Lord of the Idiots!

I HAVE MOVED!!

2008-08-05T19:25:00.000-05:00

NEW BLOG HOME AT www.redriverpak.wordpress.com

Stop on bye.....

Two more examples of me NOT being the only Idiot in the area...

2008-06-06T11:41:00.002-05:00

Two more true little nuggets from recent Dallas area news. First, our weather yesterday was interesting to say the least. While it was sunny and hot, the wind was also blowing, and blowing, and blowing. There were gusts up to 53mph during the day and they only got worse after dark. The airport was a zoo with thousands of stranded travelers because it was too windy for the planes to depart or land. There were numerous power outages, trucks blown over, and thousands of homes and trees were damaged.
The US Women's Olympic Softball team played a game in Fort Worth last night. After the game, the park that the game was held in erupted in flames as a large grass fire raged out of control. What started the fire? The post-game fireworks of course! Fifty mile and hour winds and the Idiots in FW decide to go ahead and shoot off the fireworks as planned. I am speechless. I am without speech. There are truly bigger idiots than I out there in the world after all.

Second story is of a Dallas roofing company. There were hired to remove and replace the roof of a house in the Dallas area. They did this with one small problem. They did the WRONG house. They removed the roofing from a perfectly good house. Obviously, when the homeowner came home and found her roof missing, she was a little ticked. The roofing company apologized profusely for their mistake. What did they do next? They offered to give her a "real good deal" on a new roof! Even though it was totally their fault, they had no intentions of replacing her roof for nothing! The roofing company owner even appeared on the local news and said that the homeowner was "crazy if she thinks we are going to GIVE her a free roof!" The reporter doing the interview had her jaw hanging down to the ground, dumbfounded that this IDIOT could actually be serious.

Welcome to North Texas. Idiot capital of the world!

2008-06-04T11:29:00.002-05:00

Congratulations to Sen. Barack Obama for being the first African-American nominee for President in our countries history.

It is entirely possible that this coming winter he will be elected President.

Early next year could feature his inauguration and swearing-in ceremony.

He could start the first 6 months of his Presidency by signing into law new bills that will radically change our government and country.

By next fall, our country may be steering an entirely new course in the world.

On December 12, 2009...Deep into President Obama's first year in office, Sen. Hillary Clinton could possibly call a news conference and formally concede the primary election that occurred a full year and half earlier.

But she probably won't......

Another little birdie leaves the nest

2008-06-04T11:10:00.003-05:00

Hannah graduates from High School on Friday. We are all extremely proud of her. Look out real world, here she comes........

The Blue Light: Part 3

2008-06-04T10:50:00.001-05:00

Preface: This story is true. There has been great friction between my wife and I over my posting of these happenings but in a time of such fear, curiosity, and confusion, I find it hard to post anything humorous and just want to get this story out there. My wife is a schoolteacher and we live in a tiny town leaving her with a fear that her co-workers will find out about this and she will face ridicule and isolation. As far as we know, no co-workers except her Aide Teresa even know of this blog so I am confident she will be fine. Teresa knows me as a lighthearted jokester so Teresa, if your reading this, you just go on right ahead and continue to assume this is all one of my wild stories. (It's not) If by chance, sometime in the future, these posts all disappear from the blog, you can assume that someone at my wife's school has found out about this story and I have removed it to shield my wife.

So, there I was, standing in the doorway of the bathroom in the middle of the night, staring at this weird little glowing blue light hovering over my wife and son as they slept in our bed.

Just as eager as Mattie is to follow me into the bathroom, she is also in just as much as a hurry to race me out of the bathroom. But not this night. I turned and saw Mattie hunkered down in a far corner of the bathroom giving me a look that indicated there was no possible way she was going out of the bathroom with me.

I stared at the Blue Light for probably 30 seconds as it just kind of meandered back and forth a couple feet above the bed. "What the heck do I do now?" I thought briefly about yelling and waking up my wife and son but that would have probably only sent them into hysterics and would have resulted in no one ever sleeping in my bedroom again. My next thought was try to slip across the room to where my digital camera was charging and then try to get a few photos of this thing, whatever it is.

I decided to try the camera route and let my wife and son continue to sleep.

I slowly shuffled across the room, lit only by the light from the bathroom, and made my way to my camera. The Blue Light continued to hover in basically the same place and did not seem phased by my approaching so close to it as I made my way to the camera.

I reached the camera and turned it on, trying desperately to muffle with my hands the "Whirrrr" sounds it made as it powered on. The Blue Light still remained clearly visible above the bed.

First, I raised the camera and took a couple rapid shots without use of any flash. A quick glance at the LCD screen showed that I had just taken two completely black photos. Even with the small amount of light from the open bathroom door, there was still not enough light to expose a picture and no sign of the Blue Light was visible in either photo.

Then, I went into Idiot mode and switched on the flash. I quickly fired off three shots in rapid succession and this resulted in the room being quickly illuminated by the equivalent of 3 lightning flashes. Both my wife and son were jolted awake by the flashes and each quickly sat up in bed, still half asleep. After my own eyes had readjusted to the near blinding of the flashes, I noticed the Blue Light was gone. I quickly scanned the room but no sign of it was visible anywhere.

In unison, Tyler and my wife both angrily asked me what I was doing taking pictures in the middle of the night, with my wife being slightly more profane in her choice of words as to why I was up with a camera. I sheepishly apologized to Tyler and helped him lay back down as I covered him up as my wife sat a few feet away still glaring at me.

I quickly turned the preview LCD on and clicked through the three photos. Nothing! I had three brightly-lit photos of two sleeping family members and the headboard of our bed, but no Blue Light was visible in any of the pics.

My wife, watching me flip through the pictures, suddenly put two and two together and the anger in her voice for being so rudely awakened quickly turned to more of a fearful tone.

"It's back again isn't it?" she whispered as she reached over and stroked Tyler's hair as the boy was already fast asleep. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and I could tell she was beginning to softly cry as she nervously looked around the room.

I nodded YES to her and held out the camera then slowly nodded my head from side to side to indicate that I had gotten absolutely no picture of the darn thing.

My wife curled back up next to Tyler and layed back down as I, camera in hand, slowly walked through the darkened house back towards Tyler's bedroom. Reaching the bedroom, I slowly walked in, camera held out if front of me, heart beating so fast I could sense each rapid beat through my throbbing temples.

The room was dark. No Blue Light. Nothing.

I slowly walked the rest of the house looking for the light but could find nothing out of the ordinary. The one room I did not check was that of my 18yr old daughter Hannah. Hannah is scared of her own shadow on a sunny day. She knows of the Blue Light appearances in Chillicothe years ago and although she never personally saw it, that was enough to freak her out for years. We have not told her about these new occurrences. Though she is on the computer for hours each day, she looks at any websites outside of MYSPACE as being for nerds and geeks so it is easy to say she does NOT read this blog. She is graduating this week then moving away out of state so I figure I will tell her all this in a few weeks once she is settle a thousand miles away in Indiana. It will still freak the heck out of her.

Finding no sign of the light, I went back to bed. I slid Tyler towards the middle of the bed as best I could and layed down, eyes open, in the darkened bedroom.
I could still feel my heart pounding and noticed that I was sweating like a dog. I tried closing my eyes but found that any slight noise in the house would cause me quickly open my eyes and scan the room, fully expecting to find the Blue Light hovering above me.

The last thing I remember of that night was the faint sound of Mattie snoring from the bathroom floor. The cat that would follow me like a shadow all day and all night, had still not come out of the bathroom. Obviously, she too had seen something that spooked her and she wanted nothing to do with it.

The Blue Light: Part 2

2008-06-01T15:50:00.002-05:00

I was right. The wife went ballistic when she found I had indeed published the blog about the Blue Light. As far as she is concerned, the whole world and her entire family has always felt that I was a basket case, but now she fears that she also will always be looked at as an easily spooked nut job.

The Blue Light had indeed returned to Tyler's room. My wife and I had a dilemma, What do we do about it?

The first thing we did was to try to determine if what we were seeing was indeed real and make sure we were not just seeing things. So, we did what all rational adults do, we set up a paranormal "stakeout" in Tyler's room. (Start Ghostbusters theme song now....)

We started out by having Tyler come into our bedroom to watch a movie on TV with my wife and myself. Towards the end of the movie, Tyler was getting sleepy and was dozing off, so we clicked the TV on to a kids channel and told him to relax in bed while I went to show Mom something on the computer in the computer room across the hall from his bedroom.

Instead of going into the computer room, the wife and I went straight into Tyler's room. First, we set about completely shutting his blinds, unplugged everything in the room, made sure all his battery powered toys were off, and then closed the door to his closet. My wife then got a thick comforter from the hall closet and we proceeded to drape the comforter over Tyler's only outside window so that no light whatsoever could get into the room from outside.

My wife then sat on one end of his bed and I sat on the other so that we each had a straight line of sight to each half of the room. With the faint sounds of our bedroom TV filling the quiet house, I leaned over and switched off the lights to Tyler's room. We were now sitting in complete darkness, except for a faint bit of light poking through under his door. I fumbled in the dark for a pillow and tossed it onto the floor at the base of the door until now, all light was completely gone from the room.

I sat there, staring at nothing but pitch black darkness and slowly turned my head from side to side, straining to see any sign of the Blue Light. From the rustling on the bed next to me, I could tell my wife was also eagerly searching out any sign of the light.

Nothing.

We sat there, without saying a word to each other for at least an hour and saw nothing but darkness.

My wife, beginning to sense that maybe we were indeed crazy, gave up shortly thereafter and wandered back to our bedroom and crawled into bed with Tyler. I stayed behind and stayed in the dark room, still hoping that the curious little light would make another appearance.

I sat for what had to be hours. Sitting all alone in complete darkness can sure play tricks on your mind. I found myself seeing shadows that I knew could not be there and could hear rustling sounds from all over the house that I am sure all had rational explanations. For one thing, we have 4 cats and most of them enjoy prancing around the house at night so I was sure that the sounds were the cats, the air conditioning, the ceiling fans, the refrigerator, traffic outside, the wind, and a combo of all of the above. But I saw no sign of the Blue Light.

It must have been 2am-3am before I finally gave up and left the room. It is a straight walk down the hall, across the living room and then into our bedroom. I could see the flickering lights from our bedroom that indicated that our TV was still on so I figured my wife had left the TV on so I could find my way back to the room without tripping over any furniture or dozing cats. Plus, If you had just spent part of your evening in a darkened room looking for a ghostly light of unknown origin, you don't want to lay in total darkness, so I figure that is why she really left the TV on for me.

I entered our room and found my wife curled up on top of the covers, laying on her side, facing Tyler who was face-down sound asleep in my side of the bed. My wife's left arm was draped protectively over Tyler's shoulder and both were sound asleep enough that neither of them stirred a bit when I shuffled into the room.

I found the TV remote buried under Tyler's leg and clicked the TV off. I then felt my way around the foot of the bed and went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind me.

Standing at the sink, I heard a faint "meow" from behind the door and realized that I had left Mattie outside the door. Mattie is one of our overfed, lazy cats and has a crazy habit of always having to follow me into the bathroom no matter what the time of day or night.

If I was to dare to go into the bathroom to take a shower and left Mattie outside, she would cry and scratch until her paws bled until someone would open the door and let her in.

So, here I was at the sink, and now Mattie is crying at the door. Not wanting her to wake up Tyler and my wife, I quickly grabbed the door and ripped it open so the cat could run into the bathroom. I opened the door and right on cue, Mattie vaulted between my legs and into the bathroom. I went to quickly close the door then froze.

Across the room, clearly visible, the Blue Light was hovering about 2 feet above my bed, right above Tyler and my wife.

The Blue Light

2008-05-22T13:14:00.003-05:00

This a true story. It involves a true incident that happened about 5 years ago while we lived in Chillicothe. No one in my family talks about this story and my wife will probably kill me for writing about it now. Due to a recent event, I feel the story must be told.

Late one night, Tyler, then about 6 years old, came shuffling into our bedroom and whispered to my wife and I that he had seen something in his room. My wife asked him what he had seen. Tyler explained that he had awakened and noticed a faint blue light in his room. This blue light was suspended in the air and was moving slowly around his room. As my wife and I got up out of bed we both explained to Tyler that it was probably just lights reflecting in through one of his windows.

We all went into Tyler's room which was located at the very back of the house. There is nothing behind the house itself except for open farmland and trees, beyond which lies a major highway about a mile away. As I entered the room, I was sure that this blue light was most likely lights from the highway shining through the curtains or reflecting off a toy or something in his room.

My wife, Tyler, and I all entered the room and looked around. We saw nothing. We did have the hallway door open and there was some light shining in from the hall, but there was no sign of any blue light or anything out of the ordinary. Tyler continued to insist that he had actually seen the light. To calm him down and show him everything was alright, we closed the door to the hall and we all stood in his darkened room and looked around.

There, about 3 feet away, about 4 feet off the floor, was a small, glowing blue light. It was light blue in color, was nearly transparent, and was probably 2-3 inches in diameter in size. Although I was actually shocked to see anything at all, I was again sure that it had to be a reflection from the window. I moved towards the window and looked out. It was completely dark. There was no traffic coming down the highway that may have beamed light into the room. The blue light still hovered in the room. My wife saw it, Tyler saw it, and here I was looking at it. I moved over so that my body completely blocked the window. The light still hovered in place. My wife and I moved around the room and looked for anything at all that may have been casting the blue light. We found nothing.

Tyler slept with us the rest of that night.

Although he was scared to sleep in his own room the next night, there was no sign of the blue light and he slept uneventfully.

A few weeks later, my Mother was staying with us for a short visit. During the night, Tyler again came into our room in the middle of the night and stated that the blue light was back. My Mother heard the commotion and was awakened in an adjacent room. We explained the whole story to her. She had a smirk on her face that indicated she was sure that we were all just pulling her leg and were making the whole story up.

She went with us as we all went back into Tyler's room. There again was the blue light. It was hovering in a different area of the room but was still clearly visible to all of us. My Mom was shocked. She also looked around the room for any source of the light but could find nothing.

I went the light and passed my hand through it. Normally when a light is reflecting in, if you pass your hand over the line of sight of the source, the light should be reflected onto the top of your hand. Place a flashlight on a table and point it at a wall. Pass your hand in front of the light. At some point, the light beam will be right on top of your hand and will block the light from reaching the wall. This theory did not prove true with the blue light. I passed my hand through it but at no point could you see the glow on top of my hand. We moved around the glow from every angle and it never subsided or was blocked.

Three adults and one little boy were royally freaked out.

Tyler spent the next 6 months seeing the blue light on a few occasions but we then moved away from the house when we left town to move to Bridgeport.

My wife's sister, Leah and her family, bought the house from us. We did not want to freak them out or scare them, so the blue light was never brought up. Tyler's cousin now lives in that room and though Tyler goes up there to visit quite a bit, he is still very hesitant to sleep overnight in that room. As far as we know, Tyler's cousin has never said anything about seeing a blue light or anything strange in that room.

That was 5 years ago.

We now live in a house a good 150 miles away from Chillicothe. The other night, the unthinkable happened. Tyler came into our room late in the night and walked over to my side of the bed where I was laying watching TV. He whispered in my ear and grabbed my arm, wanting me to follow him. We walked through the dark house to his bedroom.

There in the middle of the room, was the pale blue light, slowly hovering in the darkness.

Five long years have gone bye, and now it's back.

Whatever it is.

What the experts can't say about the Election

2008-05-21T08:53:00.003-05:00

Last night, like many nights this year, I spent half the night watching Election results on CNN.

I have noticed that the political experts that appear on TV commenting about the Election Results are severely constrained in what they can say, so as to always be seen as "politically correct".

I wish they could just say what we all already know and are thinking about the Democratic Race.

A large number of American Voters will NEVER vote for a Black Man.
A large number of American Voters will NEVER vote for a Woman.
A large number of American Voters will vote for John McCain just because he is the White, Male candidate.

Those are the simple facts folks. It's sad that the so-called "Most Advanced Society" in the World still faces this reality.

"911 Emergency....What credit card will you be using today?"

2008-05-20T19:18:00.003-05:00

True Story heard on the local news tonight.

A Dallas City Councilman wants to pass a new city procedure that would require 911 Operators that receive calls for Ambulance or Paramedic assistance to get a credit card number from callers before dispatching assistance.

Yes, it's true. I can't make this stuff up.

A possible future call.

Operator: "911 Emergency"

Caller: "Help!! I'm on fire!! Help!!"

Operator: "What card will you be paying with tonight sir?"

Caller: "Aaarrrrgggg!! Help meeeeee!! Aaarrrggggggg"

Operator: " Sir we take Visa, American Express, Masterc......"

Caller: "Aaaaarrrrggggg.....I'ts....a......V....IIIIII....sssssss...Aaaaaaaarrrgggggggg Help Me Please......Number.....672....aaaaarrrgggg...76.......Oooooowwwwwwwwww....4327............expires 5/11......Aaaaaaarrrgggggg For the Love of God Please send help!! I'm burning!!!!"

Operator: "Let me repeat that sir....Visa 672764327 Expires 5 of 2011?"

Caller: " AAAAAArrrrrrggggggggg The Pain!! The Pain!!.....Aaaaarggggggg!!"

Operator: Thank you sir...I have your confirmation code...do you have a pen handy?"

Caller" I'm coming towards the light Mama...aaaaarrrggggg...I'm comin towards the light!.....Aaaaarrrrrgggggg"

Ouch!

2008-05-20T14:24:00.000-05:00

Spiritual thoughts by Carl the Greenskeeper

2008-05-20T13:54:00.000-05:00

"So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the 18th and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."

2008-05-15T13:38:00.002-05:00

My wife and her co-worker Teresa are having a joint garage sale at our house this weekend. Seeing as how my wife is the worlds biggest pack rat, we have about 5 years worth of junk piled up in the house ready to be shoved off onto unsuspecting idiot junk collectors.
So, last night Teresa and her family come over with a truck full of their own junk to submit to the garage sale and what happens?
My wife starts looking through Teresa's junk and is going "Ooh I want this...Ooh I have to have this...Ooh Oooh Ooh...", while Teresa is on the other side of the garage looking through our junk going "Oh boy I gotta have this...and this...and this...." etc.
So what happened with the garage sale?
We swapped our junk for Teresa's junk and both women are happy as clams. No need for a sale now.
Women hurt my head!

From Great Sis-in-Law

2008-05-15T11:38:00.002-05:00

I received this via e-mail from Leah earlier today. My Niece Emily is in Kindergarten. She recently did a drawing when the teacher instructed the kids to draw what they love most about their Mommies. Emily's dad has a job that takes him out of town quite a bit but he was home in Chillicothe very recently. While visiting the school, Leah was pulled aside by Emily's teacher and shown this drawing that Emily had done. Boy will she have a good laugh about this when she grows up!

NBA Fan of the Week

2008-05-14T16:14:00.002-05:00

You gotta give this NBA Fan an "A" for effort! In a recent NBA Playoff game between the San Antonio Spurs and the New Orleans Hornets, Spurs player Tony Parker found himself at the free throw line. It is customary for those fans seated behind the basket to try to distract the opposing players when a player is attempting free throws. People will wave towels, flash signs, scream, yell, whatever it takes in order to get the player to miss the free throws.

Tony Parker of the Spurs is married to actress Eva Longoria. As you can see by the pic below, a Hornets fan decided to use EVA herself to try to distract Parker's free throws.

It worked.

He missed both shots.

2008-05-14T14:39:00.000-05:00

2008-05-14T14:10:00.003-05:00

I will now attempt to juggle a Cat, a Duck, and a Chainsaw. Repeat. A Cat, a Duck, and a Chainsaw.

MEOW WACK WACK VROOOM MEOW WACK WACK VROOOM MEOW WACK WACK VROOOM SPLAT WACK WACK VROOOM WACK WACK VROOOM SPLAT VROOOM VROOOM VROOOM......

OK, SO I NEED MORE PRACTICE.

The aging factor

2008-05-14T09:59:00.010-05:00

When I was in High School from 1979-1983, I had a bedroom that was a source of envy among all my male friends. Adorning nearly every inch of my walls were posters of every Hot Babe from Television, Movies, and Music. Even male friends of my Dad would walk into my room, turn slowly around, and just mutter..."WOW!".
I just turned 43 this week. I know that is older than some of you, younger than some, and alot younger than a few of you. Problem is, I still feel like a 20 year old deep down inside that is trapped in this broken down, aging body. I got to thinking.....if I am 43....then how old are the women that I worshipped in High School? I was shocked!

This made me feel real old, real fast!

You ladies might want to show this to your husbands in order to make them feel real old also.

These were some of the ladies on the wall....

Loni Anderson of WKRP is 62!

Rocker Pat Benatar is 55.

Stevie Nicks is 60.

Model Cheryl Tiegs is 61.

Suzanne Somers is 61.

Tina Louise is....74!!! Giiinnnggeeeerrr!!

Farrah is 61.

Debbie Harry is 62.

And the kid of the bunch, Donna Dixon of Bosom Buddies, is only 51.

2008-05-13T10:24:00.002-05:00

What has 50 legs, 29 teeth, 312 tattoos, 27 GED's, and 2 kids under each arm?

The Pharmacy line at our local Wal-Mart.

Call me an elitist snob, but I will happily pay the $10 co-pay at my preferred pharmacy to be able to walk right up to the counter and get my meds rather than waiting in the "gene-pool experiment" line of people wanting the $4 prescriptions at Wally World.

Library Rules according to Mr Bookman

2008-05-13T01:47:00.001-05:00

Well, let me tell you something, funny boy. Y'know that little stamp,

the one that says "New York Public Library"? Well that may not mean

anything to you, but that means a lot to me. One whole hell of a lot.

Sure, go ahead, laugh if you want to. I've seen your type before:

Flashy, making the scene, flaunting convention. Yeah, I know what you're

thinking. What's this guy making such a big stink about old library

books? Well, let me give you a hint, junior. Maybe we can live without

libraries, people like you and me. Maybe. Sure, we're too old to change

the world, but what about that kid, sitting down, opening a book, right

now, in a branch at the local library and finding drawings of pee-pees

and wee-wees on the Cat in the Hat and the Five Chinese Brothers?

Doesn't HE deserve better? Look. If you think this is about overdue

fines and missing books, you'd better think again. This is about that

kid's right to read a book without getting his mind warped! Or: maybe

that turns you on, Seinfeld; maybe that's how y'get your kicks. You and

your good-time buddies. Well I got a flash for ya, joy-boy: Party time

is over. Y'got seven days, Seinfeld. That is one week!

2008-05-12T14:39:00.000-05:00

One foot in the grave and pulling the dirt in around me

2008-05-12T10:05:00.004-05:00

The other day I was out driving around with my Dad in his car. He had the radio set on the "Oldies" station that most of the area seniors listen to. This station features music from artists ranging from Frank Sinatra, to The Beach Boys, to the Beatles. Don't get me wrong, I love most of that type of music and enjoying listening to it while driving down the highway. It's just a matter of generations.....Dad went to High School in the late 50's, I went in the late 70's/Early 80's.
All of a sudden, over the airwaves, my world came crashing down on top of me. Blasting over the radio, was "FOOTLOOSE" by Kenny Loggins. (Pictured Above)
"Footloose" was being played on the OLDIES station! A song from 1984!
OH MY GOD!!!
I did a little digging on GOOGLE Images. Above is 80's heartthrob (according to the wife) Kenny Loggins, Pop Superstar, and below is Kenny Loggins as he appears today.

Look out grave....I'm comin in!!

Costanza Wisdom

2008-05-11T12:39:00.000-05:00

"Do you ever get down on your knees and thank God you know me and have access to my dementia?"

All for the love of a good woman

2008-05-09T09:21:00.003-05:00

Man was earlier a classic slob prone to wearing stained, torn t-shirts that had not been washed in months.

Now, he wears brand new polo shirts proudly.

Showers and baths were few and far between.

Now he lives in the shower.

Man was almost ape-like in his refusal to ever cut, comb, or even wash his hair.

Now he sports a new short, clean haircut.

Man was earlier consumed with video games and watching TV all day and night.

Now, he e-mails her constantly, talks to her on the phone, and cannot wait for
the next time he can see her.

The only rule: all this e-mailing and talking has to be over with by BEDTIME each night.

Cupids arrow has struck my 11yr old son Tyler. The object of his affection? A little blonde 10yr old in his class at school. Her smiling face now adorns his homepage on his computer at home. He has saved the 2,000+ e-mails and instant messages that he has received from her. She comes to watch his soccer games, he goes to watch her little brother play baseball so he can sit with her. There have discussions of an intimate dinner at "Chuck-E-Cheese's" sometime in the future.

Love is in the air.

Way to go Tyler!

"DUBYAH" in the Military

2008-05-08T19:55:00.000-05:00

Teenage Daughters hurt my head

2008-05-08T19:37:00.002-05:00

My soon to be 18yr old daughter just got back from the hairdresser. Hannah has naturally strawberry-blonde hair. In the past couple years she has dyed it various colors ranging from brown, to purple, to gothic black. Now, she has decided to go back to her "natural" look. So, she shelled out a ton of dough today to have the hairdresser put blonde highlights into her still dark hair.
Me, being idiot Dad that I am, just opened my mouth and inserted foot by asking her why she just doesn't let it grow out naturally. Once the dyed hair grows out and she cuts it off, what's left should be the natural hair right? Keep in mind, I have NO HAIR so I may be way off base.

(I had a hair once but it fell off)

Hannah said "No!!", you cannot do that, letting it grow out and cutting it will "ruin it!"

She says you have to "color it in stages" in order for it to grow back to it's natural color.

So, a blonde haired girl is paying to have her hair colored blonde......

The wheels are spinning so fast that I have smoke coming out of my ears. Someone please explain if I am indeed wrong or if she is truly living on another planet as I have long suspected.

Thanks!

Two Democratic Party "SUPERDELEGATES" contemplate who to vote for....

2008-05-07T20:08:00.002-05:00

As a newbie Democrat, I find myself teetering on the edge of defecting back to the Republican Party IF the Democrats manage to somehow screw up this election that President Bush has done his best to hand to them on a silver platter.
As you probably know, come convention time, neither Obama or Clinton will have enough pledged delegates to clinch the democratic nomination. It will ultimately be decided by the "SUPERDELEGATES". What is a "SUPERDELEGATE"? As near as I can tell, they are the more educated, better looking, more financially secure, and least dentally-challenged members of the Democratic Party. Whereas a pledged, less-educated,butt-ugly,poor,toothless delegate HAS to vote for their designated candidate, a SUPERDELEGATE can vote for whoever they want.
So, one candidate can go into the convention with more pledged delegates, more states won, and more total national votes.....and still lose, IF, the SUPERS decide to back the second place candidate.
The 80% of the delegates that are pledged represent 100% of the vote of the country. For the 20% of the delegates, the SUPERS, to be able to override that vote and choose the other candidate is a crock in my book.
If this happens, the Democratic Party will have lost my votes forever.
I am NOT whining because I am a OBAMA supporter and I am afraid that the SUPERS will give the election to HILLARY.
If Hillary found herself in the same position and the SUPERS gave the election to 2nd place OBAMA, I would still be upset at the process.
I know Al Gore got screwed back in 2000. I was a staunch Republican at the time and how Bush managed to steal the White House away was not right.
Let's hope the Country does not make the same mistake again. Most of these SUPERDELEGATES are elected officials like Senators, Congressman, Mayors, etc. Personally, I believe that these people have a duty to back the candidate that their home district, city, or town backed. If a Senator is from a district that voted overwhelmingly 75%-25% for one candidate, then that Senator should also back that candidate if the Senator is truly representing his or her district.
That's just my two cents on the subject. Don't blow it Democrats!!

2008-05-07T17:53:00.000-05:00

Navin Johnson on "Love"

2008-05-07T11:49:00.001-05:00

"I know we've only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days. And the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day, and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half. I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it."

Voting Democrat

2008-05-07T09:17:00.000-05:00

With the continuous political brainwashing that I have been subjected to by my wife's family for the past 17 years.....it finally arrived at the time when I would actually participate in my first full-fledged Texas Primary and Caucus during this heated Presidential Campaign.
Here in Texas, where we have to be the biggest and best at EVERYTHING......we don't just settle for having a primary election or a caucus election.....we do them BOTH....the same day!
First you drag yourself down to the polls and vote the "normal" way, then at the end of the day, you drag yourself back down to the polls in order to "publicly" vote in the caucus. Legally, you can vote for one candidate in the morning and then another candidate at night and both votes count! Is that the dumbest thing you ever heard of? Leave it to Texas!
So, being a newborn Hippie newbie....I got the pleasure of voting in my first democratic primary and caucus since I crossed over to the dark side.
First of all, as I have said many times, I live in a VERY REPUBLICAN county. This is a very conservative, bible-belt county where George W. Bush is worshipped and revered at a level just below the big guy upstairs himself. Democrats in this county live in a hidden, underground society where public admissions of their democratic faith can result in loss of jobs, higher interest rates on their loans, and failing grades for their children in school. Any Democratic Idiot stupid enough to even think about putting a HILLARY or OBAMA campaign sign in their yard is just inviting quick and brutal arson of the home, kidnapping and murder of the family pets, and worst of all, total destruction of the home's satellite dish. These Republican Psychopaths are crazy!!
So, Idiot Democrat newbie that I am, I trot down to the local polling station to cast my vote in the primary election. When I arrive, I find a long line of people out the door and notice a sign above the door that says..."REPUBLICANS".
I glance around and notice a small table set up in a corner of the parking lot that is completely surrounded by armed State Troopers. At the table is a man with a knee-length beard wearing what appeared to be a toga, and affixed to the front of the table was a sign with the words "NON-REPUBLICANS" scribbled on it. Just behind the table was a large blue Porta-Pottie.
I slowly shuffled towards the table. Immediately, the swarm of State Troopers raised their guns in my direction and one shouted "HALT AND STATE YOUR BUSINESS SIR!!"
I stopped in my tracks, wet myself, and called back sheepishly..."I wish to vote sir......."
Everything in world became eerily silent. I looked at the long line of Republicans and saw that all were staring at me, jaws open, in disbelief. The look in their aged, senior citizen eyes spoke it all. Their pristine little Golf Course/Retirement Community of law abiding, God-fearing, Republicans had been invaded by another one of THEM!!....the dreaded, doobie smoking, tree-hugging, free-love preaching parasites of the Democratic party!!
The troopers lowered their weapons and motioned for me to approach the table. I shuffled to the table and greeted the old man acting is the voting official. I can't remember exactly what he said but I do remember he spoke in the Democrat Vernacular form of speech to where Lot's of "DUDES, MAN, BROTHER, FAR-OUT, WUZ HAPPENIN, COOL, PEACE BABEEE, and KILL THE PIGS" were used in the course of the conversation.
I was given a ballot and was ushered off into the porta-pottie to cast my first ever Democratic party vote. Having made my selection, and being able to find no apparent ballot box to put my vote into, I did the inevitable and dropped the voting card into the toilet.
Given my county, that is where my vote would end up anyway.
Emerging triumphantly from the toilet, the election official promptly placed a "I VOTED DEMOCRAT" sticker on my chest just as the angry mob of senior Republicans was angrily moving my direction
To my shock, the State Troopers all stepped aside, allowing an easy path to my trembling body which was once again emptying itself of all bodily fluids and solids.
I called out for protection but was told in not so uncertain, graphic, and profane ways that the Police were there only to ensure that I had the "RIGHT to VOTE". That right had been protected, I had voted.
Now I was fair game.
A relentless beating with dozens of canes, walkers, motorized scooters, catheter bags and wheelchairs ensued, all in full-sight of the laughing State Police Gestapo.
But, I had done it. I had exorcised my Republican Demons and had voted with the Doobie Smokin Hippies!
I suddenly had an urge to run home and order some TIE-DYE shirts off the Internet. I dreamed of replacing all the doors in my home with hanging beads. I wanted to get rid of my furniture and just buy a dozen bean bag chairs to recline on. I wanted to throw out my Celine Dion CD's and buy lots of Cat Stevens and The Grateful Dead CD's. I wanted to give up eating mea......nah forget that one.....I vowed to eat less mea.......nah forget that too......you get the picture.
And who did I vote for?

I am not ashamed to say....I voted for Obama!

BUEHLER.....BUEHLER.....BUEHLER.......ANYONE?........BUEHLER....

2008-05-06T13:09:00.000-05:00

2008-05-05T19:23:00.000-05:00

A Plumbing Nightmare

2008-05-05T16:54:00.004-05:00

A few months back, I awoke one morning to the faint sound of running water somewhere in my house. I searched the kitchen and all the bathrooms but could find no sign of water running from any faucet or toilet. I went outside and checked the faucets in front of the house, but they too were all shut off and dry. I trotted back inside and decided to go into the garage to check on the hot water heater. I opened up the inside door to the garage and was immediately knocked off my feet by a tidal wave of scalding hot water. The water flooded into our hallway and soon the hall was filled with 2 feet of floating boxes, gardening tools, a few drowned mice, and all the contents of our secondary freezer, which had tipped over and released a months supply of frozen meat into the water.

Screaming in agony from the 2nd and 3rd degree burns, and struggling to stay afloat while clinging onto the edge of my fireplace, I soon realized I would need a plumber.

A few hours later, after the water had receded, the plumber arrived. I explained the situation to him, showed him the tsunami damage inside the house, and pointed him towards the hot water heater that I thought was the cause of the disaster. He opened the closet door to the heater and quickly noticed that the heater itself was situated on a wooden stand raised about a foot off the floor. He looked at the base of the stand and could see a small amount of water still trickling out from underneath it. Being solidly encased in wood, he could not see under the heater so he asked if he could cut a small hole into the wood so he could peer inside. Now slipping into shock from the burns, I nodded yes and watched as he got a small power saw and proceeded to cut a 1 foot square opening into the stand. He layed down on the garage floor and poked a large flashlight through the hole to try to visualize the source of the leak.

He carefully crawled forward until only his legs were protruding from the hole.

"UH-OH!!"

"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!" he exclaimed.

I know nothing about plumbing except that you press the flush handle DOWN in order to make the pee-pee and poo-poo go bye-bye, but I do know that a plumber invoking any kind of religious metaphors while surveying a plumbing leak is NOT a good sign. You also do not want to hear your plumber saying "UH-OH" anymore than you want to hear your pilot say it on your next airline flight.

It was NOT good. The plumber quickly explained that the extent of our leak was going to be above the level of his expertise and he stated that we would have to call in a "specialist". He gave me a name and a phone number, climbed into his little yellow raft, and floated back to his truck and left.

I called the "specialist" and described my problem.

"HOLY MOSES!!" he exclaimed. Again, being faced with another religious metaphor, I knew it was bad.

Getting a reaction like that, site unseen, over the phone, is not a good sign.

The Specialist came a few days later. I knew it would not be a good day when he showed up wearing a wetsuit and scuba gear. The only sign that he was an actual plumber was the twin toilet plungers attached to his utility belt near his knife and spear gun.

Soon, the "Specialist", a small man, was completely through the hole and disappeared into the cavity below the hot-water heater.

A blood-curdling scream that started out loud but grew ever fainter as if a person was falling off a tall building filled the garage.

After what seemed like 3 minutes passed, a faint "SPLASH" was heard from beneath the heater.

I was left, all alone in the dark garage, just like Sheriff Brody in "JAWS" when he waited on the boat while "Hooper" went down to investigate a half-sunken boat drifting in the channel late at night. You know, the part where he is digging out a sharks tooth and then a severed head pops out and cause him to drop the tooth......but I digress.

The plumber-diver soon emerged from the hole with eyes as wide as saucers.

"It's bad.....It's Real bad!!" he exclaimed.

"How bad?" I sheepishly asked.

"Look into my eyes sir!!!" he barked at me while leaning forward and glaring at me.

I looked deep into his eyes. Instantly I knew this man had just witnessed unspeakable horrors that I could not comprehend.

The dreaded Slab Leak from Hell.

Here in Texas, we build our houses on thick concrete slabs. Over the years, Wise builders have determined that the absolute best place to put the plumbing for the house, is to bury it deep inside that concrete slab. In order to further protect the plumbing, they bury the water lines in the absolute strongest parts of the slab that are thick with concrete and encased in reinforcing steel rods.

This is all fine and dandy until something goes wrong and you get a leak in a pipe deep in that slab. The only way to get to the leak is to dig down through the slab to get to the source of the leak. Your water lines criss-cross under your whole house. If the leak is under your living room, they have to cut out your flooring and then jackhammer through your floor and the slab to reach the leak.

I knew what I needed to do. I needed to call my Insurance Agent!

In my family, my agent just happens to be my dear Sister-in-Law, Leah. I called her and explained the situation, giving full details about the horrific burns and the two plumbers that nearly drowned in my garage.

Leah was laughing so hard she could not continue to hold the phone. She nearly spilled her thermos full of Jack Daniels and almost swallowed her cigarette as fell backwards off her chair by the uncontrollable convulsions the laughter was causing her....

I went over her head and called her BOSS, who happens to be my Dear Father-in-Law, Leland. I explained the situation to him, again in great detail.

"You want to file a claim on your Insurance?....and you want ALLSTATE to pay for the repairs to your house?........" he calmy asked.

"Yes sir! I wanna file a claim!" I shouted.

I have been a loyal ALLSTATE customer for years and now wanted to use my benefits!!

He laughed so hard that he about choked on his tongue and according to witnesses, he almost lost all control of his bladder right there in his office in full view of a lobby full of startled customers.

After he had calmed down, he explained that my Homeowners Insurance that I pay thousands of dollars a year for, does not cover any damage to the house caused by leaky or defective pipes or plumbing, including damages to the plumbing by forces of nature such as wind, rain, hailstorm, tornado, tsunami, earthquake, or biblical plague. The policy will cover plumbing problems only in situations where the pipes have been breached by falling objects such as space debris, meteorites, suicidal birds, or planet killing comets.

I was up "you know what" creek without a paddle.

Leland went on to explain that the last thing you want to ever do if you have an insurance policy is actually file a claim. Sure, they might pay the claim, but they WILL get their money back from you in the long run by jacking your premiums through the roof for years and years to come.

Gotta love the Insurance Industry.

So, faced with no hot water, no Insurance coverage, a canyon-sized hole of water under our house, the medical bills for the 3rd degree burns, and no hope of financial escape....

I did what had to be done.

I burned the house to the ground during the next thunderstorm we had, using the lightning as the "cause" of the unfortunate accident that caused the complete and utter destruction of our cherished family home.

It worked like a charm. Within hours, Allstate, unaware of any "plumbing problems" had an agent on the scene, and we soon had a check in our hands to cover the cost of building a new house and replacing all of the belongings we had lost in the tragic fire.

After a month, our new dream home was built and done and was ready for move-in. We met the smiling builder at the front door and he eagerly prepared to hand us the keys to our new castle.

"Ya'll are gonna love this new home we built ya, and on behalf of my whole crew...we sure do hope ya all are happy here for years to come...." he said with a happy grin on his face.

"Thanks alot everyone, I'm sure we're gonna love it..." a replied as I grabbed the keys.

The builders smile left his face and he leaned in close to me. "Mister...Your gonna wanna get that big water leak in the garage fixed as soon as you can......"

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!"

2008-05-05T14:11:00.001-05:00

The secret of stock ownership that the Investors of the world do NOT want you to know about!

2008-05-01T19:10:00.007-05:00

After diving into the stock market, and after closely scrutinizing the 14,000 stocks I had to choose from, I decided on the company that would be my first purchase: McDonald's.

I could buy shares of most any company in the world....and I chose Mickey D's!

Yessiree Bob, I now officially own a piece of Ronald McDonald's butt!

I quickly learned something about the stock market that takes a lot of the pride of stock ownership out of the equation. We own a number of shares out of the 1.1 BILLION shares that exist in the world! So,in reality, we own a microscopic little piece of Ronald's Butt. (Actually, a freckle on his butt)

After purchasing our shares, we received a letter from McDonald's Corp Headquarters, "Welcoming" us into the McDonald's family. This letter also gave explicit instructions on how to "enjoy our benefits of stock ownership" when next visiting a McDonald's restaurant.

The next day, I hauled the family into town to our local McDonald's and after ordering, I reached into my wallet and pulled out the letter. Reading closely, I did exactly what the letter instructed.

I tugged on my left ear 3 times, rubbed my right elbow, touched the tip of my nose, rubbed my belly 4 times in a counterclockwise motion, coughed deeply, grabbed my crotch, and then spit onto the floor.

The teenage cashier behind the counter snapped to attention and slowly shuffled off to the Manager on duty and whispered into his ear while pointing at me.
The manager hurried over and soon was nervously standing in front of me. He leaned forward and whispered..."Stockholder?". I nodded yes, did 3 "airfarts" under my left armpit, spun around twice and the crowed like a rooster...(as instructed by the letter).

The manager hurried around the counter and ushered that the family and I follow him through a side-door that I assumed led to the outside parking lot.

We went through the door only to find ourselves in a small hallway facing another closed door. The door to the restaurant closed behind us and the manager was gone. A small portal on the inside door opened and a pair of eyes stared out into the hallway at us. "Password?" the voice commanded. I grabbed the letter and scanned down the page. Finding my answer, I looked at the eyes and exclaimed...."RIBBERSNUCKER!!!".

The portal slammed shut and the door slowly opened.

Harp music filtered into the hallway.

Standing inside the door was an immaculately dressed Maitre'D wearing a formal tuxedo with a small yellow "Golden Arch" on his left breast pocket. He smiled and graciously waved us inside. The interior room was extremely formal with candlelit tables, a small fountain in the center of the room, and what appeared to be a piano bar tucked away in one corner. Small clusters of families chatted away at the intimate tables, laughing and joking as a group of scantily clad maidens danced around the the room throwing handfuls of rose petals into the air. We were in shock! The diners noticed us at the door and called out in unison.."RIBBERSNUCKER!!". We smiled and gave them a hearty "RIBBERSNUCKER!!" right back. We then had to quickly step back out of the way as a food cart went past us. The cart was adorned with lobster, steak, shrimp, and what appeared to be the steaming remains of a stuffed Komodo Dragon or some other large lizard.

So, this was the secret that the "Rich and Famous" stock investors of the world did not want us common, non-stock owning peons to know.

If you are a stockholder, a whole new world is opened up to you. Big Mac's and Happy Meals are for losers! Stockholders dine on steak and lizard and are showered with rose petals by beautiful maidens.

I only wish now I had invested in Playboy instead.

2008-05-01T15:25:00.000-05:00

IS IT FRIDAY YET?

I may not be such an Idiot after all....

2008-04-30T14:25:00.003-05:00

My wife will argue with that statement but I have found a guy that I feel is way more intellectually challenged than yours truly.

A 21yr old man here in the Fort Worth area was arrested after stealing a blank check from his girlfriends mother. The Idiot made the check out to himself and then went to the local bank to cash it.

The clerks became a little suspicious when they noticed that the check was for 360 Billion dollars. Billion with a capital B! Ten Zero's!

When questioned by the Police, he said that he was starting his own record label and claimed that the girlfriends Mother had agreed to finance him.

Is there a record label on the planet worth 360 Billion?

Is the planet itself worth 360 billion?

I try to cash a check for just $36 here at my local bank and I have to get three tellers to verify my photo ID, Passport, fingerprints, urine sample, and then get the Branch Managers signature before they will grudgingly cash the check.

And this Bozo thought he could get $360 BILLION. What an Idiot.

Diving into the Stock Market: Part 1

2008-04-30T07:42:00.000-05:00

Part 1: How being an Idiot and trying to plan for your retirement can bring down that wrath of two powerful governments and really ruin a previously nice day.

After paying the bills and not knowing what to do with the handfuls of small bills and change I had left over, my dear Father persuaded me to flush the last of my new found wealth down the toilet by jumping into the stock market.

He relayed to me that my number #1 priority should be to open an IRA Retirement account for the wife and I since, being a schoolteacher, my wife's retirement plan at school is so pathetic that after nearly 10 years of teaching and contributing to the retirement plan that the State of Texas offers, she has less than $20,000 saved towards retirement. So, dear Dad instructed that I find an online broker and contribute money for both last year and this year towards an IRA.

Not knowing much or anything for that matter about IRA's, I decided to GOOGLE it with the query "CONTRIBUTING TO IRA".

Well, to put things simple, I must have added a "THE" into the search because a mere 1 hour and 32 minutes after doing the search, my house was raided by 3 dozen federal agents, an entire platoon of British SAS Commandos, our entire local police force, agents from the FBI, NSA, ATF, Department of Homeland Security, and a really pissed off Representative of the British Consulate here in Dallas.

Seems that Idiot me, had put a search into GOOGLE for "CONTRIBUTING TO THE IRA" and instead of getting the much needed financial info I was searching for, I had instead set off alarms throughout the US and British Governments that I was somehow interested in contributing to the Irish Republican Army. IRA (Individual Retirement Account).....IRA (Irish Republican Army). Easy to confuse right?

During my 13 day "debriefing" and interrogation in Guantanamo Bay, I was repeatedly hounded by agents as to why I wanted to contribute to such a vile terrorist organization that aimed to destroy such a loyal ally as Great Britain, and after days without food or water, I finally broke down and admitted that dear Dad had instructed me to contribute money to the IRA, I mean for an IRA, Er I mean Take money FROM the IRA, er I .....Dad told me to collect money FOR the IRA....OH, I'm so confused......

Dad is now in the next cell over.

Turns out he has been putting money into the IRA or contributing to an IRA or from the IRA for years now......I just can't remember which.

What's your ringtone?

2008-04-29T10:01:00.003-05:00

A quick contest. Reply to this post and list the current ringtone on YOUR cell phone. Wierdest or "most unique" one wins. Plain and Simple.

Me? I'm (almost) 43 years old, gray as a goat, look like the Michelin Tire Man, and have the daily life excitment level of a deflated beach ball.

When I am in the Doctors Office, or Church, a funeral,or someplace else "QUIET"....what blares out from MY phone when someone dials a wrong number and mistakenly gets me?

*****FUNKYTOWN!!****************

Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown

FFFFFUUUUUUNNNNNKKKKEEEEEE TTTTTTOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!

Yet another Wal-Mart story

2008-04-29T09:13:00.000-05:00

This is why women should not take men shopping
against their will.

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany
her on her trips to Wal-mart. Unfortunately, like
most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to
get in and get out.

Equally unfortunately, my wife
is like most women - - she loved to browse.
Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter
from the local Wal-Mart.

Dear Mrs. Samsel,

Over the past six months, your husband has been
causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot
tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban
both of you from the store. Our complaints against
Mr.Samsel are listed below and are documented by our
video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in
people's carts when they weren't looking.

2 . July 2 : Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares
to go off at 5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor
leading to the women's restroom.

4. July 19:
Walked up to an employee and told her in
an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it
right away.'

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to
put a bag of M&M's on layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to
a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping
department and told other shoppers he' d invite them
in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the
bedding department.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help
him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you
people just leave me alone?'

9. September 4: Looked right into the security
camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his
nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting
department, he asked the clerk where the
antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously
while loudly humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced
his 'Madonna look' by using different sizes of
funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when
people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 21: When an announcement came over the
loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and
screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'

And last, but not least.

15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the
door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, 'Hey!
There's no toilet paper in here."

Regards,
Tom Richards
Walmart Manager

Oil Drilling in Texas: All day all Night, Rain or Shine

2008-04-28T18:05:00.001-05:00

My how the times have changed

2008-04-28T09:25:00.003-05:00

It is now Spring. Here in Texas, this means the wildflowers are in full bloom, the snakes have woken up, the temperature will have 40 degree swings on a daily basis, and we are now in prime tornado season.

It used to be that if a severe storm was approaching our home we would all sit in front of the TV and would scream obscenities at the local stations for NOT breaking into the regular programming to give us weather updates. Nothing was worse than hearing "This storm has a history of producing tornadoes, baseball sized hail, and winds in excess of 80 mph and is currently moving directly towards the community of ______ (Insert your town name here) and should arrive there within...... We now return you to regularly scheduled programming.." FULL HOUSE pops back on the screen, family scatters in terror seeking shelter while wife orders me to stake out TV and wait for the next weather update. And wait. And Wait. And Wait. We could never understand how a tornado bearing down on a town in the stations viewing area would take backseat to broadcasting a show you could see in reruns later on in the year. Tornadoes do not give reruns. We, along with the rest of civilized society, always felt that here in Tornado Alley, the local weathermen needed to be on the air, constantly, without interruption, if a tornado was in the viewing area.

Now, I am older and wiser.

Now, I see storm clouds building on the horizon and I start to get nervous. As the sound of approaching thunder grows louder and the lightning flashes become more frequent and intense, I grow even more nervous. As the wind starts howling, the hail starts slamming onto the roof, and objects like family pets, yard furniture, and lightweight senior citizens start flying by the window, I grow almost frantically nervous. With the first flicker of the household lights I finally lose it and scream hysterically at the TV...."DON'T INTERRUPT UGLY BETTY!! DON'T INTERRUPT UGLY BETTY!! THE STORM CAN WAIT DAMN IT!! THE STORM CAN WAIT!!!"

Seconds later, I am reduced to a spineless, sobbing bowl of jelly. The tornado sirens are screaming all over town, pieces of the roof are starting to leave the house, and my tear-filled eyes are now staring at the "SATELLITE SIGNAL LOST...PLEASE WAIT" screen on the TV.

There will be no more UGLY BETTY tonight.

Sometimes you just can't win

2008-04-27T19:22:00.003-05:00

My wife, the schoolteacher, has been attempting to juggle working full-time, while also taking classes, as she works towards her Masters Degree. Me, I juggle full-time do nothing perfection, while working towards my home study degree in Obesity Sciences. The wife has been sitting in front of the computer for 3 straight days working on a lengthy paper she needed for one of her Masters classes. This paper was so important the she ended up using a personal day and took Friday off from her teaching duties. So, with this action, my wife's selfish pursuit of higher education and slightly increased social status took higher precedence over the wants and needs of the poor, educationally deprived, knowledge craving, little Special Education kids that rely on her teachings to guide them through life......

Well anyway.... She slaves all weekend on this paper and then starts begging me to read it and let her know what I think. I remind her that I am an Idiot, have no college degree, and that after 9 years of being at home, I barely have the brain cells needed to pass a good gas bubble. She tries in vain to reach her Teacher's aide (Teresa) in order to have HER read it, but the aide is wisely screening her calls and refuses to answer her phone. Frustrated, she once again begs and pleads with me to read her paper. I grudgingly put down the Cheetos and the "Archie" comics and agree to read this book-length report and tell her what I think. I take a deep breath, switch the braincell power switch to "ON" from "Stand-by", and dive in. After about 2 hours, 131 pages, and 93 words of which I had no clue of their meaning, I was finished. I gave my honest opinion. I knew nothing of the subject manner, did not know many of the college-degree level vocabulary words, had experienced a few mild seizures from brain overload, but that all-in-all, I thought it was a very professional "sounding" and "appearing" paper.

"OH!! WHAT DO YOU KNOW YA SLACK-JAWED IDIOT?!!!" she screamed as she hysterically tossed me from the computer room and frantically started trying to call her aide again.

Nearby, at Teresa's house, the phone is ringing and Teresa is threatening to kill anyone that dares answer that phone!

I now understand why. You can't win.

Hillary Special

2008-04-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

The local chicken restaurant here in town had the following special listed on their sign this past week.

"HILLARY SPECIAL"
"TWO LARGE THIGHS TWO SMALL BREASTS AND ONE LEFT WING"

I tried to copy a photo of the sign that ran in the local paper but the photo was copyrighted and I am too lazy to drive into town and take a picture of it myself.

We live in a VERY, VERY, REPUBLICAN area so no one has bothered to complain and ask that they take the sign down. If it was a joke against President Bush, an angry torch-carrying mob would have burned the place down within minutes.

Below is a pic from a KFC somewhere else in the country that had the same sign. Our wiseacre here in town must have seen or heard about this sign and decided to copy it. Listening to my wife (a Teacher), you can rest aussured that none of the teen-age fast-food workers here in town have the intellectual IQ needed to think of such a cute sign themselves.

2008-04-24T09:56:00.000-05:00

One Man's Good Fight

2008-04-24T08:43:00.001-05:00

One Man's Good Fight

I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that
Course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had
Prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'You're definitely
Going to $h!t yourself' chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful,
Which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat the next day
Both of your a$$ cheeks WILL fall off.

Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of
Coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No 'Watson's
Movement 2'. Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my
Intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning
Symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.

Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when, I
Bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often
Haunt in search of tasty tidbits.

Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and
Began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn't until I was
At the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me.
Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm
Referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the
Wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.

The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a
Mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines,
Forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one
Step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it
Happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.

There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a
Noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was
Afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly,
Oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I
Began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned
Into it.

I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction
Would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she
Walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different
Directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at
Least will be able to relate.

I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she walked
Into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible
That all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand
There blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward
Off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me
Laugh. Mistake.

Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down',
If you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth
From my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a
Few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the
Store and firing off a shotgun.

Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through
The store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying
That I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the
Inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the toilet seat because my ass is
Burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle
Of what is the true meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and
Disgustedly said, 'Sonofabitch!', then quickly left.

Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart
Intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me
And said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears
Some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to
Run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of
The problem.'

That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The
Employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose
And, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off
returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted
from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.

Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat
but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to
shop at Albertson's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court
over the whole matter.

Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the
store..

(Author Unknown...Not me...Honest)

Where I've Been these last 4 months

2008-04-23T08:13:00.000-05:00

Earth is where I've been.

Where were you?

When we last left my sad idiot life, I had reached a crossroads. I had finally settled my lawsuit once and for all. When I got hurt back in 1999, I looked like a taller version of Opie Taylor from the Andy Griffith Show. After 9 years of lawyers and the wonderful US Legal System, I now look like Howard Hughes in his final days. Dry, matted, white hair hanging down to my waist, bones visible through my skin, fingernails dragging the floor, and each chronic cough or hiccup sends teeth flying from my mouth. But here I was at that crossroads I mentioned earlier. What to do with the rest of my idiot life? I decided to take financial control of my life for my first chore. I longed for the day that I would not wish for finding a pipe bomb in my mailbox instead of the daily mountain of bills I was usually greeted with. First I paid off all our Medical Bills. Believe it or not, I still had medical bills from 9 years ago that I had been paying on for nearly the past decade. Done. Gone. I paid off Tyler's surgical bills, Hannah's root canal, my wife's broken wrist, and paid off the costly saline-injected testicular enhancement that I had always dreamed of. Don't laugh! You see a monster truck coming down the highway...you don't notice the truck...you notice the tires! I then headed over to credit cardville....the town in which I have lived enslaved for most of my life. It was painful but I sat down and wrote out HUGE checks to the 28 credit card companies we owed, removed my left testicle, tore out the kitchen sink, and mailed off my payments to completely pay them ALL off. Done. Gone. No more credit card debt. That 79 cent Baby Ruth bar that I bought at the Eastside Texaco in Orem, Utah back in 1991, that I ended up paying $32.18 in interest on......is history! Paid for and done! One word of warning about paying off credit cards. You think you get buried in offers now? Try paying them all off! I needed to get a new mailbox the size of a large doghouse in order to have room for the 12,781 card offers that come every day! And of course, the card companies we did have did not want us to pay off our balance. Now they call offering low interest rates, NO interest rates, cash back rewards, increased credit lines, free cars, gas cards, and membership in Elliot Spitzers high-class call-girl ring "The Emperors Club" if we will use their cards again in the future. But never again. Now, I see a 79 Cent Baby Ruth at the gas station....I pay CASH baby!! Cold, Hard Cash!! So, now we had paid off the medical bills and the credit cards..... What to do with the rest?

This is where we get to the crossroads. I chose to head down a road I had never travelled in my miserable little life. A road of which I had no knowledge, no road map, and a path infested with hungry wolves lurking around every corner, all chomping at the bit to get to me and my newfound money.

I decided to jump into the Stock Market!!

Yeah Baaaaabbbbeeeeee!! Wooooo HOOOOOO!! The Stock Market!!

Wall Street! Here comes the Idiot and his money!! Make way! Make way!

The one and only form of legalized gambling in the state of Texas!

And now you know the BEGINNING of the story. I have been hiding in the stock market for these past 4 months. How are things going?

Stick around and maybe I will tell.

**Medical Disclaimer: No testicles were in any way injected, enlarged, blown up, enhanced, or otherwise made to appear larger than their natural sizes and appearance. Such artificial enhancement of said TESTI could result in serious medical side effects including nausea, vomiting, dry mouth, painful urination, suicidal thoughts, poor television viewing habits, bleeding gums, chronic nose bleeds, and coma and/or death. Any erection lasting more than 4 hours could be a sign of a serious medical condition. Consult your doctor immediately.**

Wal-Mart

2008-04-22T15:30:00.000-05:00

"Wal-Mart....is like shopping in a soup kitchen.....without the ambience"

Jim Cramer CNBC-TV

Ants! Be rid of Ye!!

2008-04-21T21:11:00.003-05:00

Think I used enough ant killer? The container said to "sprinkle enough powder evenly over exposed areas of yard to ensure infestation is successfully treated"

So, I spread the powder, all 13 boxes, evenly over my back yard and everything in it.
And it worked! No more Ants!

Of course, there's no more birds, spiders, insects, squirrels, chipmunks, or deer either.....and I now have a constant cough, fever, chills, and have grown a small flipper beneath my left nipple.....but at least the damn ants are gone!

**Actually this is a rare March Snowfall here in Texas as seen through my back window. One day, My dad and I are out on the golf course in shorts, and the next day, this happened. Only in Texas! **

Signs of Life?

2008-04-21T10:40:00.004-05:00

The woman exited the hospital elevator and began the now-routine walk down the dark and depressing hallway past open doors that presented short glimpses into the misery and sickness being endured by the dozens of patients on this particular floor. After months of this painful walk, she has desensitized herself to the hideous sights and sounds and walks briskly past the doorways, only occasionally throwing off slight nods and smiles to the hospital staff she has now become very familiar with.
Reaching the end of her walk, she slowly enters the last room at the end of the hall. No matter how upbeat and positive she felt before leaving home each morning, the mere act of entering this room on a daily basis manages to quickly destroy any joy or positive thoughts she may have. The room is a dark, sterile, haunting cavern filled only with a bed, a lone chair perched underneath the one small window that allows any glimpses of the outside world, and a unbelievable maze of life-support equipment machines and monitors whose faintly blinking lights and sounds give the depressing room it's only signs of life.
On the bed is the woman's husband, or at least, what USED to be the woman's husband. Underneath the breathing tube, the electrodes, the miles of IV Tubing, and about 32 pounds of gauze and bandages, lies the man she loves. A small tear appears beneath her left eye. She slowly wipes it away, gently brushes a hair from her husbands face, and then she slumps into the solitary chair to begin the long, depressing, daily ritual of her bedside vigil, waiting and praying for the day when her soul mate will awaken.
Hours pass, interrupted only by the occasional chirp or alarm from the life support equipment. Nurses and aides make their way in and out of the room throughout the morning and while most try to give the woman small words of encouragement, they all know that the prognosis is not good for the stricken man.
Shortly after lunch, the woman's co-worker arrives for her now once-weekly visit. She smiles and places a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "Any change?" she whispers. The woman nods slowly. "No....still the same". The women both stare in sad silence at the man on the bed. No one has any thing further to say. There is nothing else that can be said. This ritual has played out for months with no improvement in the man's condition. The cold, dark silence of the room is too much for the wife to handle at this moment. She asks her co-worker to sit bedside while she slips outside for a moment for some fresh air. The co-worker smiles. "Of course dear....you take as long as you need"
The woman rises from the chair, gently rubs her husbands cold hand, and slowly strolls out of the room.
The co-worker has seen this scene play out dozens of times over the months and has grown weary of these weekly trips to the Hospital. Deep down, she has grown bitter and angry. Not at the man's situation and the effect that it has had on his wife and family, but she has grown angry at the man himself. This man she barely knows, through his lifeless ordeal in the hospital, has taken something vital from her. Something she needs on a daily basis to survive. The months of coiled rage finally spring forth from the co-worker and she clutches an angry fist high over the man's head.
She loses all self-control and begins pummeling the mans face and chest with both fists, screaming like a banshee all the while. "Wake up you fat bastard!! Wake up!!" "I know you can hear me!! Wake up!!"
The mans comatose body recoils from the repeated blows but the man shows no outward signs of any improved level of consciousness. The co-worker, sensing that the brutal beating is having no effect, instead turn her gaze to the intricate life-support machines that have kept the man alive all these long months. She smiles a devilish grin as she leans over to the man and whispers..."You better wake up fat man....and you better start blogging again today....or else you ain't never gonna wake up!!" She reaches over and starts turning off switches on the machines. Alarms start to sound in the room and at the nurses station. Staff start to sprint for the room. The co-worker turns off the last switch, grabs the lone chair in the room, and raises it high over her head, taking dead aim at the mans head. "Blog you bastard!! BLLLLLLLOOOOOOOGGGGGGG!!!!"

2008-01-15T13:08:00.000-06:00

7 Degrees of Blonde

2008-01-15T12:33:00.000-06:00

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

FIRST DEGREE

A married couple were asleep when the phone rang at 2 in the morning.
The wife (undoubtedly blonde), picked up the phone,
listened a moment and said "How should I know,
that's 200 miles from here!" and hung up.

The husband said, "Who was that?" The wife said, "I don't know,
some woman wanting to know if the coast is clear."
`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´* :-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

SECOND DEGREE

Two blondes are walking down the street. One notices a compact on
the sidewalk and leans down to pick it up. She opens it, looks in the
mirror and says, "Hmm, this person looks familiar." The second blonde
says, "Here, let me see!" So the first blonde hands her the compact.
The second one looks in the mirror and says, "You dummy, it's me!"

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-., _,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,. -:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

THIRD DEGREE

A blonde suspects her boyfriend of cheating on her,
so she goes out and buys a gun. She goes to his apartment
unexpectedly and when she opens the door she finds him
in the arms of a redhead.
Well, the blonde is really angry.
She ope ns her purse to take out the gun,
and as she does so, she is overcome with grief.
She takes the gun and puts it to her head..
The boyfriend yells, "No, honey, don't do it!!!"
The blonde replies, "Shut up, you're next!"

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

FOURTH DEGREE

A blonde was bragging about her knowledge of state capitals.
She proudly says, "Go ahead, ask me, I know all of them."
A friend says, "OK, what's the capital of Wisconsin ?"
The blonde replies, "Oh, that's easy: W."

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`< FONT face="Courier New" size=4>´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

FIFTH DEGREE
What did the blonde ask her doctor when he told her she was pregnant?
"Is it mine?"

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

SIXTH DEGREE

Bambi, a blonde in her fourth year as a UCLA freshman,
sat in her US government class.
The professor asked Bambi if she knew what Roe vs. Wade
was about. Bambi pondered the question then finally said,
"That was the decision George Washington had to make
before he crossed the Delaware"

`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*: -.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*:-.,_,-:*´`´*:-.,_,.-:*´`´*

SEVENTH DEGREE

Returnin g home from work, a blonde was shocked to find her house
ransacked and burglarized.
She telephoned the police at once and reported the crime.
The police dispatcher broadcast the call on the radio,
and a K-9 unit, patrolling nearby was the first to respond.
As the K-9 officer approached the house with his dog on a leash,
the blonde ran out on the porch,
shuddered at the sight of the cop and his dog,
then sat down on the steps.
Putting her face in her hands, she moaned,
"I come home to find all my possessions stolen.
I call the police for help, and what do they do?
They send me a BLIND policeman."

3 Things to ponder

2008-01-14T16:30:00.001-06:00

C O W S

Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington? And, they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.

T H E C O N S T I T U T I O N

They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq. Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it has worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.

T H E 1 0 C O M A N D M E N T S

The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse is this: You cannot post "Thou Shalt Not Steal," "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery," and "Thou Shall Not Lie" in a building full of lawyers, judge's and politicians...It creates a hostile work environment.

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER

2008-01-11T20:07:00.000-06:00

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER

NOTE: This application will be incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by
a complete financial statement,
job history, lineage, and current medical report from your doctor.

NAME_____________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH_____________

HEIGHT___________ WEIGHT____________ IQ__________ GPA_____________

SOCIAL SECURITY #_________________ DRIVERS LICENSE #________________

BOY SCOUT RANK AND BADGES__________________________________________

HOME ADDRESS_______________________ CITY/STATE___________ ZIP______

Do you have parents? ___Yes ___No
Is one male and the other female? ___Yes ___No
If No, explain: _____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________

Number of years they have been married ______________________________

If less than your age, explain
____________________________________________________________________

____________________________________________________________________

ACCESSORIES SECTION:

A. Do you own or have access to a van? __Yes __No

B. A truck with oversized tires? __Yes __No

C. A waterbed? __Yes __No

D. A pickup with a mattress in the back? __Yes __No

E. A tattoo? __Yes __No

F. Do you have an earring, nose ring, __Yes __No
pierced tongue, pierced cheek or a belly button ring?

(IF YOU ANSWERED 'YES' TO ANY OF THE ABOVE, DISCONTINUE APPLICATION
AND LEAVE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY. I SUGGEST RUNNING.)

ESSAY SECTION:

In 50 words or less, what does 'LATE' mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

In 50 words or less, what does 'DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER' mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

In 50 words or less, what does 'ABSTINENCE' mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

REFERENCES SECTION:

Church you attend ___________________________________________________

How often you attend ________________________________________________

When would be the best time to interview your:

father? _____________

mother? _____________

pastor? _____________

SHORT-ANSWER SECTION:

Answer by filling in the blank. Please answer freely, all answers
are confidential.

A: If I were shot, the last place I would want shot would be:

______________________________________________________________

B: If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my:

______________________________________________________________

C: A woman's place is in the:

______________________________________________________________

D: The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is:

______________________________________________________________

E. What do you want to do IF you grow up? ___________________________

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

F. When I meet a girl, the thing I always notice about her first is:

______________________________________________________________

F. What is the current going rate of a hotel room? __________________

I SWEAR THAT ALL INFORMATION SUPPLIED ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO
THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT,
NATIVE AMERICAN ANT TORTURE, CRUCIFIXION, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE
WATER TORTURE, RED HOT POKERS, AND HILLARY CLINTON KISS TORTURE.

_________________________________________________________
Applicant's Signature (that means sign your name, moron!)

_______________________________ ________________________________
Mother's Signature Father's Signature

_______________________________ ________________________________
Pastor/Priest/Rabbi State Representative/Congressman

Thank you for your interest, and it had better be genuine and non-sexual.
Please allow four to six years for processing.

You will be contacted in writing if you are approved. Please do not try to
call or write (since you probably can't, and it would cause you injury). If your application is
rejected, you will be notified by two gentleman wearing white ties carrying violin cases. (you
might watch your back)

To prepare yourself, start studying Daddy's Rules for Dating.

Daddy's Rules for Dating
Your dad's rules for your boyfriend (or for you if you're a guy) :

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package,
because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long
as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes
or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear
their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please
don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete
idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I
propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and
your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to
ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date
with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers
securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a
'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to
sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we
should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do
not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when
you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I
need from you on this subject is: 'early.'

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date
other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter.
Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date
no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will
make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and
more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for
the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a
process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead
of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the
oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places
where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places
where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or
happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my
daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than
overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies
with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature
chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged,
dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing,
merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with
whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but
the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do
not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound
of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near
Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head
frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As
soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in
plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that
you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car -
there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is
mine

I Knew it!!

2008-01-08T11:59:00.000-06:00

Vegas Thoughts: #4 What a difference 17 years makes....

2008-01-08T11:56:00.000-06:00

My wife and I were married 17 years ago. After getting married here in Texas, we flew to Las Vegas for our Honeymoon. That was in 1991. We stayed at Bally's on the strip, in a huge room, for a whopping $35 a night. We marveled at all of the cheap buffets in town and distinctly remember how you could eat breakfast for $1.99/each, Lunch for $2.99 and Dinner for $4.99. We called it an "ADULT DISNEYLAND" that was a lot less expensive than the actual Disneyland.
We have been back to Vegas six more times since that Honeymoon trip. Each trip, we discover that the city was quickly pricing itself out of our price range on everything. We are not as poor as I make out to be and yet we are nowhere close to being well-off. We are extreme middle-class with our combined incomes. After this trip, we no longer plan on making any more trips to Las Vegas. It is simply too expensive. On our budget level, there is no way for us to afford the airfare and hotel costs and then have enough money to actually eat in real restaurants and see some shows along with the expected money needed to gamble each day. Let's take the food. I already told you about the $3 cokes from the coke machines, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. My wife, parents, and I all ate a dinner buffet at the Treasure Island's Buffet and the bill, without tip, was over $90! I don't know about where you live but we can eat here in town about 3-4 times without spending that much total. We ate a brunch one morning and I payed $47 for my wife and I. They had a Krispy Kreme doughnut "case" in one of the gift shops in the casino. I bought 4 doughnuts for the wife and I and paid $7. It got to be an unfunny joke that everything was so darn expensive. Here we were, my wife and I, and my parents, all middle class everyday people, and for the vast majority of our meals, we ended up hiking next door to the food court of the adjacent shopping mall. I save for a Vegas Vacation, fly halfway across the country, and my wife ends up eating "Subway" as if we were still back home. We would have loved to see some of the great shows while we were out there, but found that all the good shows ran from $80-$120 per person. If we would have been able to forgo the eating ritual, we might have managed to scrape together enough for one show if we were lucky. Las Vegas, which used to market itself as a great value destination for everyone, has totally given up on the lower and middle classes and now targets only the most well-off of visitors. While we stayed at Treasure Island, one of the "least expensive" hotels on the strip, the three hotels across the street, (Venetian, Palazzo, and Wynn) all have rooms in the $250/night range and do not cater to people like myself that would dare to wear blue jeans and tennis shoes into their precious casino. Cheapo that I am, I paid $49/night for a hotel at the airport in Dallas and was perfectly happy. The room was fine and it's not like you can see anything while you are sleeping anyway... Why anyone would pay $250 a night for a room is beyond my comprehension. It's like a watch. A guy can pay $19,000 for a Rolex and I would bet that my $30 Casio keeps practically the same exact time. Again, I was just shocked at how expensive EVERYTHING was on this trip. I wandered next door to "The Mirage" one morning and found a delicatessen. Outside of the door was the menu. I glanced at the sandwiches and about coughed up a lung in shock. The sandwiches were not only in the ballpark of $20 EACH but they charged a $3 EXTRA CHARGE for sharing your sandwich with someone else! So, I laughed off the $20 sandwiches and shuffled back to the trusty food court, where by the way, thousands of other "PO FOLKS" like myself were all standing in line counting their pennies.
Enough of this gripe. Ya'll may find things totally different and think I just like to gripe to hear myself talk. If you do go to Vegas, be warned, take MONEY....lot's of MONEY.
You will need it if you want to eat.
If your like us, and happen to be staying center strip.....
There is a good food court at the Fashion Show Mall and another inside the Venetian Hotel. There is a McDonalds located next to Harrah's casino. Be warned. All were crowded and noisy but it sure saved a lot of money in the long run.

And that was just the food......

The Gambling part has changed, and not for the better, also....

That is another post.....

**PS*** The food court costs were "OK" compared to what you pay back home. It did not hold true at the Vegas Airport where two value meals at Burger King for my wife and I cost over $16 total. Call me a tightwad, but that it ridiculous for Burger King!

Welcome to the world of Britney

2008-01-08T11:54:00.000-06:00

Vegas Thoughts: #3

2008-01-07T10:14:00.000-06:00

The Pick of Destiny

This is not really a Vegas gripe but rather an observation of something witnessed while flying to Vegas.
On a typical airliner only 1/3 of the passengers will have window seats.
The remaining passengers will either be wedged into the middle seats or will be sitting on the aisles.
Most people, except those afraid of heights or those afraid of the plane falling thousands of feet from the sky and plummeting to earth in a fireball, like to look out the windows.
Those people NOT lucky enough to be seated next to a window will still be trying to peer out the windows from wherever they may be seated.
If YOU are seated on a window, keep in mind, people around you WILL be trying to look out YOUR window which will result in them having to stare at a space just inches from YOUR face.
While NOT LOOKING DIRECTLY AT YOU, they will still see your face and everything you do.
If you are sitting on the window when the Captain comes on the intercom and announces that there is a "Spectacular view of the Grand Canyon" outside the right side of the aircraft........It is NOT such a good idea to go "mining for nuggets of treasure" to the point that your finger is buried up to the third knuckle inside your nose.
Dozens of people from the OTHER side of the plane are going to be glancing your way and will try to catch a glimpse out YOUR window only to catch sight of you feverishly digging away at your nose.
My thanks to the guy sitting in front of me and to the right who put on such a show.
This well-dressed businessman type, had the bad fortune to have an itchy medulla oblongata, reachable only with a well-paced finger, at the exact moment that half of the plane was staring his direction.
And for a few short hours, the memory did wonders to curb my appetite!
Bon Apetite!

Moooooommmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!

2008-01-06T12:03:00.000-06:00

Vegas Thoughts: #2

2008-01-06T11:51:00.001-06:00

The Coke Machine.

It is NEVER a good sign when the Coke machine on the floor of your Hotel actually has a CREDIT CARD READER built into it!

The Cokes were $3 each!

Try going to your local grocery store and paying $36 for a 12-pack of Coke!

Imagine how pathetic you must be to get to the point to where you are sliding your credit card through the machine in order to get a single Coke. What will it show up on your bill as? "VENDING MACHINE, LAS VEGAS NEVADA, $3.00"?

And how much, over the years, will that Coke actually cost you? At my cards rates, at the rate we pay things off, that single Coke would cost me about $143.16.

Doesn't your credit card company, who watches everything you purchase along with monitoring your ability to pay your monthly bill, get a little nervous when they see you start charging Cokes from a machine?

Only in Vegas!

PS** I NEVER charged a Coke! I stole money from the wife, swiped money from the parents, mugged a Korean Senior citizen in the elevator, and jumped into a large fountain out front that was littered with thousands of coins.....but I NEVER charged a Coke!

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Vegas Thoughts: Part 1 of a 2,384 part series

2008-01-06T11:21:00.000-06:00

Part 1: In preparation for your upcoming trip to Las Vegas..... Take out a $20 bill, take it into your bathroom, kick yourself in the groin area, and then flush the $20 down the toilet.

It WILL put the first few hours of your trip to Las Vegas in better perspective....

Just getting to Las Vegas all but drains the money from your pockets as fast as you can blink. We stayed at a Hotel at the airport the night before our departure. We had an early morning flight and caught the 5:50am shuttle from the hotel to the terminal. This is where the money vacuum started going out of control as it would non-stop for the next days. Arriving at the terminal, I give $3 to the driver for the 3 small bags he had to lift in and out of the back of the van. Drain total=$3. We fly to Vegas and go to the shuttle bus area to catch our shuttle to the hotel. A short ride to the Hotel and the vacuum again sucks another $3 from my pocket. We then drag our bags about 50 feet across the pavement to where we are greeted by the smiling embrace of the Hotel Doorman. He takes our bags, and due to his increased job status and prestige, the vacuum sucks another $5 from the pockets. New total is now $11. We go off to eat breakfast, waiting for our rooms to become available, and then go up to our room where a highly skilled person delivers our bags a short time later. Out sucks another $5. My wife, exhausted from the 2 1/2hr flight, wants a coke. I trot down to the coke machine on our floor. $3! Yes, Three Dollars for a single coke. Suuuuuuuuuck. Finally, I trot downstairs and plop down at a slot machine. Before ever putting my first money into the machine, I have already blown nearly $20 for just one measly coke and having a small number of people drive my fat butt or carry our 3 little carry-on bags. I know....What the heck am I complaining about....it's only $20.....but the scary part was that it was just the tip of the iceberg of what was to come. Within 48 hours, I was reduced to a naked hulk of a man, protected only by a small piece of newspaper that I grabbed out of the gutter, forced to panhandle from strangers on the street corner, begging for spare change to afford one of the those $3 cokes.

Happy New Year!

2008-01-05T10:52:00.000-06:00

2008! I don't know about you, but it will be hard for 2008 to be nearly as bad as 2007 was. Let's hope and pray for all of us that 2008 is a great new year.
Sorry I went AWOL again. My wife lost a dear Grandmother just before Christmas so the Holidays were a hectic mess of running from relatives house to house for Christmas while trying to sandwich a funeral in-between. Then, once we returned home, we turned around and bolted for a New Years trip to Las Vegas with my parents and just returned last night. So, here it is, January 5th I believe, and our house is still cluttered with opened Christmas presents, the tree is still up and decorated, my wife has this weekend to catch up on all her school work, and I have no clue when I will able to put all this crap away.
I know the little wife is going to tell (demand) that I put all the lights and ornaments away and then take apart and re box the tree. I have no problem with this. One slight problem is that she will kill me for the methods employed to de-tree the house. She has ornament boxes that have individual compartments for the 3,000 ornaments on the tree. Each ornament is also allotted a piece of soft wrapping paper to cushion and protect each delicate little ornament.
Do you realize the time involved with actually removing each single ornament, one at a time, carefully wrapping it in paper, then softly laying it in it's own little compartment in an ornament box bigger than most couches? I'm a guy. I don't have that kind of time! This is my method, although I will deny ever printing this in the divorce proceedings. First, you take out all of the dividers and levels from the ornament box until you have a plain, ordinary, hollow tub. Next, you push the tree onto it's side on the floor. Grab the base of the tree firmly, bend at the knees, and while keeping the back straight, lift the tree off of the floor. Now, heave tree at closest wall repeatedly, landing consistent, hard blows, all the while listening to the sounds of the ornaments that are now crashing to the floor like acorns from a tree. There will be two type of sounds that you will hear, "THUMP", and "TINKLE TINKLE". Once you have shaken, pulverized and battered the tree against the wall until you hear no more noise, you are ready to proceed to step #2. All of the "THUMP" ornaments are scooped up and tossed, thrown, kicked, and dumped into the ornament box. The pile of ornament tissue paper is then lay ed neatly across the pile of ornaments to give the impression of a professionally packed box. Next, move over to the "TINKLE TINKLE" pile on the floor. These ornaments are dead, broken, disfigured, and worthless. Why you would spend money on an ornament that can not withstand a good wall thrashing is beyond me.... These ornaments are then scooped up and collected. Very important.....do NOT throw them away. Wives look through the trash everyday looking for evidence of things that their husbands have broken and thrown away. I can't take a single bag of kitchen trash out without my wife donning gloves and diving in and trying to catch me in the act of disposing breakables. Well, anyway, once you have your broken "TINKLE TINKLE" pile of ornaments scooped up and in-hand, you shuffle off to the closest bedding areas of any animals and pets that you may own. Carefully discard the broken shards of ornaments in and around the pets bedding area and then staple or tape a few ornament fragments to the facial area of said pet or pets. This will allow the guilty husband safe refuge from the profanity laced verbal explosion that will occur when the wife discovers that a few dozen "priceless" family heirloom ornaments are now shattered and forever lost.
Now that the tree has been "de-ornamented", I can now move on to carefully removing the 5-6 stands of interconnected lights that circle the tree from top to bottom. Their is nothing more "unheterosexual" looking than seeing a grown man grasp a strand of lights and then watch as he tip-toes and meanders around the tree in circles, all the while carefully unwinding the light cords from the tree. I prefer to instead unravel about a 10 inch stand of lights from the bottom of the tree. Attach this strand to the back bumper of your car and then take a short, high-speed tour of your local neighborhood, making every effort to take as many high-speed turns as possible. As your tree is flailing uncontrollably behind the vehicle, you will notice that the lights are miraculously being unraveled from the tree which is rocketing from side to side across the width of the street behind the car, clipping mailboxes here and there and taking out a few stray dogs or neighborhood children along the way. Watch carefully in the rear-view mirror for the moment when the last light strand has been stripped from the tree and then just stop and carefully roll up the strands of lights and retrieve what is left of the battered tree off of the roadway. Next year, when the wife opens the box of lights and finds that 93% of them are broken and shattered, I will just smile innocently and again point at the nearest cat that I see. Finally, our tree is designed for the base of the tree to break into 3 sections with each section having about a dozen fake branches that attach to each section. In a perfect world, you are supposed to take off each branch, fold the bristles into a straight line, tie down the branch, then place the branch, nice and tidy into the tree box for easy storage. Using this method, you can plan on having your lovely tree disassembled and put away in storage in mid to late March. I have found that all the branches, ripped from their slots and unflattened, then thrown into one massive pile in the tree box, can be easily flattened and made ready for storage, with just the right amount of pressure exerted on the box lid by the enormous undercarriage of a well-fed, overweight 42 year old man that clocks in around 250 pounds. My method results in the tree being packed and in the garage all during the average length of a typical tv commercial break.
I am going to do the tree, my way, right now. Wish me well.
Talk at ya tomorrow. (If I survive)

Sittin on the roof

2007-12-28T08:52:00.000-06:00

I am sitting here on my roof, lobbing balloons filled with my own urine at unsuspecting pedestrians below when I think of something......

Now that I have your attention...

First of all, I hope you had a wonderful and safe Christmas holiday. For those Jehovah's Witnesses out there...I'm sorry all the stores are closed. I would love to report a joyous Christmas here in Idiotville, but in truth, it has been terrible. One one hand, the yo-yo-ing daughter who decides to live at home one minute and move out the next....has Yo'd...and is once again gone from the home. The final straw? We Barbaric Savages (Her Mom and I) are the only living parents on the planet that have the nerve to enforce a curfew DURING THE SCHOOL WEEK. She can go out with her friends after school every day, and can spend the night at girlfriends houses on the weekend, and can basically do whatever she wants as long as she is back by the 10pm curfew on school nights......but that is UNACCEPTABLE! We are too restrictive! SO, over comes the girlfriend, out go the bags and suitcases and bed, and once again she is gone. And now there are just the three of us. My wife and I have thought about cutting Tyler's hamstrings with a butter knife so that he is unable to run and can therefore never leave home under his own power......hmmmmmmmm it might work.
My wife lost her Grandmother just before Christmas and the funeral ended up being the day after Christmas out in Lubbock. She was a great woman and we all loved her dearly. It is real sad to have to say goodbye to a loved one right over the Holidays. It is rough on the young kids because they don't really grasp what is going on but the adults are all quiet and sad. We Spend a good portion of every Christmas with my wife's family in Chillicothe before we head back here to have Christmas with my family.
My Wife's Grandma that passed away was named "Tootsie". Her actual given birth name was Ara but she was forever known as Tootsie. I have discovered that everyone in my wife's family uses a name other than their birth names. EVERYONE! My wife is D'Aun to all that know and love her, but Gloria as far as the Government is concerned. Her Dad is Leland, though his birth Certificate says he is a Thomas. Her mom has swapped Cynie for Cynthalia. Her one surviving grandmother is known by all as "Bobbie" but is actually a Mary. I seriously wonder if this is a felonious group of criminals hiding from the Government in the barren wastelands of West Texas....but who am I too judge? I found out my real first name is not Mark but is rather "Gregostika" which in Ukranian means "Shit for brains". Thanks Dad!
My Father, hell bound sinner, has not been to church since like....the 1950's. He is not an atheist, not an agnostic, not a scientologist, he just does NOT do Churches under any circumstances. He threw me for a loop last week when he started asking about MY church and expressed an interest in possibly attending. He stated that he might go if he did not have to do a lot of "churchie" stuff that might make him feel uncomfortable. I told him our church does not do anything at all to make visitors feel out of place. I explained a typical service to him. Everyone stands during the songs of praise. A microphone is passed from member to member and when you get the mic you belt out a heartfelt solo as everyone else in the congregation stops singing so everyone can just listen to you and you alone. Visitors of course, get to sing first. Visitors are then asked to identify themselves by raising their hands at which point a spotlight is shone on them and they are asked to tell their life story in great detail followed by a detailed list of their past sins and transgressions. After the recital of the sins, the visitors are then hugged and kissed by every member of the congregation. Next comes the distribution and donning of the ceremonial robes and masks of worship followed by the ritual paddling and chanting in ancient tongues. Next a virgin goat is led to the stage for the ritual sacrifice, followed by the robed and now masked congregation all circling the carcass and doing the blood dance of death while shaking tambourines and throwing confetti in the air.
Dad smiled. "As long as there is nothing weird, I will go".
You might remember an earlier post where I wrote of my recent editorial to the local paper about my disgust of seeing a lighted and gutted reindeer hanging next to the highway during the Christmas season. Boy did I stir up a hornets nest. Apparently me and you readers who commented are the ONLY ones who found the display offensive. I got raked over the coals by two editorials including one from the owner of the store in question and both editorials make me out to be the nutball! Basically, it is alleged that I am one of only 3 people who has ever complained about the hanging, gutted reindeer being lit up at Christmas. According to the owner, over 2,000 people have told him how much they LOVE it and many have asked where they could buy one. I was attacked for "dramatic grandstanding" and it was asked how I would assume it was a reindeer in that it was impossible to tell a specific species of deer from a simple lighted display. I guess I am naive. When I see lighted "REINDEER" for sale in Wal-Mart, Lowes, Home Depot, ETC... and cannot find any lighted "MULE DEER" or "Rocky Mountain Brown tailed Mountain deer" displays, then my idiot brain just assumes that lighted deer sold at Christmas are probably reindeer. This is the same assumption you make when you buy a lighted yard angel. You assume it is an angel but hope that it is not actually just a robed man playing a trumpet illuminated in lights. The editorials also attacked me saying that the display was appropriate because it was located in front of a deer processing business. I ask, would it then be appropriate for a funeral home to place a lighted casket out in front of the business with a mannequin in a Santa suit lying inside for all to see? Is that appropriate? The editorials even asked how I would even assume that the the hanging dead reindeer was one of Santa's reindeer. Without a "SC" stamped on the butt, it could be any old deer, according to the person writing the editorial. Finally, both persons stated that I am missing the true point of Christmas, the birth of Christ, and that the hanging reindeer has nothing to do with Christmas. One writer even wrote "Jesus loves you too Mark".
I do know the meaning of Christmas fellas and I do know one thing for certain. If these two Bozo's are true Christians then they will understand the concept of "WWJD".
"WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?" Would Jesus suspend a lighted deer, reindeer or not, upside down and then attach red lights to simulate blood pouring onto the ground, for all passing by to see and enjoy? I think not.
Trust me, I don't lose any sleep at all knowing that I have offended the redneck nation. I know that the display was inappropriate and in bad taste and thank those that agreed with me in the comments section.
Well, that's it for now. The three of us are going to the city today to use all the gift cards we got for Christmas. Hope ya'll are doing well and enjoying your Christmas breaks. Talk to ya soon.

A Preview of things to come?

2007-12-21T11:53:00.000-06:00

The Reindeer dispute of 2007

2007-12-20T10:52:00.001-06:00

I have a small character flaw that I have acquired while being stuck at home for the past decade. I tend to voice my stubborn opinions on many occasions to the "Letters to the Editor" of the two area newspapers. In the past 3 years, I have had nearly 20 editorials published and up until yesterday, I had only ever gotten two phone calls as a result of those editorials and both were positive. Until yesterday.
A few miles from our home, on a busy highway, is a deer processing business. We live in an area of forested rolling hills and are in a prime deer hunting location in the state of Texas. Seeing as how it is Christmas time, many local businesses and houses are decorated with colorful lights and various displays. The deer processing establishment has a display of a lighted reindeer proudly displayed right next to the highway. This reindeer is suspended in the air, hanging upside down by it's back legs, from the businesses sign. Coming out of the reindeer's stomach is a long red, lighted strand of lights that reaches down to the ground and then coils into a pile. Driving by at night, you see lighted, gutted and bleeding reindeer carcass hanging upside down with blood pooling beneath it. Merry Christmas.
I am not a hunter but I am an adult. I see the intended humor. However, my 10 year old does not get the humor as I am sure all younger kids are also probably shocked and confused. Why not just have the local funeral home put a lighted casket out on the front lawn with a Santa lying inside for the kids to enjoy?
I wrote an editorial stating I thought the lighted, gutted reindeer display was in poor taste. I did not disclose the name of the business and we live in a large county. It was published yesterday. Last night, the owner of the business in question called me at my home. While he stated he called to "Apologize" for offending me or my children, it was clear in his tone that he was irate and thought I was a nutcase. He stated that in the 3 years he has been doing this display at Christmas, I was only the 3rd person to ever say anything negative about it and he said that at least 2,000 people have commented that they liked it.
So, what do you think? If you have kids, do you think this is an appropriate type of display out on a busy highway? Am I wrong and did I blow this out of proportion? Maybe I did, I'm getting old ya know. What was funny at 22 doesn't seem as funny at my current 42 young years of age. Let me know what you think.

Greetings

2007-12-17T16:47:00.000-06:00

Sorry I have been AWOL for awhile, it's been a hectic few weeks to say the least. First of all, the worlds longest lawsuit is now over. Finally. If it had made it till March the 2nd, it would have been 9 looooonnnng years. But, now everything is settled, the papers are signed, and life can go on. I will be writing about the lawsuit in more detail in future posts or a book but in a nutshell, for those unfamiliar with my story, I went in for a "routine back surgery" in March of 1999. I was to be in the Hospital for 2-3 nights and off work for 4-6 weeks. I awoke from the surgery unable to move my lower body and unable to feel anything from the waist down. I was told my problems were routine, then my diagnosis was changed to a rare neurological disease that turned out to be a smokescreen for the permanent spinal cord damage that occurred during the surgery. I spent 30 days in the hospital altogether, developed 2 blood clots in my legs, had home-health care for 3 months, had to have 3 months of physical therapy to learn to walk again, and have been on Government disability for the past 9 years, unable to work. With the recommendation of my family doctor, I got a lawyer and ended up suing the Doctors involved and the Hospital where the surgery occurred. I have endured years of depositions, hearings, flying around the country to see specialists, and countless years of not being able to tell everyone exactly what happened to me. I would always tell people I got hurt in a back surgery and then they would always reply "I hope ya sued the Doctor!" and all I could do was smile and say nothing. Now, I can speak. I was crippled by a Surgeons error. Rather than tell me of the error, the Surgeon chose to lie and make up a false diagnosis that would explain my symptoms. I went to numerous Doctors that proved that my diagnosis was totally bogus and was an attempt to cover-up the surgical error by the Surgeon who had been sued multiple times in the past by other patients. For years the other side dragged out my case (Hoping I would die) until it was finally concluded this past week. The Doctors, of course, admit no guilt or liability, but I on the the other hand, did not sign any kind of confidentiality agreement, so now I can talk. And believe me, I WILL TALK.

Enough of the serious stuff. I don't know about you but I am getting to the point where I HATE CHRISTMAS!! Here it is 8 days away and we do not have a single present wrapped and still have 4 more people to buy for. We went shopping last week and in one day, dropped about $900 in 3 hours. $900!! My God! You could buy me presents for 10 years for that amount of money when I was a kid! I am seriously thinking of becoming a Jehovahs Witness for all future Decembers. Just think of the money I will save!

And finally, I know I rag on Wal-Mart all the time but come on people, it's for good reason! My Dad and I went to Wally-World the other night and I swear I could feel a physical transformation coming over me as we walked towards the front door from the parking lot. My arms stretched out until my knuckles started dragging the ground, my shoulders drooped, causing the arms to be ripped off my shirt, exposing multiple smokeless tobacco company and NASCAR Tattoo's that I did not know I had.... Half of my teeth fell out of my mouth, my nose hairs all exploded out of the nostrils until they were dangling below my lower lip.... My belly swelled outwards as if I had digested a small beach ball...causing my now sleeveless shirt to rise up and over the belly creating a huge pink table rippled by stretch marks....and to top it all off...my already minuscule IQ hit rock bottom by the time I reached the door as I found my bloated redneck body struggling to jump in between the automatic doors underneath the clearly marked "EXIT ONLY" sign. Me and and a dozen other brain dead knuckle draggers all stood there drooling waiting for someone to EXIT as a mere 3 feet away the clearly marked "ENTER HERE" door stood open and clear as could be.

I Hate Wal-Mart!!

Diverse Airlines

2007-11-30T15:20:00.000-06:00

Understanding Video game ratings......according to a 10yr old mind....

2007-11-30T13:35:00.000-06:00

Tyler is a video game addict. XBOX, PLAYSTATION, GAMEBOY, you name it, he's addicted to it. While it may not appear so when you see the 9,000 games he has in his collection, my wife and I do try to "screen" the games that he receives or buys. Any game that is rated MATURE is strictly off-limits along with games that have excessive violence, sex, language, or gambling elements. Tyler, gaming expert that he is, knows how to make even the worst of the games sound tame enough for a toddler to enjoy. After years of pulling the wool over our eyes, we now have a better idea of Tyler's ideas of what constitutes adult themes thanks to a game he bought a few weeks ago. This game is called "Destroy all Humans" and involves aliens killing everyone and blowing everything up. We were apprehensive about the game because it was rated "T" for Teen and indicated that it had violence, sexual themes, and mild language. Of course, being the Idiots we are, we let him buy it after he assured us everything was "tame" on the game.
The other day I am sitting and watching Tyler play this game. He is skillfully killing all humans and blowing everything up when his aliens little ray gun runs out of death ray. Tyler moves his alien over the top of a dead body and then places the gun by the bodies head. Green waves come out of the corpses head. "What are you doing?" I ask. "I'm sucking his brains out to reload my gun", Tyler states in an almost embarrassed tone. He turns beet red and looks at me and then whispers....."That's the Sexual Violence Dad!"
Young minds are so amusing.

Brooms

2007-11-30T10:28:00.000-06:00

Two brooms were hanging in the closet and after a while they got to know each other so well, they decided to get married.

One broom was, of course, the bride broom, the other the groom broom.

The bride broom looked very beautiful in her white dress. The groom broom was handsome and suave in his tuxedo. The wedding was lovely.

After the wedding, at the wedding dinner, the bride-broom leaned over and said to the groom-broom, "I think I am going to have a little whisk broom!"

"IMPOSSIBLE !" said the groom broom

"We haven't even swept together yet!"

....Sounds like she has been "sweeping" around.......

(From Great Sis-in-law)

Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-20T08:57:00.000-06:00

A Happy Thanksgiving week to all of you! Happy Belated Thanksgiving to you Canadians up in the Great White North also! The Idiot and his family will be doing Thanksgiving #1 in Chillicothe with the wife's family and then Thanksgiving #2 here in town with my family on Sunday. Alex was unable to get leave to come home so he will be passing Thanksgiving eating chicken wings and drinking beer at Hooters. Must be rough......

Talk to ya'll soon.

To vote or not to vote

2007-11-16T10:26:00.000-06:00

As you know, we are now into the yearlong final stretch run before we US citizens choose a new President to replace the irreplaceable, wonderful, glorious President we are currently saddled with.
The choices are endless. You can choose from among a huge group that includes a woman, a black man, an actor, a former mayor, a Mormon, a former POW, a Hispanic, a retired circus monkey, a transgendered kitten juggler, "Beano from the planet Woop Woop", and a whole bunch of other Bozo's that you have never heard of.
Who to vote for? Who to vote for? echo echo That is the question.....
My wife recently sent me a link to a website that advertises that it will help you find the candidate that you are most aligned with on the major issues.
I went to this website and took a 25 question quiz on subjects ranging from Taxes, to immigration, Social Security, Capital Punishment, Abortion, The War in Iraq, Government Spending, the chronic over-importation of Canadian comedians, Term Limits, Illegal campaign contributions, over-dependence on oil, the socio-economic impact of "Ugly Betty" on Hispanic subgroups, the War on Terror, Early Childhood Education, and the most important choice of all.... Britney or K-Fed?
I took the quiz and waited for the computer to compare my answers with the viewpoints of all the candidates.
After a few "FATAL WINDOWS ERROR" messages, I got my answer. Out of all the diverse candidates running for President, the computer took my views and beliefs and gave the following voting recommendation....

"Move to Canada"

2007-11-15T10:43:00.000-06:00

Dirty Harry part 2

2007-11-15T08:15:00.000-06:00

In a previous post, I bragged about my new found talent for skillful sharpshooting with a pistol which I displayed on my Dad and I's recent trip to Red River. There is more to the story....
Upon returning home, I did what every responsible, anti-gun, peace-loving, anti-violence, mankind-loving Father would do when faced with having to explain to his children how mild-mannered Dad was now a pistol shooting tree murderer.
I bragged, and I bragged, and I bragged. I vividly and with great emotion and lots of arm waving and gestures, described in great detail how I had blown away the targets and forever stolen the joy that the kids Grandpa had gotten over the years from shooting guns.
One small, 4 foot tall problem.
Tyler.
While impressed with his Dad's shooting prowess, Tyler piped up with "I DID THAT A LONG TIME AGO DAD!" right in the middle of my recreation.
Confused, I asked "Did what son?"
"I shot a gun..."
My jaw temporarily hit the floor. "Where did you shoot a gun?"
"Last year at Uncle Richie's house"
Stunned, I thought for a moment that maybe the boy had been shooting a BB Gun versus a real gun and did not realize the difference.
"Tyler, did the gun go POOOOOWWWW!!!! or fffffffttttttt!!! when you shot it?"
Tyler smiled. "It went POOOWWW POOWWW POWWWWW POWWWW POWWWWW POWWWWW!!!!! and made my arm jump real hard after every POOOWWW!"
So, there it was. My then 9yr old son had not only fired an actual gun at my Brother-in-Laws house, but apparently the boy had been blasting away with an automatic weapon!
I was still in shock. "Uncle Richie let you shoot a gun? Where was this at?
Tyler continued. "Last year, Uncle Richie took Ryan (his then 8 yr old cousin) and I out in his backyard and let us shoot cans with him."
"Where was Aunt Leah (Great Sis-in-Law) during all this son?"
"She was watching from inside and keeping score for us"
My jaw again hit the floor. But then Tyler continued.....
"After shooting...Aunt Leah took us inside and showed us how to fight with brass knuckles, how to throw Chinese throwing stars, and how to cripple someone with a pair of num-chucks!"
You learn something new every day.
Apparently my Brother and Sister-in-Law are operating a Junior Assassin assault training academy out of the their home.
Richie is the gun expert, Leah is the hand-to-hand combat expert.
And because of this, my 10-yr old is the one that I am going to be standing behind shaking in fear if ever we encounter a prowler in our house.
Tyler will know how to "take him out".

2007-11-14T12:43:00.000-06:00

Finally...out of the coma!

2007-11-14T12:10:00.000-06:00

A month ago, I was sleeping soundly in my bed, when I was awakened by the sounds of all of Tyler's electronic and battery-powered toys racing around on the floor under the bed. I tried to wake the wife to investigate, but she had downed her usual quart of vodka and handful of Horse Tranquillizers, so there was going to be no waking her up for the next week or so. I reached down beside the bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants to pull on over the "Limited Edition" autographed Fabio Speedo I was wearing, and pulled the pants on as I climbed down the ladder off my top bunk. Everywhere I looked were little robots, toy animals, electronic games, and gender-questionable blow-up "adult" dolls scurrying around the room. I then heard a noise coming from the kitchen and seeing as how the kitchen is the one most important room in my house, I immediately ran to investigate.
Arriving at the kitchen, I was startled to see the refrigerator door standing wide open with all the food and drinks scattered all over the floor in a direct line to the back door. I looked at the back door and noticed an ominous red glow coming from the bottom and sides of the door. The doggy door in the center of the door started flapping wildly and the bright red light from outside shone brightly into the kitchen. Setting aside the fact that I was wearing Fabio brand male support undergarments, I bravely ran to the door and ripped it open in an effort to investigate the strange happenings in our peaceful home.
I ripped open the door and came face to face with an ominous creature of astoundingly great height holding a bright, red spotlight in one hand and a muzzled semi-automatic assault rifle in the other.
It was Teresa, my wife's teachers aide from school. She grinned a mouthful of shiny, gold teeth at me and then lowered the rifle, taking aim squarely at the Fabio in my netherregions.
"THIS IS FOR NOT BLOGGING FOR THE LAST THREE DAYS.....YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF insert favorite expletive here...!!!"
A single shot rang out and I fell to the ground.
I remember thinking of Teresa for that last 10 seconds before I lost consciousness. My wife had often relayed word to me that my blog was the sole source of uplifting inspiration that her sad life held. I humbly understood this and had long ago accepted the fact that my blog was as vital to thousands of readers in Canada and at least 5 readers in the US, as oxygen, alcohol, and water are to survival of the human race.
Teresa, not having her blog fix for 3 days, had snapped like a twig.
Had I not been born and raised so self-absorbed, I would have seen this coming.
Fact was, I had more important things to do those 3 days.... like golfing, golfing, and golfing.
That was all 4 long weeks ago. I had been in a coma ever since and just awoke from the coma yesterday.
Teresa was committed to a psychiatric institution for 2 weeks until she was sentenced by the courts to serve as a special education aide for the next 12-15 years. I heard she was dragged from the courtroom screaming and sobbing incoherently "Noooooooooooooooooo" upon receiving the harsh sentence.
My wife's horse tranquilizer cocktail wore off after 12 days so she was able to spend 15 minutes a day at my bedside these past few weeks. Her continued love and support of me just amazes me.
Wouldn't you know it, absolutely nothing new happened with my lawsuit for the last month! What a shocker! Oh well, look on the bright side. You can't spend it if you don't have it!
Hope ya'll are well. Talk to ya again soon.

What I'd be doing today if I were a cat....

2007-10-23T09:57:00.000-05:00

Dirty Harry

2007-10-21T17:31:00.000-05:00

I am probably the only heterosexual male in the state of Texas that does not own a gun. I have never owned a gun, have no desire to ever do so, and cannot for the life of me see the attraction of shooting the darn things.
The last time I shot any type of gun was in 1985 while in US Air Force basic training. You see virtually no war movies with swarms of gun-toting airman charging out of foxholes, guns blazing, so you can imagine the attention paid to firearms in the Air Force is quite small. My total exposure to guns lasted all of one day. Through all of basic training and then my subsequent years in the service, I held and shot a gun on just that one lone day. The extensive training the Air Force provides the soon to be chair bound soldiers is quite impressive when it comes to firearms. We were all marched to a large field and told to sit on the ground. A highly-trained instructor stood in front of us with an M-16 Assault Rifle, preferred weapon of cold-blooded Air Force killers everywhere. The instructor held out the rifle and carefully explained which end you were to hold and which end the little bullet thingamabobbers came out of. We were each given a rifle, told to aim it at a target of a human soldier plastered on a grassy slope about 100 yards away, and were told to take aim and fire. I made sure I wasn't holding the weapon of death by the bullet launching end and fired about 50 shots in a span of 3 seconds. The observer attached to my unit went down and retrieved my target and brought it back to my foxhole. Out of the 50 shots, I had managed to pepper the surrounding hillside and grass with 49 bullets and just managed to barely Nick the corner of the target with one lone bullet. The observer held out his hand and exclaimed "Good Shootin son!! Welcome to the US Air Force!"

That was 22 years ago.

This past week saw my Father and I take a quick trip up to Red River to do a little hiking. Actually, I should clarify that I did some hiking. My Father, who has not hiked in 30 years, and was not quite used to the 9,000 elevation of Red River, did more what I would call uncontrollable heavy panting, wheezing, coughing, and hyperventilating while maintaining just enough forward motion to qualify as still moving, as we walked up the trail.

Ever fearful of snakes, bears, Bigfoot, and homicidal maniacs with banjos and guns as depicted in the movie "Deliverance", my Dad decided to bring along his own firepower for protection and packed his handgun into his backpack.

Things got off to a rough start before we even left the room at the condo when Dad dropped his backpack while struggling to put it on, causing the pack to hit the floor, resulting in the gun firing and blasting a nice-sized smoking hole in the backpack, through the back of a recliner, an outside wall, and then finally a small propane tank attached to a gas grill just outside our unit. The subsequent explosion, fire, and pandemonium would have been a great story to blog about had there been any other guests at the condo, but we were it, so the fireworks show went unappreciated by all except one wheezing, old, gun enthusiast and his stunningly handsome disabled son.

Off we went, hiking up the mountain, me in the lead, Dad wheezing along a few yards behind, constantly asking me how much farther we were going to hike and if I was ready to turn around and go back yet.

About a mile later, we reached a clearing where I figured it was safe to shoot the gun for a few minutes while Dad continued to adjust to the ever-increasing altitudes. We now found ourselves hiking at over 10,000 feet in elevation and I was doing fine but Dad was as purple as a grape soda, his eyes were bugged out, and blood trickled from his eye sockets, ears, and nose. Other than looking like he was going to explode, he insisted that he felt great and was eager to shoot his gun and impress me with his uncanny ability to slaughter innocent rocks and trees from great distances.

While I cowered behind a large boulder, Dad took out his gun from the backpack and held it with an evil grin as he affixed a target to a nearby tree. He then sarcastically launched into the speech about how shooting a gun requires skill, a steady hand, a knowledge of weapons, a knowledge of wind speed, humidity, and temperature, and a blood-lust desire to kill your target that only years of experience can provide.

He then stood about 30 yards from the target, raised his pistol, grinned like a constipated cat, and quickly fired off 10 shots from the pistol. I covered my head, turned away from the carnage, and prepared to meet Jesus.

After the smoke had cleared, he approached the target as I looked up from the Rock.
Out of the 10 shots, Eagle-eye Dad had managed to hit the target 8 times! Not bad for a guy 110 years old with bleeding from the eye sockets. Now, he did hit the target "PAPER" 8 times but not all actually hit the target rings themselves. Some shots hit the edge of the paper outside of the rings, some hit the very outermost rings, and a few hit pretty close to the bulls eye. I was impressed. Dad was so pleased he nearly wet himself.

Now, it was my turn. He hung a fresh target, reloaded the gun, and placed it into my fat, trembling hand. The Lord of the Idiots was now about to shoot a pistol for the first time in his 42 years of life and would shoot a weapon of any kind for the first time in 22 years. I peered through the tiny sights at the target swaying in the breeze and thought to myself that I would be happy just hitting "EARTH" with any of the 10 bullets.

I took a breath and squeezed the trigger. Then, I squeezed again and again and again. My mind temporarily left the clearing and soon I was literally Dirty Harry himself standing in the woods. I peered at the target and mumbled to myself "I KNOW WHAT YER THINKIN?....DID I FIRE 6 SHOTS OR ONLY 5?...WELL, TO TELL YA THE TRUTH I'VE KIND OF LOST TRACK IN ALL THIS EXCITEMENT BUT SEEING AS HOW THIS IS .44 MAGNUM, THE MOST POWERFUL HANDGUN IN THE WORLD AND COULD BLOW YOUR HEAD CLEEEEEEAN OFF, YOU GOTTA ASK YOURSELF A QUESTION.....DO I FEEL LUCK? WELL.........DO YA PUNK?!!"

The smoke cleared and Dad fell to his knees sobbing. My first thought, Damn! I shot the old fart! I peered through the haze at the target. It was still hanging in the tree. Dad pulled his sobbing body up and shuffled over to the tree and took down the target, still sobbing uncontrollably. The target had 4 rings. The absolute bulls eye was 10 points, the next ring 9, then 8, and finally 7 in the outermost ring.
All ten of my shots were clustered in the 8 and 9 point rings. Many had come just millimeters from blasting the exact center of the bulls eye. My father and his 100 years of firearms ownership and mastery had just been blown away by a fat, anti-gun novice that had never even held a pistol.

He quickly assumed that it had to be a freak act of nature and hurried to hang a fresh target. He reloaded the gun, handed it to me and jumped back out of the way. I went back into Dirty Harry mode. I peered down through the sight at the target and clenched my jaw until the little vein on the side of my neck began to bulge. "GO AHEAD......MAKE MY DAY!" I mumbled as I quickly blasted off the next round of ten shots.

Dad became hysterical. "NO LORD NO!!! WHY? WHY? WHY?!!" he screamed as he clutched the second target. These 10 shots were even better than the first 10. If I had been in the military, I would be shooting good enough to get a marksman medal. My dad was devastated. He ripped the target to shreds and then grabbed the gun from my hand and proceeded to launch it deep into the woods behind us. Still sobbing, he threw on his backpack and started hobbling back down the mountain, never again saying another word about the gun or the shooting clinic that I had just conducted on his butt!
So, thanks to the Lord of the Idiots, the streets are a little safer today as one less gun is now off the street. Your welcome.

Now for Sale only in Wal-Marts in Arkansas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and parts of California....the Easy-Bake Meth Lab !!

2007-10-19T11:16:00.000-05:00

(Chemicals not included)

Sick Puppy

2007-10-19T10:44:00.000-05:00

Warning: Not to be read by those with weak stomachs.

Tyler is home sick today. Last night, he came home from school complaining of feeling a little sick to his stomach. We paid this little notice because we figured he was just hungry since he had purposely not eaten most of his lunch at school because, in his words, "the Salisbury steak did not look like Salisbury steak and the cooks should be sued". Sidenote: Have a child grow up in a home mired in a lawsuit for 9 of his nearly 11 years and the child tends to get a little lawsuit happy and wants to sue everything that moves. Tyler informed us that Salisbury steak, when prepared correctly by the skilled chefs at the school cafeteria, should be round and have gravy on top. Yesterday's mystery meat was not round and had no gravy. Tyler drew up mental plans for the impending lawsuit and skipped the mystery meat and instead just inhaled the peas on his tray. So, now, hours later he is sitting at the dinner table whining about an upset tummy and we figure he is just hungry. He eats some of the chicken and vegetables that skilled chef Dad has prepared and then goes to lay down on the couch. Seconds later, the still quiet of the evening is ruined as the disgusting sound of projectile vomiting erupts from the couch area. Tyler, like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, is spraying the couch, the floor, a sleeping cat, and everything else within 10 feet of his spot on the couch. The wife hurriedly grabs the spewing little guy and hauls him to the bathroom where he is placed on his knees, bent over the vomit receptacle equipped toilet. Lucky Dad is left to don Bio-Hazard suit and respirator and starts into the clean-up process of the now decimated living room that smells like a rotting buffalo carcass on a hot humid day. Tyler, bent over the porcelain throne, continues to violently eject the contents of his little stomach. Close examination reveals most of the contents appearing to be the remnants of entire whole peas. Apparently he did not eat peas at lunch, he inhaled them whole. Our master bathroom now begins to reak like rotting buffalo carcass as well. Having completed cleanup of the spill in the living room, little Tyler is whisked back to the couch where a makeshift bed is prepared for him. Mom brings some Pepto-Bismol to help soothe his stomach. He drinks the Pepto-Bismol. 23.4 seconds later, Mt. Tyler again violently erupts and spews a vomit flow across the living room and onto the TV, the family pictures on the wall, and yet another dozing cat. For those of high spiritual beliefs, know that I watched closely as the boy exploded and could detect no signs of his head spinning all the way around, and no Latin speaking of tongues was heard. I feel confident that no satanic forces were at work. After that eruption, Tyler was again whisked away to get cleaned up, while I donned the Bio-suit and headed back into Hell for another cleanup. Later, I drove to our gas station in town and got Tyler some 7-Up to try to help calm his stomach and replenish his fluids. As I unscrewed the cap on the bottle, 15 feet away from Tyler, he again erupted and sprayed the remaining 3 feet of living room that was still dry and untouched. It is now about 7pm. Tyler is placed on the makeshift bed on the couch, just inches from our bedroom door where we can assist him as needed during the night. Mt. Tyler erupts about 10 more times during the evening all the way up till 2:45am which was the last recorded spewathon. By morning our home smells like the elephant trough at the zoo on a 100 degree day with no wind. Tyler has lost 60 of his 100 pounds of body weight and now looks like Nicole Richie. Miraculously, he says that he feels fine this morning and wants to try to eat some toast and 7-up for breakfast. I have made him a doctors appointment for this afternoon, just in case he starts spewing again. So far, so good. I am wearing my bio suit, gloves, boots, and respirator and am standing just in front of the little guy with a large trash bag opened up at arms length, pointed in his direction. He is yelling that I am blocking the TV and that he cannot see "Hannah Montana". The vomit encrusted cats are cowering in the corner. The house continues to smell like a greasy pork sandwich, rolled in a dirty ashtray, eaten in front of a warm fan.....but so far so good. Knock on wood. I will keep you updated.

Back in Blogville

2007-10-18T09:35:00.000-05:00

I have returned from my trip to the mountains with the dear old Dad and have decided to end my "silent" protest against those employed in the legal profession. Life goes on. At the request (at gunpoint) of my wife's aide Teresa, who (at gunpoint) urged me to come back to blogging, (with my cats being held at gunpoint)I have decided to try to pound out the blogs yet once again (call police please) until the next tragic chapter of life once again crushes my spirit like a bug (at gunpoint).

See ya'll soon.

2007-10-18T09:24:00.000-05:00

Zen Truths

2007-10-18T09:15:00.000-05:00

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me,for I
may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and leaky tire.

3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.

4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.

5. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don't succeed, sky diving is not for you.

10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish,and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

12. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.

13. Some days you're the bug; some days you're the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like 'The Force'. It has a light side and a dark side,and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

(Via E-Mail)

Happy Lawyers Day!

2007-10-02T20:42:00.000-05:00

I would like to extend my and my families warmest and most heartfelt blessings to all those serving in the legal profession on this, National Lawyers Day. My sincere gratitude to those legal professionals lucky enough to be members of the select group known as Attorneys Serving Society. (A.S.S.)
Lawyers are very misunderstood people. Lawyers, contrary to all the stereotypes and jokes, are actually very beneficial to society. They are here to guide us common citizens through the complex and confusing world to today's modern legal system. Without them, we would be lost in a legal cobweb of confusion from which we might never escape. Take your average Medical Malpractice case for example. With the help and guidance of skilled lawyers, the average length of the litigation process can be reduced greatly down to a mere 8-9 years. Imagine the time involved for such a case IF you did NOT have professional representation.
In ancient Roman times, it was customary for those seeking legal expertise and advice to present themselves at the establishment of the legal professional, at which point the citizens would gratefully offer the family mule, ass, or donkey as a present and token of the families admiration and gratitude for the legal help they hoped to receive. When the legal professional would accept the clients case, it was customary for the professional to plant a small kiss on the animal, thereby signalling the sealing of the legal contract with the client.
I know this practice is outdated and ancient but I would like to offer my assistance to any members of the legal profession out there who would like to truly celebrate this holiday in style. They are welcome to come to my home and kiss MY ass anytime.

Can you tell I am a bitter and angry little man? As some of you are aware, I was due to have my final hearing on Wednesday to once and for all close out my legal case of the last 8.5 years. My case was settled back in January. Since that time, I have had hearing dates set on 3 different occasions for the formality of going into court and signing the papers and ending the case once and for all. The first hearing was cancelled by the attorneys on the morning of the hearing. The second hearing was cancelled by the attorneys 2 hours prior to the hearing as I was driving to the courthouse on the freeway. This third attempt was cancelled the day before the hearing, again by the attorneys. For ten long months now, and through three different hearing dates, I have rode the emotional roller coaster of thinking that I was finally going to sign the papers, take my settlement, and be done with this damn case from Hell once and for all! But, on each occasion, I am sadly, grossly wrong. I was 33 years old when I got hurt. I am now 42. Since my lawsuit has been in the courts, I have witnessed, Columbine, Y2K, Space Shuttle Disaster, 9-11, Hurricane Katrina, and countless other events. In becoming disabled, I lost 40% of my income, all my benefits, and I now have no Life Insurance since no company will touch me with my health problems. The amount of money I am to receive as a settlement is tiny when looked at in context. It will not come close to making up for the money I have lost in income and will do nothing to improve my wife and I's lives when she reaches retirement. What it will do is pay off all my medical bills and Tyler's medical bills, pay off our debts, and give each child a small amount of money of their own. This money will not pay for college for the children, will not buy us a boat or new car, and will not change our current level of living. To me, after almost 9 years, the most important thing this money will do is provide me assurance that this nightmare is finally over. I never want to hear the phrase "How's your lawsuit coming?" ever again. I have been telling people "Any day now" for years because that is what I have been lead to believe. Most distressing is the fact that I know of another person who was crippled by the same Doctor in a surgery AFTER my surgery. This person got a lawyer, after being turned down by my lawyers, and settled her case and received her money. That was 7 years ago! Seven long years. So, now I am back to square one. I must sit here and wait for the phone to ring in 2-4 months at which point I will be told of a hearing date another 2-4 months after that. I will sit and wait, I will foolishly get my hopes up, my family will get their hopes up, and then the day of the hearing or the day before, the phone will ring, and it will all come crashing down again. Sorry for whining ya'll to death but keep this in mind if you EVER need an attorney and are thinking of filing a lawsuit. Real life is not like TV Justice. The legal system in reality sucks!

But, if you do need a lawyer...don't forget to take your ass in with you for them to kiss! Gotta keep up traditions!

(Sister-in-Law of mine, you are exempt from this post. You are the ONE exception in the legal world)

2007-10-01T14:13:00.001-05:00

2007-10-01T13:27:00.000-05:00

Oops! (Large mushroom cloud visible in background) We lost Nebraska! Think anyone will notice?

2007-10-01T13:02:00.000-05:00

My Marine son Alex is an aviation ordinance specialist in an attack helicopter squadron. This means that Alex gets to load all the bombs, missiles, rockets, sharp knives and forks, scissors, broken beer bottles, and anything else potentially lethal onto the helicopter before it goes to attack targets in Iraq, Afghanistan, or persons trying to sneak across the border near Tijuana. There is a chain of command involved with every weapon that is loaded onto one of Alex's helicopters. Alex receives an order of what weapons to load onto a particular helicopter. Once he selects the weapons, they are checked and verified by a superior. Once the weapons are actually loaded onto the copter, it is again double-checked for accuracy.
Alex's counterparts in the US Air Force had a slight problem last month with a little incident that occurred during a routine bomber flight from North Dakota to Louisiana. The aircraft ordinance specialists loaded up a half-dozen cruise missiles and attached them to the wings of the bomber for the 3.5 hour trip. Supposedly, the Air Force had the same safeguards and these weapons were checked and verified before they were put on the plane. The plane flew the mission without incident. One problem. When the plane arrived in Louisiana, the guys charged with unloading the cruise missiles noticed that these missiles actually contained live NUCLEAR warheads. And there were six of these missiles on board the plane. Each cruise missile had 12X the destructive power of the Hiroshima bomb. You would assume that live nuclear weapons are kept locked away, deep underground, in reinforced bunkers. They are. I grew up on bomber bases. You would assume that someone had to request the nuclear weapons be removed from the bunker in order to be transferred onto the plane. You would assume about 30 people would have to sign hundreds pf pages of official paperwork in triplicate in order to remove the nukes. You figure the guys loading the plane would be told that they were handling live nuclear weapons....just in case. You would assume that the pilots would be told that they were carrying live nuclear weapons....just in case. You would assume that I knew how the monkey living in my butt got there but we do not have the answers to any of these questions. Apparently, according to the Air Force, the crews loading the bombs and the flight crew had no idea these were live nukes. It was only after the crews on the ground in Louisiana noticed did anyone know the truth. What does this mean? Does the Air Force have real nukes mixed in with dummy bombs and we don't know which is which? Or did some idiot people in North Dakota manage to sneak out a half-dozen nuclear weapons from the bunker while the guard slept slumped over the checkpoint desk?

I have to sign 3 documents, get fingerprinted and photographed, get strip-searched, have blood drawn, and blow into an breathalizer, all just to sign my son out of his school a few hours early for a Doctors appointment.

Apparently, it's a heck of a lot easier to sign out a few spare nuclear weapons from the US Air Force.

The Government response is that "there was never any danger to the US public".(Translation: "The plane never flew over any real important states anyway") Of course, what else are they gonna say?

OOPS!!

Happy Oct 1st!

2007-10-01T09:38:00.000-05:00

Time to put up the Christmas decorations!

Still another 30 days until Halloween and already some of the stores have Thanksgiving decorations up. As a rule, I don't even think about Halloween until the day before. I don't think about Thanksgiving until the day after Halloween, and Christmas, I don't gear up for it until after Thanksgiving. Call me old fashioned.

My Dad is discovering the living horror of being diabetic. No meat, no cheese, no bread, no pasta, no rice, no candy, no dessert, no tea, no sodas, no beer, no vegetables, no fruit, no breathing of air, no sleeping at night, nothing! Chicken Broth is the only thing he can now safely "eat" for the rest of his life. Take a freshly murdered and mutilated chicken corpse, pour some steaming hot water over it, collect the water into a bowl, and then sit down and enjoy your satisfying meal with a smile!

You know the hardest part of eating a vegetable?

The Wheelchair.

Two more days until our legal hearing. What exactly will take place you ask? Lawyers from all over the state will converge in the courtroom in order for the judge to hold up a document and ask "Do all sides agree to this document that you all agreed to 9 months ago and have all signed indicating that you agree with the document?"
Ten lawyers will stand up and say "yes your honor".

And that will be it. Case closed. Why the Heck do we even have to physically go to court? If all sides agreed to something and all sides have signed the documents agreeing to the agreement......why do we still have to drive 2 hours to hear the lawyers all say "yes your honor"?

Welcome to the US Legal system.

Sep 29th version of Earth Shattering important news and mindless fluff

2007-09-29T11:59:00.000-05:00

I know I have harped on this subject before but please humor me.

My Mother has congestive heart failure, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, bad knees, a bulging disk in her neck, and countless other health issues.
My Dad has been recently diagnosed as having an auto-immune disorder that is a non-fatal type of Leukemia, has been diagnosed as being diabetic, has a bad back, arthritis, and a generally anti-social grumpy disposition.
These are the genes that I have inherited. This is what I have to look forward to in a few short years. A VERY FEW short years.

SERENITY NOW!

I got an e-mail the other day with some great hints from Andy Rooney on what to do with junk mail with special attention to those annoying credit card offers you get 4 of each day in the mail. I did bills earlier today and did what he suggested. I opened all the credit card offers and took out the pre-paid return envelopes. I shredded all the stuff with my name on it and then took all of the trash and ads from all my other bills and stuffed them into the return envelopes for the credit card companies. According to Andy, the credit card companies only get charged for the postage if the envelope is actually mailed and then they get charged a higher rate than the usual 41 cents. I think this is great! I get rid of my garbage and the credit card companies get billed for the stamps for me to do so! Try it...it's great and very liberating. I'm starting a new trash pile as we speak, ready for the next weeks round of credit card mailers.

I'm thinking of remodeling our master bathroom. I would like to embrace the roots of my youth and go to an all 1970's theme. I found the design that I think is a winner in a catalog. The bathroom is pictured below. What do you think?

I especially like that you can brush your teeth while sitting on the throne due to the great close proximity of the sink to the toilet! What a timesaver! Doesn't the look and feel of this room just make you want to put on some KC and the Sunshine Band and Disco all night long? "THAT'S THE WAY UH-HUH UH-HUH I LIIIIKE IT UH-HUH UH-HUH...."

2007-09-28T10:10:00.000-05:00

Sep 27th Thoughts

2007-09-27T07:59:00.000-05:00

Did anyone catch the license plate number of the turnip truck I fell off of? And, can anyone please help me try to find my clue.....because my High School Senior Daughter has decided that I either lost my clue or don't have one, all after I fell off the turnip truck, because I tended to doubt her latest goofy request.
The other evening, the daughter comes up to me and asks if I will drive her into town to the store.....so she can buy candy.......for extra credit at school. This is where my clue began to ooze out of my skull and I foolishly asked...."How in the world does buying candy get you extra credit in school?" She became very defensive and blurted out that a teacher at school has a candy jar on her desk. The "boys" in the class emptied and ate all the candy. The teacher told my daughter that if she (my daughter) would refill the candy jar, she would get extra credit in the class. This is the point where the turnip truck started up and headed my way to begin the tragic chain of events that would later have me falling off of it. I asked, foolishly again, how she planned on paying for this candy since she has no income, no job, and is overdrawn at her bank. She replied that she would use her lunch money, the money that I pay her each week,........to eat LUNCH at school. So, with the clue now almost completely vacated from my head and the turnip truck racing towards me...I tried to comprehend what my Senior Class daughter was asking of me. In a nutshell, she wanted ME to drive HER in NY car to the store to buy herself (Oops..I mean her teacher) candy with MY money. For the love of God, at least she could have tried to think up a better story than that! Do they not teach these kids how to lie better in school these days?
In other news, we are now only 6 days from what may be our last legal hearing in my self-proclaimed worlds longest lawsuit. If all goes well the hearing will take place, the papers will be signed, and sometime in the following 30 days we will receive the last of our settlement money. Then, I can lighten and brighten your days with funny and humorous stories about the wonderful world of lawsuits and the wonderful US Legal system. One little tidbit preview. You know how you can tell that your case is cursed? When the high-powered specialist Doctor that you fly halfway across the country to see is discovered to be under indictment for allegedly murdering his wife! It's true! This actually happened in my case! That would be just my luck.....we would go to trial and the lawyers would call my expert witness and he gets escorted into the courtroom wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and handcuffs by 4 armed guards. The jury would look favorably on me after that..... But, because I have the worst luck in the world, my star expert was actually indicted for murdering the wifey poo. Welcome to my world. Just one example of the types of things that can happen to drag your lawsuit out for almost 9 years!

Sep 25th thoughts

2007-09-25T12:42:00.000-05:00

To Blonde cousin, No, we do not have Target anywhere close by. Within a 20 mile radius we have Wal-Mart, Big Willies House of Guns, Earl's Bait and Donut shop, Soap on a rope Sal's prison re-sale shop.
The rest of the civilized retail world is about an hour away in any direction.
My wife and I went out to eat Chinese the other night at the only restaurant in the area that we like. The Chinese place was 65 miles away, each way. People in Oregon laugh at us but driving long distances down here is common and a necessity. Shoot, I drive 2.5 hours each way to go to the Doctor.
The wife and I watched a few new shows on TV last night. I thought "CHUCK" was real good but we both thought that "JOURNEYMAN" was confusing and was a show that if you ever missed an episode you would be lost for the rest of the season.
Happy FALL, a few days late. Autumn is in the air down here as the temperature dips to a chilly 93 degrees during the day.....brrrrrrrrrrr. Before you know it, we will be in the 70's and people will be dying of frostbite.
Mike Tyson plead guilty to felony drug possession and DUI, both violations of his parole, and faces being sent back to prison for years. What a shock! If there is one person I thought could turn his life around and be a model citizen, it was Mike Tyson. Maybe he can share a cell with Michael Vick, another shining role model for today's youth.
This past Saturday, My Dad, Tyler, and I all used our season tickets and went to the TCU vs SMU football game. For those not from the area, this is the big cross-town rivalry each year seeing as how TCU is in Fort Worth and SMU is in Dallas and both cities are rivals in everything. When we arrived at the game, we noticed that the center of the field was freshly painted a dark green. When we arrived at our seats perched about 1,000 feet above the field we could make out the faint outlines of the words "PONY UP" visible under the new paint. SMU's nickname is the Mustangs and their motto is "PONY UP". Apparently some SMU students had broken into the stadium the night before and had scraped or burned their motto onto "our" field. Our groundskeepers hastily painted over the vandalism in an attempt to keep it from showing up on TV since the game was being shown nationwide. This was an attempt to retaliate by the SMU students for the last time these 2 schools played and some TCU students got onto SMU's campus and turned all the school's fountains TCU Purple just prior to the big game. And THAT was in retaliation for SMU's previous attack the previous year when the SMU band cleverly dropped rye grass seeds from their pants as they marched on the TCU field at halftime. This little act went un-noticed at the time but came to light the following springtime when groundskeepers started noticing new RYE grass popping up the middle of our field in the shape of an SMU "M". (Mustangs) I gotta admit, that one was pretty ingenious by whoever thought it up.
Speaking of ingenious pranks. Did you hear about the High School student who got suspended for a great prank earlier this year? I don't know what state it was in but this is what happened. A student went to the opposing High School, just prior to the big game against his own school, and handed out instructions for using large flashcards, located under each seat, to all the fans as they entered the game. He told the fans that the cards were for a patriotic sign that the crowd we be creating in the stands and told the fans to follow the instructions on the back of their flashcards. This student had spent hours on his PC charting exactly where each card needed to be placed in order for the full visual affect to occur. At the predetermined time of the game, he yelled for the fans to hold up their cards. Remember, these are the fans of the rival High School that his own team was playing. With video cameras rolling, the fans all held up there colored cards, thinking they were spelling out a patriotic slogan or picture. What they actually spelled out was "we suck" in large letters. While administrators from both schools agreed the idea was ingenious, the student who organized it was still suspended.

Sep 23rd Thoughts

2007-09-23T12:19:00.000-05:00

I'm lazy. Fat, old, blind, and lazy. When I put my debit card into the reader at a gas station, I expect to be able to pump my gas and pay for it without leaving a 2 foot radius of my car. Today, I get a "Please pay inside" message on the reader at my local station. I don't want to pay inside. That would entail walking 30 yards to the counter, giving them my debit card, walking back to the car, pumping the gas, then trotting all the way back to the counter to pay and retrieve my card. Talk about alot of wasted energy! No way Bucko! I got back in my car, drove across the street, and payed 3 cents more per gallon for the lazy privilege of not having to waddle away from the car.

At the root of my laziness is my beloved Oregon roots. Oregon is still stuck in the 50's and is one of the very few places left on the PLANET that does NOT have self-service gas. That's right, NO SELF SERVICE. The state still provides meaningful employment and proud professional experience to tens of thousands of "Vehicular Power plant Propulsion System Capacity Control Technicians", those highly skilled men and women that expertly place the fueling probe into your gas receptacle and fill it to just the exact amount you specify. Yes, savages, in Oregon someone ElSE still pumps your gas. But don't sit back and chuckle and remark how nice that would be seeing as how you would never have to get out of the car, because Oregon is still warped. You tell the skilled technician the type and amount of gas you want, but then you still have to get out of the car and wander inside to stand in line to pay for the gas! All this to avoid having to put those thousands of skilled technicians out of work. Only in Oregon! I still forget this little nugget every time I go back there and find myself jumping out of the car and grabbing the pump handle to fuel up the rental car..only to have a shrieking voice screaming "STOP!! STOP!! POLICE!! GAS THIEF!! GAS THIEF!!" as the skilled attendant runs across the parking lot waving his arms frantically at me.

Today, I find myself once again on the verge of divorce. My wife is ready to kill me....yet again for another of my NEANDERTHAL-LIKE stupid man-actions. We have a shower the size of a horse stall. The shower is like 10 feet by 10 feet and is about 10 feet high. Ten people could shower in there at once and never see each other. The tile floor of the horse-stall shower is very slippery. I am disabled and have poor balance. When we first moved in, I would find myself sliding all over the horse stall as if I was trying to bolt out of the penalty box in a hockey game while wearing two broken skates. To remedy this, my little wife bought some lovely little sticky flowers that stick to the floor and attempt to give the whale-boy a little better traction. They do. All is well. Now, my wife has decided it is time to clean the bathroom including cleaning out the horse stall shower. To prepare for this, she pulled up all the little sticky flowers and re-stuck them on the sides of the stall walls so that she could later scrub the floor. Makes perfect sense to me. I worked outside in the yard this afternoon and needed a shower. I trot into the stall and notice my pretty little flowers are not on the floor. I peel them from the wall and place them back on the floor so my poor, disabled, crippled body does not fall. The wife sees that I have replaced the flowers on to the floor and goes ballistic. This is unacceptable behavior on my part. Forget the drinking, the drug abuse, the adulterous affairs, the financial embezzlement, ..... I have now done the unthinkable and have peeled the flowers off the wall of the horse stall! God have mercy on my soul.

Speaking of the Lord......

Sometimes the line between reality and church gets pretty blurry as evidenced by an episode at my own church this morning.
Our pastor is an avid hunter as are 99% of the rest of the male population of the State of Texas. Remember, I am Yankee from Oregon so this does not apply to me so therefore I do not hunt. Today the pastor had the head of a large buck up on the stage next to him during his sermon. What the sermon is about is irrelevant since here in Texas, any religious sermon can be modified to include references to guns, hunting, fishing, Nascar, etc. Well anyway, the pastor was proudly showing off this head and was describing how it was the first buck that his then 10yr old son had ever shot. The pastor described how he and his son had patiently waited all day one day back in 1997 for just the right buck to wander along into their gunsights. Keep in mind, hunters in Texas do not "hunt", they wait for the deer to come to them, unlike the rest of the civilized world where actual "hunting" and stalking is involved. So, the pastor and his 10yr old are waiting and waiting and waiting till just the right buck, this now dead head on display on the stage, wanders into view. The pastor whispers into his son's ear... "Look son....Isn't he beautiful? Isn't that just a glorious creation that the Lord has given the Earth? Look at the beauty of that magnificent creature! Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord!......NOW BLOW HIS HEAD OFF SON!! SHOOT!! SHOOT!!"
Obviously, the son did shoot and shot well. Praise the Lord that we all had the pleasure of staring at this poor deer on the stage for an hour this morning during our service. Somewhere up in deer heaven he is probably an alcoholic recluse, still being badgered and made fun of by the other dead bucks, because he got done in by a 10yr old preachers son.....

2007-09-22T09:42:00.000-05:00

Sep 22nd Thoughts

2007-09-22T08:49:00.000-05:00

It finally happened. After years of being convinced that everything I was trying to read was written in Russian and Hieroglyphics, I finally broke down and bought a pair of reading glasses. Forty-two and a half glorious years of perfect vision, down the toilet. The last straw was discovering that I had written a $143 check to renew a magazine subscription that actually cost $14.30. Thanks to my blurry-eyed error, my son now has the Disney Adventures magazine payed up until he is 36 years old. So, finally realizing that I needed optical assistance, where did I go to seek help? Wal-Mart of course! After picking out a pair of nerdy glasses and purchasing them , I went and sat down on a bench at the front of the store to wait for the little wife who was in the midst of another 4 hour browse-athon through the women's clothing section of the store. My life was soon to take an even greater downturn.
There I sat on the bench. Nerd glasses now perched on my face, walking cane extended out in front of my body for balance, Hawaiian shirt, dockers shorts pulled up so that the waistband was even with my armpits, black socks, white loafers, and the overpowering scent of "OLD SPICE" creating a cloud around me. Then, it happened. A young man of about 30 or so came over, smiled at me, and asked, "Hey Old Timer...ya mind if I sit with you?"
My life is over. I am now officially old.

Does anyone else seem to think that they are the only sane driver left on the planet? I have not had an accident in my entire driving life. (Knock on wood)
I have not had a ticket in 22 years. (knock knock) I have never even been in an accident where the car I was in was hit, dinged, bumped, scraped, or keyed. (knock knock knock) In 15 months of driving, my daughter has already piled up more tickets, accidents, and wrecks than I have ever had. (knock knock knock knock)
The traffic Gods are trying their best to end my streak. Of this, I am convinced. Every time I venture out on to the highway it seems that every yahoo with a death wish is either right in front of me or right behind me. It's like driving in a video game trying to avoid these idiots. Although I live in Texas, I am convinced that Lindsey Lohan and Britney Spears are out to get me in a vehicular sense in that they always seem to be in front of me.

In case you didn't hear, Britney Spears and K-Fed were in court this week. The judge ordered poor Britney to undergo twice-weekly drug and alcohol tests because it was obvious to the court that she has major substance abuse problems. This, combined with the stellar performance on the VMA Awards made for a real memorable week for poor Britney. Now, I get on the computer this morning and read that she is being charged with Hit and run and driving without a license. Oh Britney, when it rains it pours. Turns out the bubblehead pulled into a parking spot in August and hit the car in the slot next to her. She jumped out, checked out her car and only her car, and then drove away. How do we know this? Because there was a flock of paparazzi there filming every minute of it! The owner of the car that was hit, found the damage, saw the video on TV, and filed charges. An investigation by the police has since found that poor Britney DOES NOT HAVE A LICENSE! Remember all those famous videos and pix of her driving around with her margaritas in one hand and kids on her lap as she drove? No License! And the rocket scientist does all this.....in front of a horde of cameras! Again, does it now make you sick that she has millions of dollars in the bank while we have breadcrumbs? Life is so unfair.

Back to Wal-Mart. I watched a young couple with about 13 kids going through the checkout line. They had about a dozen food items, followed by 3 cases of beer, then asked the clerk for 4 cartons of cigarettes from behind the counter. Then, they proceeded to hand the clerk a handful of food stamps and WIC vouchers for the food products.
Word to the wise. If your so poor that you need food stamps and WIC vouchers to buy food the kids, ya might want to put the beer and cigarettes back on the shelves Mr and Mrs Spears!

Also, my wife and I went through one of the self-checkout lines again after swearing forever we would never do it again no matter how long the lines in the human-clerked lines were. We only had about 5 items. The first item would not scan. My wife tried to scan it from every possible angle 47 different times. A clerk finally had to come scan it. The next item rang up 3 times. It beeped when she lifted it off the conveyor belt, beeped again as she passed it over the scanner, then beeped again once she put it in the bag. We frantically began pushing buttons to try to delete the 2 extra charges but I only managed to completely erase the entire transaction. I let out a few expletives, reached back in the bag, and we started over. Of course, Item number one did not ring up again, so back comes the clerk. I then eyed item number two laying on the belt. I swear, I just looked at it and the damn scanner beeped! Looking at the screen to verify it had been rung up, I then grabbed the item, walked backwards away from our checkout lane, walked around the aisle, came up from behind our register, and then carefully, with bomb-squad tenderness, placed the item in the bag. After releasing the item and beginning to walk back to the conveyer belt, the damn thing beeped and rang up again!
One hour and 12 minutes later, we got our 5 items paid for and crawled out of the store, physically and emotionally exhausted. Wal-Mart is right, those self-checkouts are SOOOOOOOO much easier and convenient!

And finally, we have a spider in front of our house. No big deal right? We went out the other day and noticed a new little spider friend that has built a web in between two of our bushes in the very front of the house. The only problem is the spider is a little larger than we are used to are seeing. Imagine a 4th grader in a spider man costume...that is how huge this thing is! The web it has made is as big and thick as a large quilt. It hasn't settled for catching wayward flies and mosquitoes, this huge web is littered with small birds, a flying squirrel, two turkey vultures, a crop duster, and what appears to be the mummified corpse of our mailman.

That would explain the lack of bills this week.

Sep 18th Thoughts

2007-09-18T08:20:00.000-05:00

What does PERMANENT mean? According to the dictionary:

1. Lasting or remaining without essential change:
2. Not expected to change in status, condition, or place.

I am PERMANENTLY Disabled. This is according to my Doctors and our own US Government which pays me Social Security Disability payments each month.
I have a PERMANENT Spinal Cord Injury.
I will have my Spinal Cord issues for the REST OF MY LIFE.

Yet....

My beloved Disability carrier from my former employer does not know the meaning of the word PERMANENT.
Every 6 months they require that I go into my Doctor and have a physical to verify that I am STILL PERMANENTLY DISABLED.
Sometimes I feel that if I had lost both arms and legs in an accident, these idiots would still have me go in twice a year for the Doc to check and make sure that I am still missing all my limbs.

Speaking of the disability payments from my former employer... It was the best $10 a month I ever spent. That is all it took out of my monthly paycheck in order for me to be covered in case I got disabled.
What this meant was that after I got hurt, this disability carrier would pay me a portion of my salary every month for the rest of my life until I reach age 67. This is completely separate from the Government Disability payments. Without having spent that $10 a month, I would now be faced with getting about 40% less a month in income from what I get right now. If your employer offers a long-term disability program please sign up for it as quick as possible. I never thought I would need my benefits but they have sure been a lifesaver since I got hurt.

OJ is back in Jail. My only shock is it took this many years. Let's all hope and pray that this jury actually pays attention to the facts and that he goes away for the rest of his life.

How sad is it that Kevin Federline appears to be the better parent? Imagine the ridicule those 2 kids are going to endure when they grow up and figure out what losers their parents were and are.

It is now September the 18th. Only 5 more months until the start of the new Fall Television season which will last from Feb 7th till Mar 4th and then we dive back into reruns.

The wonderful Professional TV News channel I am watching is reporting that Britney Spears was asked to leave a fancy Beverly Hills restaurant after customers complained that she was smearing gourmet food all over her face. They report this BEFORE news of the latest deaths of US Soldiers in Iraq.
Where have our priorities gone? Down the toilet!

2007-09-15T09:36:00.000-05:00

Oops!

2007-09-14T13:28:00.000-05:00

Sep 14th Thoughts and Happenings

2007-09-14T12:55:00.000-05:00

In just one short month, Dad and I will be leaving for Red River for 2 days of hiking in the Southern Rocky Mountains. Seeing as how Dad has not hiked in 73 years and has been basically living at sea level for over 100 years, I suggested he might want to get off the couch and do some actual walking prior to heading 9,000 feet up into the stratosphere to hike 8 miles a day with his poor, crippled little boy. Dad agreed only after laughing his head off, insisting he was in better shape than when he was an 18 yr old sailor on leave in Honk Kong trying to outrun the shore patrol after a heavy night of drinking. Dad changed into a pair of shorts, grabbed a water bottle, put on sunscreen and bug spray, and headed out the door, determined to walk the nearly 3.5 mile round trip down to my house and back. With a swift pat on the butt and a hearty kiss for good luck from my Mom, Dad headed out the door and trotted down the driveway for his first training walk.

The paramedics tell me that his lifeless body was found exactly 17.3 feet beyond the end of his driveway. It took 13 jolts on the defibrillator and an hour of CPR to revive him. The Doctor diagnosed him as having a total failure of all major bodily organs due to heat stroke, exhaustion, and dehydration. Dad is back home now and we are nursing him back to health so he can attempt to actually make it to the next driveway down the block on his next training walk.

My overworked little schoolteacher wife is quickly discovering the downside of taking an online masters degree course at the same time she is teaching a full schedule at school. The math just does not add up no matter how hard she tries. She works for 10 hours a day at school. She takes an hour to eat and take a bath after arriving home. She is now at 11 hours of the day being used up. She then goes in and spends 2 hours doing her online course. Total now 13 hours. She then goes in and sits on the bed and does her homework grading for her regular teaching duties. She grades and does assignments for 5 more hours. She is now at 18 hours. Factor in the 2 hours prior to school when she is up eating breakfast and getting kids ready for school and that now leaves her a grand total of 4 hours to sleep each night. Factor in the waking up 3-5 times per night due to being bucked off the bed by the large, flip-flopping walrus she sleeps with, and she ends up getting about 2 hours of quality sleep.

All this, and her crazy, unbalanced, teachers aide, Teresa, is attempting to work a full day at school AND take a full load of schoolwork after school while working toward her degree. I can imagine the horrors that must be going on in her household as the result of her only being able to get 5 minutes of sleep a night.

According to Conan O'Brien, people backstage at the MTV Video Music Awards reported that Britney Spears showed up 3 hours late for her final rehearsal and had a frozen margarita in her hand.
Britney justified it by saying "It's not mine, it's for my kids".

Say What?

2007-09-14T10:54:00.000-05:00

This past few weeks has brought news of two female travelers that were told by Southwest Airlines that they were dressed "too provocatively" and that they would have to change their wardrobe before being allowed to fly. They are the two women depicted in modern technicolor on the above photograph.
The black and white photo is a picture of what Southwest Airlines own flight attendants wore for uniforms back in the 70's.
As you can see, Southwest has a point. Today's outfits are down right pornographic compared to the modest tiny shorts with go-go boots look of the days of old.......
Now.....where can I get my wife a pair of those boots? Anyone know?.....

Women singers that I consider to have good voices

2007-09-14T10:22:00.000-05:00

For those of you laughing that I actually think Christina Aguilera has a good voice and that I think Britney Spears sings about as good as a dying Walrus with gum in it's mouth....I submit to you a list of some of the female singers that I enjoy listening to. With the exception of Karen Carpenter, they are in no order. To this day, Karen Carpenter has the best voice I have ever heard. Here are the others.

Karen Carpenter
Barbara Streisand
Carly Simon
Carole King
Celine Dion
Stevie Nicks
Aimee Mann
Dionne Warwick
Ann Wilson (Heart)
Gloria Estefan
Laura Branigan
Kim Carnes
Linda Ronstadt
Melissa Manchester
Chrissie Hynde (Pretenders)
Sarah McLachlan

2007-09-13T10:13:00.000-05:00