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|Sunday, December 8th, 2013|
|It's Repeal Day Sunday, You Bastards
This is the undisputed worst day of the year but I'm not going to dwell on it. You God fearing Conservatives out there who love Jesus and detest peace, love, John Lennon, The Beatles and rock and roll in general except when it comes from upstanding Christian rock acts like Ted Nugent, can count this as one of my Christmas presents to you. Sure, you'd love to hear again how John was shot to death when he was barely 40 years old but you can't have that without some long haired hippie Liberal also talking about how great he was and that's what I'm sparing you from.
Merry Christmas! It's an unintended side effect of my own revulsion of December 8, but the big bean counter in the sky doesn't care about motivation. Actions speak louder than words and/or thoughts and intentions and are therefore far more valuable and this little stuffer I'm shoving in all your Conservative stockings is going to raise my Karma Score a good 200 points or more.
This is why I'm the Bill Gates of Karmic Riches. If I were the type who likes to brag, I'd make a big deal out of that. But I didn't get where I am today, #1 on the Forbes Karmic 400, by being a braggart. Or by occupying my time with complaining about petty little annoyances instead of going out and trying to fix real problems. That's why I'm taking this opportunity today to remind you that HBO will not be airing a brand new episode of Boardwalk Empire tonight.
It's an affront to history and drama lovers everywhere, not to mention the biggest victims of this travesty, those of us who just want to see Patricia Arquette naked. That's why I urge to begin begging, pleading, boycotting, casting spells or whatever else it takes to ensure that we will never again have to endure another Repeal Day Sunday without a new Boardwalk Empire. You may even resort to praying if you think it will help. Make God an offer He can't refuse.
Now that we have the biggest crisis facing humanity well on the way to being solved, I want to direct your attention to the second biggest crisis threatening humanity. If you live in the Quad Cities (http://www.visitquadcities.com/
), please go to the nearest window and notice all the snow on the ground. The problem isn't all the snow around your house. We can live with that.
The problem is all the snow cluttering up my driveways and sidewalks. My unusual snow removal service, the neighbor kid who lives in a cardboard box at the end of the alley, didn't show up this morning. I don't know what his excuse is going to be this time but I suspect that since his little sister has been sick, he's going to say he caught the plague from her and even if that's true, it just means he should have been out working instead of lounging around the cardboard box just waiting for the Black Plague to infect him.
That's why Dennis Miller hates all these lazy unmotivated poor people. Out there in California, where he lives, he doesn't have snow to worry about, but I'm sure he has the same problem I do during the summer of finding little kids who are willing to scrub his tennis court with a toothbrush for a quarter. And Dennis has to put up with that all year round. No wonder he's so angry.
If Dennis were a little smarter----Bless his heart, he ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer---he wouldn't get on the radio and constantly complain about it and then he would be a Karmic Millionaire. But he ain't even getting that. I'm sure his Karmic bankruptcy fits into God's Plan somehow but I can't figure out how. And I can't waste a lot of time trying to figure out how to get poor white trash who have a little money into Heaven, so poor old Dennis is on his own.
This place ain't all that big, it's just a modest little 5000 acre estate but it does have 49 miles of drives and sidewalks all cluttered up with ice and snow, plus the Go Kart Track, and that's the cross Jesus has given to me to bear. That's where you come in. You get over here in a timely manner and do a good job clearing away all that frozen mess and I'll give you the same quarter I would have given to the neighbor kid if he wasn't so lazy and shiftless.
I'll even throw in a bowl of lukewarm gruel after you get done. I know that puts me dangerously close to supporting ObamaCare and I'll catch Heck for it down at the Billionaires' Club but I can't help it. I just can't stand to see folks go hungry, even when it is their own fault. So be a survivor, not a victim! Take advantage of my insane generosity. Get down here and show me you aren't afraid of a little hard work. Bring your own shovel. And don't mess up the snowmobile trails by throwing too much extra snow on them!
Don't take all day with it, either. We got a big party starting here in a few minutes, you know, our Repeal Day Sunday Massive Blowout and our guests aren't going to want to drive on snow and then walk through snow just to get to the front door. Your betters' just want to eat, drink and be merry and why would you want to ruin the entire evening by making them walk through snow?
Don't let Jesus down again. You've already disappointed your parents, teachers, minister and worst of all, all us Job Creators. Don't add Jesus to the list. Instead of getting struck down by lightning, come and earn a shiny new quarter instead. Remind me why I keep fighting so much for you people by being grateful for the opportunity to earn a whole 25 cents and a bowl of lukewarm gruel for just shoveling 49 miles of snow and not complaining about it.
And be grateful that the Lord blessed you with poverty. Just look at the Theme Drink that Fifi, my Sommelier, invented for tonight:
1/2 oz White rum
1/2 oz Coconut rum
1/2 oz Melon liqueur
1/2 oz Peach schnapps
1/2 oz Blue Curacao
Fill With Sour mix
Add Splash Lemonade
Mix two rums, melon, peach and blue curacao in a mixing tin with the sour mix. Pour into a Collins glass with ice and add a dash of lemonade. Garnish with lemon squeeze.
Are you smart enough to be glad that you don't have to drink swill like that? I'll be drinking beer, of course, because I've got common sense, but I'll have to watch people drinking that swill and that's just as bad. You, on the other hand, will be enjoying a full cup of some old homemade wood alcohol that we brewed up to kill all the pesky unsightly endangered species that were making the pond unpleasant to use but is now that that's done, we don't have much of a use for it and it's just cluttering up the wine cellar.
It may make you go blind but stop thinking about yourself. Giving you a free drink along with your free food will likely get me completely kicked out of the Billionaires' Club. Then what I am going to do on Wednesday nights? I wish just once that David Koch would come to your house and yell at you for encouraging the great unwashed masses to think of themselves as anything but disposable labor so you would know what it's like to be me.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that being rich is all bad. In a little while, we're going to be playing Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Like Flappers Playing Strip Bocce Ball and I do enjoy wholesome old fashioned games like that but on the whole, you're way better off than me because you're poor. Well, I won't keep you any longer cause you're lowering my property value standing here in my foyer like this and there's a lot of snow out there that has your name on it. So get out there and git r done and remember, I wish I could be you. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Saturday, December 7th, 2013|
|It's Repeal Saturday, You Bastards
It's probably fitting that this morning---Which is Day Three of our massive Repeal Day Weekend Blowout and the anniversary of Pearl Harbor---I was the victim of a sneak attack that greatly resembles both the St. Valentines Day Massacre and Pearl Harbor. When you think about it, it's really a pretty big honor of sorts. It was History itself saying, "You don't have to get up today and do a lot of running around in your Time Machine, you just stay in bed cause I'm bringing the Past to you." It's just like getting breakfast in bed. Except instead of bacon and eggs, it's Pearl Harbor and the St. Valentines Day Massacre.
And it wasn't exactly in bed. It was here in my office. There was an earlier skirmish in bed but that was more like the day the FBI rubbed out John Dillinger outside the Biograph but that's something we don't need to talk about here. Or there. Ever. That file is sealed forever, so forget about it. All you need to know is that the innocent until proven guilty will be given fair trials and then be punished accordingly for their crimes against humanity. Normally, this would happen in The Hague, but due to the EU's unreasonable and restricting ban on corporal punishment, the prosecutors have requested the venue be changed to Houston, where they will be free to seek the Paddle Penalty and get it as opposed to being forced to let the defendants plea down to something like fourth degree insolence and getting a sentence of one week of going to bed early that would just be suspended if not overturned entirely by a know-it-all, soft on crime appeals court, because everything is legal in Texas, except abortion (For the time being at least and we'll get to that in a minute) and I approved it because who am I to tell lawyers how to do their jobs?
I'm a firm believer in the old fashioned notion that being Commander In Chief, Lord High God Of All I Survey does not give me permission to do anything I want. Legally, I have every right to impose my will on my subjects 100% of the time but morally and ethically, I have a sacred obligation to let them do whatever they want once in a while. When it fits my agenda. That's the kind of Forward Thinking that put me in The Dictator Hall Of Fame (The next time you're in Cooperstown, be sure to visit it. It's just down the street from the Baseball Hall Of Fame).
And you would think the peasants on my staff would appreciate my benevolence but you would be surprised at how often that's not the case. The price for being a Saint is constantly receiving flak for your humanitarian efforts and I'm no exception to the rule. Take the aforementioned St. Valentine, for example. Just like me, he dedicated his entire life to helping the less fortunate and how was he repaid for it? He was tortured and beheaded and today is remembered by a massacre bearing his name and an over-priced, over-hyped holiday that should you forget it, will get you tortured and beheaded. Even in the EU.
All that brings us directly and quickly here, to my office, which might as well be a dark, cold, lonely, isolated warehouse in the dead of a soulless Chicago winter with palm trees and beaches, because this is where, this very morning, Style Manual, my Editor-In-Chief, ambushed me with a sneak attack. No one, including me, ever thought I would say this but George Bush was right. Oceans no longer protect me. At least not when I'm on the same continent and in the same room as the illegal aggressor who's trying to ruin everything with her sneak attack. Dig this, Grasshopper. All I wanted to do is bring hope to you, my ten million loyal daily readers, by showing you this: Judge orders Colorado baker to serve gay couples (http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/12/06/21795833-judge-orders-colorado-baker-to-serve-gay-couples?lite
And then remind you that Mitt Romney only won Texas by about 16%. But before I could do that and then further reinforce my argument that, bleak as it seems, things are headed in the right direction and there is light at the end of the tunnel, by going over the rest of the Electoral Map, Style swooped in with her Tommy Gun bearing thugs and dive bombers and shot me down before I could even get in the air with, "Enough politics. We all want the end of Conservative Oppression but this is still Repeal Day Weekend and no one wants to sit here and be depressed or bored, probably both, by you talking about Mitt Romney, the St. Valentines Day Massacre and Pearl Harbor. Save that for a slow Wednesday when we have nothing else. I'll make a deal with you. If you can be a good boy and write about things people enjoy, things like weird kinky sex and parties, I'll take you out for ice cream afterwards."
Have I mentioned that the peasants are revolting? And what do I know about weird kinky sex and parties? I'm a Mormon, for God's sake. Or Amish. Which one allows you to live with 479 girls and still go to Heaven? Is there a Theologian in the house? The only thing I know is that Style is a Communist. And you know that, too. So, if I tell you what I know, it's just another case of preaching to the choir. And where would that get us?
But try telling that to a revolting peasant who thinks she knows everything. The farther one travels, the less one really knows. Until you talk to a revolting peasant who thinks she knows everything. Because it is then that you know you know everything and she knows nothing and it doesn't really matter if you acquired all that knowledge by traveling twice as far as she has because you're more than twice her age. It just matters that you're right and she's wrong.
And it still does no good. Somehow, she can wake all the sleeping giants she wants with total immunity. It's either because of witchcraft or Divine Intervention and until I get around to issuing an Executive Order banning both of those insidious practices, things will never change. I blame you.
Don't worry. My Secret Police are too busy arresting my inner circle to bother busting you. This is a criminal's paradise. Chicago on the Mississippi. Forget about about the War On Christmas and start worrying about the War On My Right To Free And Very Enlightening Speech. And since I know what a drag it is to attend an End The War rally sober, I'm going to do you another solid by allowing Fifi, my Sommelier, to come out here and introduce this, the Theme Drink she invented for tonight:
Start The Revolution Without Me
1 part Russian Vodka
1 part White Sambuca
Mix it together.
That might not completely unsink your battleships but it won't hurt, unless you overdo the Tabasco. At the very least, it should get you through tonight. And a good deal of tomorrow morning. And if it's not quite enough to make you forget the War On My Writing Rights at the hands of guerrilla Socialist Editors who wouldn't know what people want and don't want if it sat on their heads, don't despair.
The B Side of this hit record of a drink is tonight's Featured Party Game: Binders Full Of Drunk Girls Dressed Like Flappers Playing Truth Or Dare. Together, that combination is just as effective as Extra Strength Heroin PM With Ion Core Technology at making the world bearable. And it's completely legal. Some doctors think it might be addictive but even if it is and you do get addicted, it's your problem. If you can figure out an ending for this one, tack it on because that's my problem and you have a moral obligation to solve it. It might even lead to a glorious new creator as my new Editor-In-Chief right after I demote Style to the Lingerie Modeling Department. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Coast To Coast AM---John B. Wells, WOC AM 1420
|Friday, December 6th, 2013|
|It's Repeal Friday, You Bastards
Hello and welcome to Day Two, the Friday Edition, of our massive Four Day Repeal Day Weekend Blowout. Think of it as a super ultra high def wide screen surround sound extravaganza that's going to fully immerse you in 1927, because it's about the midway point between when Prohibition started and its' end point. At least that's the goal. If your mileage varies, complain to the EPA, not me. Now that you know your onions from your carrots, let's get this Sockdollager started.
Oh, I see you Republicans have already started. You're giddy, aren't you? First of all, your efforts to impeach President Obama are going as well as they possibly could. You have zero chance of getting rid of Barack but you're impressing the Heck out of Cletus and Bubba, who will keep voting for you forever or until they figure out you're stabbing them in the back by trying to take away their Medicare, Social Security, food-stamps and unemployment benefits. Whichever comes first.
And as if that cake even needed frosting, you found out yesterday that you have one less uppity Negro to worry about (Nelson Mandela's death: World mourns 'hero,' 'icon,' 'father' http://worldnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/12/06/21786372-nelson-mandelas-death-world-mourns-hero-icon-father?lite
). Three, if you count Barack and Michelle going to South Africa for the memorials.
John Boehner is doing his best to help. He's going to try to get their passports revoked so they have to stay in South Africa. And if it doesn't work the first time, he's prepared to try it forty more times or more. And it's not just him. Ted Cruz, Michele Bachmann and Rand Paul are right there by his side and when you get that much brain power on one project...Well, just look at the way quick, efficient and cost effective way they killed ObamaCare. Or soon will. Number 44 is the charm! Or is it Number 47? 52? Well, whichever it is, I'm sure this is the time they'll succeed.
But all that isn't even the best part. Did you hear Bill O'Reilly's touching eulogy of Nelson Mandela? I'm gonna paraphrase here but I will capture the spirit of what he said: Nelson Mandela was a dirty, rotten, bottom dwelling, scum eating, bed-wetting Communist! COMMUNIST! AND HE WAS A NEGRO! The only way he could have been worse is if he had been the Pope. Or the President of a real country like the US. And now, to keep the Liberals from twisting my words and calling me a racist, I have to say something nice about him. So, OK, this Marxist Demon who didn't understand capitalism did, very occasionally, do some things that weren't completely horrible.
Whew! And I thought that the dumbest, most absurd and divorced from reality thing I'd ever see in my lifetime was the Pat Buchanan column on JFK and Richard Nixon (http://buchanan.org/blog/nixon-kennedy-myths-reality-6001
). I should know better than to underestimate the Conservatives' bottomless reserves of prejudice, ignorance and stupidity but every time they scrape rock bottom, I naively think, "There's just no way they can drain more water out of this dry pool."
But they manage to do it every single time. When it comes to saying and doing stupid things that just leave the audience stunned and dumbfounded, we have to admit that the Conservatives are the Harlem Globetrotters and we are the Washington Generals. That's a vast over simplification that fails on quite a few levels but it works if you don't think about it too hard and one thing I never have to worry about is you thinking too hard on a Friday. But this isn't about you, so let's get back on topic.
Just let it be known that the last thing I want to do is disparage Bill O'Reilly. Or his fans. By using a big word they don't understand. So I'll change that to: I would never attack Bill. I'll just call him a four flushing Phonus balonus who's full of applesauce and let it go at that. Right after I add: If Nelson Mandela decides to stick around a while and haunt certain people with an Exorcist/Here's Johnny! style of other worldly torment until they are quivering masses of suicidal jelly, I hope he starts with Bill O'Reilly.
Speaking of getting back on topic, I bet you thought I forgot all about my stated purpose today, to totally immerse you in 1927, but no. As usual, I am right on target. You would have noticed all the 1920's slang I've been using all along if you weren't already Zozzled. And what more can I do than that? Except maybe to bring out Fifi, my Sommelier, with the Theme Drink she invented for tonight so you can get even more Ossified.
But before I make with the Giggle Water, I want to point out that there will not be a brand new Boardwalk Empire this Sunday, the last day of our massive Four Day Repeal Day Weekend Blowout. I know it's too late for you to do anything about that but could you at least tell me what lollygagging dewdropper promoted Mickey Doyle to Chief Vice President In Charge Of Scheduling at HBO? And made Bill O'Reilly his assistant?
Sheesh! If you're going to give me Laurel & Hardy, with lobotomies, you could at least have the decency to throw in a few decent gags. Instead of just making me wish that someone would gag them. I know those two things sound similar but trust me, there is a big difference. Someday, when you're older, possibly tomorrow, when you sober up, you'll understand.
Since there's little to no danger of that happening before sometime late tomorrow afternoon, I want to do my rendition of the Baker Scene which originated in the late 1890's, was done by a variety of comedy teams and was very big with vaudeville audiences throughout the 1920's, including our target year of 1927 and on top of all that, is a direct ancestor of Who's On First?, which developed in the 1920's and was made famous when Bud & Lou first performed it for a national audience in February, 1938 on the Kate Smith Hour radio program.
Have you ever stopped and noticed just how many good timeless classics were started in February? From all branches of the Arts And Sciences. The biggest share of them come from February, 1964 but don't sell other February's, such as 1938's, short. Anyway, without any ado at all, we'll get started with my rendition of the Baker Scene.
Right after we stop Fifi from whining and complaining about me hogging her spotlight. She's a Communist, you know. If Joe McCarthy, another proud Republican icon who became a Republican only after the Democrats told him to get lost, and is considered to be one of the most inept and unqualified politicians in history (If you don't count George W. Bush, Michele Bachmann, Ted Cruz, Sarah Palin and well, just about any Republican currently or recently in office) and was named by his peers as "the worst U.S. senator currently in office," were still here, he'd know how to deal with her disloyalty, subversion and treason.
But since Joe isn't here to help us because he up and quit, just like Sarah Palin, in 1957---Except Sarah didn't have the decency to die, she just resigned---we'll just have to resort to the only option available to us. We'll just to have let Fifi come out here and present the Theme Drink she invented for tonight:
Bathtub Gin Boogie
3/4 oz Vodka
3/4 oz Gin
Fill 1/2 Ginger ale
Fill 1/2 Cranberry juice
Pour Gin and Vodka over ice, followed by the cranberry juice and then the ginger ale.
Now some of you are asking what Joe McCarthy has to do with the 1920's and I am sure glad you brought him up again cause I could talk all night about how he's the very model for all our modern Republicans. I'll start with one of his more obvious 1920's connections: He dropped out of school in 1922, when he was 14. That is also when he began his degenerate gambling habit. And the alcoholism that would claim his life, thankfully, at the age of 48, before he could do more damage. I think about that massive debt we owe to booze everyday. I even think we should start bowing three times a day in the general direction of Lynchburg, Tennessee to express our gratitude.
Did you know that he also tried to have the death sentences of the Waffen-SS officers who perpetrated the Malmedy Massacre in 1944 commuted (They shot a bunch of POW's simply because they were American)? See? Our Republicans didn't invent hating the troops. Joe did (Not really but are you going to do the research necessary to know that it predates him? Especially on a Friday night? I'll risk it). And it's not like I support the Death Penalty, because I don't but I do object to having it and having guys like Joe trying to exclude Nazi's and George Zimmerman---Who would be on Death Row right now if he were Black and/or Trayvon Martin were white---from it.
Another thing about Joe is...What? You don't want to talk anymore about him tonight? Fine. It's your loss. I was just about to tell you how he supported the Jim Crow Laws and how his hatred of homosexuality was likely a cover because he was almost certainly gay. Just like his good friends J. Edgar Hoover and Rush Limbaugh. Well, Rush was never technically his friend. I don't think they even met but they would have made a great couple and that's why Rush takes so many drugs. But fine, you don't want to hear any of that so I won't tell it.
The conversation about Joe is hereby finished and I'll just get tonight's Featured Party Game started: Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Like Flappers Playing Strip Hopscotch. Yes, I'm sure there's an App and you can play it on your phone but right now, could you just enjoy the live version? Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Dwyer & Michaels---97X
|Thursday, December 5th, 2013|
|It's Repeal Day, You Bastards
HAPPY REPEAL DAY!
Coming to you live from the luxurious Residence Inn in Beautiful Downtown Burbank because The Beverly Hilton was all full, so they said, but we all know the truth. Denying me a room at the Hilton was just a tacky unwarranted revenge move. See, I used to date French Lick Hilton. You might never have heard of her because her third cousin, Paris Hilton, seems to suck up most of the publicity allotted to the Hilton's.
Some of you are probably even thinking that I changed her name for dramatic effect but no. You know how Paris was so named because she was conceived in Paris? Well, that's how French Lick was named, too. Her parents spent a weekend in Indiana and voilà! French Lick was given the gift of life.
Now, some of you are probably still thinking that I made the whole thing up because how could there be a French Lick, Indiana? But look. It is real, it has a web site and everything: http://www.city-data.com/city/French-Lick-Indiana.html.
When will you people learn that I never make anything up? I always tell you the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But The Truth. Because I have faith in your ability to handle it.
Anyway, French Lick and I dated for a while and I broke up with her via a text message---Which I'm told is the classiest way to do it---After she caught me making out with her sister, Climax (OK, for you die hard skeptics, again, I am not making her up. She was conceived in Michigan: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Climax,_Michigan
). You know, I don't want to sound preachy but you Skeptics need to get some professional help to get over your trust issues.
Now, some of you are saying that I didn't break up with French Lick, that she broke up with me. And to you, I say, if you believe everything TMZ tells you, I have a bridge I want to sell you. Cheap. But that can wait. What can't wait is telling you that my ill fated romance with French Lick---Neither one of us is to blame for it not working. It wasn't her or me. We just wanted different things. Such as her sister, Climax---has caused some of her misinformed relatives to black list me and now I can't get a room at the The Beverly Hilton and that's why I'm stuck in Beautiful Downtown Burbank at the Residence Inn (http://www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/burri-residence-inn-burbank-downtown/
---Note to the IRS: This is another completely uncompensated and therefore nontaxable plug.).
But I ain't crying over spilled milk. No. Life goes on. And we will bravely enjoy it, no matter how much it sucks. Adversity builds character! This is our finest hour! Blood, sweat, toil and tears rock! Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me and I shall take them to the Residence Inn in Beautiful Downtown Burbank!
To celebrate Repeal Day! In Los Angeles, because they make a real effort to do Repeal Day Right (http://www.latimes.com/food/dailydish/la-dd-repeal-day-drink-specials-20131202,0,1455671.story#axzz2mcatpLDL
). Now, our only problem, aside from the feud with the Hilton's that's keeping me out of Beverly Hills and forcing us to stay in Burbank, is figuring what to do until the bars open.
I wasn't able to bring my entire staff because I can't get 8 floors of the Beverly Hilton anymore, so I've just got a skeleton crew here but lucky for you, Fifi, my Sommelier, is among them and she stayed up all night, inventing this, today's Theme Drink:
Repeal Day Rye & Pepper
2 oz Rye whiskey
1/2 can Dr. Pepper
Pour 1 to 2 oz. of Canadian Club or other whiskey into a glass with ice. Add 1/2 can Dr. Pepper. Stir. If you want to make Repeal Day even more special and authentic, use Templeton Rye (http://www.templetonrye.com/
) because it was Al Capone's favorite whiskey.
That should keep us busy for a few hours. I expect French Lick will show up any minute now, down on her hands and knees, begging me to take her back. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. It depends on how sincere she seems. In any case, we're gonna have a great time tonight. No matter what. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Dwyer & Michaels---97X
|Tuesday, December 3rd, 2013|
|Could Life Get Any Worse?
The world finally unended yesterday after the four day Apocalypse that destroyed everything because Hurricane Thanksgiving finally blew over and went to whatever Universe it's ending next. And now we have this bright shiny brand new world reeking with that brand new world smell and it sucks just as much as the old one. I'm not complaining or anything, I'm just saying life isn't worth living. Even when Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss is out of town again.
She's in the Greek Islands floating around on a yacht but she'll home in a few days and that's not even the worst of this nightmare. I called my boss, The Chief, this morning to ask him when I should come back to work. If you're new here, I've been on vacation (They used to call it Suspended with Full Pay until our Union, Pipe-Fitters And Greeting Cards Salesmen Local 409, protested, at which point they started calling it Vacation) since Halloween, which is the day The Chief found out that I toppled the government of Toronto instead of Tobago. Just as he instructed.
But he's trying to blame me for his inability to be clear when I'm trying to write down what he's saying on the back of a cocktail napkin in a dark smoky club at 3 AM. He claims he said Tobago but he didn't. He said Toronto. And even if he said Tobago, it doesn't matter because the napkin said Toronto.
That's the way drug addicts (He guzzles Tagamet like it's going out of style) work. Everything they do wrong is someone else's fault. And they're insensitive. When I asked him when my vacation will be over, he said, "Well, I suspen...Um, I mean when I sent you on vacation, it was for two weeks but when you didn't show up in the middle of November, I started to notice how much I like not having you around the office. So I've decided to make it a year. Starting on January 1. Call me in 2015 and we'll play it by ear. Oh! I have more good news for you. I went to the doctor last week and most of my ulcers are 90% healed and I can can drink again in moderation so I'll be at your party this week."
So now I have the rest of December to fill up plus another whole twelve months. With no focus or direction. Hating my job is a major focal point in my life. Getting up every morning and deciding whether to call in sick or to go in and rewrite the day's mission to fit my mood is a sharply defined starting point that I need. And now both of them have been ripped away from me. And then there's Minx, my secretary.
She's been ripped away from me, too. Since I'm on Vacation With Full Pay, she is, too, and she's thrilled about it. She even sent me a Thank You card. The problem is that now, she's just like any other girl who doesn't work for me in that when I want to sleep with her, I have to call her and ask if she wants to. It's as much a pain in the neck as dating. That is one headache I don't need, not only because girls you can't give raises to (My worthless Union lost that fight so I can't give Minx another raise until my vacation is over) are always unreasonable but also because Suzette is always telling me I shouldn't be dating other girls and she always does everything in her power to make it more difficult.
Some people say I should just be glad that my Expense Account still works, along with all my company credit cards and enjoy my year off and just let it go at that. I think that's kind of a loser attitude with far reaching implications. I don't need Dennis Miller to start hating me because I don't have to work AND I let my boss get away with everything. Dennis hates just about everyone now, mostly because he hitched his wagon to a dead horse (He wants it to gallop but it just GOP's and GOPing doesn't get you very far) and it's awfully embarrassing, but I don't need to make his self-inflicted problems my problems.
Plus, I have this brand new problem of The Chief coming to my parties again and he can only drink moderately which means he won't get drunk enough to give Minx a raise just because I tell him to. The whole world is against me! Could this get any worse? Why do people continue to say that suicide is a bad idea? The Carpenters were wrong! There is no getting over that rainbow, people! And your smallest of dreams will never come true!
Karen was just blowing sunshine up your skirt. That's the kind of world we live in. Even pretty girls will do anything to sell a record. You mark my words, any day now you're going to see someone like Miley Cyrus or Lady Gaga do or say something outrageous to generate more sales. And there's nothing we can do about it.
I suppose you could be a social outcast by not buying the latest Lady Gaga album but what kind of choice is that? I take back what I said. This brand new world doesn't suck just as much as the world it replaced. It sucks more. And it don't matter how good your Poker Face is, because it won't help you.
The one and only thing we have going for us is that Los Angeles knows how to celebrate Repeal Day ($1 drinks and more booze to celebrate Repeal Day: http://www.latimes.com/food/dailydish/la-dd-repeal-day-drink-specials-20131202,0,1455671.story#ixzz2mRzURUnb
). The only problem with that is that Repeal Day isn't until Thursday. What are we supposed to do in the meantime? And Thursday won't last forever. So what do we do on Friday?
Oh, the party here. Right. OK, Friday is covered but what about Saturday? And all the days after that? Except for Fridays, cause I guess we have them covered. See how I'm right again? About everything! Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
|Monday, December 2nd, 2013|
|Why Is It Ironic?
Howdy. Take your shoes off, set a spell and enjoy this, The Only Review Of The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 55: Listeners Tell Us What To Talk About (http://redstateupdate.libsyn.com/
) You'll Ever Need.
How often these days do you ever hear anyone talk about The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Misadventures_of_Sheriff_Lobo
)? Never. That's how often. Except when you listen to The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 55: Listeners Tell Us What To Talk About. Jackie & Dunlap to the rescue again!
The problem is so bad that you'll notice that I had to include a link so millions of you kids wouldn't write in and say, "Who's Sheriff Lobo? Is he the one who tried to beat Rodney King to death? Or the gay guy in Arizona with the pink underwear fetish?" And I have to confess that I'm part of the problem. I'm old and forgetful but that only partly feeds the bull dog. I have a Time Machine (A really nice Chronos Z-29 with the Document Replicator and Sport Mirror Package) and a Perpetual Motion Machine to power it (That's pretty much a necessity because it takes all the energy in the visible Universe to transport one atom five minutes into the past if you're using conventional power sources, so when you see your electric bill after the first time after you transport yourself and a couple of small suitcases to 1865 to see Abe get shot, you'll do what I did, which is to go out and buy a Perpetual Motion Machine) but I never go to 1979.
It's partly because I have a "Been there, done that, got the t-shirt," attitude about the 70's and partly because it's expensive. Gas is 86 cents a gallon. Cigarettes are 84 cents a pack. If you want a really nice big house, it'll run you about $70,000. A mid level suite in a four star hotel is around $90 a night and if you want to go out, forget it, cause a movie and dinner and then dancing and drinks at a nice club for two will be $30, if you're lucky, cause most of the time, it seems to run closer to $40. And on and on.
I can only blame economics for so much, though. At some point, I have to admit that my frugality is contaminating my common sense and making me purposely forget all the good things about 1979. Things like Sheriff Lobo. And now, thanks to Jackie & Dunlap rescuing all of us, including me, I now see the error of my ways.
I am no longer going to ignore the 1970's when I Time Travel. Even though they're outrageously expensive and I'm not made of money. But even more than that, I now have a mission to accomplish for the next time I visit 1979. Aside from watching The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo, cause that's like DUH, what else are you going to do in 1979? Yes, I have a higher purpose than even that.
I am going to invent Podcasting in 1979. In the late Winter or early Spring, so that by the time The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo premieres on September 18, 1979, Jackie & Dunlap will have been doing it for a few months and will looking for logical brand extensions and the very first expansion of their Podcastin' Empire will be their weekly review of The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo.
Could this plan be any more perfect and well thought out? The best part is that when I get back here, I will have 34 years of old The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em's, dating back to April or May of 1979 to catch up on. I can't wait to hear what they have to say about Punky Brewster!
And the election of Bill Clinton. And the reelection of Bill Clinton. This kind of awesomeness is so good that it really should be illegal but it never will be cause All's Fair In Love And Time Travel. And, to keep the Universe in perfect balance, I really should, having covered the latter, do something about the former by sleeping with Charlie's Angels. All at the same time. Again. Cause some Been There, Done That experiences are worth repeating.
Even when taking three girls out for a night on the town to get them in the mood is going cost more than $100. Some things are just priceless. Even though they cost plenty. But, if you could stop showing how cheap you are by talking about something other than money, maybe we can get back to this review and get it done in time for folks to get to bed at a decent hour.
Is there anything left in The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 55: Listeners Tell Us What To Talk About that we haven't already covered in minute detail? I don't think there is. So I'll just wrap things up by saying, thank ya kindly for readin', don't forget to rate and review and y'all come back now, y'hear? And if you want to go to 1979 and help me invent Podcasting---Being the Co-Inventor Of Podcasting will look really good on your resume and I reckon we'll win a Nobel Prize or two for it, too, and that don't do no harm when you're lookin' for work, either---I'll give you ten minutes to get here before I leave. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Sunday, December 1st, 2013|
|It's Thanksgiving Sunday, You Bastards
The folks who say, "It's never too late," are just as crazy and deluded as ever but for the next few hours, I am granting them special dispensation and releasing them from their rubber cells (Until they make a mess on the floor) because Fate has stepped in and made them look a little less demented today by killing Paul Crouch (Televangelist Paul Crouch dies: http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/11/30/21694269-televangelist-paul-crouch-dies?lite
This is especially good for those of you who, due to schedule conflicts, travel delays and whatever else, haven't yet had your Thanksgiving Dinner yet. On the morning that a train derails in The Bronx and kills a few people ('Smoke everywhere': Four killed, dozens hurt as train derails in the Bronx: http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/12/01/21702589-at-least-4-dead-more-than-60-injured-after-ny-commuter-train-derails-in-bronx?lite
), and if you're a Fast And Furious fan, it got even worse with 'Fast and Furious' actor Paul Walker dies in high-speed crash (http://www.today.com/entertainment/fast-furious-actor-paul-walker-dies-car-crash-2D11674408
) and you were thinking, "There is absolutely nothing to be thankful for but I'll eat a bunch of turkey, anyway," but look! Paul Crouch is finally dead! So now you can stand up and say, "I am thankful that that conman/sexual predator is dead! Pass the stuffing, please."
For the rest of us, we don't get the rush of being thankful that Paul is dead at the Big Dinner but we do get the next best thing. Thanksgiving itself isn't over until Midnight tonight and even then, it may go into extra innings so we can still be thankful and it counts double on our Karma Score because we did it during the official Thanksgiving Holiday. We have lost the extra pleasure of doing it during the Big Dinner, but Spiritually, we haven't lost a thing.
It even takes a little of the sting out of the insidiously successful plot perpetrated by the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy That's Out To Get Us to make Boardwalk Empire and Bill Maher go on vacation at the same time. Thank God, they failed in their attempt to drive Randi Rhodes (http://www.randirhodes.com/main.html
) off the air. And thank God, I remembered Randi while she still counts as Double Karma Points!
This, kids, is why I'm a Karmic Billionaire. Understand, this isn't bragging, because that actually hurts your Karma Score. This is just a humble reminder to follow my perfect example so you, too, can be Spiritually rich. It won't happen over night but if you keep your nose to the grindstone and continue to base your life on My teachings, you will get there. Eventually. If you want to speed up the process a little, it is written in The Tibetan Book of the Dead, in one of the redacted chapters THEY don't think you should ever read, that if you send your favorite, most enlightened Guru, who would be me, of course, a case of his favorite beer every two or three days, you will reach Enlightenment faster.
If you choose to ignore that advice, that's OK, too. Total irredeemable failure is just as educational as victory. Either way, you win. You just won't enjoy it as much if you choose the Failure Option. There are worse things than going through all Eternity in a severely diminished spiritual state. Probably. I've never personally run across any of them but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
The important thing is to never give up hope. Even when you're finally absolutely certain that hope is just another unattainable lie designed just to make you even more miserable than you were before. The other important thing is to make liberal and frequent use of Hope's Copilot, Captain Booze. To help with that, here is Fifi, my Sommelier, with the Theme Drink she invented for today:
1/2 shot Tequila (Cuervo)
1/2 shot Wild Turkey
Mix in shot glass. Serve.
Notice how simple and unadulterated by mixers this one is. Fifi says it was inspired by the last time I took her to Mexico. I can neither confirm or deny that rumor because I have no memory of that trip. I was either abducted by unfriendly Aliens who erased my memory or Fifi is making the whole thing up.
During the time period she claims we were there, according to the logs, someone using my code name did call in an airstrike on the McDonald's in Cancún for forgetting to put the French Fries in his order and that is something I have been known to do, so maybe Fifi is telling the truth and the Aliens are to blame for me not remembering it.
It's not enough evidence to take to a jury but it's all we have and since you aren't charged with the prospect of sending a bunch of little green men to prison for a kidnapping that may have never happened, you can use it to make up your own mind. While you deliberate, I'm going to get tonight's Featured Party Game started: Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Like Pilgrims And Native Americans Playing Strip Twister.
I just hope that no unfriendly Aliens kidnap you and erase your memory of tonight cause this is something you're gonna want to remember. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Saturday, November 30th, 2013|
|It's Thanksgiving Saturday, You Bastards
Just in time to be only one day late for Black Friday, where it would have fit the theme perfectly, I have a horrible and very frightening headline to show you: 60 years in an iron lung: US polio survivor worries about new global threat (http://www.nbcnews.com/health/60-years-iron-lung-us-polio-survivor-worries-about-new-2D11641456
). Dig that, kids. Polio might turn out to be the Jason of diseases.
We killed it, or very nearly killed it, and it's coming back anyway. I think this is going to be a big fad and I think it might even pay off for us a little. Picture this headline from the near future: Ted Bundy And John Wayne Gacy Are Back And Pissed At Death Penalty Supporters, Have Vowed, "We Will Kill Them All."
Try to forget your outrage and indignation over unruly beatnik newspaper editors acting and talking like drunken sailors on a four day leave and feeling free to pollute what used to be a decent family newspaper with the P word and no one even tries to put them in jail where they belong and take a minute to ponder that that this is what they mean they say, "The Lord works in mysterious ways. Especially when He giveth and taketh away."
We have the return of Polio, which is a bad thing, any way you choose to slice it. Do you remember when Emily, on Boardwalk Empire, nearly immobile in her heavy braces, could only stand and watch as the other kids began the Easter Egg Hunt? That was only fictional in that Emily is fictional. The circumstances were real for millions of kids all over the world for decades. Ah, but God is not a One Trick Pony. No. No. No. He does way more than heartlessly torture innocent children who never did anything to anyone. Except for being born. Cause Original Sin is a real crime that must be punished, not a ridiculous fairy tale that only a retard would buy.
God never takes anything away from you, such as the health, happiness and well being of your children, without giving you something in return. And at first, the Supernatural Resurrection of two of our most vicious serial killers ever seems like just another bad gift that you aren't allowed to return but then...Hallelujah!...they vow to kill all Death Penalty supporters and you realize God hasn't forsaken you, after all.
Because nearly all Death Penalty supporters are also against ObamaCare, they want everyone, including the mentally unstable, to have guns and they want to get rid of food stamps. They are also the ones who kill abortion doctors and drag people to death with their pickups because they are Black. And on and on. In short, they are Conservatives and if Ted and John were sent here to rid us of them, all we can say is, "Thank God."
So now, you can only be half mad at God. Because He crippled your kid by giving her Polio. But, because Ted and John wiped out all the Death Penalty supporters, you won't have to fight with and beg the insurance company to do all things they promised to do when you paid all those premiums because there is no one left to delay and sabotage ObamaCare. They are also no longer around to fight better Labor Laws so now you can put in a fair day's work to receive a fair day's pay and pay all the bills and still have time to spend with your crippled child.
Now, no one has to starve or become homeless or work themselves to death trying to stave off homelessness and starvation. Even when the family is burdened by something like Polio. And all this is free. Completely gratis. Unless you count the small nominal fee of having to watch your seven year old daughter endure a spinal tap and then get locked into heavy leg braces for the rest of her life.
That, folks, is the closest to Paradise we are ever going to get. And once again, I say, "Thank You, God. You sure are one humdinger of a generous Supreme Being." You can read any amount of cynicism, sarcasm and disdain for people who are stupid enough to buy the whole "Loving Caring God" thing into that statement that you want. Or you can take it at face value and declare me to be just a good reverent boy who loves Jesus, America, Mom and apple pie. It's all about Free Will, the ingenious mechanism that allows you to make the Universe into anything you want it to be. For the record, I do love apple pie but if you Free Will me not to, I suppose I'll have to make cherry pie number one and apple pie number two.
Some folks boil all this down to, "Quit complaining and be happy with what ya got." But like I said, you're not obligated to follow any doctrine. You can, if you want, or you can just make up your own. You have the full absolute right, without any of the troublesome responsibilities that come with all other rights, to be or do or drink anything you want. Except for today, when you have to drink this (Or not but we'll get to the alternative in a minute), the Theme Drink that Fifi, my Sommelier, invented for today:
1 oz Wild Turkey
3/4 oz Amaretto
1 splash Pineapple juice
Shake with ice and strain into a shot glass. The more amaretto used, the sweeter the drink is.
If you remember, this is the very same drink we had on Wednesday or Thursday and of course, I protested. The problem seems to be that Fifi has been spending time with my mom because when I said, "Ugh. Leftovers again? No way, dude. You have to invent a brand new drink for tonight's party," she said, "You will drink whatever I give you and like it or you can just do without. But if you don't drink it, don't come crying to me when you get dangerously dehydrated and need someone to call 911. You got yourself into this mess and you can get yourself out. And make sure you're wearing clean underwear if you have to go to the hospital! Now go outside and play before I end up killing you."
I reckon she'll tell you the same thing if you complain and she doesn't seem to be in a good mood and it's hard to argue with her when she's like that...Don't worry, she wouldn't actually kill you, that's just her way of saying she'll make you wish you were dead..., so if I were you, I'd just Free Will myself into thinking that I like leftovers and let it go at that.
Most of all, remember to keep your servants away from your parents or they'll just pick up bad habits and attitudes. If all else fails, take your mind completely off how the peasants are revolting and the rest of the world has gone straight to Heck in a hand-basket anyway and there's nothing you do but but watch as civilization dies and chaos takes over by playing tonight's Featured Party Game: Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Like Pilgrims And Native Americans Playing Strip Beer Pong, Just Like They Did At The First Thanksgiving.
Come to think of it, you should do that even if all else doesn't fail. You just can't go wrong with binders full of girls playing Strip Beer Pong. It cures everything. Even when you're not sick. Except for Polio. And most cancers. So, the wisest course of action for you to follow is this: Thank God for ObamaCare, enjoy the Strip Beer Pong and don't complain about the leftovers. If you know what's good for you. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Friday, November 29th, 2013|
|It's Black Friday, You Bastards
It feels a little weird opening my annual Black Friday Address with a piece of good news but that's what Fate has decreed and who am I to argue with Fate? All things considered, I'm pretty brave, completely fearless, you might say, but that doesn't mean I'm going out of my way to get struck by lightning or have Chris Christie name me as his VP choice. So I'll humor Fate by telling you that Tony Rohr got his job back (Pizza Hut reinstates manager fired after refusing to open Thanksgiving: http://www.nbcnews.com/business/pizza-hut-manager-fired-after-refusing-open-thanksgiving-2D11665028
Personally, I'm glad that Tony got his job back but I wish we had handled this situation a lot differently. It's good that Pizza Hut backed down and this incident might make some major stores think twice about opening on holidays but it won't do anything for the scores of people who are required to work at places like gas stations and smaller stores and restaurants that are always open on holidays and this would have been a perfect time to pass a law that would give them a break.
I'm not talking about a law that would require every place to be closed on holidays but one that would require certain things. Starting with pay. Currently, most places pay time and a half for holidays and that's not nearly enough, so let's make it five times their regular rate. Next, let's make all holiday work strictly voluntary with draconian penalties for any company that takes any retaliatory action against any employee who doesn't volunteer. Also, the system should be set up to automatically assume the employee is right and if the company wants to prove otherwise, it is possible but they will have to go to Hell and back to do it. You know, the same process you have to go through if you feel you have been wronged because a major corporation burns down your house or kills someone or ruins the environment because they didn't want to follow the health and safety laws.
Then, anyone who does volunteer for a holiday will have to get three days of his or her choice off in a row off with full pay (And it does not count as vacation or personal time) within two months of the worked holiday (Before or after) or the option of accepting whatever the employer wants to offer in it's place. But the choice always lays with the employee. If he or she picks the three days off, that's the way it has to be. If the employer doesn't to make a counter offer, that's fine, too, and the worker is stuck with the three days off. It's not obligatory. It's just an option to make managers' lives easier if they want to use it. For instance, if you're having trouble covering all the shifts right now, you could say, "Hey, Linda, if you'll work all day on Thanksgiving, I'll give you ten days off with pay in July," and if she goes for it, your troubles are over. I don't want to tell you how to do your job or anything but I suggest you buy her flowers or take her to lunch at some place nice first because asking a girl to work on a holiday is a lot like asking her to sleep with you, except you won't get hassled by HR.
Another feature of this new law is that it's based on a four hour shift. That means that if you work eight hours on a holiday, you get six instead of three days off. Ten hours would six days plus whatever the extra two hours are worth on a prorated basis (I'm not going to do all that math so you'll have to figure it out on your own) and so on. There's a little more to this new law but those are the major high points and, of course, this is just the first of the new Labor Laws we ought to be passing.
I know a lot of you Conservatives out there are ranting, raving and sputtering about Communism, Socialism, Entitlements, Laziness, ObamaCare and Benghazi. And I dig what you all say. Really, we're exactly the same. With a couple of minor exceptions. Like, you're totally down with big corporations crying poverty while they continue to rake in record profit after record profit and pay mediocre to horrible CEO's millions all the while ripping off, endangering and stealing from their workers. And I'm not.
We also differ a little on things like education, Equal Rights, foreign policy, economics, justice, abortion, religion, guns, George Zimmerman's God-Given right to hunt down and kill Black people, ex-wives and girlfriends, etc etc etc but the point is that we are really the same. We understand each other. We care about each other. Sure, I do say that I wish all of you Conservatives would just die already because you're just a lead weight hanging around our necks but you shouldn't take that the wrong way.
I'm even going to apologize for using the term, Black Friday. I didn't coin it nor do I even support it's continued usage but I use it anyway and for that, I am sorry. Because I know that it offends you because it's just rubbing it in your nose that the Black Entitlement Culture is taking everything, up to and including being of the very symbol of everything that is dark, evil and undesirable.
Why can't the good guys ever wear black hats? Why isn't it White Friday? Why are Pirate flags black and not white? The best bug killer is even called Black Flag, for God's sake! It isn't fair. And it's all Obama's fault. Have you ever seen a Negro at a Ted Nugent concert? That alone is reason enough for impeachment. See how I completely understand and sympathize with your plight?
And with God's help and enough 12 step programs, one day I will stop offending you by saying Black Friday. In the meantime, why don't you help me help myself by having by a drink? How about a shot of straight Cyanide? I can't officially recommend it because some doctors say it poses a health risk in some people but they say it tastes real good. Like toasted almonds. Or, you can have a few of these, the Theme Drink that Fifi, my Sommelier, invented for today:
The Turkey Chainsaw Massacre
1/2 oz Vodka
1 oz Wild Turkey
1/2 oz Jägermeister
Fill with Beer (Budweiser)
Pour each ingredient as listed. My recommendation is Budweiser but choose your favorite beer.
And now, let's get tonight's Featured Party Game started: Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Like Pilgrims And Native Americans. We changed Indians to Native Americans this time because my friend Tonto objected. He said, "Kemosabe, why you mak'em stereotype?" And what could I say to that? So, tonight is not only going to be fun, it's also going to be inoffensive to everyone. Even Tonto.
In closing, I just want to thank Yum Brands (http://yum.com/
) for doing something tiny but still very decent. And next year, if you want Pizza Hut to be open on Thanksgiving, I have a suggestion. Make it voluntary for your workers and send one pizza for every pizza bought that day to a homeless shelter. Or a food bank. Battered woman's shelter. Orphanage. Whatever. There are plenty of places filled with hungry people you could send them to. The point is, that while it would cost a fortune, you'd do some good and it would pay handsomely because you'd get a whole lot of priceless good press and good will. You might even find it easier to sleep at night. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Thursday, November 28th, 2013|
|It's Thanksgiving And Hanukkah, You Bastards
As I sit down here to work out the final details of my annual "What I'm Thankful For" speech, I see that I have to make a last minute addition, namely this: Illinois Same-Sex Couple Weds in Private Ceremony (http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local/Illinois-Same-Sex-Couple-Weds-in-Private-Ceremony-233677921.html
). That's the easy part. Now I have to add the lengthy time consuming qualifier that starts like this, "Why should I be thankful for this?"
No, I'm not questioning whether or not Gays (Or any other group) should have full Equal Rights. What I'm doing is asking, "Why do things like this take forever? Why haven't we always treated all people like, well, people?" And why do we have to grant special permission to one couple to get married early and make everyone else wait until June? I understand the need for speed for this couple because of the terminal illness, I'm totally OK with that (Except for being mad that they couldn't get married at any time in the past) but I don't understand at all why we are making everyone else wait.
This Gay Marriage Law is nearly bad as our Medical Marijuana Law---Which is bad, because if your under 18, forget it. And if you're most other people, you can forget it, too, because you can still be fired for taking Marijuana, even if it's prescribed by a doctor and you can still be randomly tested anytime your boss feels like it---because you can bet that just like in Iowa, a bunch of not very bright deluded religious nuts like my #1 Favorite Local Conservative Crackpot (http://www.woc1420.com/pages/JimFisher.html
. He lives in Iowa but he controls a whole lot of people just like him on this side of the river) are going to file lawsuits (Because they're straight and want to protect our sacred way of life. Yeah, right, they're straight the same way they're Fiscally Responsible. You know, I think Randi Rhodes (http://www.randirhodes.com/main.html
) was wrong the other day when she said that she watches football to see big guys in tight pants and Rush Limbaugh watches because he imagines himself as a Gladiator, because Rush watches for the same reason she does. Oh, Rush might think of himself as a Gladiator all right but his fantasies are of the locker room, not the battlefield) and there won't be any Gay Marriages in June.
So why can't anyone who wants to get married do it now? Every time I go to places like Springfield and Washington DC and ask questions like that, I always get the same answer: These things take time. My response is always the same: BS. When these guys want to do something fast, they can do it over night. Literally. Did you know that here in Illinois, you are legally obligated to wear your seat belt, even if you're in the back seat? And that law took about 20 minutes to draft and put in effect. So why do Gay people have to wait until June just to have some court tell them that the whole thing is on hold? And maybe, if they live long enough, they can get married. Someday.
And that's not even the worst of it because I'm also setting myself to endure the next barrage of, "What do you care? You're not Gay." Just like when I talk about voting rights, glass ceilings, food stamps, abortion, pay inequality, etc etc etc and so on, I always get the same question, only Gay sometimes changes to Black, female, Hispanic, poor or whatever else.
So you know what? Screw it. I am not thankful for the new Gay Marriage Law here in Illinois. I am declaring it Too Little, Too Late And Too Slow and condemning it for still hurting too many people. Instead, I'm falling back on my old reliable standby What I'm Thankful Speech, which consists of---Don't stop me if you've heard this before cause it's all I got---: I'm thankful that scientists say they are pretty certain that the Sun will explode on or about 5 billion years from next Tuesday and completely destroy the Earth but they concede they could be wrong and it might happen tomorrow.
Hallelujah! I have fully discharged my Thankfulness Obligation for another year! My lawyer will be so proud of me when she finally drags herself out of bed and realizes that she doesn't have to nag me about getting it done. Let's celebrate by bringing out Fifi, my Sommelier, so she can start serving this, the Theme Drink she invented for today:
2 cups Cranberry juice
2 cups 7-Up
1 cup Wild Turkey
Mix with a stirrer in a pitcher then pour over ice into glasses. A Thanksgiving treat for the truly dysfunctional family!
And now, shall we skip right to the really good part by repairing to the drawing room for brandy, cigars and pie? Oh yeah, this, too. Today's Featured Party Game: Binders Full Of Women Wearing Pilgrim And Indian Costumes And Yamaka's Cause It's Hanukkah, Too.
OK, since we've got tons of food that needs to be eaten and booze that needs to be drunk, I'll let you get busy with it. Just don't forget to follow my good example and take a few minutes to be thankful for everything you've been blessed with. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
|Wednesday, November 27th, 2013|
|It's Thanksgiving Eve, You Bastards
Aloha! I say that sardonically, because I'm no longer in Hawaii. Don't mistake my sardonicalism with anger or bitterness, though. No. No. No. I'm not a bit upset that I only got to spend two and half days this week on Maui, surfing with my Spiritual Adviser, Sister Gidget Bertrille (She used to be a Nun before I rescued her from Catholicism and her Convent in Puerto Rico but she still keeps her title) and my next door neighbor, Hester Prynne. Those two couldn't be any more different. Hester is a little older and from Boston while Gidget grew up in the Valley and spent most of her childhood on the beach in Malibu before she joined the religious cult that I had to rescue her from, but they work really well together. Especially when they're wearing bikinis.
Which they aren't wearing now because it's 13 degrees (-10.5556 C) at the moment. That might be the least upsetting part right there. When we got on the plane in Maui last night, it was 72 (22.2222 C). There's just nothing like going from a tropical paradise to a bleak winter wasteland in 11 short hours. Where, instead of getting Lei's from beautiful girls every time I turn around or call room service, I'm surrounded by girls who look like extras who just wandered off the set of Nanook Of The North and keep saying, "Are you crazy? I'm not taking my clothes off. It's freezing in here." All because, "Everyone needs to be home for Thanksgiving." I put quotes around that because it wasn't my idea.
That leads us unnaturally to the next least upsetting part. Everyone, including Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss, is also home. I could probably live with the cold and the rest of my Staff being here but her being her is going to kill me. Those of you who have me down for Thanksgiving Weekend, 2013, in the Celebrity Death Pool can start counting your winnings now.
But don't let the fact that I'm laying here suffering in my frost bitten Deathbed instead of sitting on a beach drinking beer like God intended me to, bum out your good time. Actually, I'm sitting here in my office but Deathdesk just doesn't have the same ring to it as Deathbed. It doesn't change the sentiment, though.
You just go on enjoying yourself while life slowly tortures me to death. Fully express yourself. Why don't you just carve Cruz-2016 into your forehead while you're at it? Then, when I'm no longer here to enjoy it, run off to San Juan with another bunch of Lesbians with a Jesus fetish. Just don't count on me rescuing you this time cause I'll be dead.
The only thing I ask of you is that you remember me by letting this, my final act of setting a good example by remaining happy, cheerful and grateful, even while life sucks more than it ever has before and the Grim Reaper is closing her (I wouldn't be caught dead getting Reaped by anyone other than my all time favorite Reaper, George Lass: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0348913/
) icy fingers around my neck, be the blueprint for the rest of your life. The only other thing I ask of you is to quit complaining about the cold and asking me to unlock the thermostats so you can turn up the heat.
Al Gore already thinks I'm solely responsible for 84% of all Global Warming just because my house is bigger than his and I own a few more planes than he does and my Stretch Navigator only gets about 12 Feet/Gallon so I have to be followed by a 9000 gallon tanker truck cause gas stations aren't always close enough and Al says it has a Carbon Footprint, too, and you want to make it worse by turning the thermostat up above 68 degrees? Isn't it bad enough that Suzette is here? I don't need Al nagging me, too. I don't want to make you feel guilty or anything but I will say that after I die, Lieutenant Columbo is going to stalk you for an entire hour, constantly asking personal, embarrassing and incriminating questions and you brought that on yourself. You asked for it!
Finally, you'll get so worn down that you'll confess to killing me just to make him shut up and go away. And don't count on me breaking you out of jail this time, cause I'll be dead. As Kurt Vonnegut once said, "You learn about life by the accidents you have, over and over again." He wasn't talking about all the times you thought you were pregnant...Well, maybe he meant that a little but his main point was that killing me right before you need me to get you out of jail and/or San Juan will teach you all about life!
Come to think of it, I think Kurt was also talking about the educational value of hangovers and since Georgia is still just teasing me with her, "I'm coming to take you away," smile, we might as well get this party rolling with a drink. So here is Fifi, my Sommelier, with the Theme Drink she invented for today:
1 oz Wild Turkey
3/4 oz Amaretto
1 splash Pineapple juice
Shake with ice and strain into a shot glass. The more amaretto used, the sweeter the drink is.
Now, as George once said---This only has a little to do with the current narrative but I promised her (In bed, naturally, cause that's where I always seem to make the dumbest promises for some reason) that I would quote her at least once a year and since I forgot about her on Halloween (Don't get excited. I made it up to her. By taking her to Calivigny Island for a week and listening to her ask, "How could you forget about me? Especially on Halloweeen," for a whole seven days) where the things she tends to say tend to fit in best, I'll do it now, on Thanksgiving, where the things she tends to say tend to fit in second best---"They say your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the moment before you die? That might be true if you're terminally ill, or your parachute doesn't open… but if death sneaks up on you, the only thing you have time to think is…Aw, shit."
Wow. She really needs her mouth washed out with soap. Lucky for her, with it being a holiday weekend and all, I just don't have time for that. Just like she got lucky on Calivigny Island cause I was so busy making it up to her for forgetting her on Halloween that I didn't have time to do it then, either. It was just as well cause they don't make a soap strong enough to wash away the words she was saying that week.
Anyway, I have to get tonight's Featured Party Game started: Binders Full Of Girls Dressed Up Like Pilgrims And Indians. The object of the game is...Well, it kinda boils down to this: They wrestle in wading pools filled with baby oil and whichever side gets the upper hand gets to do to the losing side what the real Pilgrims did to the real Indians. Think of it as a real life history lesson disguised as Performance Art. Except the Indians have a 50-50 shot at winning this time.
No matter who wins, you'll learn a lot. You might even win some money, since we are permitting wagering tonight. Just don't tell the New Jersey Casino Control Commission until I'm safely dead, which I'm sure will be in the next 12 to 24 hours, because those idiots are still looking for any reason to block my Nucky Thompson Memorial All Suites Hotel, Casino And Brothel On The Boardwalk, LLC. Other than that, though, you just have a good time and don't worry a bit about me. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Tuesday, November 26th, 2013|
|You Can't Trust A History Book
Howdy. This is The Only Review Of The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em for Monday, 25 November 2013: Episode 54: Doing Your Business In A Woman's Mouth (http://redstateupdate.libsyn.com/episode-54-doing-your-business-in-a-woman-s-mouth
) You'll Ever Need. Take your shoes off, set a spell and get through it like an Indian would.
Jesus has finally heard all you folks who have been praying for Jackie & Dunlap to talk about Scatology and He has granted your request. They talk about other things, too, but I think it's the Scatology that really sells this one. Some of you, the ones who woke up on the wrong side of their mamma's couch and then couldn't find their favorite tin foil hat and are now determined to take out their bad day on the whole rest of the world, are going to try to minimize this historic occasion by insisting that this week's discussion of Scatology was just a one shot opportunistic ratings stunt brought about by the Martin Bashir/Sarah Palin story and how it coincided with the November Sweeps.
I'm not going to deny the basic theories about Jackie & Dunlap's Manager, who is never talked about or even mentioned and is thus the biggest mystery in the ball of riddles that Red State Update is, but I'll bet you next week's milk and egg money right now that he's somewhere around 110 years old, smokes a huge cigar, wears a suit that looks a whole lot like a uniform and calls himself The Colonel, and that he put a little pressure on them to do something special and audience grabbing for Sweeps.
It also won't surprise me much if we see a brand new surprise Bonus Podcast tomorrow or Thursday cause The Colonel needs a new box of cigars. But none of that diminishes the fact that Jackie & Dunlap are reaching out to the kinky and adventurous or maybe just curious faction of their fans and I think we can expect much more of it in the future. And they didn't just reach out...Don't get me wrong here, cause I'm not trying to say they dived right into the deep end. It's more like they're starting out in the shallow end and wading around til they see what the water's like.
But look at the subject they chose to do it with. Scatology. That's brand new unbroken territory, as far as the mainstream mass media is concerned (Except for all the recent stories about Martin Bashir/Sarah Palin and the older story about the astronaut who likes to wear diapers). Boardwalk Empire hasn't even gone that far in the bedroom. They gave us Gyp, who liked to be choked nearly to death and Gillian, who really likes Incest but that's all. Except for Sally, who gets turned on by hitting her partner and watching alligators fight. And Margaret, who gets turned on by rain (Remember how she forced herself on Owen just because it started raining?). Oh, they also had Interracial Cuckolding for an episode or two.
Anyway, the point is that even Boardwalk Empire hasn't gone this far. I can't remember Dr. Ruth ever going this far. Or Xaviera Hollander (Remember when you she wrote that great advice column for the New England Journal Of Medicine or Penthouse or whatever medical journal it was?). I don't recall Masters And Johnson ever talking about it, either. I'm going to qualify them, though, because it's been a long time, by saying that maybe they did and if it turns up on their new show on Showtime (http://www.sho.com/sho/masters-of-sex/about
), I'll let you know. And by today's standards, the Commodore was a pedophile.
So Boardwalk Empire has had four whole seasons, with no real completion in that area (Californication made Hank a pedophile by today's standards in one episode but that doesn't count cause it was an accident) to win this race and in just barely more than one year of Podcasting (You can't count the the years of making videos because they are a different category), Jackie & Dunlap have passed them up.
This calls for a whole case of Bubbly! But not quite yet because we have even more new stuff to talk about before we get too drunk to speak. Starting with going back to Scatology and trying to figure out if J & D are for it or against it. This part is difficult. Jackie, for example, didn't become known as the Quiet Deep Intellectual of the team by laying all his cards on the table and making it easy to see just where he stands on anything and Scatology is no exception to the rule.
I'm going to go out on a limb, though, and venture, based on the cryptic statements he did make, that he isn't overly enthusiastic about the subject. Who knows what he does with Mrs. Broyles and/or his thousands of groupies when the sun goes down but publicly, at least, he seems, at least to me, to be saying NO to Scatology.
Dunlap, the more open and direct member of the duo, on the other hand, admitted to trying it but it's still a mastery as to whether he likes it or not. He says he never initiates it himself but he also didn't say that he dislikes it, so I'm going to say that he's neutral about it. He can take it or leave it.
As usual, I expect all you Red State Update Scholars and Historians at Harvard and Yale to rip my arguments apart and I don't mind cause I always learn something from you. But until you folks speak up, which usually takes a couple of hours, those are my views and I'm sticking to them. And now it's time to move onto our next topic: What Really Happened To Mr. Horsey Pants, The Horse?
This one's a real humdinger, people. For the last 50 years, journalists have been pestering Jackie to tell them what really happened that day in 1963 and most of the time all they ever got for their trouble was a polite but firm, "Get the Hell off my porch, hippie!" But now, all that's changed. Well, if I was a reporter, I still wouldn't try going on Jackie's porch but at least now we have most of the whole story.
Not from the Horses Mouth, unfortunately, but from the next best thing, Jackie's Mouth. I would detail it for you here but I won't. First off, because I couldn't do it justice. Secondly, I don't want to risk slanting the story based on my own theories. So I'm just going to tell you to listen to the Podcast and then make up your up your own mind. Before you hear me question why Jackie completely left out the 2 other mysterious winch operators standing on the grassy knoll just in front of the cave mouth that all the witnesses told Commissioner Warren about but somehow those statements were left out of the final report, in his account, you should come to your own conclusions.
The last thing I want to do is put it in your mind that Jackie cooperated with the cover-up. Lord knows that's the last thing he needs, especially now that some folks are saying he put on a pair of dark glasses and went to the opening night of the Murfreesboro Playactors Club's musical version of Victor Mileage's The Tee Tee Slott Story, and you could tell it was him.
I swear, I'd never go the Cheeseburger Roof ever again if their food wasn't so good cause it's just a den full of people who don't have anything better to do than mindlessly gossip about others. Shameful. But until someone else comes up with a way to make a better burger, it's what we're stuck with.
Wow. For some reason, I'm getting hungry. How about you? Tell you what. Let's continue this discussion down at the Cheeseburger Roof. My table is right next to the stand with all the ketchup and mustard, right where the worst of the busybodies gather to gossip but nothing is free. Sometimes you have to endure a lot of loose talk for a good meal, so let's just make the best of it. You drive and I'll smuggle in the beer. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Monday, November 25th, 2013|
|I Didn't Ask How It Seems
This is The Only Review Of Farewell Daddy Blues (Boardwalk Empire Season 4 Episode 48 http://www.hbo.com/boardwalk-empire#/boardwalk-empire/episodes/04/48-farewell-daddy-blues/synopsis.html
) You'll Ever Need.
Brace yourself. History is about to repeat itself again because just like when Jimmy Darmody died, I'm going to quote Alan Alda by saying, "Guys like Henry Blake die." Did you make it through the Time Warp OK? Or are you laying under the Boardwalk, bleeding to death? Or did you choose what's behind Door Number Three: You made it through the Time Warp but you wish you were under the Boardwalk, bleeding to death because Richard is dead?
We could dwell on Richard all day and half the night but why should we put ourselves through that when we can let time heal the worst of this wound by leaving him be for now and getting back to him a little later in the Review? And in the meantime, we can enjoy what God blessed us with this week: Eli savagely beating Warren Knox to death with his bare hands.
It should have happened seven or eight episodes ago but I'm not blaming Eli for that. Not entirely, anyway. I think it's clearly Mickey Doyle's fault. Not directly, of course, but he is a bad influence on Eli and it shows in the way Warren lived so long. When I write Eli's Annual Performance Review this year, I'm going to have to include a long paragraph about how he should do a little less lecturing to Willie so he can spend more time avoiding picking up bad habits from the no account bums he hangs out with.
I will also have to include a short note to the effect of: Eli needs to learn to stop trying to betray Nucky because it never ends well for anyone. For the most part. Then I'll give him a huge raise because, well, no matter how many mistakes you make, when you savagely beat Warren Knox to death with your bare hands, all is forgiven.
AND you win a free, all expenses paid trip to Chicago. I know that doesn't sound like much of a prize to you kids these days because now Chicago is where Boredom goes to take it easy. But when Al Capone ran that town, it was different. You get to see a little of it on Boardwalk Empire but you'll never fully appreciate how lucky Eli is until you get in your Time Machine or Holodeck or whatever other piece of modern technology you use to escape these horrible times---I bet there's even an App for it---and go see it for yourself.
I recommend you start at least as far back as 1919 and stay at least until 1933 so you can see the Chicago Fair and Exposition but I don't want to tell you how to run your vacation so I'll stop playing Time Travel Agent. I'm not even going to talk about Frank Sinatra, the 1950's and how it was really true that they did things on State Street that they didn't do on Broadway. As I said, you're just going to have to go see it for yourself.
I suppose I should clarify before I get misquoted again: New York is, was and will always be better than Chicago. Even when Michael Bloomberg is mayor and/or any other time when it seems worse but you should always visit Chicago when you are in the 1920's, anyway. Now that that's out of the way, let's do a little speculating.
Is Eli's move to Chicago a hint that HBO is finally going to do the obvious and give That Toddlin' Town its' very own spin-off series? And if that's what they are thinking, who was the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to kill off Richard? If look at a map, you'll notice that Chicago is right next to Wisconsin and Plover is a ways north but it would still be super easy to involve Richard.
And with Daughter singing in Tulsa, which is even further away than Plover but still in the neighborhood, it would eventually be like a reunion. And how long can Dr. Valentin Narcisse put off taking a business trip to Chicago? Oh, I know he's kind of tied up with J. Edgar Hoover right now (Only figuratively, though I'm sure Edgar would have preferred it to be literal) and it looks like it's kind of sticky and unpredictable right now but we do know a couple of things.
Valentin isn't likely to die because he survived the Season Finale. We also know he isn't going to kill Edgar, at least not soon, because he's going to die on May 2, 1972---SEASON 52 SPOILER ALERT---. Besides that, Casper Holstein, the man Valentin is based on, didn't die until April 5, 1944---SEASON 24 SPOILER ALERT---, and it seems pretty obvious from Mickey Doyle's continued survival that they don't even kill semi-fictionalized characters early.
Of course, the folks who say that Valentin isn't just Casper but is really a composite of him, Queen Stephanie St. Clair and Bumpy Johnson might be right and if that's true, the earliest they could kill him is still April 5, 1944 because Steph died in 1969 and Bumpy died in 1968. So my guess is that the FBI story-line is just going to conveniently fade away somehow. At least where Valentin is concerned. Unless they decide to completely rewrite the Marcus Garvey story (He did go to prison for a while but it was because of a mail fraud charge that stemmed back to 1919).
All that is pretty simple to figure out, though. What I want to know is the answer to the bigger mystery: How did the FBI know that Warren was killed? Even if they were watching the house, Eli is smart enough to dispose of the body when they aren't watching and if they were watching, why didn't they burst in during the fight and save Warren or at least arrest Eli for murder? I know, I know, Edgar wants to pin Warren's murder on Valentin if he doesn't cooperate and Eli is the backup in case Valentin plays ball but it just doesn't make sense that that the FBI knows and that Eli somehow got away. I gotta call MAJOR PLOT HOLE on that play.
And why? There are plenty of murders Valentin could be framed for. In 1924, in addition to all the other homicides, 255 law enforcement officers were killed and at least one of them could be pinned on Valentin. And they could have come up with a million excuses for Eli's exile, the most obvious of which is that Nucky doesn't really want to kill him but he doesn't want him around, either. See? This is why I spend as little time in Hollywood as possible. I just don't understand those people.
And will Eli explain to Nelson that HE DID NOT BUILD THAT HOUSE? Yeah, I know he didn't say it this week but that doesn't erase all the times he did say it. And where was Sigrid? And why did Patricia Arquette keep all her clothes on? Ditto for Margaret. And Julia. And don't even get me started on Gillian because how can you put a girl in jail without at least showing her take a shower?
So the writers have a lot of explaining to do over this long vacation. Do you realize that Bill Maher is on vacation, too? I wish Edgar would change his mind about all conspiracies being fictional and investigate all the TV hiatus' that happen "Coincidentally" at the same time.
I just hope that the writers don't turn Eli's observation, "Nothing will fill that hole you got inside," into a self-fulfilling prophecy by not giving us any answers. We shall, as they say, see next year. And how are they going to fill the hole left by Richard? And I guess I just have one thing left to say for now, are they going to send Gillian to the Electric Chair or prison for life or are they going to figure out a believable way to get her out of the mess? Yes, next year is going to be interesting. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Sunday, November 24th, 2013|
|Rich In Mercy
Mercy and forgiveness are intertwined. So sayeth The Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, my next door neighbor. And by doggies, he may just be right. For once. Sort of. For the statistically brief and insignificant duration of time known as the next few days. Maybe. The jury is still out and I still don't understand how forgiveness and the other things he said about how God mysteriously seems to favor simpletons and thieves plays into it but the evidence that does suggest a rare excess of mercy thus far is as follows. Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss, left yesterday for Paris. She was there a lot last week, too, to watch Les Bleus, the French soccer team and now, since they won, there's a lot of celebration parties she wants to go to. She's really excited because the last time France won the World Cup, back in 1998, she was only ten years old and she doesn't feel that she was able to properly celebrate the victory and next year she says, that because life is short and your favorite team is just like your boyfriend in that the only thing they really do well is breaking your heart, that even if they lose, she's going to celebrate as if they won. The only thing that really matters is that she is in Paris instead of being here.
She wanted me to go with her, because according to her, we never spend any time together anymore, which is not true. What is true is that we spend too much time together but that has been fixed for a short time by her being in France. Of course, I couldn't tell her that. Some people simply do not respond well to truth and common sense and Suzette is their Poster Child. So I told her I couldn't go because I have too much work to do here and I'll make it up to her soon by taking her ice skating the top of the Eiffel Tower.
The skating rink at the Eiffel Tower isn't really at the top. It's on the first level, actually. But the view is nice and it's about as romantic as Paris ever gets, unless you count the Quartier Pigalle and Musée de l'Armée (The War Museum) but most girls, including Suzette, don't put them on their Ten Favorite Romantic Places In Paris List, and my purpose here isn't to detail how most women are insane so I'll skip telling you how little they know about romance. Instead, I'll just remind you that the skating rink at the Eiffel Tower usually doesn't open until December 15, so I have plenty of time to come up with another completely truthful reason for why I can't take her.
I might take Minx, my Secretary, but keep that under your hat because another thing Suzette doesn't respond well to is me taking Minx to Paris. Anyway, I have at least until December 15 to figure all that out and right now I'm all tied up with wondering how I'm going to spend the rest of my vacation, which is another reason I'm Rich With Mercy this morning, just like Art said.
Oh, did I mention that this vacation is Top Secret? So you can't mention it to anyone. Especially Suzette. Because another thing she doesn't respond well to is when I'm on vacation and tell her that I can't take her to Paris because I have to work. And maybe some of you, my ten million loyal dedicated daily readers who I love and respect more than life itself, are thinking the same thing she does. That perhaps I was being a little deceptive or dishonest when I said I had to work.
Don't worry about that. Your untrained, ill disciplined little mind is simply not equipped to understand complex situations such as this. I'll give it a shot, though. I'll dumb it down as much as I can for you and maybe we'll be witness to a miracle. So here goes.
A couple of weeks or so ago, The Chief said he wanted to see me, so I went to his office. Instead of the usual small talk, he began by tossing that morning's newspaper on his desk and started talking small about Rob Ford and ended with, "Why did you do this?"
Except that was far from the end, because when I said, "Why are you so upset, Chief? I was just following your orders," he responded with, "I TOLD YOU TO TOPPLE THE GOVERNMENT OF TOBAGO, NOT TORONTO, YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!" Then he started yelling, as if it's my fault that when I scribble Tobago on the back of a cocktail napkin at 3 AM, it looks a lot like Toronto. Then he went on and on about how Steve was furious and he'd be double furious if he ever found out it was my fault and how he'd declare war and then we'd have to invade Canada all because I ruined Toronto instead of Tobago.
Kids, see what happens when you follow the rules and do what your boss tells you to do? Conscientiousness does not pay! Except in this case. When he was done ranting and raving and otherwise acting like I was somehow to blame for this unfortunate honest mistake, he told me to go on vacation for four months. With full pay.
They used to call it Suspended With Full Pay but our Union, Pipe Fitters & Greeting Cards Salesmen Local 409, thought that was a little harsh and misleading, so Management changed it to Vacation. So now you know that I did not lie or even manipulate the truth to my advantage and even if you're too dense to see what's really going on here, the only thing you have to do is remember to keep your mouth shut. Especially when you talk to Suzette.
The real culprits here are her parents because they are the fiends who taught her how to talk. That's neither here nor there, though, because we must play the cards we are dealt and that means it's up to us to minimize the damage caused by Suzette's ability to talk. So keep your mouth shut.
And if you live in The Volunteer State, just be thankful that when I scribble Tobago on a cocktail napkin at 3 AM, it looks more like Toronto than Tennessee or you'd likely be fighting another Civil War right now and you've already got enough problems. Just like me, because I have to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my vacation.
I think I have this week covered. Suzette wasn't the only one left yesterday. My Spiritual Adviser, Sister Gidget Bertrille began her second Early Winter Surfing Expedition of the year and she took Hester---My next door neighbor on the other side---with her. I think that's why Art was so relaxed and easy going this morning, because Hester is thousands of miles away at the The Ritz-Carlton, Kapalua (http://www.ritzcarlton.com/en/Properties/KapaluaMaui/Default.htm?utm_campaign=TBPSUSEGPB173&src=ps&pId=rztbppc
---That is another uncompensated plug and if you work for the IRS, stop being so suspicious. Hotels forget to bill people all the time! It's a normal, common part of the Hospitality Business!). With Gidget.
I don't know what it is with Art and Hester because I've never seen two people who had never met before generate so much angst and tension that you'd swear they had some kind of history but stop worrying about that because this is still Me Time. And despite your selfish lack of devotion to me and my problems, I've figured out that I'm going to kill a few days in Hawaii. Entertaining Gidget and Hester. When they aren't surfing.
The only fly in the ointment of this deep dark black cloud is that on or about Wednesday, everyone is going to come back here. And then there's going to be Thanksgiving on the next day or sometime soon but I think it falls on Thursday this year but anyway, I ask you, what do I have to be thankful for?
Nothing, that's what. All I have is a semi-relaxing two or three days on Maui. Entertaining Hula dancers. When I'm not busy with Gidget and Hester. Then the world is going to end. Until Monday. And then I have to come up with some new way to use up some more of my four month paid vacation. Or was it seven months? I'll call The Chief in June and find out. Anyway, I still can't believe that some people still say that suicide is a bad idea but I guess it takes all kinds, huh?
I'll take the edge off it as much as I can by starting my Hawaiian Vacation right here and now by ordering Fifi, my Sommelier, to make me a Mai Tai. And put on a grass skirt. I just hope you learned your lesson from all this. That when a Preacher wanders into your house and tells you you're Rich In Mercy, don't believe him because he's just as crazy as he ever was. Especially when you factor in all the other nonsense he said about how God is mysteriously kind to drunks and simpletons. And if you can think of a good funny reason for why I should be thankful, get back to me before Thursday because I'm tired of saying, "Scientists say the Sun will probably explode in 3 billion years and completely destroy the Earth but they could be wrong and it might happen tomorrow," every year. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Saturday, November 23rd, 2013|
|2013 Holiday Gift Guide And Rob Ford Explanation, Volume One
Ho Ho Ho. Christmas Eve is 34 days away now and the last thing in the world I want to do is make you bad, lazy and/or irresponsible because you haven't finished your Christmas shopping yet. So I'm going to pretend that it's completely normal to have barely started or maybe even not even started at all by now. Even though there is no excuse because most stores have had their Christmas displays up since around July 2. My favorite is the one with Santa's Helpers---The girl Elves who look suspiciously like lingerie models---wearing the thongs that say, "Sooner Or Later, Santa Will Nail You For Something Anyway, So Just Be Naughty All The Time."
They have to use really small type to get all that on those tiny little thongs so you have to get real close to read it and I'm no marketing specialist but I say that's their biggest selling point. Anyway, the point is that whether you're Naughty or Nice---And let's be honest for a minute and admit that you haven't made the Nice List since you were four years old---Waiting til the last minute to do your Christmas shopping is far from your worst crime and even if it were, I'm not here to judge you.
I'm here to help. By giving you invaluable tips, hints and suggestions that will make your job so easy that it won't even feel like you're tempting fate yet again. But first I have to clear up a mystery that a lot of people have been wondering about for a long time. You may even be one of them. One of the teeming masses who who desperately wants to know the answer to this question: Just who is Rob Ford (Crack-Smoking Mayor Rob Ford More Popular Than Obama, Congress: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/11/22/rob-ford-obama-congress-toronto_n_4326169.html
) and how can he stay so fat while smoking so much crack?
That's actually a compound question, the first portion of which should be adequately answered by the link and now I will give you the answer to the second part. Actually, if you want to get really technical about it, Reg----You might know him by his stage name, Elton John---gave the answer many years ago and I'm just passing the information along.
Anyway, Reg was asked this very same question many years ago when he sobered up because he spent decades using cocaine and heroin (They are not exactly the same as crack but they do produce a significant weight loss in most people, just like crack) and he replied that it's simple to stay fat while doing lots of cocaine. The secret is to drink three bottles of Scotch a day and that when he stopped drinking many people thought he was still using cocaine because he lost so much weight.
Kids, I'm not here to tell you what to do or not do. And I certainly don't want to delay the start of my Super Gala Holiday Gift Guide but common decency compels me to tell you, "Before you decide to do something drastic like stop using illegal and legal drugs, stop and think about it for a minute. And look at what happened to Elton John. He sobered up and suddenly thought it was a good idea to write the Lion King soundtrack and start exchanging love notes with Rush Limbaugh."
It's your choice, I just hope you make the right one. And if you end up dating Rush, don't blame me. Now that we have all that sorted out, let's start knocking holes in your shopping list. Starting with your Favorite Greeting Cards Salesman/Part Time Writer Of Smash Hit Novels, TV Shows, Movies, Critical Reviews, Political Opinion And The Occasional NonFiction Masterpiece As Well As The Best Blog In The Blogging Business, namely me.
I'll admit that finding the perfect gift for me is a daunting task. But it can be done. Have a little faith in yourself for once. Embrace the challenge! Remember that I'm really doing the hardest part, figuring out what I want. This is just like D Day because you will have full instructions. When you hit that beach, you won't have to stop and ask, "What do I do now?" Because you'll know exactly what you're supposed to do, whether it be climbing a 500 foot (150 Feet=152.4 Meters) cliff face to take out a machine gun nest with your bare hands or stop an entire Panzer Division, with your bare hands. All you have to do is figure out just how to do it.
Just about the only difference between this and D Day, is that aside from having fewer angry Germans shooting at you, probably, you won't be going from England to France. At least not on this segment of the mission. You will be going from here to England. Selfridges Department Store, to be precise. To be even more precise, the one on Oxford Street and here are the exact coordinates: 400 Oxford St, London W1A 1AB, United Kingdom.
Once there, you will make your way to the Fourth Floor Christmas Emporium and search until you find IT: The Champagne Vending Machine. According to Mail Online, this is the world's first Champagne Vending Machine (For £18, fizz from a vending machine... Selfridges installs the world's first champagne dispenser: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2511757/Selfridges-installs-worlds-champagne-vending-machine.html#ixzz2lV5zDY5p
) and I don't want to make any new enemies at the Daily Mail cause Lord knows I already have enough there for ten people, so I'm not going to say that I could have sworn that I've been buying Champagne from vending machines in Japan for over 30 years now and just assume that I was just hallucinating.
That isn't the point, however. The point is that I collect both miniature liquor bottles and antique vending machines, so I must have this one. Right now you're probably saying, "But Greg, you already have dozens of Moët & Chandon miniature bottles and this machine is very dull, and being brand new, it's as far from being an antique as it can possibly be, so why do you want it?" And you are making semi-valid points, so I will address them. As for the latter, you can never have too many Moët & Chandon miniature bottles and as for the former, you have to keep the big picture in mind.
Someday, likely somewhere in the next fifty to seventy-five years, Mike & Frank (http://antiquearchaeology.com/
) are going to pull up in the driveway of my little 5000 acre estate here in Rock Island and, being completely fooled by the well manicured lawns, are going ask me if I know anyone who has any old junk to sell. I'll say no, but I'd be glad to show them some of my collections and of course they'll say, "Why not?"
And when we get to the vintage mint condition 2013 Moët & Chandon vending machine, they are going to try to buy it. I won't sell it, of course, but what I will do is tell them the story of how you went to London and convinced Selfridges sell it to you. Or how you found out who made it and convinced them to make one for you so you could give it to me. Or how you managed to shoplift it from the store and then smuggled it out of the country and into the US. Whichever way you chose to do it.
Then you will be famous. That's the third reason I want this machine. It is more of a gift to you than it is to me. All I'm getting out of it is the joy of owning it and, after Mike & Frank get desperate enough to try anything, Danielle's phone number. The thing that makes me feel bad about this is that Tis Better To Give Than To Receive and I'm depriving you of the joy of giving since you're getting more out of this than I am.
So while you're at Selfridges, after you get done securing the vending machine, look around for other things I might like. I can't help you much with that because I hardly ever go there. I usually go to Harrods. But I haven't even been there in months so I can't even help you much with them. So use your imagination. When in doubt, buy everything and I'll tell you what to return after Christmas. And even if you come up empty, don't lose hope. There are still a few shopping minutes left until Christmas and you even have a PLAN B because my birthday is in February and that gives you like a whole extra half hour to get me something besides the vending machine and it won't even seem like you totally screwed up Christmas. Pretty much.
And after you get back from London, I'm going to help you even more. Someday soon, I'm going to take a look at the 2013 Neiman Marcus Christmas Book (http://www.neimanmarcus.com/christmasbook/index.jsp
), so be on the look-out for the 2013 Holiday Gift Guide And Rob Ford Explanation, Volume Two. There probably won't be anything about Rob Ford in it because there are no mysteries about him left to solve but it will give you plenty ideas about how to be the most joyous person ever by giving to me. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Friday, November 22nd, 2013|
|It's Pre-Thanksgiving Friday, You Bastards
After a deluded gunman assassinated President Kennedy, our nation turned to Gerald Ford and a select handful of others to make sense of that madness," said Bush. "And the conspiracy theorists can say what they will, but the Warren Commission report will always have the final definitive say on this tragic matter. Why? Because Jerry Ford put his name on it and Jerry Ford’s word was always good.
~~~George H. W. Bush, eulogy for former President Gerald R. Ford
Guess what the first headline I saw this morning was. No, on second thought, we don't have all day, so forget the guessing, I'll just tell you: JFK assassination: Many theories, but no 'real evidence' of a conspiracy (http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/11/22/21564131-jfk-assassination-many-theories-but-no-real-evidence-of-a-conspiracy?lite
). Isn't it nice of the Hippie Liberal Drive-By Media to assuage our fears and doubts like that? Just like H. W. did at President Ford's funeral.
So I suppose that's it. Case closed. Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. All the witnesses, insiders, prosecutors, investigators and reporters who wrongly thought otherwise and tragically died suddenly before they could voice their idiotic theories were just victims of fate. Dumb luck. All the odd inexplicable things that happened prior to and just after the assassination weren't odd and inexplicable at all.
They just seem odd and inexplicable to us. Because we don't understand death and the dying process. The same way we don't understand Capitalism and how supporting mandatory vaginal probes does not constitute a War On Women and how calling Oprah despicable or saying that you would be happy to reinstate slavery is not racism. Etc Etc Etc.
The problem is us. We're just uppity and ungrateful. And way too suspicious. Corporations are not just people, my friend, they are friendly people who want to help us! But friendship is a two way street and we keep jeopardizing the entire relationship by being selfish and demanding too much. We keep wanting things we simply aren't entitled to. Stuff like healthcare and enough pay to be able to eat and pay the rent (Pick one, you pathetic losers! Eat or be homeless! Stop wanting everything!) and the truth about what happened to JFK.
So I suggest you just go to your two or three jobs today, work hard and then thank God that you have two or three jobs to go to and stop complaining. Start being grateful to the nice corporations that support you. I didn't want to bring this up but all your appalling whining has forced my hand. I really need a new car elevator and I won't be able to get one if I have to give you food, housing and healthcare!
And stop calling me heartless. Would a heartless man allow you to come to the kitchen door after dinner and have one of the servants make you a baloney sandwich on Thanksgiving even though it's your fault you're hungry in the first place because you squandered your earnings on whatever nonsense you people buy? Do you remember Meatless Fridays? It was a device created during World War II to stretch the limited food supply and you should have learned from it.
If you can't afford a proper Thanksgiving meal, it is because you didn't adapt and observe Foodless October And Most Of November. If you had, you'd have plenty of money now and I wouldn't have to bail you out. And here I go, making the problem worse by giving you food instead of allowing you to learn your lesson by starving to death and we'll just have this very same problem again next year.
Curse my Christian charity! Because my generosity doesn't even end with a baloney sandwich. If you help with the dishes so I can save some payroll by sending one of the scullery maids home early and then wash and wax the Lamborghini so I don't have to pay the neighbor kid who lives in a cardboard box at the end of the alley a quarter to do it this week, you can have the turkey neck bone, too. After the dogs are done with it.
But if you want a bowl of gruel for dessert, by God, you'll have to earn it! On that, I will stand firm. So, if you're smart enough to be a young attractive female, after you finish vacuuming and dusting the South Wing, so I can send a couple more maids home early, I will personally teach you how good Christian girls maintain their purity until marriage and save us Job Creators a lot of money by not needing birth control pills by only indulging in oral and anal sex (Just don't tell Ken Cuccinelli about that part because it'd make his head explode) and then you may have one bowl of gruel.
You men can go directly to the West Garage because it is the one most in need of cleaning and organizing. Then, after an evening of hauling my golf clubs and golf carts and polo ponies up and down the stairs and shuffling my cars around so you can scrub the floors, you will realize how small and petty your problems are compared to mine. If you insist on remaining selfish, think of how much easier it would have been on you if that garage had a couple of car elevators and the cars could be evenly distributed over the four levels instead of crowding the ground floor. And how, if you would stop taking so much that you don't deserve, I could afford to expand the stables and then you wouldn't even have to deal with the polo ponies because I wouldn't have to keep them in the West Garage anymore. Then, once you learn that being rich is not easy and you should be happy to be poor, you can go enjoy your gruel.
OK, now that I have magnanimously and single-handedly transformed your sad poverty stricken Thanksgiving plans into a grand, gala, holiday, baloney laden affair, I guess I might as well give you something else you don't deserve by starting this, our It's Pre-Thanksgiving Friday, You Bastards blowout. And what better way to do that than by bringing out Fifi, my Sommelier, with this, the Theme Drink she invented for tonight:
4 cl Scotch
1 1/2 cl Blue Curacao
1 dash Dry Vermouth (Martini)
1 dash Orange bitters
Shake ingredients with crushed ice. Strain into cocktail glass.
It is a sad day when lowly Sommeliers have the nerve and audacity to feel they are entitled to slander and libel the Job Creator who rescued them from the dull tedium of Paris by bringing them to the swinging never ending excitement of the Quad Cities (http://www.visitquadcities.com/
---That is another uncompensated plug as far as you know because I already pay way too many taxes. Do you realize I have to pay 12% on most of my reported income?) with clever, editorializing drink names but rest assured that corrective measures will be taken. You cannot defame from the bar!
I'm going to send her to bed tomorrow night without her gruel. Among other things that you needn't concern yourself with. All you need to know is that next week, her attitude will be greatly improved. Or else. What you need to concern yourself with is how much fun you're going to have playing tonight's Featured Party Game: Binders Full Of Good Christian Girls Who Saving Their Purity For Marriage, Dressed Like Pilgrims And Indians.
SPOILER ALERT: Next week the girls in the Binder are also going to be dressed like Pilgrim's and Indians but the theme will be new so it'll be a totally different game.
So there. Have I finally given enough to satiate your bottomless appetite for taking for the week? OK, I have something else for you. You can polish my Esse Chaise (http://www.liberator.com/esse-chaise.html
---That's another uncompensated plug driven only by good old fashioned Christian charity as far as you know) with the Deluxe Gold Plated Restraints Package, if you're one of the aforementioned people who's smart enough to be a young attractive female. The rest of you can go clean the stables. See? God has a Divine Plan for everyone and all you have to do is enjoy it and just be thankful for being here. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Thursday, November 21st, 2013|
|She’s Not Alive, Honey
Everyone's taking disrespectful, cheap shots at Sylvia Browne (http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/psychic-sylvia-browne-dead-77-reports-article-1.1524107
) this morning and I just want to ask, "Why shouldn't I, too?" The answer is, of course, "There's no reason I shouldn't." So, even before I fully disclose that I believe all the things Sylvia claimed she was capable of are real and there are people who can do them, I have to say that if she actually had any of those talents, she never displayed them in public.
In fact, if you want to be charitable, about all you can say is that she was pretty lousy. If charity doesn't interest you, you can call her a cold calloused fake, fraud and thief who didn't care who she stole from and/or hurt in the process. To be fair, the people she hurt didn't care all that much about her stealing from them via her exorbitant fees, they just wanted some kind of closure and all they got was her telling them that their missing child or other loved one was alive or dead when the opposite was true, which happened in every documented case (You can read about them here if you want, Psychic Defective: Sylvia Browne’s History of Failure: http://www.csicop.org/si/show/psychic_defective_sylvia_brownes_history_of_failure/
). I really doubt, though, that not caring about the money they lost really brought any comfort to them.
I also doubt that Sylvia ever issued a refund, even after she was proven wrong but that seems to be a minor issue compared to everything else. The biggest, most major issue, at least for me, is that she spent her entire life arming skeptics to the teeth. If you're a nonbeliever, all you have to do is play the Sylvia Browne card and there's very little I can do to keep you from winning the hand. There's also very little I can do to convince you that winning one hand doesn't mean you have won the game.
Oh, I guess I should explain to you kids out there, because Grand Theft Auto, Angry Birds, The Sims and Candy Crush don't have hands and you've never played or probably even heard of Bridge or Gin (The game, not the liquor. And it's full name is Gin Rummy but it doesn't have anything to do with Captain Morgan, either, unless you make up some of your own rules), that winning a hand is the same as winning a round or clearing a level. It's also like hitting three numbers in Powerball and getting $5 or whatever it is. But try telling that to a skeptic who sees Sylvia Browne as the Death Star. The ultimate weapon in the war against weird strange beliefs.
Of course, this could all turn around. When that list of 90 cases that haven't been solved yet, on that web site I just gave you, are solved, maybe Sylvia will be right on every one of them and her larceny conviction will be reversed and then the Sylvia Browne Card won't be nearly as valuable. All the experts I've consulted so far, though, say that's a long shot. My Bookie, Shifty, The Norwegian, says that the odds against it are so high that there isn't a computer powerful enough yet to calculate a number that high. My Magic 8 Ball is a little more direct. It says, "MY REPLY IS NO."
If I wanted to risk the heartbreak of a third opinion, I'd consult my OUIJA Board. If I wanted to quit while I'm ahead, I'd just cleverly change the subject by playing the Pam Ragland Card, and having carefully examined all my options, that's the way I think I'm going to go. Pam, if you remember and even if you don't, is the lady who found Terry Smith's body.
And the biggest, best Skeptical Theory thus far to explain it remains: It was a lucky guess (No, Psychics Can’t Help Solve Murders, http://www.slate.com/blogs/crime/2013/07/15/pam_ragland_terry_smith_no_psychics_can_t_help_murder_victims.html
). The ironic thing is that the gullible people who continue to say that there is no such thing as Psychic Powers and no Psychic ever helped the police---Even though it happens all the time. Pam is far from the only one who has done it. The problem is that all the others have been swept under the carpet, as Pam will be one day soon---would have been ideal victims for Sylvia Browne.
So, HA! I win this hand. Of course, you'll probably just say I got lucky instead of admitting that this was just another demonstration of my Super-Human abilities but it still goes down as a win. I hope the prize is worth winning this time. Maybe I should go ask Miss Cleo. She's just about the only famous Psychic you can still trust. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Morning Show With Mark And Steve---WOC AM 1420
|Tuesday, November 19th, 2013|
|That Is Not A Legitimate Business
Howdy! Take your shoes off, set a spell and enjoy this, the only Review Of The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 53: One Year Anniversary (http://redstateupdate.libsyn.com/episode-53-one-year-anniversary
) you'll ever need.
If Sarah Ophelia Colley Cannon, AKA Miss Minnie Pearl, God rest her soul, were still with us today, she'd be the first one to stand up and say, "The doctor must have put my pacemaker in wrong. Every time I hear Jackie & Dunlap talk, my garage door goes up." And how do I follow that? I can't but that's not going to stop me.
I guess I could start by getting the obvious out of the way: I didn't know Dr. Birdman was Minnie Pearl's doctor but now that I think about it, it's kind of obvious. I mean, he only comes to Murfreesboro a couple of times a month so it stand to reason that he spends the rest of his time in Nashville, keeping everyone in the country music community happy, healthy and wise.
I just hope the rumors aren't true. You know the ones I mean. Like the latest one I just heard the other day down at the Cheeseburger Roof. It seems, according to some folks, that when Edward Snowden blows his next whistle, we're gonna find out that Dr. Birdman didn't limit himself to singers and pickers cause Lance Armstrong used to come to Nashville a lot to get illegal bird steroids.
That ain't the worst of it, though. I don't have to tell you who Rufus McCoy is but just in case you live under a rock, he's won the Greased Pig Catching Contest at the Middle Tennessee District Fair the last twelve times in a row and that record will proudly stand for several lifetimes. UNLESS Rufus gets his titles stripped from him just because someone can prove he got some questionable bird steroids from Dr. Birdman.
Is nothing sacred anymore? Aren't any of our heroes safe? It was bad enough when everyone was saying Taylor Swift was writing 3 out of 4 of her songs about Dr. Birdman. But that turned out OK cause just like David Letterman, Dr. Birdman proved that he could come out of a sordid sex scandal smelling like a rose. But what if they can prove that he ruined professional bike racing AND amateur greased pig catching? That's not the sort of thing you can fix that with an especially funny Top Ten List. If that happens, people will probably even unforgive him for ruining Taylor Swift.
I don't want to think about all the possibilities. And why should I? This might all blow over. Worrying about it now is kind of like shoveling your driveway in August. You can get it awfully clear but it won't put you a bit ahead when the first blizzard of the season hits. So, it's just a waste of time. Like the Good Book says, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Or was that the Playboy Adviser? Does it matter? Good advice is good advice, no matter where it comes from. Even when it don't seem to quite fit your present predicament. Just drink your free milk and be thankful it ain't snowing!
And that brings us right to our next point in the this week's edition of the only Review Of The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 53: One Year Anniversary you'll ever need. Before I address it, though, I want to remind you that even though I am The Most Respected Critic In The Criticizing Business, I don't like throwing my weight around, you know, by being critical. That's the last thing I want to do.
The first thing I want to do is go see the Murfreesboro Playactors Club's upcoming musical version of Victor Mileage's The Tee Tee Slott Story, but since I review musicals on Saturdays, that can wait. What can't wait is the long promised expansion of the Red State Update Podcasting Empire. Just last week, Dunlap said he might start a separate Podcast devoted solely to his Wolf Fiction but this week? There was no mention of it.
What happened? Did a bunch of bean counting market analysts convince Jackie & Dunlap that Wolf Fiction is on its' way out? Is the CIA putting pressure on them because Dunlap's "Fiction" is a little too close to the truth? Or did Dunlap just get bored and/or too drunk to do anymore writing? I don't know what the problem is but I hope they get it sorted out fast.
I've been waiting 53 whole weeks for the Red State Update Podcast Empire Expansion and I don't want to wait anymore. Like my Granny used to say, "Feed the horses or get out outta the outhouse!" I don't know exactly what she meant by that. It's probably not my fault because Granny had a terrible pain killer addiction. Sometimes she'd drink a whole jug of pain killer all by herself in just a couple of hours. She really could have used Dr. Birdman.
Be that as it may, however, I wish Jackie & Dunlap would stop talking about expanding their Podcasting Empire and just do it already. How many more weeks do I have to wait all the way til Monday for the next Podcast? I should have two or three new ones a day. But, like I said, I'm not going to be critical of that.
And now that we've covered everything in the only Review Of The Ole Timey Country Down Home Red State Update Podcast 'n' 'Em, Episode 53: One Year Anniversary, you'll ever need, I guess I'm done. If you want to join me for the After Show Live Discussion, I'll be at my usual table at Pot Roast Willie's here in about ten minutes. The cake and ice cream is on me, of course, cause this week is the Red State Update Podcast Anniversary. If we're really lucky, maybe Jackie & Dunlap will show up and buy the ice cream and cake but even if they don't, we'll have a good time anyway. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Monday, November 18th, 2013|
|There's A skunk In Your Cellar
This is the only Review Of Havre De Grace (http://www.hbo.com/boardwalk-empire#/index.html/
) you'll ever need. And if you're wondering what happened to Mickey Doyle, it seems obvious that he was promoted from Warehouse Manager to Web Master because nothing on the HBO site works. Maybe by the time you read this they will have realized that Mickey is only qualified to collect trash and wash cars but right now, it doesn't work and it would be a whole lot less frustrating for you if you just tried to buy insurance on the ObamaCare site.
Call me naive if you want but I still think that Eli is not betraying Nucky. I don't know exactly what he's up to but it seems imperative that Nuck doesn't even suspect that anything is wrong until after he springs his trap and kills Warren Knox. Of course, if next week, Nucky has to kill both Eli and Warren, I will deny I ever said that. If that sounds duplicitous to you, it just proves that you don't know anything about Reviewing. Or capitalism. Or politics.
And you sure as Hoboken don't know the first thing about running a criminal empire. But I didn't come here today to use you as a punching bag just because Mickey Doyle escaped my wrath by taking the week off. You may be the source of all evil and the reason that Louis Gossett, Jr. was killed last night but I'm not going to hold that against you.
I'm not even going to call you a grim-visaged thug. Even though I could. Easily. I'm even going to defend you by saying that your bungling didn't kill Chalky. It only almost got him killed. On top of that, I'm only holding you 50% responsible for Gillian's arrest.
I swear on the grave of Gaston Means, the man J. Edgar Hoover called, "the most amazing figure in contemporary criminal history," though, that if the Feds offer a Gillian an immunity deal to rat out Nucky and she takes it, I will hold you responsible for the other 50% of her arrest. Keep in mind, that oath will not take effect until December 12, 1938, when Gaston dies, so I have plenty of time to dismantle any shady defense you might try to present.
I learned that clever little legal maneuver during a deep undercover conference with Esther Randolph and Mabel Walker Willebrandt in the summer of 1922. They taught me plenty of other things, too, so do yourself a favor and stop trying to outflank me in the courtroom or the even more important Court Of Public Opinion.
Not that Nucky needs me to protect him from your incompetence but at the same time, I doubt that he'll turn down the help. He already thinks Chalky is dead and he's beginning to doubt Eli and he thinks he's in a war with Dr. Valentin Narcisse that no one's going to help him with---They can't have Al Capone ride in like the Lone Ranger twice in a row. Can they?
Anyway, Nucky has more than enough problems to last him several lifetimes and only one episode left in which to resolve them (If this keeps up, I'm going to start calling him Barack) and have I told you yet how lucky you are that I'm not taking out all that anger and frustration on you just because Mickey Doyle is MIA?
Now we've reached the point where we should start speculating about what's going to happen next week in the big finale of Season Four but how can we do that when they need to pack 30 episodes worth of answers into sixty minutes? I just want out. So I'm not going to say anything until next Monday. Save for this, I just hope Nucky ends the season by hiring a Billie Kent look alike to be his personal assistant so we don't have to spend the entire hiatus thinking that next year is going to be even more devoid of hope than this one was. Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro
|Sunday, November 17th, 2013|
|The Carolina Reaper
You know I like to reserve Sundays for the Lord. Firstly, because it's kind of traditional. Secondly, some of you believe in God rather than the real Holy Trinity, Wonder Woman, Catwoman and Batgirl and I don't want you to feel left out just because you chose to have faith in the dumbest imaginary being that ever didn't exist. Catering to and including you misfits is part of the price I pay for being a Liberal. Thirdly, it's a nice change of pace.
Monday through Saturday, my job is make you aware of things you should be aware of that are usually not pleasant. There are exceptions but it's usually an endless stream of weather disasters, human rights violations and assorted shootings. So it's nice to just kick back on Sundays and tell you things like the latest feel good stories about lightning striking churches and ministers who got shot to death while giving sermons and the most recent ways Atheists have humiliated believers with simple old fashioned common sense.
But not this week. Today, Sunday, November 17, 2013, I am going to ignore both the usual heap of bad news and the latest evidence of how religion is finally dying and go in an entirely different direction. Food. Hot, spicy food, to be exact. And to be even more precise than that, the new Hottest Pepper In The World. Groove on this, babies:
The Carolina Reaper was officially declared the Worlds Hottest Pepper this Thursday, November 14th, 2013. FINALLY. It's been a long time coming.
The Carolina Reaper tested at an AVERAGE Scoville Heat Units of 1,569,000 and had a High Testing of 2.2 Million SHU.....easily beating all previous Champions. YEA!!!! Thanks Guinness and thanks Ed Currie.http://www.pepperjoe.com/shoppingcart/html/pepper.html
Now, the next time you whip up a batch of my personal favorite hot and spicy treat, Jalapeño Poppers, you can also make a platter of Carolina Reaper Poppers and have fun daring people to eat them. But that's just the tip of the Volcano. There are literally a billion and one things you can do with these new super peppers and I'm sure most of them will be delicious.
In short, from this moment on, your Nachos will never be the same. Well, I know July is going to be here before you know it, and that means you're going to have start growing them right now and concocting new recipes so by the time the County Fair gets here, you'll be all set to win the Blue Ribbon for the Best Carolina Reaper Salsa and Carolina Reaper Hot Sauce and Carolina Reaper Barbecue Sauce. So I'll let you get to it. Bon Appétit! Current Mood: depressedCurrent Music: Red State Update: Episode 40: This Ain't My First Racist Ro