Fuzzbox e-mail account inside my user profile. (Thanks Big D). I am truly hoping to hear from all of those Numbers Two's and Three's. I am hoping that perhaps I can get enough responses to have a weekly post responding to those anonymous people who write in. And be assured they will remain anonymous. I expect that I will get more responses from the number three people than the number two people so perhaps I could call it 'F**k Off Fuzz, Friday'.

So come on you haters and click on over there and spew a little venom on a twisted dwarf. And for those questionable individuals that actually like it here, it would make me feel like Sally Fields if you dropped me a line. 'You like me. You really like me.' Hey a dwarf can dream can't he.

A Kindly Criminal

In Weslaco Tx, police are in search of the 'Courtesy Bandit'. This sandel wearing knife toting theif is known for his polite manners . So far he has been on a three day spree of crime and ettiquete awareness. The spree started at the Executive Inn in Mercedes, the bandit told the desk clerk, "I'm sorry I'm robbing you, but please give me the money." After receiving his ill gotten gains, he graciously thanked the clerk for their trouble and calmly left.

I have to wonder if he will be treated as courteously by the police, the correctional officers, and his fellow inmates when he is finally apprehended. I hope that during his incarceration, he is able to do something useful in bringing politeness to society. Perhaps he can publish a self-help book, "Courtesy for Dumb Crooks."

Cry Baby

Flipping over to ESPN after the Colts game, I caught an interview with Peyton Manning. I had always admired his skills as a q.b. but always had an impression that he would forge the same path of Dan Marino and be the best quarterback not to win the big one. This interview solidified that view. In the interview he whined about protection problems, blaming his lineman for his lackluster performance. I guess it is no longer acceptable to shoulder any of the blame if you are a commercial superstar.

Manning will never win the big one for one simple reason and he showed it in spades. The man has no heart. Fran Tarkenton rewrote the rulebooks on being a q.b. because he had no line. Yet he ducked, dived, and scrambled his way to a Super Bowl appearance and never blamed his team. Johnny Unitas never chastised his teammates to the public. He might harass them in private but he didn't go to the press and whine. Jake Plummer spent his prime years playing for the hapless Cardinals and didn't whine and now he is on the route to a possible Super Bowl with the Broncos.

Mr. Manning, your whole team lost and only by a blind referee and a Pittsburgh lapse were the Colts even close in the end. You got whipped, Your team got whipped. Take your whuppin' like a man not a little tittybaby.

Mr. Manning, you are a Grade A douchebag. I hope your lineman give your opponents a revolving door entrance to your ass next season. Or better yet maybe the Colts can pick up T.O. and we will see who is the biggest crybaby in the NFL. Maybe then you can live up to your potential.

Part III: The Beasties Trilogy

The Bug Races

On a long lonely night shift at the plant quite a few years ago. The Supervisor, Bronco Billy, J.D., and myself found ourselves bored out of our minds. One line was down for maintenance and the other three lines were running products that required about 10 minutes of work every hour. The plant had been like this for about a week so the floor was swept to gleaming perfection and all the equipment had been wiped clean.

Always adept at finding activities to cure boredom. We decided to gamble. This was not uncommon for the other three members of the crew were the type of guys that would bet on a piss ant pulling a freight train. The question was what to bet on.

The solution was obvious. The plant was plagued at the time by an infestation of beatles. I do not know the correct scientific name for this particular species but around here, they are called stinkbugs. They are a fairly large bug with a raised rear end and when threatened raise their hind quarters and emit a noxious fume. They are also rather speedy so naturally well suited for a little racing action.

We traced out a circle on the concrete floor about 6 foot across(you can figure out the approximate diameter yourself if you wish.) Then we went our seperate ways searching for the Seattle Slew of the insect world. We came back to the circle and marked our steeds with white out. All the bugs were placed in a coffee cup and brought to the middle of the circle. The cup was then turned upside down. After a few seconds wait, which gave the bugs a chance to gain their bearings, the cup was raised and the bugs were off.

J.D.'s bug won the first race, and the second race, and the third race. The rest of us then took a break to find a more competitive insect. As we were only playing for a quarter a race, I wasn't down much but that would change somewhat. None of the damned bugs that any of the other three of us could find could beat the freak of nature that J.D. had. Pretty soon, we were all down, after escalations of bets and a plethera of other bugs, by about 10 bucks apeice.

And then it happened, the supervisor had found what he thought was the makings of a god of bug racing. A bug so sleek and so fast that he had chased it for 50 yards just to make it his. The anticipation mounted, the supervisor had put a twenty dollar sidebet on the race, the cup was raised, and the supervisors bug just sat there as if it was dead. J.D.'s bug scampered to victory once more. The supervisor let out a mighty roar and leaped through the air and squashed J. D.'s bug deader than Elvis.

Bronco Billy and I managed to defuse the situation although J.D. had reached a state of pissed-off that I have rarely seen. After that we traded wins throughout the rest of the shift. In fact I think that I came out about a buck ahead. Not quite Vegas but still quite a bit of fun.

( In case any new readers want to check out a few more of the adventures of this boneheaded shift. You can check the October 12 post regarding 'Forklift Rodeo', or the October 17 post regarding 'Man's Best Friend' in the archives)

Fact from Fiction ***Updated***

Browsing through the newspaper yesterday, I came across a story that I found fascinating. It was reported that in Fort Sumner, New Mexico, a mouse took his revenge on a local homeowner. Luciano Mares, 81, was reported to have caught a mouse inside his house. As he was burning some leaves outside, he tossed the mouse into the fire. The mouse was then reported to have ran from the fire and back into the house. At which time the house caught fire destroying all contents of the home.

I thought that this would make a great post. The story had so many angles to it. I could write about the old adage of if you build a better mousetrap then God would make a better mouse, or maybe a story of mice being the next terrorist arm of PETA, or even a story of one man getting his just desserts. There was only one problem. The entire story is one steaming load of bullshit.

The local newschannel after reading the story sent a reporter to interview Mr. Mares and he stated that he did not know how the reporter came up with his story. He stated that yes it was true that he had killed a mouse earlier in the day and yes he had thrown the dead mouse into the fire. He went on to say that the mouse was dead and stayed that way. It was high winds that carried the fire to his house and caused it to catch fire not a reanimated mouse.

I expect reading hoaxes on e-mails and when surfing the net. In fact, I make it a weekly habit to go to Snopes.com in order to sort through the real from the unreal. I do not expect to read this kind of crap in a regional paper. I hope that this reporter for the AP gets his ass fired. Strange but true stories are something that I can't get enough of but for fake news I can watch 'The Daily Show' or 'SNL'. I do not need it disguised as real news.

*** And Now The Update***

It seems that Luciano Mares has recanted his story (the second one). Now this geezer states that his original story is the straight dope. According to Mares the mouse did indeed escape the fiery inferno. The heat from the blazing leaves loosend this prison of glue and he rushed back to the house starting the fire.

Fort Sumner Fire Cheif, Juan Chavez, believes him. He states, 'There's no reason for him to lie about what he told us. I don't doubt it at all.'

Well maybe he had no reason to lie when he gave his story to the local newschannel, but I can think of a few reasons for him to recant his story to this newschannel; Publishers, talk shows, and possibly free sex from Peta activists to name a few. I know the last item might be a little far-fetched but it is a sick world and I am a happy man.

My apologies to the A.P. reporter. I hope that your pen forever hold ink and that you don't meet up with another wishy-washy geezer for quite some time.

Weird Weather, Weird Science

The weather here in West Texas has been unseasonably warm during the days. I was talking to a local rancher this weekend who said that he had killed a rattlesnake last week. He said that the rattler was so cold and stiff that he could not coil itself up to strike.

This reminded me of a story from years ago. A friend of mine and myself were heading down a dirt road after an early and unexpected freeze. A rattlesnake was laying in the road frozen stiff as a board. I got out of the truck and chunked him in the back. Upon arriving at my friends shop, we threw him in a five gallon bucket in front of a space heater. We wondered if the frozen snake would still live after he heated up. Sure enough after he had thawed out, we had one pissed off snake in a bucket.

Being of scientific minds, we decided that we would further experiment with the snake. As we were smoking some medicinal herbs, we decided to see if the smoke would calm the savage reptilian beast. We customized a lid with a hose attached to the top. Then we took turns expelling the smoke from the medicinal herb which we smoked from a water pipe into the bucket. When we felt that the atmosphere inside the bucket was sufficient for our purposes, we fashioned a stopper on the hose for the retention of the buckets atmosphere ( that and we could not handle any more of the medicinal herb).

The results of our experimentation were simply that if a rattlesnake is frozen or sufficiently medicated, he would make an excellant housepet. But the amount of medicinal herb would be staggering as the effect on the snake was short lived and he was back to being pissed off long before the effect wore out on us. So if you want a pet rattlesnake, I would advise keeping him frozen.

Soccer and Swinging Don't Mix

This week in Orlando, Florida, young soccer players from the Clearwater Chargers got more than they bargained for when they stayed at the Crowne Plaza Hotel-Airport. The team stayed at the $92 a night hotel as they were participating in Disney's Soccer Showcase but got an extra special bonus of witnessing swingers sashaying around the hotel flashing their breasts and buttocks to the urchins and their soccer parents. It seems the hotel had booked the soccer team and their parents and also were hosting a New Years party of 200 swingers.

While I applaud the hotels effort of cross-cultural awareness, it might not have been the best choice to make. One parent described the swingers dress as 'raunchy, despicable, and worse than prostitutes.' Another parent expressed his distress at having to explain hard to answer questions to his two daughters aged 11 and 13. There was no word in the story if any swingers were traumitized by the event.Ain't diversifacation grand.

Farewell

Yesterday I was called upon once more to fulfill a solemn duty. It was the third time in my relatively short life that I have done so. It was an honor and privilege to bear the casket of my departed Aunt Linda.

After a battle with cancer, my Aunt departed this world as she had lived her life; with style and with grace. No higher respect can be given in this life. She had been told at the first of the month that she only had one week to live at the most. She wished to live long enough to spend her anniversary with her husband and for this she found the strength. She then prayed for the strength to last through Christmas so that her family would not spend the holiday in grief and she found the strength. After the holidays, she made her peace with both the here and now and the hereafter. In the end she passed on her own terms, planning the services and setting her life in order.

I can only hope that when my time comes, I am able to show the same strength, resolve, and calm. I do not write these words to mourn her death but only to celebrate her life. Her family and friends will miss her greatly but the part of her that lives in each of us will sustain us as we remember a life well lived.

I Need Pancakes

Yesterday while driving down the road, I listened to an ad for Durex condoms. It seems amazing to me that only a few short years ago condom ads on radio and tv were a no-no. When ads for condoms first appeared they were only informational spots warning against unwanted pregnancies and STD's. Now they have opened up to the truly distasteful Trojan Man ads and these new ads from Durex.

The Durex ads work by comparing regular sex to sex using Durex condoms. In one spot the announcer gives the floor to a scientific sounding voice who procalaims, 'After regular sex the female of the species kicks the male out of the nest', this is followed by the sound effect of a kick and then a moan that accompanies a crash. The announcer then gives the floor back to the scientific sounding voice once more as he states, 'After sex with Durex brand condoms, the female rises and fixes the male pancakes. Then cut to a guy saying, 'Mmm maple syrup.'

Eventhough Angry Joyce underwent tubal litigation after the birth of our son, I am seriously considering buying some of these condoms. I love pancakes and I cannot remember the last time that Angry Joyce made me pancakes for any reason. Mmmm maple syrup.