A Nation Of Wussies

I just read an article about the decision of an elementary school in Colorado Springs, Colorado to ban tag. It seems that some of the children felt harassed and were chased against their will. My guess is a couple of fat, lazy, addicted to video games, junk food eating, weaned on freakin' Oprah, couch potatoes had to get up off their lazy asses and actually get some damned exercise. They were probably so traumatized by this tragic forced aerobic activity that they blurted out the whole event while choking down Oreo's in the back of their obese mommies SUV's. If the truth be told these chubby little bastards were most likely pissed because they got tagged right off the fucking bat and then spent the rest of recess wheezing like an eighty year old with a two pack a day habit since they couldn't catch a damn cold in a fucking blizzard.

OMG, first dodgeball gets the black eye and now freakin' tag. What the fuck is next; will they outlaw jump rope for it's connotation of bondage from the rope; will hopscotch face the axe due to teaching graffiti skills, when marking the boxes. When will the wussifacation of America end? When all children are taught to be a bunch of fat, whiny, sue happy, political correct, morons?

Stories like this, are becoming far too commonplace. The Morons are taking over and it damn sure ain't pretty.

A Graveside Service With Sprinkles On Top

Today while driving down the road, I passed a graveyard. An ice cream van was just coming out of the cemetery. I don't know whether the ice cream van was visiting a relative or friend or just using the cemetery as a turn around spot. Whatever, it got me to thinking about ice cream and death.

I think that I will have an ice cream van show up at my funeral. It is damn near impossible to be sad while eating an ice cream. I can almost picture it. A friend stands up at the graveside to say a few words and the ice cream van pulls up blaring carousel music. Everyone would line up and get themselves a fudge bomb or an orange push up or maybe even one of those delicious Pink Thing's that are sold at Six Flags.

Heck, maybe I can even have the Good Humor Man officiate the thing.

It's Better To Get Nailed Than To Get Hammered

In Des Moines, Iowa, (Of all places), Satin Delfrano, age 32, was apprehended when three women called to complain that they had been assaulted by a naked woman with a hammer. When the police got there they allowed the naked Delfrano to get dressed and then escorted her out of her apartment in handcuffs. She tried to walk out on her knees and kicked one officer. So adding insult to injury, she has also been charged with assault on a peace officer, criminal mischief, and disorderly conduct.

This story leaves me with a few unanswered questions.

1. Who the hell would name their daughter Satin? I can only guess that they wanted to pre-ordain her to be a stripper.

2. Did she think that she could get away with it? A naked woman with a hammer sticks out like a sore thumb (much like the thumb of a clumsy carpenter).

3. Where can I get my hands on a tape of that 911 call? Three women calling in hysterics about a nude hammer wielding crazy woman would make for great entertainment.

Click here for the news story.

Pup Tales

I recently bought AJ a puppy. She has always wanted a miniature dachshund so I decided to surprise her and get her one since she has been a little down since her heart attack. They say that no good deed goes unpunished and my little gift proves the point. The pup has taken a greater liking to me than AJ. Giving her more fodder to be angry with me.

The little female pooch yaps and whines the whole time with AJ. The minute that I enter the room and speak, Muffy quiets down, wags her little tail, and falls asleep.

Although it comes as a shock to AJ, since my words of endearment to the mutt is generally calling it a furry turd with legs or a flea bitten varmint, it comes as no surprise to me. I have always had a way with the bitches.

Eau De WTF

I am not much on frilly bath products. A good ol' bar of Irish Spring is all that I need. Since I started shaving my noggin, I don't even give a rats ass about shampoo. But yesterday I ran out of my Irish Spring so I reached for AJ's body wash gunk. I looked at the bottle of Dove Body Wash and noticed that the label was bi-lingual. What struck me as odd was the fact that besides English, the label was also in French. Now I know that I am but a simple hick from the sticks but aren't the French known for their aversion to bathing. I know French sounds fancy and all but why the hell do they label that crap in French for use in freakin' BFE Texas when they are a country of folks known for using cologne to cover up their funk rather than washing it off. Some marketing genius must be back on the pipe.

Jamie's Not Crying Anymore

So now that Diamond Dave and Eddie are playing nice and plan on touring and making an album, what else '80's may come back.

• Big Hair? I now have no hair so I will be completely out of the loop on this one.


• Miami Vice Suits? Hells Yeah. Two Words: Rico Suave.


• Gerardo? Hell No. I hate that damned song.


• Dukes of Hazzard? That's already back.


• Ah Ha? Uh uh.


• Safety Dance? Hells Yeah! Midgets dancing in jester hats rule.


• Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll? I don't know. Mostly sex for me consists of the hallway variety when AJ tells me to go f**k myself passing in the hallway, drugs consists of Tylenol and Pepcid, but I still crank my tunes up. One out of three ain't too bad.

Booze, Guns, Midget Cowboys, And Saloon Girls

I don't really have a story here. I am just posting this for two reasons.

1. This pic tickles the hell out of me.

2. Posts containing booze or guns or midget cowboys or saloon girls get a ton of blog search hits. Or that's what I'm thinking.

Getting Mystical

One of the gifts that Angry Joyce received after her return from the hospital was a glass elephant. Yesterday, Angry Joyce had me place the figurine up on a shelf in the living room with special instructions to point the rear of the elephant towards the front door. According to A.J.'s friend, the elephant is supposed to have mystical powers and when the figure is mooning the front door, money is syphoned into the home.

Being just another damned dumb redneck, I have no friggin' idea how this is supposed to work. The idea of an elephant's ass sucking up money is to my uncultured mind ridiculous. But what the fuck do I know A.J.'s friend comes from a land of deep mysticism, Canada. Go Figger!

I Smell Sex And Vicks

I am not at all loyal to any particular brand of underarm deodorant. I generally just pick up the cheapest or most easily reached on the aisle. This time around though I have found a real freakin' winner. I have discovered that the smell of Speed Stick, Irish Spring Icy Blast when mixed with a hot days worth of sweat smells remarkably like Vicks Vapo-Rub. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Damn That's One Sexy Beast. And Damn you're so freakin' right. Now I'm wondering what it will do for ball sweat. I'm thinking it could possibly give me that warm fuzzy feeling on my scrotum that I so love.

So You Want To Be The Next President

It is no wonder that Americans don't vote worth a shit. It lasts so damn long and we as a nation have a collective attention span of a one handed on-line porn junkie with the mantra, "Screw all the filler and just get to the good stuff." That and there are only three or four assholes with a meager shot at the big prize. The electoral college is a freakin' joke and no one except Poli-Sci grads and poli-geeks understands it anyway.

Therefore, I have a proposal. The next election should be set up like American Idol. There should be three judges who will canvass the entire nation and hold auditions. The contestants should meet the constitutional requirements ( 35 years old, born an American, no felony convictions, and at least a GED). If you meet the requirements then by God you get your shot.

The three judges should be fashioned somewhat like Idol as well. There should be one asshole that hates damn near everybody and is quick to call someone on the horseshit that they are dishing out. There should be some drunk chick that loves everybody and leaves them feeling good. There should be some guy who talks shit that no one can understand. I have the three judges in mind that would be a diverse segment of the nation. I would make a damn good asshole. I'm thinking that Barbara Walters on a tequila bender would make an excellent job. And who would be better at being hard to understand than Snoop Dogg.

Okay now that we have the judges, I need to set up a few more guidelines. None of the contestants can give their party name or say whether they are conservative or liberal. They must only give their position on subjects. During the final phase when there are only twelve contestants left a subject will be picked for them and they must discuss that subject and only that subject.

The audience will vote by call in method just like Idol and every week one of the contestants are voted off until only one is left. The winner gets to pick his VP since no one seems to give a flying fuck who the VP is anyway.

WTF it can't be any worse than the way it is now. Look at the last two jerkoffs that we have elected.

I'm Back

Just peeking through the old keyhole to see if everything is safe and sound out here in blogland. Sorry for the long hiatus. I really didn't mean to be gone this long but shit happens. Namely A) Blown Modem from lightning storm. B) Sheer laziness. C) A case of walking pneumonia. and D) Angry Joyce's heart attack.

The modem is replaced, I am still lazy. I am over the crud. And most importantly, Angry Joyce is back at home safe and sound. She is recovering nicely and will no doubt have many years left to be angry.

My long absence has gave me a lot to think about and I am ready to get back to blogging it out of my head so be prepared. Hopefully absence makes the heart grow fonder. I know that I have missed this place and everyone that comes here. Thanks for being patient.