Say goodnight to the bad year

I am back. This is a final post for 2008, see ya and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. That is done, we can begin fresh. The slate has been wiped clean (again). It is onward and upward.

It is getting to be that time when I must take my leave and numb the existential pain with the drink. I think that I will drink modestly this evening. I will be my witty and charming self.

Enough about me. I want to wish all of you out there a happy and healthy new year, to you and yours from me and mine! Ciao!

Reflect on a year passed

I am back. This is sort of a year end round up, with neither a round up or year end. Really, we put the "year" into play. In reality, it only exists because we have found a way to make sense of the world, or just mark time, by using it. It does not exist apart from us. It is us and we are it. We are at one with the year.

What the fuck am I talking about?!!! This was a challenging year. The challenges were different from the year before, which had its challenges as well. We are older, and hopefully, wiser. The challenges continue, but we shall come out the other side, stronger.

Cryptic?? You betcha! It is another time to reflect and reflect, I am doing. Tomorrow, it is time to start getting ready for the New Year and time for me to take it on!

Ciao!

Post Holiday Unfunnies

I am back. Hope you all had amazing holidays, bitches! After all that snow, we had a thaw. It was a nice, warm, foggy weekend. The December/Christmas fog is especially creepy/festive when you add the Rudolf factor (or is that Rudolph?). You know the reindeer with the nuclear red nose.....he actually killed Santa with his radioactive nose. Santa died of radiation poisoning, just like Madame Curie. Betcha didn't know that, but don't spoil it for the kiddies.

I just got called for dinner, so I will have to make this one brief........

That sums it up for now. Ciao!

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

I am back. Let me say Merry Christmas to those out there who celebrate. Apparently, NORAD is tracking Santa Claus, like a fucking ICBM. They are prepared to shoot him down, apparently. With his beard, he looks a bit too much like Osama bin Laden (where is he? dead or alive?). Pity, poor Santy.

The Lad made a valid point. Santa is a feminine form of saint. Should he not be known as Santo Claus? Just a thought, provided by the Lad.

I got to spend the better part of this morning....shoveling. The big problem this time was that the temperature had/has climbed. We now have some rain and fog. The snow was fucking heavy. It seemed to take forever to shovel out. Then the fucking snowplow came, did our street and piled more shit up at the end of my driveway. Fucking jerkweed City.

During the municipal elections, the local dick stood on my lawn and told me about "value" for my tax dollars. It looks like they bought new snow removal equipment. The old ones allowed them to lift the plow for driveways, leaving little snow in front of the driveways. Not these new ones, though. I am hard pressed to figure out how I am receiving better "value" when I am paying more and getting a lesser service.

The fun will come on Friday when they have to figure out how to take my big ass extra large blue bin and get over the foot wide snow patch between the curb and street. It has been a well thought out, integrated system. Love the leaders (that term is used so loosely) of this city. The only thing worse is the dumbass citizens who vote in these useless sacks of shit every three or four years. Baaaaah! Baaaaah! Bunch of fucking sheep!

Well, a Christmas rant, who would have thought that.

Have a Merry one or drunken one, which ever you prefer. Ciao!

Have Shovel Will Travel

I am back. I did survive the weekend (obviously since I posted yesterday...then again, I could have set it up to post in the future.....if that is indeed the case, then I am posting this in the past, so it is like I am able to travel back in time,.......in my fucking DeLorean). I got to do a fair bit of shoveling, driving and more shoveling.

It is looking like a white Christmas, just like last year. I am hoping we can break the snowfall record, then do it all again for rain in the summertime. I actually had to mow the lawn this summer. With all that rain, it could do nothing but grow. The summer before last, with little rain, the grass shuts down, turns brown and I can "mow" it by tossing a lit match on it. I then cook some marshmallows. It is a whole lot of fun...burning your front lawn. The firefighters actually get into the party spirit as they tend to arrive in full uniform. It is cool.

So, it was a shovel-tastic weekend. Shoveled out on Friday, shovel the new snow Saturday and Sunday, and then to top it off, shovel my aunt out of my mother's driveway. It is a boring story, but I could not have my 71 year old mother or my 75 year old aunt shovel themselves out of the driveway, so I did it. I am such a good person!

I did read a story where a Saudi court has denied a divorce to a girl who is 8 years old. In their infinite wisdom (sic)(it was an arranged marriage), according to Saudi judges, she was capable of entering (or have her father enter her into) a marriage but not capable of choosing a divorce. Boggles the mind. Love the Arab hypochrisy, they are so damn good at it.

So, let me get this straight....in Saudi Arabia, pedophilia can be condoned, but a minor divorcing is not okay. Fuck, I am not sure whether to scream....or move there.

Well, have a good evening. Ciao!

Swiffer, my new lover

I am back. Have any of you seen the Swiffer commercial with the mop/broom sending flowers/candy to their former owners with "Baby Come Back" playing in the background? The mop/broom is lurking near the door while she deals with the delivery dude.

That commercial creeps me out on so many fucking levels. On the one hand, the stalker mop/broom image really bothers me for some reason. It must have been when an old broom of ours would not go away. The fucking thing could not take the hint (being pitched in the trash) and kept coming back.

The second level is the use of "romantic" music and gifts (flowers and candy). Was there something "improper" about the level of intimacy between the woman and her mop/broom? Has her broom handle been replaced by a thicker, silicone, vibrating dildo? I just need to know (witnessing a demonstration may be cool, too). That level of intimacy between woman and her mop is too much for me. Has she ridden it for all it was worth? Will the Swiffer do her as good? Inquiring minds (or in this case, small minds) want, nay need, to know.

All I can say is given those two creep factors, you can tell P&G, the Madman's house will not be using Swiffers. I do not need the competition.

Ciao!

Just checking in, the return

I am back. Guess what, we have snow. A lot of snow. Cold, blowing fucking snow. Apparently, this is the beginning. We have another 30 cm to look forward to on Sunday. It will be my shoveling paradise. Whooo-hoooo!

It did not stop me from doing anything today. I felt like a bit of a moron driving places, but it was fine and a bit of fun, actually. I really do enjoy driving in this stuff. I get a kick out of it. It is winter and it is Canada. This is what it is. Deal with it.

The Lad, finished school, is sleeping at his friend's house tonight. We have dinner with my brother in law and his girlfriend tonight. At least it is here, then again, it has not been anywhere but here. Tonight, I am pleased about that. Who knows how long they will stay, but they are coming here, separately, by subway. They will have to "hoof" it through the snow to get back to the station, though.

Have a great weekend! I will post if the mood should strike. Ciao!

Yo! Yo! Yo!

I am back, bitches! It appears another winter weather system, read snow and freezing rain, is headed our way. This is all that the news weathermen have been talking about. "Snowageddon" is what they are saying.

Unfortunately, it may come to pass. Fancy that, a snowstorm in mid to late December in Toronto. Who ever heard of such a thing? Come on people, it is the fucking weather. Deal with it! The only way to deal with it is be prepared and get ready for some shoveling. I do feel bad for anybody who is supposed to fly out of here tomorrow, their plans may be screwed.

I had that happen to me once back in 1990. I was supposed to fly out in the early afternoon on a Thursday in February to Chicago. I got a call from my buddy the night before saying there may be an issue as Chicago got hit with a snowstorm and it was headed to Toronto. It did hit and I spent the day having my flight pushed back and hanging around. The flight was eventually canceled and I got out on delayed flight Friday afternoon.

This did lead to weekend of heavy drinking and frivolity. All I can say is that El Jardin makes awesome fishbowl sized Margaritas. Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but the Well Adjusted Madman left his shrimp fajitas on Belmont Avenue in Chicago. The funniest part is that they had the same texture coming up as they did going down.

After that I was fine and ready to continue the party. The worst part is that because I did not get out on the Thursday, I missed the opportunity to see the Blackhawks play in the old Chicago Stadium against the Toronto Maple Leafs.

That is why you just deal with the weather as you do not control it.

Ciao!

Loots or stool by any other name

I am back. I just noticed something....In our area, there is a store, though it is moving, called "Loots". They sold children's party supplies and held parties in the back (or so they said). They had all kinds of cheap candy and stuff. It was kind of neat, in a bit of a nostalgic sort of way.

I was just looking at the name "LOOTS" and realized that it is "STOOL" spelled backwards. Since they sold, "shit", the name seems rather appropriate.

Just a thought for this Tuesday. Ciao!

Happy Friday, bitches!

I am back. I intended to post yesterday and shit happens so I did not do it. Deal with it, okay?

There is not a lot in the news. I mean you do have a wicked cholera outbreak in Zimbabwe. That only adds to the piss poor economic and political situation they are in. Did you know that inflation was so great there that they had to issue a BILLION dollar bill. Nothing like spending a billion dollars on a loaf of bread, er corn mush. Then again with a billion dollars you could get controlling interest of a car company. Now, that is something to own.

Ahhhhh. I got nothing right now and my mind is wandering incoherently. It will get me to where I need to go but there is no point in me chronicling it all. Going to run. Have a super weekend, bitches. Ciao!

Not sure where this is going

I am back. Bastard Blogger computer glitch would not let me post, when I wanted to post, yesterday. I guess that is okay. I mean there was nothing that I could do about it, so I will get over it. I just hate it when my mind is semi-fertile and I cannot get that "shit" out of my brain. It is now lost....perhaps, forever.

Well, here we have the governor of Illinois looking to "sell" Barack Obama's Senate seat. See, he is still a senator but must give up that position once he takes office on January 20th. That is also why Joe Lieberman returned to the senate after losing as the VP candidate in the 2000 election and John McCain remains a Senator. Once there is a vacancy, which there will be in New York when Hilary Clinton is confirmed as Secretary of State, the governor of the state appoints a person to fill the seat for 2 years. Then there is an election in the normal course of Senate and Congressional (mid-term) elections (in 2010).

Anyway, the Illinois governor has allegedly been caught on tape stating that he is looking to make money from this appointment. Of course, he succeeded a man who is serving time on corruption charges while governor of Illinois. This is also the state that houses Chicago and its old mayor, Daley, who was able to get the dead to vote of John Kennedy in 1960 (which is the reason that Kennedy defeated Nixon, I might add).

It boggles the mind. If the political class, and I use that term loosely, is concerned about a cynical populace, this does not help. In fact, it shows why people really dislike and distrust their political leaders. At a time when doing the right thing should be the rule, here is a dipshit trying to profit from his office at the expense of the people. A king would be better than this dumbfuck (or smart fuck if he got away with it and took the FBI's statements of wiretaps seriously).

It just makes my head spin. There are no accusations of a similar situation in New York, though. Also, Obama had nothing to do with it, though he may have made a recommendation or two. It is a mess within a mess, but at least it is a diversion from the Detroit woes.

Now, what to do about the North American automakers. Bankruptcy for any but Chrysler, could be a disaster with a cascade of shit hitting the parts manufacturers and even hurting Honda and Toyota here as a bankrupt company can "stiff" its creditors (parts manufacturers) who would really feel the pain. Then again, can those who got the companies into this mess be the one's trusted to get them out of it.

There is no easy answer. There is merely lessons that were not learned, obviously. Then again, I am not sure how much help the unions (UAW and CAW) have actually been. They will have to be part of the solution, whatever that is.

Heady issues for somebody like me. One day this will all be over, when that day is I do not know. Ciao!

28 Years Ago Today, John Lennon Died

I am back. It was 28 years ago today, a Monday, at about 11:30pm, that John Lennon was shot and killed in front of The Dakota in New York. It is crazy to think he has been gone for 28 years and that his last album was that half-assed "Double Fantasy" (but you cannot change that).

That was a pretty shocking night. I will tell you that. On a happier note, though, less than a week later, or was it 8 days later, I would lose my virginity. It was careless of me to lose it, though I think that it was lost in the condom. I wanted to fuck, not be a daddy. (That has always been my personal motto--I think I have to get tee shirts printed up with that motto).

Now, because of all this, fucking will always be tied into John Lennon's death for me. I always shed a tear when I cum while fucking. The in-out action reminds me of John Lennon's untimely passing. So there you now know, I cry when I blow my load, but only while fucking.

Chicks have always thought me to be sensitive for that, little do they know. Then again, maybe they think I am gay. Oh well. Please remember to keep the secret. I cannot have my style be cramped.

Just remember that for next time, chicks dig it when you shed a tear when you cum. They think it is about them. Think of John Lennon, shed that tear and you will be a hero. And maybe next time you can give your lady friend the old "Dirty Sanchez".

Ciao!

About Sunny von Bulow and a trip down solipsism lane

I am back. I see that Sunny von Bulow died. She has been in a coma for 28 years. She, or her husband, was the subject of that late 80's movie, "Reversal of Fortune" with Glenn Close and Jeremy Irons. Claus von Bulow, played by Jeremy Irons, is accused of trying to kill his wife, Sunny, by injecting her with insulin. She does not die, but is in a coma (where she obviously remained for 28 years--a good outcome for her, her children and everybody involved, right?).

The part that I found interesting was that since seeing the movie, YEARS AGO, I did not give this woman a single thought. Yet, there she has been for lo' these past 28 years, clinging to her coma. That is commitment. I could never commit to a coma for that long.

The part that I found interesting is that she did not exist, at least in my world or mind, all this time. Yet, she was a real person with a family that had to deal with her being in a coma for 28 years, neither dead nor really alive. That is a pretty sad way to be, though it is not unsimilar to watching FIL progress (regress?) during his Alzheimer's slide.

I am not trying to depress here. In fact, I do not see it as sad, though it is. I see it as one of a myriad of possible outcomes. You get what you get. It has proven true in life and will continue to prove true. The world, or life, may just be series of random events with no driving connection, except YOU, or me. It would depend upon whom is creating and telling the narrative. That is what I find interesting--same series of events but different connection to the events equals a different narrative. It is pretty cool, when I think about it.

Ponder that one for a second and let you mind wander on the magnamity of it all. We all see the same things BUT cannot tell the same story. How cool is that revelation?

Now, the question really is...what good is that knowledge and who really gives a shit?!

So, much for me passing off "highbrow" thought, which really now is big forehead thought. The Lad has the right idea, bangs and do not show that you have a forehead. I was once like that, but it seemed to stop in either the late 80s or early 90s. Either way, things have never been the same. Pity, he will suffer the same fate (thankfully it is superficial, but I am a superficial guy).

It is sort of snowing in these parts today. I did the last of my "fall" raking (though it is still fall until around December 21) today, before the "heavy" stuff started to fall. The backyard is done, which is something that did not occur last year. The snow fell heavy and stayed before I could get around to raking the backyard. That was kind of funny.

Enjoy the weekend, folks. Ciao!

Assault with a Cheeseburger????

I am back. Wanted to shout a belated happy birthday to JLC. There that bit of housekeeping is out of the way.

Just to remind you that we live in an age of stupidity, or maybe it has always been so, a Vero Beach man has been charged with assaulting his girlfriend with a cheeseburger. They had a fight and she threw her McDonald's soda out of the car window and he smashed his cheeseburger in her face, just like Jimmy Cagney did with the grapefruit in some movie (it was a famous scene).
Okay, he also gave her another cheeseburger facewash when they got out of the car.

I hit to giggle, but it is funny in an absurd sort of way. Giving your girlfriend/wife a cheeseburger facewash sounds like a funny thing to do. I know the Wife would not see the humor in it, but it does not mean that it is not funny. Just picture the scene and tell me that it is not funny.

What if it had been a weiner? Does that make it funnier? Or does that become more "porn" like? Then she tries to swallow it whole.....now that is porn like.

Again, this is what happens when you eat McDonald's, just like in Super Size Me, only more "assaulty".

That is it for today. Ciao!

Did Jesus like fish?

I am back. I was driving today when I noticed that the car in front of me had one of those Jesus fish things affixed to the trunk. I have a couple of questions about that.

1. What is the purpose of that? What are you trying to show and why do you feel the need to affix a fish to your car to show it?

2. How did this shit begin? Were pioneers on covered wagons burning fish shapes into the back of their wagons?

3. How does the fish represent Jesus? Why choose the "lowest" of the vertebrae? Why not a Jesus seahorse or squid? That reminds me, I may saute some Jesus calamari for dinner, doesn't that sound scrumptious?

4. How can believe I actually used the word "scrumptious"?

5. If there are plenty of fish in the sea, though obviously not as many cod as there once were, does that mean there are many messiahs (false or not, that is between you and your Lord) in the sea, too?

I did a turn of the Internets for that question. It was all blah, blah, blah. Then I found something interesting. Apparently, the fish symbol has been used for millennia as religious symbol for the Pagan Great Mother Goddess and it is the outline of her vulva. There you have it, if it looks like a fish and smells like a fish, it is obviously the Pagan Great Mother Goddess's pussy.

I am finding it all so confusing. Ciao!

Basketball funnies

I am back. What a weekend that was! A pretty nice Saturday, followed by a Sunday that turned exceedingly grey. As we waited for the winter storm that wasn't, we did get to go out in a bit of a slush storm. Slush was falling from the sky. Fortunately, it was not like the street slush, all brown and dirty. This was fresh slush, without the added benefit of added street crap. It was pristine slush, that felt great landing on my head and slowly melting, causing a cold water drip to run down my back.

There is nothing better in a time of uncertain weather to add cold to the mix. This leaves us with "do we get rain, snow or something that runs in between or changes from rain to snow"? All I know is that it will be whatever is the least wanted.

The Lad's basketball game on Saturday was interesting. We should have won, but we we only had 7 players. The triple shifting was getting to our players. Besides, we could not "hide" some of the weaker players with only seven. We blew a big lead but managed a tie.

The Lad played pretty well. He did his rebounding thing and scored a couple of baskets. The refs were inconsistent and that was driving me crazy. One was making calls and the other was useless. There were double and triple teams not called. The Lad got smacked a few times while shooting with no call being made.

The Lad did exact a measure of revenge. He creamed one of their players while shooting, sending him crashing into a row of benches. He was so proud of himself. Sadly, I was as well. He shed his passive nature and showed some good aggression. Now, if he will continue that bit of nastiness in his play, time will tell. I am trying to get him to play that way, though. He does not have to put up with the abuse under the boards. If he has to take it, he may as well dish some out as well.

We will see how we do when we have a full team on Saturday. I think 8 to 10 players is ideal. 10 gives us two "lines" that can be made pretty even. 8 and 9 allow us to double shift the better players, so that works for me. 11 is a pain because we have to double shift players off and I do not like to do that with our better players. What can you do?

I do have to speak with the convener regarding what constitutes a double team. I had words with the better of the two refs from the last game. Keep in mind that they are high school students, so there was no yelling on my part. My mediation/negotiation skills really do come in handy. I maintain my composure and listen. Anyway, he explained his interpretation of the rule and I had to disagree on part of it (as I said it, I realized he was the dude with the whistle, so my opinion did not matter and I said that--he smiled and agreed). I need to have that clarified so I understand and then impress upon him to tell his refs how to call it.

Well, that is about all for me today. Ciao!

The Lad and Basketball

I am back. Just thought that I would say "hello" as we head off into another weekend. I have a basketball coaching (actually, ass. coaching) gig tomorrow. I find myself to be excited by watching our team, especially the Lad, play. We have some good kids and some "dead" weight, but that is house league.

The Lad really seems to enjoy it and being the tallest is learning how to play "big". He does have to learn to use his size to his advantage in some situations. He needs to recognize when he is being covered by a smaller player to get that player on his back, seal him off, and use the clean lane to the basket he created. That will come.

He is the teams rebounding champ and does score his share of baskets, which is always nice, for him and the team. They are 2-3, which I blame on the coaching. Actually, the juggling of the lines is a challenge when we have 11 players show up, like last week. That means a game of double shifting players off. Eventually, we run out of lesser players to double off and have to start doubling off the better players, which includes the Lad.

I am really pleased he is enjoying playing at a more competitive level, like he does with baseball. The next step may be stepping up the committment to a Select level team in both sports. In fact, he chose his overnight camp on the basis of the fact that they have baseball and basketball teams so that he can try out and play. I hope that he makes both of the teams.

Well, enough about the Lad. Go have yourselves a great weekend! Ciao!

A gross Turkey Day post

I am back. I am glad that the title got your attention. It will be gross, I promise. First things first, though. A very happy Thanksgiving to all of my American friends and those who I am not friends with, except for that dude in Pensacola (he knows who he is), he can continue to go fuck himself. Fucking asshole!

Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let me begin with the unpleasantness. Believe me, I toyed with writing about this as I think it is truly sick, but it is true and real. Remember, reality is sometimes a sick, dirty and gross thing. It is kind of like child birth. I am telling you, that it is pretty gross (unless you are one of those "earthy, hippie-types" who does not believe in bathing and enjoy basting in your own "natural" juices--I do not roll that way).

The Wife likes beets. I am kind of on the fence with them (along with Brussels sprouts). She makes them well, in that she roasts them, which enhances their sweetness (and their earthiness, there is that "earthy" word again, as well). She made beets on Tuesday evening before I played basketball. If you know anything about beets, it is that they are stains waiting to happen.

The Lad eats a beet and his tongue is a bright red. I can only assume it was the beets and not like that before, but I am not sure. After playing basketball, I come home and take a shower. I take a piss, really I left it since I was not taking it anywhere, and it has a reddish tint to it. Odd, but not that odd.

The next morning, I go for my daily (or twice daily or more) dump. I have to tell you that I do not know from constipation. I am beyond regular. Apparently, the Lad and my two youngest nephews take after me. My brother may as well, too, but this is one of those things I do not discuss. I just write this shit, ooops, perhaps not the best choice of words (or maybe it was). Anyway, I do my business and look in the bowl. The water, in the midst of the mess, is all red!

What the fuck!??? Has my colon exploded? I would hope if that were the case, I would feel something amiss in my gut (or butt). Nothing. Then, I recall the beets from about 12 hours earlier. So obviously the beet pigment, that red, just passes right through me (I can only surmise that it would do the same with all of you out there in the ethers). Damn.

The last time I recall something like that was back in the mid-90s. Two things, a cereal called Kaboom (it was General Mills cereal in the same vein as Count Chocula, Franken Berry and Boo Berry, never a fan of the simulated fruit flavors, though I do LOVE Count Chocula--his cereal is pretty good, too) and some drink with skeletons and bizarre ingredients did a similar turn to me. The Kaboom, like the good count, had the same cereal pellets, for lack of a better word, and dessicated mini-marshmallows. Instead of being brown (Count Chocula), pink (Franken Berry) or light blue (Boo Berry), Kaboom was blue with yellow and green flecks. I would eat it and my dumps would be decidedly blue.

The drink, Skeleteens, was purchased on the basis of the bottle (skeletons) and my love for all things "bones", so I chose the blue one. My piss was blue, too, afterwards. The shot of ginseng in it was what got me. It was like an "energy" drink, like Red Bull, before the category exploded (thank you Starbucks for the hyper-caffeinated society we have became and the Crash it has inevitably caused, that my dear friends is a story for another day).

Anyway, enough of the scatological post. I did tell you it was a gross Turkey Day post, though. Enjoy your meal, now, but for fuck's sake, wash your hands first. I mean, go now, wash those hands!

Ciao!

Happy B-day, bro!

I am back. I will make this a short post. I want to wish my brother a very happy birthday. As I said to him, 28 years ago, you were only 10. There is truth in that for everybody, or everybody born on November 25, 1970.

That is all I have for today. Ciao!

The Vatican Forgives--show us how it is done!

I am back. I just read that the Vatican has forgiven John Lennon for his remark in 1966 that the "Beatles were bigger than Jesus". It was a statement designed to show that at that present time the hype the Beatles were receiving was greater than any hype Jesus was getting. (It was hard to beat Jesus' marketing machine, even back in the mid-1960s).

As I see it, it was a pretty innocuous statement. As he tried to explain, "I said the Beatles were bigger than Jesus. I didn't say we were better than Jesus. I was just saying." John Lennon was merely pointing out that the Beatles were a popculture phenomenon at that moment in time. The only thing "bigger" was probably Jesus and the Catholic Church, via the Vatican, were all over that shit.

Well, it is good to know that a good 42 years after the fact, they can forgive. Funny, an organization that PREACHES the teachings of Jesus, such as "turn the other cheek", took 42 years to forgive a statement that was factually true and really had its value misascribed.

Of course, this official act of forgiveness comes a good 28 years after John Lennon's death, so fat lot of fucking good it does him (or would have done him). Maybe, Mark David Chapman was an assassin sent by the Vatican to exact revenge for the statement. Of course, all the little altar boys diddled by priests since 1966 may be considered as revenge for the statement.

That may be some twisted Vatican logic, but they can do it.

On the same topic (the Vatican), I caught some comedian doing his bit the other night. He was funny. He was going to fuck with the Jews, but there was not much there. They are not everywhere trying to convert people or knocking on your door with religious pamphlets. His best line was about the "Pope being a Nazi". It did not concern him as Nazism lasted all of a decade or so, but the Catholic Church has endured for centuries of violence, killing in the name of Jesus and land, and fucking altar boys. "If you told me that the Nazi was a former Pope, then I would be scared."

Well, now that I have offended the Vatican, I guess I could expect my apology in what, 2050 or so, just in time for the nurse to change my diaper, which assumes that I am not pushing up the daisies before that time (rest assured that if I am, I will have taken out at least one or two you beforehand).

I hope it has been a happy Monday. Ciao!

Happy Anniversary to Me, er Us

I am back. I am interrupting this "normal" post to prattle on about something, an event, in my life. Today is the day that my girlfriend became the Wife. Yup, it is my 15th anniversary today.

I cannot believe 15 fucking years have passed.....and the Blue Jays have not been to the playoffs, let alone won a World Series since.....the Maple Leafs have not won a Stanley Cup (though to be quite honest, they had none won in the 25 years before I got married, but I am just saying)......the Raptors did not exist at that moment in time, so it is business as usual for them.....Kurt Cobain, Diana Princess of Wales, Barry White, Luthor Vandros, Paul Newman, and some other folks have died.

In fact, in that time, we have "lost" my grandmother, my mother-in-law, father-in-law, my aunt and other family and family friends. I know that seems rather careless, and I guess at some level it was, but they have gone on to the great beyond. To temper that there have been many births, our child, The Lad, friends' children and the offspring of my siblings and siblings in law, those are rather positive.

I was looking at our wedding album (I was jealous of how much hair I had and it was not grey) and had to note the number of couples (our friends) who were not together. It was astounding. I think the number of couples who have divorced exceeded the number of couples who have remained together. The most interesting tidbit, is that one of the couples that is still together, had been dating/living together but got married (a surprise wedding as my friend and his girlfriend had their first baby--something that he said he was never going to do, and it was their baby naming ceremony/party) in 2007.

That is all that want to say other than this goes out to the Wife..Happy 15th Anniversary and here is to another 15 (I figure I can mentally manage a series of 15 years).

Ciao!

Nebraska--corn and abandoned children, that is a combo

I am back. It is good to be back, too. It is just good to be.....It does beat the alternative, not being. My hair is feeling kind of funny today. I cannot figure that one out.

I was reading about a Nebraska law that allows parents to "abandon" their children at a state hospital without prosecution. The intent of the law is good, to prevent abuse of children by parents unable or unwilling to care for them. Unfortunately, the law of unintended consequences has kicked. Parents are dumping their kids at these hospitals at unprecedented rates. Children as old as 17 or 18. One woman took her 18 year old and dumped her because she could not handle her "behavioral" issues.

The worst of it is that a 34 year old dude dropped off 9 of his 10 children. He was raising them on his own after his wife died of a brain hemorrhage. Well, after shooting out 10 babies, it was either her brain exploding/hemorrhaging or her pussy just falling out, too. In fact, I would think you could have parked the Buick in her cunt after baby number 6. My question is, and realize I can empathize with this man's situation, I mean that has to be tough, but what the fuck are you doing having 10 children?!!! Where is the level of personal responsibility?

Is this some religious thing, not using birth control? I have no problem with this dude and his dead wife (before she was dead) getting "their freak on" AND use some birth control (put a rubber band around your dick, I do not care). You figured the good Lord told you to have all these children, is it the good Lord's duty to raise them, too? What the fuck is wrong in this world?!!!!!

I just do not get it. Am I so out of touch? What color is the fucking sky on their home planet because it cannot be blue.

Well, I have to run. The Lad and I are going on a Nebraska road trip before the offer gets pulled.

Ciao!

A stroll down memory lane

I am back. It was a wonderous weekend. There was the cold rain on Saturday and the even colder, but sunnier, Sunday. It must be November. US Thanksgiving is upon us, as is my brother's birthday and my anniversary (my mother's birthday passed)(why did you all not chip in and get her a gift? I know she was disappointed, though I am not to sure who "appointed" her.).

While I am here, I must mark something "important" in my life. Well, as the years pass, it does lose that sense of importance, even still. Tomorrow, November 18th, is the 30th anniversay of me getting my hair permed.

Stop the laughter. I was in grade 9. Now, when I had my full head of hair, it was pencil straight and fine in texture (my father's was baby fine, you could have run those lice combs through our hair, preferably free of lice nits, and there would be no pulling or tugging or screaming. I did not need that "No More Tangles" shit as my hair just did not tangle.

Anyway, everytime I got my haircut (it was like a bowl cut or Prince Valiant cut, how attractive, with the cheesy 14 year old moustache (I was 14, the moustache was not that old) and braces) the dude kept mentioning a perm or body perm. I finally relented and November 18, 1978, was the day. I got home and did not recognize myself. I tried to wash my hair a number of times to get rid of the smell of the perm solution. It smelled like I was farting....after I had eaten rotting mice.

Anyway, that night, it was a Saturday, I went to my buddy's house, on the way to another friend's house. I get to Neil's and he falls on the floor laughing. We get to the other Neil's and he does a double take. I am immediately taken downstairs to show his brother, 3 years older and with a perm himself. We compare notes and tug at each other's hair. This was the night when Carrie Fisher hosted SNL and the Blues Brothers were the musical guests, by the way (how is that for a freakish memory).

It was earlier that day, as I was walking home from the bus stop, that my mother drove right by me. Either she did not recognize me or she was completely stunned out. The jury is still out on that one as to which is the true answer.

I get to school on the Monday, and my teachers do not recognize me. It is freaking them out. It was a point of conversation that when my brother got to grade 7 and had the same gym teacher that I had (which was a good 4 years later--1982), he was asked if he was going to get a perm like his brother. The funniest part is that a good friend of mine, with very curly hair, had that very weekend, began fluffing his hair. So you had two skinny, white dudes with afros or the white kid equivalents. We looked like two used Q-Tips (both of us had brown hair, now he has less than I as he shaves his head, but even still I "out hair" him).

To this day, I still wonder about why I did it. We would have our school photos done soon after, so there I was with curly hair, braces and cheesy moustache for all the world to see. The best part is there are small copies of that year's school pictures that my grandmother had in a small, lucite frame. When she died, my mother put frame in her front hall.

Now, the Lad and his cousins, get to see me in all my former glory. The best part is that they all cannot believe that it was my real hair. It is made harder for them to grasp since my mother has an afro wig, so they think that I was wearing that. They cannot think back 30 years. Dumb kids. Or was I the dumb kid?

Enough about me...ciao!

Aren;t you sorry you showed up this time?

I am back. See, two days in a row with a post, I must truly be back. It is hard to say.

I have a coaching gig tomorrow. The Lad is playing. He is a good player, doing the little things. He sets picks, without knowing he is doing it, plays defence and rebounds. It is even better when he scores. He is a good player and can only get better.

I am going to chill this weekend. Have some fun y'all. Ciao!

Man, this was short and useless, but I have spent the day putting together some furniture for my brother in law, so that may, or may not, explain things.

I am back

I am back. Forgive me people for I have not posted in over 2 weeks. It was a vacation of sorts. I did not have it in me to write nor did I feel like I had the time. That, my friends, is a dangerous combination--lack of desire and time. I believe that both are back now.

I do have to go on about the old Nazi, er Austrian, dude who kept his daughter as a sex slave in the basement and fathered her 7 children. I did write about him when he was arrested. He started doing his daughter in 1984, when she was 18. At least, he was not a pedophile (I am not sure that he will be getting a better seat in hell with that one, but you never know).

Anyway, he has been charged with murder in the death of his son. This is a son, his daughter bore, who died as an infant in 1996. Now, and here is where I need to map it all out on a whiteboard, is he being charged as the father for "killing" his son, or did he do it in the capacity of being the boy's grandfather. I am so fucking confused and it will not bring little baby Fritz back to life, but I just have to know.

The whole thing actually turns my stomach, yet I can see humor, because it was not me.

That is all for today, a little lighthearted thought on a very sick situation. Ciao!

Heavy is the heart

I am back. I am saddened to report that FIL has died. He slipped off his mortal coil early this morning. Funeral arrangements have been made for tomorrow at 2pm. Again, you cannot have a funeral without "fun".

At last he is at peace and the Wife can grieve his loss, and more importantly, grieve the loss of MIL, her mother, without having to worry about FIL and witnessing his declining health (I would add mental state, but I am not sure about his baseline for that, so I am not sure if it was a steep decline or rather shallow--I am not nice, just honest, and does not change the fondness I had for the man).

He could not, or perhaps I would not allow him to, be a father figure to me. I had only one of those and refused to "replace" him. He did not offer much in the way of guidance and that was okay. I am not sure that I could have accepted his guidance, being that he never appeared to be quite "here" (or "there" as the case may be). That was who he was and how he was raised.

He was a man of simple tastes. Actually, in some way he lacked taste. He was not garish or tacky, he just could not pass up the lure of quantity. He liked The Sizzler, it was crap food but you got a lot of it. That made it good value. Good value of crap, but still good value.

I will miss the man and the man disappeared long before MIL passed away. He was a very sociable man, though. He loved to have people he knew around him. He would revel in their presence and conversation. At the lunch, after the unveiling for MIL, though he obviously did not recognize everybody or even know why they were there, his face beamed with joy. Joy of the moment and being with those he knew. It was the social-him.

He was not a brooder, unlike me. That was a good thing. Unfortunately, as his disease progressed and the kidneys were in failure, the heart in failure....fuck all his organs were failing, of course not in any coordinated manner, which was par for the course.

He had decided he had enough and stopped eating. He made a choice, or something that seemed to be a choice. Good for him on that one.

Harry, this post is for you. Perhaps, I will delve deeper into the man (which does not sound good, so deal with it) at a later date. Suffice to say, he will be missed, though he was already missed due to the dementia.

Ciao!

Why should he suffer?

I am back. This is another sad post. I am living with a sad woman. She is right to be sad. FIL is slowly shuffling off his mortal coil, as it were. Today, they will remove the IV and move him from the hospital, where he has been for the past two plus weeks, back to his room with palliative care.

My sister in law came in for the weekend, her second trip in during the month of October, but she leaves later today, after they move FIL back to his room. The leaves the Wife and her brother, which really leave just the Wife, to witness the continued physical decline, the mental decline really cannot go any further to tell the truth.

She is upset that she is "killing" her father and that she has to go through this "alone" again. It is different from MIL as with FIL there is no shock. This is the inevitable course of his disease. Removing the IV, which irritates him and stopping the blood work, so taking him off his blood thinning medication, will have repercussions. They are just unknown.

The real fact is this, to what end are they continuing to do what is necessary to keep him alive. That is the true question. He will not get "better". He will not be able to function physically, as he has not walked since December. The legs have atrophied and become rigid. This will not improve. His kidneys continue to shut down as will his other organs. Again, to keep him alive, is just keeping a "blob" alive, there is no spark of life in there anymore.

That is the sad thing. The Wife does not want to let him go, or at least if he is pain. He cannot tell you if he is in pain. That leaves her assuming everything. Not necessarily a problem, unless, and here is the reality, you take your assumptions for fact and leave things at that. The Wife does that, so that her assumptions are held as true despite the loads of objective evidence to the contrary.

I am thinking that today is the beginning of the end, or the beginning of the beginning. I do not want FIL to die or suffer, neither does the Wife. I am willing to let nature run its course. I understand her conflict as it is her father and her last real connection to her past/youth. I really do try to be understanding and supportive and she really has to stop trying to fight that which she cannot control and the inevitable outcome. FIL is dying and there is nothing that can be done to stop that. Why should he suffer?

Ciao!

Arggghh!!

I am back. As we end the holiday season, a shout out to my Tribal friends. Shana Tova, bitches!

With that out of the way, I really do not have much to say today. Busy, but at what? The Lad is away, and has been since Monday, on a school trip. He returns tomorrow. The house is not the same without him. It is more quiet and that is not necessarily a good thing.

FIL is not well. He is in his death throws. He, apparently, has become more combative of late (that is when he is awake, which is rare). It has taken him this long to get a pair of stones and do something for himself. He has taken to not eating. It is the only way he could end things.

The funniest part is him asking, keep in mind he has dementia and he was always pretty much clueless (as long as I had known him) to be "killed". That is the sad part. The funny part, and I guess funny is a matter of opinion here, is that he wanted his life to end, pretty much as it was lived, by having somebody else provide that for him.

His mother did his cooking, cleaning and laundry and MIL did the same. She may have provided some sex...which is an image I am trying to avoid seeing, so my eyes will stay permanently open. There is a sight I would not want to have seen. Then again, I can handle the fact that I never walked in on my parents having sex. That would have ruined me.

Which leads to the question...if you did not witness that, then what did damage you, er me? That, my friends, is a story for another day. Suffice it to say, we are back on the emotional roller coaster and the Wife is steering, with her eyes closed. What fun!

I think my sister in law is coming back again this weekend. Fuck, that will be fun.....not! She was just here, but with FIL like he is, she feels the need to make an appearance, unlike when her mother died. She seemed to avoid that one and being in for that event.

I say we have to take each day as it comes. That is my philosophy. Or not. Gotta run. Ciao!

More of my take on the economy and markets

I am back. Man, my posting frequency has been bad. Oh well. I have been watching the fun in the markets and economy. The Dow and TSX were up big time today. It seems Ben Bernanke, Helicopter Ben, is all for a stimulus package, increasing spending, out of Washington.

Now, I am left with two thoughts...where, pray tell, are they going to find the money for such a stimulus package? They have $700 billion, to be borrowed, to pay for the financial system bailout. That is on top of the $85 billion and other billions they had to put up for to bailout AIG and lest we forget the billions spent on backstopping Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (I was and am in favor of that one, as their bonds were bought by foreigners because of the implied assumption that the US Government would backstop that debt).

On top of that, W decided to fight a long term war AND CUT TAXES!!!!!! That is right folks, you can go to war, or at least send YOUR troops off to war and not have to make any sacrifices at home. It can be done....or can it? If this is indeed a WAR on Terror, then shouldn't the citizens of the country that has declared this "war" be making sacrifices for a victory? It seems to me the only sacrifice is one of freedom/liberty within their nation and hours at the airport so that they can make me take off my shoes (and not even have the courtesy to give me foot massage while they are down there checking for explosives) or get rid of the toothpaste in my carry-on. I guess having to live in confined space with my "stink breath" is sacrifice enough. Whoopee, the war is won!

Now, Helicopter Ben is all for stimulus. Where is this money coming from? Oh yeah, he runs the printing press. Print more money, that must be the answer. I guess it is, if the question is "how do we create some great inflationary pressures and make the dollar worthless?" How do you beggar a nation in a few easy steps.....thank you US Congress and President Bush for fine stewardship of the economy.

It is one thing to do nothing and let the market sort things out, for better or worse. It is quite another to see the fire and add more fuel, but do nothing to stop the fucking thing. Now, the cure is far more painful than the disease. All in the name of trying to avoid the necessary pain of a recession. Pussies...all of them!

So, the easy money spigots are turned on yet again. Was this not the problem in the first place? I think that it was. All that credit, all that leverage, all that inevitable and painful de-leveraging and they are adding more credit and creating more dollars which will fuel inflation. Great planning, there.

That is the whole point. Who the fuck is the Fed to "plan" what the proper level of interest is? They are not smarter than the combined knowledge of all those in the market. This has been the fallacy in the US, especially, the Fed, or somebody will bail them out of their mistakes.

You can bail out stupidity. Eventually, you have to let the stupid lick the cold fence post, get stuck and freeze to death. It is nature's way to make sure those stupid genes are not passed on to the next generation. It could be the reason why my brother in law has never married and has no children (actually, that is more a thought on salvation than anything else).

In any event, and not to depress anybody, but we do live in interesting times and that is something to be thankful for. Time to get back on the roller coaster.

Okay, time to go catch Prison Break and Hereos. Got to love Mondays these days. Ciao!

It has been a while

I am back. It has been over a week, 9 days to be exact, since I last posted. I am sure the holidays played a role. To all of my "luntzmen" out there, shana tovah, bitches.

Now on to some sadder news. It appears that FIL is on the "outs". He is/has not been eating and lost about 9 pounds. He also was not drinking. His kidneys are failing, though that has been going on for well over a year. The Wife tells me that he is muttering gibberish, but he has been doing that for well over 10 years now, so that is indicative of nothing.

He has been moved to the hospital and is about to be moved to a "step down" unit from the intensive care he is in. Oh yeah, he is also having congestive heart failure, but that is nothing new as well. That was usually a spring time hospital stay with that....of course, he would come out and tell people he had ptomaine poisoning (well, it happened once and I was unfortunate enough to hear that.....had to scream WHAT THE FUCK!.....the man took NO responsibility for his own health or care. Now, we have a shell of a man, a mere infant, who cannot describe what ails him or what he feels.

It is sad and hard to find any meaning in it. It is there, at least relative to what could be and what has been, and it is still hard. Again, the siblings have not picked up the slack so the Wife bears the brunt of the physical and emotional work regarding his care. This means the Lad and myself have to deal with an overly emotional, irrational woman. Sadly, that is not much different than it was 18 months ago. Ahhh, that is my cross to bear.

Other than that, the holidays were okay. The long weekend, notwithstanding the Wife spending a lot of time with her father, was okay, too. Great weather around these parts.

I will tell you all about a great concert I saw last week. I saw Pinback. Who? They are an independent band out of Denver and now, San Diego (I think). It was in a small venue and fantastic eventhough the lead singer had a wicked cold. It was a fun time had by the 300 or so who were there. I thought I was getting too old for such things. I was wrong.

Going to run now, be back soon. Ciao!

600 leads to recession

I am back. This is post number 601 for those keeping score. By the way, if you are keeping score, then I would look in the dictionary if I were you. You picture will be filed under "loser". Of course, that is me. Even I did notice that my Saturday post was the big number 600.

600 only has some "special" meaning because we live in a base 10 world. It would have meaning in a base 12 world, it would have meaning, too. Other than that, it really is an arbitrary number. That is all that I have to say about that.

Anybody watching the stock market? Man, that is some carnage. I am itching to return. I can smell bargains. If it is good enough for Warren Buffet, it is good enough for me. General Electric....looking cheap. Goldman Sachs, too. I still think things will go down some more from here, but there are a lot of people who have never seen a bear market, let alone a "real" recession. Most of the people working Wall Street were not working the street during the Crash of '87. That was brutal.

Then again, things climbed from there until the Savings and Loan Crisis and a relatively mild recession. What you see now is the result of government intervention, read the Federal Reserve allowing easy money, to avoid a recession. It is the old story of not being able to see the cycle for what it is. Recessions, though painful, are necessary to clear the excesses of expansions. Trees do not grow straight to the sky and neither do economies (GDP) and stock prices. They grow, consolidate, grow, shrink a bit, grow some more. The law of unintended consequences is a bitch. That is what must live through, now, all because, it was thought that the Nanny State would protect us.

That is correct. You put your faith in the same entity that could not deliver the mail...and your address was on it (thank you, PJ O'Rourke for that wonderful line....read "Parliament of Whores" you will thank me). This is very funny as I just opened an email from my uncle which quotes many on the evils of government. This whole situation is another.

I mean, how the fuck to do you go to war and not have your citizens sacrifice for it, read pay for it through higher taxes? I do not get it. They, my American friends, go to war in Iraq (and Afghanistan, too) but buy the bullshit about not having to sacrifice, read higher taxes. They blow a hole in their budget, then look for somebody, other than themselves, to blame. Folks, you got yourself into this mess by sticking your heads in the sand and not asking the hard and tough questions, such as what is the cost? who will pay? when will it be paid?

Now, it is bail out nation. How sad? Any moral suasion that they had is shot to shit. All that there is now just a big military machine, but no way to pay the bills, save for printing more money, which makes it all worth less (we call that inflation and it is a monetary phenomenon). Gold is where it is at. With a fiat currency, all roads lead to inflation (thank you, William Fleckenstein for that gem). That is where we and they are at.

It is now time to take some awful medicine. The medicine would have been bad earlier, but is much worse now. Too many people will be hurt and some are deserving and some are rather innocent. That is life.

Well, I have no where to go right now and to think all of this started with me musing about 600. Ciao!

The Juice has a Bar Mitzvah

I am back. It is a special Saturday edition. This tidbit is so delightful in its ironic dating that I had to comment.

O.J. Simpson, I know he is so '90s, was convicted of armed robbery and kidnapping in Las Vegas. He could face life in prison, for something relatively minor considering he got away with a double homicide. The date of the conviction was 13 years to the day of the date of his acquittal for the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. Now, isn't that delicious.

I guess his search for the "real" killer(s) is about to get that much slower. Quite the "cold case" there.

Poor OJ, nobody to blame but himself and Lance Ito. No Johnny Cochrane to save his ass this time. I just wonder if his past, the one he has not paid for, will be a factor (it is only human) in his sentencing for his present predicament. It is all too funny for me (in an ironic way).

I mean the man ruined an evening of NBA Finals basketball for me with his stupid low speed chase. Where is Al Cowlings now? Just wondering. Then there was the non-stop coverage of his trial, lives ruined, careers made (where are prosecutors Marcia Clark and Darden (do not recall his first name) now?) but all with no justice or truth. Somehow, that was missed by that circus.

It is over now and now the Juice gets nailed, thinking himself immune from the law since he did prove that a black can kill two white folks, brutally I might add, and walk away a free man, for an armed robbery to "get his stuff" back. What a dipshit!

Have a great weekend one and all. I have broken down and put the heat on. What is this world coming to when I actually put on my heat in October? Fucking global warming?!!!!!

Ciao!

More on the squirrels

I am back. Anybody know of anybody who has a thing for squirrels? I mean, anybody know anybody who enjoys fucking squirrels, especially to death (the death of the squirrel preferably, but I can live with the alternative)? I have a job, or is that a mission of mercy, for that person.

Yup, that is right. I am still on that anti-squirrel tirade. It is made all the worse as the fuckers have gnawed through another plastic garbage bin and the one I was using to cover it. Fuck them, is what I say. They can all go die and take their nests of garbage with them. Fucking morons.

I would fuck them myself, but as I think about it I would rather do the fat chick. You know the one, all lubed up, like a grease gun, but nobody willing to roll her in flour to find the wet spot. I would choose her over fucking a squirrel. Then again, I am sure that a squirrel could not crush me in her thighs, so there is some risk involved.

I am pretty sure that woman on top would be out of the question. The thought of being suffocated in some excess rolls of skin really does freak me out. I am fucking freaking out now, man. It is all the fault of the squirrels.

That is it, I am getting me a shot gun and going squirrel hunting. Who is with me?

Let's go get 'em! Ciao!

New beginnings

I am back. New year, time for new beginnings. That is what I say. So I can take this time to wipe the slate clean and begin the year fresh. I like that feeling.

It has also been 18 years since my father died. New beginning.

Life is full of those things. Where you can only see an ending, look a bit differently, and there is new beginnnig.

So it is with the stock and financial markets, things are ending and there will be a new beginning.

Sorry for the more refelctive post, but this is a time of new beginnings. I intend to take advantage of this....new beginning.

Of course, check back with me in month to see if I have actually seized the opportunity. That is a story for antother day.

Ciao!

Gay Aiken

I am back. In the week's biggest shocking, most mind-boggling turn of events....Clay Akin is gay. What the fuck!???? He was the epitome of heterosexual manliness to me. Say it ain't so.

Or should I say...dude, what the fuck took you so long to actually come out and say. I mean he lived it. He is Gay Aiken.

I do not care. But let's get real. It was apparent during his American Idol run that he was gay. Big fucking deal. I mean nobody was asking him to hit the high note with a dick in his mouth, though that would be some kind of talent. Of course, that would probably make him a star of gay porn, but what do I know from gay porn?

Now, that the shock has worn off...who the fuck cares? It is like Lance Bass coming out. There is a gay, er guy, who constantly has the "bunny in the headlights look". He has the look like he has not a thought running through his head....which may be true. But he is glad to be gay. And I am glad for him, and Clay. Be true to who you are but cut the shit and say you are gay, it is not like you were hiding anything.....from anybody but your grandmother and even she knew...she was just trying to humor you.

I mean, bringing home sailors to spend the night, what other conclusions can be drawn? Well, tell me smart guy? I thought so.

Now, that we all know Clay Aiken is gay, we can all sleep soundly (knowing that he likes nestling a dick in his mouth) and he is not afraid to tell his new baby (conceived with a turkey baster).

Have a great weekend one and all. Ciao!

4 simple words

I am back. Four simple words....I HATE FUCKING SQUIRRELS!

You can take that any way you want. Then again, not having ever had sex with a squirrel, I cannot say for sure that I hate fucking them. They may be soft and warm for all I know. They may actually be the best lay possible. In fact, I bet if you tape up their mouths, then fuck them, they may even explode....now that would be cool!

Then again, it may be like shooting your load right through one. That could be cool. Or it could be a real mess.

Would you have to use lube? Should you use lube? Then again, who wants to rub their penis raw on a, or in a, squirrel? Any hillybillies out there? Then again, if there were, could they actually read and comprehend this?

I am just full of questions here.

I have not literally ever fucked a squirrel, but I do like to consider myself open minded, so I would not put it past me. It is really far down on the old "to do" list, however. I think I want to fly into space well before I even attempt to fuck a squirrel. It is just that I hate fucking squirrels.

I do not see a purpose to those bushy tailed rats. Fuck them all I say. If by fucking them, they die and I do not have to deal with them, then maybe I need to enlist David Duchovny's help in fucking the squirrels and ridding them from my life forever.

I can handle the raccoons as they are clever and learn. Squirrels are just dumb and deserve to die by having some anonymous dude stick poke them with his dick. It is a scary visual that I am getting. I hope you are getting it as well. Then again, this method of pest control would make the parks unplayable...and rather sticky, then crusty. Not good for anybody, well, except for the squirrel fucker.

I guess I should have opened with I do not like squirrels, but I hate fucking squirrels really says it all, maybe, too much.

Chew on that one for a while. Ciao!

The best is yet to come

I am back. I do have things to say but little time right now to do it. I must entertain my brother in law and his girlfriend. I will have to dumb down the conversation, not that it matters because the "listening" gene missed his family. What is the point?

So as I must be on my merry, not so merry, really, way, I wish you all a wonderful last weekend of summer.

Ciao!

Wipeout!

I am back. Had some technical issues with my last post, so I am pissed about that. I may to try to recreate that post later.

Anybody watch that show on ABC called "Wipeout". I must be a sucker for bad television, but this is really bad. It is based on a Japanese game show and much like that Japanese show, dubbed into English, run on Spike called Most Extreme Challenge. This is where contestants go through this obstacle course and have the announcer actually make fun of them.

In Wipeout, the goal is to have the fastest time in the final challenge, after getting through 2 other challenges. The obstacles included water and running across 4 big balls. The best part is the wall where random boxing gloves punch out at the contestants. They get hit and fall into a pit of mud.

The part that I find funny is that I do find it entertaining when people get hurt. This is made all the worse for me as this is.....the goal of the show is this...we will knock the ever loving crap out of you and make snide remarks throughout. For this, you have the chance to win $50,000. For the CHANCE to receive $50K, you can debase yourself. Now, that is a show.

Of course, listening to the large African American woman cry for Jesus after getting hit and falling into to the mud was priceless. Actually, her inability to get out of the mud, still calling for Jesus, was hilarious. It was getting to be pretty obvious that Jesus does not help those who would put themselves through this abuse (I am not complaining about the physical challenge, that is pretty cool) for money. I think Jesus takes his break at that point. Either that, or he is watching and laughing his ass off.

Ciao!

More blah blah blah

I am back. Not much to say but thought I would stop by. Hoping that would inspire me or at least get me to remember things that I thought were funny. Just not the case.

Let's see....elections in both Canada and the US. Should be interesting, if it were not so predictable. I do love it up here, though. The damn Liberals using the same old refrain...Harper's "hidden agenda". If it is "hidden" as they say, how the fuck do they know about it? They, the Liberals, did not know about the graft going under their watch, but they know about Harper's hidden agenda. That one is rich.

Hurricane Ike is getting set, after knocking the shit out of Cuba and Haiti, to hit the Texas Gulf Coast. That Ike is a bastard. Did I ever tell you about my old friend Ike? I was friends with him for many years...he came to my wedding. In fact, he and his then girlfriend had a baby last year. I was invited to the baby naming, which was nice. With MIL ill, I took the Lad as my "date". Wouldn't you know it, Ike had the baby naming turned into a wedding. It was lovely, but we did not have a gift for the bride, just the baby. Oh well!

That is pretty much all that I can think of right now. I think I need sleep. I have been up since five, though I did not get out of bed until six. What was the point? I may have to start writing then. Maybe I can get better thought flow.

Ciao!

A bit of a "Fucking" story

I am so back. My uncle sent me an email with some comments and an article in the British press. Apparently, in Austria, near Salzburg, is a town called "Fucking". Apparently, British tourists come with socket wrenches and cameras to steal the "Fucking" signs and the Nazi, er Austrian cops are none too pleased.

They will tell you that the Germans do not steal the "Fucking" signs. Nor do the Americans. The Americans are all pansy assed about living the Sound of Music dream by running through the hills near Salzburg....instead of fucking around with "Fucking" signs.

Perhaps, it is just that the English like a good "Fucking". I mean, who can blame them. There are many times in a day, most of it actually, where I think that I would rather be Fucking.

Now, for a moment, picture yourself living in a town called Fucking. Would that make you a Fucker? The town matriarch would have to be known as Mother Fucker, would she not? Hear the town cry..."Fucking is the best!" How true it is (then again, a good blow job is always nice and to quote the late Richard Jeni...a blow job is the best. It is sex without work.)

Picture living in town. You are the Fucking doctor or the Fucking lawyer or Fucking garbageman. Whatever you do the best adjective to describe it is...."Fucking". How cool is that?

It is pretty cool and funny as I do not fucking live there and have to hear about it.

Ciao! Have a Fucking nice day!

Where are they now?

I am back. I was all excited about an idea I had. It is a game. I will mention a name and I expect somebody, anybody, to tell me "where are they now?". So I will dredge up a name and you tell me where they are now.

1. Irv Powell

2. Doug Queen (and his identical twin brother, too)

3. Martin Katzman

4. George Kubes

5. Madame X

6. A-Ha

7. Dead or Alive

8. Tina Yothers

9. Nolan Johannes

10. Fuck it, I am bored with this game. I do want to know what has happened to Irv Powell, though.

Have a super weekend, one and all. Ciao!

Okay, I am a hypocrite. I can live with that.

I am back. I am a fucking hypocrite but I can live with it. Just today, I pull up along side a black Corolla. The young, blond feminita was driving, eating an apple and talking on her cell phone. I thought "What a multi-tasker! How safe is that?"

This is of course said by the guy who is driving and writing this all down.

How safe indeed!

Hodge Podge Lodge Dodge....enough with the rhyming

I am back. It is a bit of a hodge podge of shit today.

Sad...Jerry Reed died. He was "The Snowman" of the Smokey and the Bandit films and a country song writer (rather accomplished). He was also the "mean" coach in Adam Sandler's "The Waterboy". He sure did not treat Bobby Boucher with respect. Of course, "little girls are the debil" or so says Mama.

Happy....Clap this goes out to you. An early "happy birthday" to the man, the dean of wild. It is a wonder, with his penchant for hard living, that he made it to 30, let alone his present age.

Apathy......The Leafs traded Bryan McCabe. I should be happy, but I am wildly apathetic. He should have never been signed to the deal he received. That was a big mistake but there were many under JF Ferguson Junior. Yet, I admire the fact that he was a stand up guy (Ferguson), it is the deals he signed which showed him to be lacking in terms of cap management, which is sadly a great skill now (it is the combination of talent and money decisions, so things are not based on talent alone, like in the NBA).

I would go on about my weekend but I was in New Orleans...just kidding. There was some beautiful weather we had around these parts. Summer ends and then there is no rain. What can you do?

Ciao!

A short post

I am back. Just wanted to wish one and all a very happy back to school day tomorrow. It is hard to believe the summer holiday is done for 2008, but that is how it is. I guess things get back to their new normal tomorrow.

Ciao!

What is wrong with people?

I am back. I am beginning to wonder about people. Who is kidding whom, I always wonder about people. Every time I think somebody says or asks something really stupid, another person comes along and tops them.

What the fuck is it with you people? I had a woman who bought a dress (for about 5% of retail) at one of our charity auctions just write to me to say that her dress arrived in Texas but it is too big. "What is your return policy?"

Here is the return policy, I come down to Texas and kick you in the cunt for asking such a stupid question. It is for charity. As long as it was as described, if it does not fit, too fucking bad for you. We are not a change room. What the fuck! Now, I have to try to word that in the nicest way possible.

We do not have a return policy. You bought it, you own it. We held up our end with the correct description. If it is too big, give it as a gift to one of your fatter friends. What the fuck is wrong with people?

Then again, being from Texas, transplanted home of George W., I am thinking that stupid just runs in the water there.

That is all for today. Just too fucking angry to write or think straight. Thankfully, the Scotch is coursing through my veins, so I, probably, will not kill tonight, but tomorrow, watch out! Ciao!

Well, at least, they are gone now....

I am back. I survived the weekend from hell. It was MIL's unveiling. For those who do not know what an unveiling is, it is a ritual where one gathers at the cemetery, the Rabbi says a few a words and they unveil the headstone. Then, we gather to eat.

That is the thing about the Jews. It does not matter what it is, but it is always an occasion to eat. That is why I do not belong. I just do not want to eat, or be among those who would eat. Actually, you cater the fucking thing and a bunch of hangers-on, eat your food. It is not like a wedding, bris or bar/bat mitzvah, where gifts are given. At least, in that situation there is a trade of food for some sort of tangible consideration. Not here.

It was a weekend filled with the Outlaws. The extended Outlaws. The good part, I do not have to see them for a long while. Guests from hell is all I can say, but of course, the problem is always somebody else, never them. Make a fucking pig of yourself, and shit on your hosts, but if you should be called on your behavior, the problem is yours and "I" am an innocent victim. Or "we are only here for a short time (not a good time)".

That one is my favorite. On the one hand, that is true, but that does not give you carte blanche to shit on me. On the other hand, you really misread me when you think that I care how long you are here and that justifies me having to eat the shit sandwich being served. Never really put in her place. Fuck. The nieces were fun, at least.

Friday with those people, Saturday more of said same and then Sunday. I need a fucking vacation, long drinking binge, acid trip....I think I need to go to Amsterdam! Fuck it, I am out the door.

Sorry for the bitchfest today, but that family really tries my patience. Self centered fuckers, they are. I am not so bothered by that, it is the fact they cannot acknowledge it in themselves.

Done for today. Ciao!

On the Road

I am back. Where was I? Ah yes, the road trip. As a kid, we did many a road trip, that I can recall. We would visit my grandparents in Kirkland Lake, Ontario in the summer. I do recall being up there a fair bit. They moved down to Toronto in 1975 or 1974. I do recall being up there during part of the Munich Olympics in 1972 (or at least that is how I remember it).

Those were gruelling trips, even for me in the back seat. We would take the old Dodge Dart. No air conditioning in those days, to get a breeze, open the windows and/or the vent. The vent in this case was a large (3" x 3") door under the dashboard. Then the wind would whistle across your legs.

There was the obligatory stop at the Simcoe Dairy in Barrie. There we would sit at the window overlooking Lake Simcoe and have food. It is not the food I recall, so much as the chocolate milk. Then again, as I think of it, it was probably not a wise choice having me, WAM the Lactose Intolerant, drinking milk and then getting in a car with me for well over 7 hours. Then again, my grandmother could do the trip in about 6 hours, but it would take us 10. We did make a number of stops and the inevitable brother or sister having to go to the bathroom. I mean they had the bladders of little children (which they were).

We would also stop in some place with Falls in its name. They had a trailer that served fresh cut fries that were great, hot out of the oil. Then there was the used book and crap store in Cobalt. That was a personal favorite of mine. I got some great books and crap there, though I cannot recall exactly what it was.

So, see, I am no stranger to traveling the blacktop. As I said, I have always loved the freedom it represents. It is like the life of the hobo, riding the rails, going from place to place. No permanent home, just the journey, and the adventures and experiences along the way. There is a certain beauty in that, as well as a desire to remove myself from the "expected" responsibilities.

I think that is why the Jack Kerouac novel "On the Road" always appealed to me. It romanticized the road and the travels. It never said that it was perfect, it just placed a premium on the value of "freedom". It is not an absolute, but a trade off. I do believe that "freedom" is something of value, and worth the price paid for it.

You can take some time to think about that one. Ciao!

More Roadtrip thoughts

I am back. Just to continue on with our little road trip, it was the first time in over 20 years that I had been on the I-90 east going towards Albany. I/we were very taken by the scenery as we moved further east from Buffalo and Rochester towards Syracuse. You go from the Finger Lakes region to the Adirondacks. That is when the hills and green (treed) mountains appear in the distance and the road starts to follow their contours.

I was also thinking that I do not recall any of that on my last journey in that direction. I was suddenly brought back to 1984. It was October and it was a frat road (t)rip to Renessealer Polytechnical Institute (RPI) in beautiful Troy, New York (which near Albany). As I thought about it, it was apparent why I do not recall the scenery.

As we were taking our pledges, Willie was driving. We did not leave until after classes on the Friday, so it was dark or twilight at best, when we hit the most scenic parts of the trip. On the way back on the Sunday, I was too trashed to really notice anything around me. It was the trip where I made my stand, and made myself puke. I have not had a drink of Southern Comfort since. I spent a slow and "crispy" Saturday, but got a second wind to party and drink by the night. Just in time for some college parties. whoo hooo!

Doing it this way, I really enjoyed the journey. Or at least what we saw on the journey. I am thinking that next time, we leave the Interstate and use those two lane state highways. Then you really see the sights. Of course, at some point you may hear "Mr., you sure got a purdy mouth." which does not please me.

That is all for now. Ciao!

The meaning of life?

I am back. If you did not know, and I do not recall saying anything, we, the Wife, the Lad and myself, were away for the past few days. We made the Journey 2007 trip in 2008. It was the family trip that we planned to take last summer, before the family sadness we endured last summer, and continue to swim through led us to call an audible and postpone it. It was to be a trip to Cooperstown, New York to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Well, we made it this year. A whole lot of fun, driving.......Gotta love the road trip! I know I do. The feeling of freedom afforded by that blacktop is the greatest feeling in the world to me. I can just breathe. I have loved the road trip since I was a kid. I like taking a flight and getting to a destination as quickly as possible, but the context is different.

The road trip is much like life....the meaning is in the journey, not the destination. The vacation is not the destination but the journey, the drive, itself. It can be physically and mentally gruelling but when you come through the whole journey, it is quite exhilarating.

That is what this was all about, at least for me. Cooperstown was merely a means to an end. The real joy for me was in the drive TO and FROM Cooperstown. It was mysteriously beautiful being in the Adirondack Mountains of Central New York, just beautiful with farms, quaint villages and lakes galore. That was where the fun was. I know the Lad cannot appreciate that now, but he may come in time to grasp its meaning.

Then again, I could be full of shit. Ciao!

Things heard on a trolley

I am back. Here is something heard on a trolley in Cooperstown, NY. Picture a precocious seven year old girl with her father on her way to the Baseball Hall of Fame. She turns to the old lady sitting in the seats behind her and asks if she knows "Riley". Riley is apparently another 7 year old girl that she met in Cooperstown. The lady says "no". The two chat away.

The girl goes on to tell everybody that her name is Laila. It is pronounced "lay-la", just like the song by Derrick and the Dominos (Eric Clapton). She was named after a boxer, Laila Ali, the daughter of Muhammed Ali and co-host, with Hulk Hogan, of American Gladiators (the present version). Then she asks the old lady and says, "What is your grandpa's name?".

Oddly, enough the "grandpa" was the lady's HUSBAND. He did look a bit like father time beat him, actually the living shit out of him, so he did look rather weathered and crotchedy. (Have to work "crotch" into a story anyway I can) He could have been about 144 years of age, if he was a day. He could have passed for the lady's father, perhaps, which makes the scene all funnier.

She, the lady, replies that it is not her grandpa, but her husband. We, then, got off the trolley, giggling. That was a highlight in the real world.

Just a thought....before I go

I am back. Just a thought....in these days of high precious metals values (gold, silver, platinum, etc.) why is that you see people keeping goldfish as pets, but nobody has a good thing to say about silverfish?

Why is there no platinumfish?

Ponder that one for a while....ciao!

Did it rain this weekend?

I am back. Guess what, we had another weekend with rain. Saturday's rain was like the floodgates opened......again. I got soaked, but it was all good.

I saw a ghost. A real ghost. I saw an old customer shuffling across the street. When she was a customer, she was not a pleasant woman, either to speak to or look at. She had an air of arrogance about her. She was also on social assistance, though she looked old enough then to have been on drug benefit (an Ontario senior).

Anyway, I am driving and she is trying to shuffle across a busy intersection. Her hair, what was left of it, was redder than I can recall. She looked to be about 135 years old, a good 13 years ago, so that must make her by my calculations.....148 years old. Yet, she moved like a spry 160 year old.

It scares me when my past comes back to me. You try to turn the page, yet something stuck to it....and worst of all, the page is no longer pliable but stiff. Go figure....or better yet, do not.

I am telling you this woman is a ghost.....a very slow moving ghost. She is more hunched over now than ever. Oh well, what can you do. It is good to see that she still lives....I guess.

Anybody watch the opening ceremonies on Friday? Not me. Could not care less about the show. the spectacle of bullshit. But it all looks good.

With that said, ciao!

A sad moment revisited

I am back. Another weekend is upon us. I have to say it is a bit of a sad day for me. It was a year ago this Sunday and exactly 52 weeks ago today, that MIL's fate was sealed. She had gone in for her surgery but it was stopped when the tumor was seen as overwhelming. It really was the beginning of the end. She would be around for another 3 months but really was not "living".

It is a sad time. One that many who came before and many who will come after have faced or will face. That is life. I just wanted to mention it.

As much as she drove me a bit batty, with her inability to really look at things and examine her own assumptions about herself and life, I really do miss MIL.

I did have somebody tell me he could hear how fond I was of my father by the way I talked about him. That was a nice thing to say, I thought. Again, a bit of a wistful day. It, too, shall pass.

Ciao!

Oh dear, what title should I use

I am back. I was back, yesterday, too, but by the time I posted Blogger was down and the fucking thing did not save my full draft. Who can recall what I made fun of?

I did state that I have noticed that a number of blogs and bloggers that I had frequented in the past have given it up? I am not contemplating that. I do wish that that muse would be speak to me, whispering sweet somethings, into my brain more frequently than she has. I may have to go out and "buy" me a muse. Anyone know I could pick one up?

Is picking up a muse anything like trolling for hookers? I was involved in that once. It is not what you think and as usual I was on the periphery. Close enough to see what was going on, but far enough away to stay out of harm's way (if it had come to that). I will not get into the story as it is almost 20 years old, involves strippers who did not show for a stag (imagine that....unreliable stripper chicks) and the need for "entertainment" in the Carlton and Jarvis area on short notice.

That is all that you get.

Oh, yeah. If I ever think to take the bus to travel (I would consider traveling by rail) across the country, remind me a random stabbing and beheading. Of course, it occurred near Portage La Prairie, Manitoba. Having been there in February, I can see why you would do something like that there. There is not much else for fun, except the indoor pool and slide at the Super 8 Motel.

That kind of shit just does not happen on trains. Too high a class of rider. I do recall taking the bus home from Kirkland Lake with my mother once in late August. It would have had to have been about 1973 or '74, as my grandparents still lived in Kirkland Lake then. That was fun, if by fun I mean terminally boring. Recall, there were no video games, let alone handheld ones, laptop computers or portable DVD players. I was forced to read and watch a lot of boring highway pass. The only good thing is that I did not have to drive, and I do not mind driving on road trips.

I do recall, crappy, sandwiches in the bus station vending machine. Even back then, I was picky about my sandwiches. Mayo, or thought of it curdling in the sun, makes me sick. As does, sour cream and yogurt, if I put my mind to it. I do have this thing about fermented milk products. I would have been miscast in "Alienation".

I am done for now. How is that for abrupt? Ciao!

Sunday Funnies?? for a Monday

I am back. I just read that in India, 145 people died, crushed to death, in a stampede at a temple in honor of some festival. Now, with roughly 1.2 billion people, 145 is not even a rounding error, in India. The funny part, if one call any of it funny, is that it was the Festival of the Temple Stampede, which occurs every year. You just do not read about the casualties usually.

Here in Toronto, a 7 year old girl was killed, beaten to death, by her guardian (or allegedly so). I find it tremendously sad as she was truly an innocent. She was described as "happy go lucky", to which I am left to really ponder...."How "lucky"?"

There was an attack on Chinese policemen in Western China. 16 were killed and they are blaming "terrorists". Again, "terrorist" is not defined and it is tragic and senseless. Then again, with the Olympics about to get underway there, it could be a great pretense for another nationalistic crackdown. Time will tell.

Those are my thoughts on the holiday Monday. It is beautiful out there so enjoy the day. Ciao!

Holy Hell, How Fat Can A Person Get?

I am back. Got out amongst the people last night. Not sure if that is a good thing or not, but the things that I saw. Apparently, they are showing movies, for free, outdoors at Downsview Park on Fridays. The Wife wanted to see Bee Movie. So off we trek, like it is a far trek, to Downsview Park with the folding nylon chairs.



I tell you it was a like a drive-in without the charm of sitting in the car, separated from the rest of the world. I mean, in your car you are invisible (which explains me seeing people pick their noses at red lights, though if done while driving, that is real multi-tasking, because they obviously believe they are invisible or in some "private" place regardless of windows and on-lookers) so you can have any kind of wild sex you would like at the drive-in and nobody can see. That always leads to being anally penetrated by the emergency brake but that is a story for another day. The other other day story is the video of the chick riding her gear shift, yes she fucked herself with her car.



Anyway, there we sit when this woman and entourage sit near us. This woman was HUGE. She had one of those folding nylon chairs that we had and I could not figure how she could get into the chair, let alone how the frame could take that kind of strain (metal fatigue should have been an issue). Then I look at the chair, the frame is about three times thicker than normal, so it must have been reinforced with fucking adamantium (X-Men and Wolverine reference there) so that it would not collapse.



The Wife says "You would let me know if I got that fat, wouldn't you?" To which I replied, "No offense, but you would know that if you got half way there, I would be gone, so you would know." I can be shallow but fuck it, I am not about to roll the Wife in flour just to find the wet spot. I would hate to think that I was fucking some sweaty fold of skin in her belly or thigh. Then again, I guess a warm, wet hole is a warm, wet hole.



Of course, if she got that big, it would be left to the Lad to have to pry her off the couch/bed/floor to get her moving. I would be gone and I should take the Lad with me. I may just leave him with a pry bar, just so she can somebody to feed her. See, I am not cruel just shallow. Poor Lad, having to deal with that and stay out of arms length so he does not get eaten.



Well, that is what I saw and it still haunts me. Ciao!

Happy Simcoe Day Long Weekend

I am back. It is another long weekend here in the Great green north. I am going to sit back and enjoy a few bevvies myself. I need a break. Good luck to me on that one.

Well, have a good one and I hope to post over the weekend!

Ciao!

Get rid of stuff, get more stuff!

I am back. Forgive me father for I have sinned. Actually, that is very apropos for my little tale of WHOA. Before that, though, a brief note of a "star", and I use that term extremely loosely her. I, or should I say we, were at Teroni's on Saturday for dinner (damn fine bottle of wine and tasty salad and pizza) on Yonge south of St. Clair. We are sitting outside and who should sit next to us.....Nick Kypreos.

Who the fuck is Nick Kypreos, you might ask. He played hockey in the NHL and was a Leaf until he got sucker punched by a New York Ranger (I think)(Ryan Vandenbusche, I think), got concussed and could not play again. He was a hard nosed player, not the most talented out there, but he did work hard. He is now a hockey analyst/reporter for Rogers Sporstnet. That is how I knew who it was (nobody else in my dinner party knew).

Here is the real story. When my father died, we split his shit. My brother got his black lacquer bedroom furniture (which was he did use and move to his home with his wife, where it was put in one of the then spare bedrooms and has since disappeared). My sister got.....I do not know what she got. I got his dining room set with the glass table top and black metal chairs.

Apparently, the wife never liked it, but the base had a granite looking veneer on it, so I always thought it matched our granite floor. Anyway, we are at the table on Friday night and I have finished my dinner and move my empty plate to the side. I guess I leaned on the glass and the next thing I know my plate is sliding off the table. With one hand I catch the plate, with the other I have a large piece of glass I am trying to keep in place.

The Wife is about to say something about me dropping my fork and knife, when I point out to her the angle of the table. I then have to point out the fact that my reflexes and instincts are so good that nothing came crashing to the floor that was breakable. I stopped the plate from falling and crashing into smithereens and the same could be said about the glass.

I pull back the tablecloth and padded thing only to find that it had snapped in some strange fashion. On top of the new kitchen, which is finished and looks great, by the way, we now must get a new dining room table.

The Wife had planned to buy one once her parents' condo sale closed. This just hastened the process.

My dilemma is this, I am kind of sad of it "passing" as it did belong to my father (however, brief his possession of it was) yet I am taking it as a sign to just move on. It is merely a thing.

It kind of reminds me of when I pitched my cassettes. It was not the music per se that bothered me but the memories of what I did when listening or acquiring it that flooded me.

Well, that is about as insightful as I will get for you all. Anybody know how to get rid of a big (close to 6 feet) slab of glass?

Ciao!

A new life lesson

I am back. In reading the news today, I learned something from the youth of today (how bad is it that I use the term "youth"?). Anyway, when trying to impress the femininas (women-folk) and getting rebuffed, it is always a good idea to spray them with gun fire. This is especially impressive when the woman in question and sought after buried her brother, who died after being shot (while at school, I might add).

These are life lessons that I would not have learned otherwise. Also, it is just another day in Toronto....or what it has become in pockets.

It makes me go "WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!!!". Send the fuckers to jail and have their idiotic notions of respect buggered out of them....or what respect is there when you are tossing some dude's salad.

Ciao!

That's Entertainment

I am back. That was quite the weekend of weather we had in these parts. It seems we have gone from a snowy winter to a bit of a rainy summer. It rained, off and on, all day Saturday and certainly Sunday was a day of rain.

I was at Costco on Sunday. I am going to make a racist comment and it is borne out of experience. I am always amazed that people push their big ass shopping carts as if they are the only person in the store and with the same care as they would take with slugs on their lawn. I noticed an old Asian, read Chinese, woman pushing her cart much like I think she would drive. Heaven help us all, when she is on the road.

I think that is why I like the frozen shrimp at Costco. When people push their carts like fucking smackweeds, I open up my bag of shrimp (which I suddenly do not claim as my own as it fucking open in the store) and hurl little, icy, hard bits of seafood at the offending idiot. They may not understand, but I do and I get a giggle out of the whole ordeal. Besides, I do not have to clean the mess. It also becomes slippery and makes for great "slip and fall" footage, which means the laughs just keep right on coming.

Now, how is that for entertainment? Ciao!

That is better than shelling out $12.50 to see "The Love Guru", don't ya think?

A funny thing

I am back, yet again. Funny story on miscommunications. I am chatting with the Lad and we are talking music. He asks if I have the U2 album with "Bloody Sunday" on it. Incidentally, that would be WAR, which I had on cassette (in fact, I recall listening to that album while driving up to Haliburton, on my birthday no less, in 1983, to visit my brother at camp. I never did get around to picking up my sister at a different camp up there) with Simple Minds "New Gold Dream" on the flip side.

Anyway, I say that I have only one U2 CD. He tells me it is "A Shooting Baby". I am racking my brain trying to figure that one out. I really do not recall that as a U2 album title. Then it dawns on me that I have "Achtung Baby!". The Lad replies, "That was what I said, "A Shooting Baby"."

The saddest part is that he took some German lessons this year from his French teacher (she must have been invaded or she teaches Vichy French). So suddenly, Achtung becomes "a shooting" which sadly, when I look at the big picture, makes sense.

That is all, go on now and chuckle. Ciao!

An experiment in annoyance

I am back. I am not feeling the love about being back. What is with you all?

My keyboard is sticking (damn jizz in the keys, I hope it is mine, at least) so I may just continue typing without spaces. Wewillseehowthatgoes.Thiscouldverywellbethelongestwordintheworld.Itisfunnyasbyforceofhabitmythumbjustseemstowanttohitthespacebaraftereveryword.Howisthatfortraining?Thiswholethingisconfusingandgettingtobedownrightannoying.Iwillstopnow!

How was that exercise for you? It worked for me. Going to run now, ciao!

A new life philosophy

I am back. Oh what fun we have had in these parts. I just do not recall what that fun actually was. I do remember yesterday, like it was only yesterday.......all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay......(sorry, Sir Paul).

The Wife went to the Condo so that the vultures could pick at the Outlaws material possessions. There was a picking last week, which upset the Wife so. The problem was her aunt, MIL's sister, who is just a pig and has no shame. Of course, nobody opens their mouth to voice their displeasure (a wonderful trait modelled so skillfully by MIL, it really helped keep her satisfied and no point in fixing something that is most assuredly broken). When I say nobody, I mean the Wife, so she gets all mopey and silent. She is dealing with morons, yet seems to think they can read her mind. Even if they could, what makes the Wife think that anything would change, unless she points out what she wants/expects and does something when those things go unmet.

One day, I hope, she will figure it out. She has not in a good 42 years, but you never know. Of course, to do that would mean taking an objective look at all around you, including yourself, so I am not holding my breath that this will ever occur.

Anyway, while the Wife dealt with that, I went to a batting cage with the Lad. It was warm and a bit of a drive, but it was a hell of a lot of fun. I have a bruised palm (not tonight dear, I have a palm ache, is what my hand told me last night....bastard hand is becoming a pain, I may have to start dating again). I figure if I could lick my own balls, I would be done with my hand anyway. I digress, in some disturbing territory I might add.

We hit the batting cage. The Lad was good, though by the last few balls, I could see the fatigue set in and the bat speed come down. It is only natural. He hit 100 pitches and I did 40. I really cranked a few. It felt good.

That was a fun day for a father and son. Especially, a father like me, who just wants to do his own thing, which is really a euphemism for getting drunk and just passing out. That is the way to go through life son......heavily medicated.

So, there you have my pearl of wisdom. Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life son, but drunk, passed out and near comatose is the better way!

Ciao!