Monday, October 13, 2014

I'm finally famous!

I'm not one to watch TV much.  So it came as a bit of a surprise when I learned today that an item I made was presented (on-camera) as a wedding gift on a recent episode of TLC's "Little People, Big World."  Too bad the item is ugly as sin, but that's what the customer insisted on.

Anyway, you can now say in all honesty that you have commenting privileges on a Big Time Hollywood Props Guy's personal blog.  Which, with about $4.50, will get you a small Starbucks.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Coming soon to a restroom near you

Just made my first batch of these signs for a well-known entity that all of you have heard of:

I kinda like the new wheelchair pictogram.  Much more dynamic than the old one.  But the he/she pictrogram is freaking me out.  Most genderless restrooms have separate and distinct male and female pictograms.  Was that really not inclusive enough?  Too binary?  To black-n-white?

I don't even know what else to say...

This is so weak I probably shouldn't post it

Can not / will not ever convert to Islam.  Tried wiping with my left hand one time.  It didn't go well.  #northpaw
Grocery store was out of "normal" bananas so wife bought "organic."  Might as well have just bought 3 lbs of fruit flies and eliminated the middleman.  #sayyestothepesticides
I'd pay good money for a Toddlerspeak version of Rosetta Stone.
The arms race between the TP manufacturers to see who can cram the most paper on the roll has gotten out of hand.  When the roll barely fits in the dispenser that's bad.  Friction, owing to the snug fit, making it tear after every square (maybe Sheryl Crow was onto something?) is bad.  Having to fight with it until 1/3 of the roll is used before it starts to spin freely and function normally is doubleplusbad.  Not sure what I'm going to do about this, but jihad is still on the table.
The other day, righty blogs had fun with this pic
wondering what the heck MichelleO is wearing.  In her defense, the hips of the person shown here fit on my display without having to resize my browser window.  Therefore, this cannot possibly be Our Lady of Unfortunate Proportions.  #notguilty
As I work my way through my usual daily reading, I gotta say I am really tired of the schizophrenic "Wooo! Gonna be a Wave Election!" posts one day and "Wave not forming, Dems to hold Senate" the very next day.  The prevailing opinion moves around faster than Rodger's nose.  Wait, who is Rodger?  Rodger is our little white dwarf Holland Lop bunny.  We named him Rodger, with a "d" because naming him "Roger" would have been stupid and lame and unoriginal.  Rodger is the size of a small cat.  On the hardwood, he gets little traction and pretty much spins out constantly.  On grass or carpet, he is FAST.  On all surfaces, he is CUTE.  We got him for free off a craigslist ad.  He eats like a stoned community-college student, though, so he has turned out to be rather expensive for something that was supposed to be "free."  (insert comparison to socialized medicine here)
$9 for a new electric can opener may seem like a bargain.  Trust me, it is not.  In fact, I'd like to go back to the store and dick-kick the manager of the Small Appliances section for selling me such a piece of garbage.

Friday, July 11, 2014

A whole new kind of pain


I just got in from riding my bike home from work.  It's about 6.5 miles each way and mostly level, so even a sedentary old fart like me can make it without too much difficulty.  Anyway, I'd just crested the last high spot and was cruising along the downhill side at a pretty good clip when...

All of a sudden...


A freakin' bee exploded on my lower lip!  For about one second, I thought it was just an "ordinary" insect as I spat out the yellow glop of goop (complete with cartoony "blech!" noises) that had previously been its innards.  But the one second elapsed pretty quickly and I was then confronted with PAIN.  Seems the little bastage did a bit of a Moby Dick/Wrath of Khan "I stab at thee" parting shot on me with his stinger.

Now my lip is all totally McSwollen and I look like I have half a pouch of Beech Nut in my face.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Barry Porous Border

A cabinet meeting.  Usual suspects in attendance.  Obama enters

[Obama] "Good morning!"

[collective groans and mutterings]

[Obama] "What's up?  Everybody still recovering from the weekend?  Dang, Eric, your hair seems to have gotten a lot grayer since Friday.  And you, Joe, look like a wreck.  What's happening around here?"

[Holder] "Well boss, my hair isn't so much 'grayer' as it is 'more singed'.  See, I was destroying IRS hard drives like you asked.  But the wood chipper was getting dull, so I started looking for a Plan B.  I got a hold of an acetylene torch.  I figured I'd just cut those hard drives into little pieces.  But I've never used a torch like that before.  There's these crazy gauges on the bottle, and all these valves everywhere.  Valves on the bottle.  Valves on the base of the torch.  I dunno how all that crap works.  But I did learn one thing:  stub out you smoldering choom before messing with acetylene."

[Obama] "Wow!  At least you're OK"

[Holder] "Yeah, but my ears are still ringing and my garage door landed in Hoboken.

[Obama] "Joe!  You must have partied hard! 'Cuz I've never seen a nearly bald guy with a Mohawk."

[Biden] "Umm, well, this morning after I shaved, I noticed my sideburns weren't quite even.  So I tried to trim the one side.  Then it was a little too high, so I tried to trim the other side.  Then it was a little too high, and next thing ya know, I look like this!  By the way, I prefer to call it a 'Joehawk' and I actually kind like it."

[Obama] "Well, enough with the downtwinkles you guys.  We gotta liven this up!"

The pResident steps out and steps back in just moments later, wearing tight black bellbottom polyester pants and a sequined shirt.  A Mariachi band follows him.

[Obama, singing (poorly)] "Far!  They've been travelin' far!  Left their homes.  But not without a Star!" [aside] "Which would be ME!" [points to Val Jarrett] [Mariachi band kicks in, playing exuberantly]

[Jarrett, singing proudly] "Free!  They want stuff for free!  They huddle close, to fit more on the train!"

[Obama] "Yeah!"  [points to SecDHS Jeh Johnson]

[Johnson, singing] "On the trucks and on the trains, they're comin' to America.  Never looking back again, they bringin' in chlamydia!"

[Obama nods and dances.  Jarrett waves a lighter.  Obama points to National Security Adviser Donilon]

[Donilon, singing triumphantly] "Home! Just a Rio Grande away!  Crossing over night and day! We'll put 'em up in a dorm, put 'em up in a dorm.

[Obama, points to Eric Holder]

[Holder singing, strutting about like Travolta in Grease] "Home!  To a new and a shiny place!  Give 'em beds and a parking space!  Freedom's light burning out... Freedom's light burning out"

[Obama] "Everywhere around the world, they're coming to America.  I know I throw just like a girl, still they're comin' to America!"  [Points to SecState Kerry]

[Kerry, singing badly with that snooty nasal/breathy thing he does] "Got a DREAM Act to draw 'em here, they're comin' to America.  Hidden drugs in their underwear! They're comin' to America!"

[Jarrett] "They bringin' in malaria!"

[Donilon] "Bringin' in chlamydia!

[Biden, hesitating] "umm" [sound effect of record scratch, music stops] "Uhh.. Hmmm.  Oh! - bringin' in tuberculosis-uhh" [music resumes]

[All] "They votin' Democratica!  Hooray!  Hooray!  Hooray!  Hooray!  Hooray!"

[Obama] "This country, I piss on thee!" [others quietly echo "hooray!"]
[Obama] "Way too much liberty!"  ("hooray!")
[Obama] "Oe'r thee I reign!" ("hooray!")
[Obama] "Oe'r thee I reign!" ("hooray!")

[Obama] "Well, that was fun.  Who's up for some Chipotle?"


Here's the real version, which I like quite a lot

Thursday, June 26, 2014

World Cup Musings

I have discovered the most satisfying thing in the world:  rolling up an old copy of Car Craft and one-timing a housefly right out of mid-air. 

If you don't know what I mean by "one-timing" then this post is not for you.  Shut off your pink iPad and go get a manicure or something.

But it got me thinking a little bit about hockey.  I am a casual fan.  I don't really have a favorite team.  I used to be into the Penguins back when they had guys like Jagr and Super Mario.  But anyway...  Right now soccer is the Big Deal.  Soccer has a very slight and superficial resemblance to hockey.  Both have goals with nets.  Both have a designated goalie.  Both have somewhat confusing offsides rules.

But there, the resemblance ends.  With extreme prejudice.

For starters, let's consider what parts of the world enjoy soccer.  The poor, third-world backwaters - that's who.  Because any barefoot little brat in one of those countries can go and get, oh, I dunno, an antelope bladder or something, stuff it full of, like, feathers and dirt, and run around thinking he's Pele.  Those screwed-up countries can't afford skates and sticks and helmets.  Heck, they can't even afford ice.  So they run around punting their bladders going by only their given names.  Like "Reynaldo" or "Ru-Paul."  They can't even afford surnames fer cryin' out loud.  What a joke.  The other people who like soccer are the euroweenies.  They have big brother USA defending their countries for them.  Which means they haven't been in a real fight for decades.  Makes them weak.  Makes them gravitate towards games for the weak.  Like soccer.

Who enjoys hockey?  Well, we do, for one.  We like things that are fast and violent.  Russians like it, too - these guys eat beets and pee vodka and like hitting people, so hockey comes natural to them.  The Scandis like it, too.  'Cuz they're descended from freakin' vikings.  Of course they'd be good at hockey.  Canada likes hockey, too.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe because their soccer fields are frozen over for 10 months a year.  But you get the point:  Tough people who don't care if they're bleeding like hockey.

Ever watch one of those soccer nancies flail around in pain from somebody actually touching them?  You don't see that in a real sport like hockey.  In hockey they drive each other's faces into the plexiglass.  If somebody rolls around on the ice in pain, some goon will say "Quit bein' such a Crosby" and skate right over the fallen player's carotid.  Which will earn the goon a 2-minute minor and a lot of applause.  And hockey players don't bite each other like that little soccer punk from Urugay or Paragay or wherever "he" is from.  Don't get me wrong - hockey players would bite each other, but their teeth are all blown out before they even make it through the minor leagues.  They best a pro hockey player would be able to manage is an affectionate gumming.  And you pretty much don't go around giving an affectionate gumming to guys who have razors on their feet.  (though the freaks in the Folsom Street Parade might beg to differ on that one)

Soccer has the "goalie box" which is a pretty chalk line on the turf.  Within those friendly confines, the goalie may use his hands.  Note that the soccer goalie has no special equipment except a pastel shirt and maybe some gloves.  Hockey goalies reside in the "crease" and wear 40 pounds of armor.  Soccer goalies can't (or won't) do anything to players who invade their precious box.  But a hockey goalie has the right, nay, duty, to go all Jason Voorhees on opponents who enter the crease.  Ask Ron Hextall how many people he has killed in the crease.  He won't answer you because he can't remember.  But he made Jason Voorhees look like a Cub Scout.

Alright, I'm just about talked-out on this subject.  We Team USA (I have to avoid the vicarious "we" 'cuz we're talking about soccer) played well enough to advance to the round of 16.  With a 1-1-1 record.  Yay.  The self-important Prius drivers who pretend to like soccer every four years are celebrating a .500 record and spewing their "in a few years soccer will overtake (real, as in "American") football in popularity" nonsense which I've been hearing since I was a little brat myself. 

That.  Will.  Never.  Happen. !!1!

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Sochi on the Willamette

Some years here: all winter without any snow
Most years here:  An inch or two overnight that is melted away by the next afternoon
Once every decade or so:  8 or 9" that lingers for a week or so
RIGHT NOW:  14" or so of snow with about 3/4" of  ice on top of it.

Tree decided it didn't want to keep playing the "Support the Ice" game and instead chose to take a nap on stepkid's Civic.  Not sure how bad the damage is.  Yet.

Here's your moron author thinking he could dig out enough to get the bald-tired sedan up the driveway.  Didn't happen.  A more youthful and vigorous man with a better shovel might have succeeded but I am neither youthful nor vigorous.  Plus my shovel sucks.  So I mostly blame the shovel.
Knowing that the ice storm was aheadin' our direction, I took off yesterday to go into town and stock up on candles, batteries, etc.  I scratched and clawed about halfway up our hill but just couldn't get the traction to crest it. So I decided to go down the hill and take the "long way" into town.  That was a good plan.  Too bad I didn't stick to the plan.  About a 1/4 mile from my place, your moron author instead gets the great idea: "hey, just turn around in the neighbor's driveway, and head back at the hill with a little bit of momentum!


We had punched out early at work, and I had very little trouble getting around [rainmanvoice]of course I'm an excellent driver[/rainmanvoice] in it only an hour or so earlier but this time I was bested.  Stuck in my neighbor's driveway.  I huffed and puffed my cold little feet up to their front door and told 'em what happened.  They didn't seem to concerned.  Certainly not concerned enough to offer to help or anything.  "Oh, no worries.  We won't be heading down that driveway anytime soon.  Good luck!"  So a couple passers-by with 4x4 trucks got me back on the main road.  I built as much speed as I thought I could handle, and made it up the hill.  Yay!

Further up, I had to face the decision of whether to take the gently sloping side road or try to make it up the steeper section to get to the state highway.  If the light was green, I'd be golden.  Red light, come to a stop?  Dunno if I could get moving again.  So I took the gently sloping side road.  There was a pickup spun out, blocking most of the road, and a pedestrian in the way.  Traction was scarce...  Barely making it up this gentle rise.  Must not lose momentum... I WILL STOP FOR NOTHING!!1!  Lay on the horn to spook the pedestrian off into the ditch, and keep on driving!  Woohoo! I get to to flat spot where this side road intersects the main highway.  And what to my wondering eyes should appear?  A chained-up ambulance getting crossed up and stuck in the intersection.  I needed to go left, but the ambalamps was in the way.  Screw it!  If we lose power, we have blankets.  We can sit in the dark and make pillow forts and curl up in our blankets 'til we die.  So I turned right, and went home empty-handed.

Which brings us to the picture above.  I was getting a little cabin fever today with the three grandbrats running amok.  (Yes, there are three here now) so I figured I'd try to liberate the car from the frozen funk.  If I could just.  get.  up.  the.  driveway, the roads were starting to clear.  I would have a few moments of white-knuckle-snowy-road-no-chains-bald-tires-I-don't need not steenkin' chains peace and quiet.  But no.  Could not get the car unstuck.  So I walked to the little country store about a mile away and helped push a stuck car back onto the road.  Good deed status: DONE. 

Remember that part up above where I mentioned the 3/4" ice layer on top of the snow?  I break right through it as I walk, but the dogs only break through on about half their steps, and go skating with their other feet.  It is hilarious.  Yes, I am snowed in and reduced to getting my tee-hees from watching my dog try to get into proper pooping posture only to have his feet slide out from under him.  Such is my life.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Barry hellish healthcare debacle

Late at night, a sleepless pResident paces around the bedroom.  Nearby, MichelleO snores noisily through her CPAP mask.  The pResident takes a deep breath to build his resolve, and heads toward the bathroom.  He takes a quick look at his haggard face and shuts off the lights.

[Obama] "One bloody Marx.  Two bloody Marx.  Three bloody Marx." [turns lights back on]

The half-smiling, half-glowering face of Satan appears in the mirror opposite the pResident!

[Obama] "Lu, we gotta talk.  Step through the mirror please."

The Devil steps through the mirror and appears in corporeal form.

[Devil] "Yeah, 'Bams, whassup?"

[Obama] "My second-term agenda is more gummed up than the plumbing under a Guatemalan hair salon.  And it's all your fault!"

[Devil] "My fault?  Moi?  I'm flattered that you think so, but I'm sure you're mistaken."

[Obama] "Our deal was that you'd get me comprehensive healthcare reform in exchange for my soul.  Now everything sucks so bad I'm probably gonna lose the Senate majority and there'll be Tea Party freaks running all over the House.  This is NOT what I signed up for!"

[Devil] "Did you even read our contract?"

[Obama] "It's like, almost a thousand pages long!  Of course I didn't read it!"

[Devil] "Savor the irony!  What our deal actually said, was, that you could write any healthcare bill you wanted, and I'd get it passed.  In exchange, I'd get your soul to put in a jar on my mantle.  You could have gotten the public option!  You could have gotten single payer!  But no, you didn't read our agreement!  You just merrily handed the whole thing off to Baucus and Pelosi and Sebelius.  That you would do something so stump-humpingly stupid is very much NOT MY FAULT!"

[Obama] "Why do you hate me so much?"

[Devil] "Nothing personal.  I hate everybody.  Seriously.  Well, except that fat little bastard from North Korea.  Kim Dong Poon or whatever the heck his name is.  He's pretty cool.  The rest of ya, well, I want to ruin everything and then kill you.  Tell you the truth, though..."

[Obama] "Wait.  I though you were unable to tell the truth.  Father of Lies and all that stuff."

[Devil] "I can tell the truth, when it is to my advantage.  I don't like it much, though.  Makes me nauseous.  After speaking truth, I have to visit an inner-city Planned Parenthood and watch some crackhead pseudodoctor cut up babies for a while.  You know, to settle my stomach.  But what I was about to say is that I'm not so pleased with our little deal, either.  I was expecting to claim the soul of a Great American President.  One beloved and accomplished and adored.  Now, I'll be lucky if I end up with the soul of an inept Chicago thug.  Lemme tell ya, I already have a warehouse full of those.  Not really jazzed about getting another."

[Obama] "Hey!  I am beloved and accomplished and adored!"

[Devil] "Really?  We need an impartial judge.  I'm gonna go wake MichelleO and see what she thinks."

[Obama] "No!  Do not interrupt Sleeping Booty's slumber!  That is EXTREMELY unwise!  There'll be, er, hell to pay!"

[Devil] "Ha!  What could be so bad?  You're just afraid she'll side with me!"

The Devil pokes MichelleO in the forehead with the point of his tail.  She bats it away and rolls over, without waking.  The Devil repeats this maneuver,  but more forcibly.  MichelleO sits up abruptly in bed and throws her CPAP mask aside like a Philadelphia Flyer might cast aside his helmet before a center-ice brawl.  She graps Old Scratch by the lapel and pulls herself within about an inch of his face.

[MichelleO] "You will pay for you insolence!  First, I will devour you whole, like that hamhock the other day...  Then I will slowly digest you...  And when I am done adding your evil to my own, and all that is left of you is that which feels pain...  I will slowly, over the course of a thousand years, crap you out over a giant heap of burning American flags... Where you will writhe in powerless agony!"

[Obama] "It's like falling into the Sarlacc, but worse."

[Devil, visibly panicked] "I've seen her naked.  It'd be WAY worse!" [closes eyes] Like a good neighbor, Statist Farm is there!"

Poof!  The devil disappears.

[MichelleO, angrily] "Grah!" [makes Sith gesture towards closet.  A broom flies out, straight into her hand.  She mounts it, and heads off in pursuit of Satan.

A few minutes later, the Devil returns.

[Devil] "I think I lost her."

[Obama] "As I was saying, I *am* adored and accomplished and all that.  Even the wingnuts can't help but honoring me.  They call me TelePrompTer Jesus.  And you know how  much those clingers like that Jesus dude."

[Devil]  "They're actually calling you 'TelePrompDerp Cheezits.'  I thought for sure those elephantine ears of yours would catch that subtlety.  Disappointing, really."

[Obama, getting his hissy on] "You're a liar!  And so is your boyfriend!"

[Devil] "Hey, now, let's leave Eric Holder out of this!"

[Obama] "Catch faceAIDS and die in a fire!"

[Devil] "Oh yeah?  Get dickscabies and fall off a cliff!  Like your approval rating!  Ha!"

[Obama, regaining composure] "Alright, alright.  We're both horribly dissatisfied.  Let's work together and make this a win/win, OK?"

[Devil] "Oh, I'm way ahead of you.  Have you been wondering why Boehner is on such an amnesty-fap lately?  It was my idea.  I just whispered it in his ear.  America has been a powerful force for good in the world.  You've tried to bring America down.  I admire that.  But you're just not up to the job.  We need a couple million more Dem voters on the welfare roll, so we gotta pass us some amnesty.  That'll bring down the Republicans, *AND* ruin America!"

[Obama, megawatt grin] "Now we're talkin'!"

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Dume! Dume! We're all dumed!

[Michelle Otreides] "Babe, I'm about to shoot that PSA about drinking water.  I need your honest opinion on something, so tell me the truth..."

[RuPaul Otreides] "Hon, you, uh, know, uh, how I struggle with 'truth' and that whenever I try to speak it, I stammer like Fonzie when he tried to admit he was wrr-wro-wr-wrong."

[MichelleO] "Try your best.  Now, tell me:  Does this stillsuit make my butt look big?"

[RuPaul O, face contorting] "Wr-wro-wrrrr...  Um.  So.  Um, you know those funhouse mirrors that make a person look super skinny?  If you wired up three of those mirrors in series, you'd still be a little wider than average."

[MichelleO, angrily] "Graah!" [draws concealed bat'leth and charges]

RuPaul Otreides is unharmed, as his personal Holtzman Effect force field repels the blade.  Michelle O leaves in frustration, to meet the crew who will be shooting the water PSA.

[RuPaul Otreides] "Yeah, while you're out doing that, I'll be, um, working on the Middle East and stuff."

MichelleO meets a crowd of admirers and children outside.

[Director] "Places!  3..2..1.. Action!"

[MichelleO] "Hi. I'm First Lady of Barrakis Michelle Otreides and this is my friend Eva Bongwhoria."

[Eva] "Hi!"

[MichelleO] "We're here to talk about the importance of drinking lots of water."

[Little girl] "But we live in a freakin' desert!  There is no water!"

[MichelleO] "You're right!  We live in a desert because of global warming!  But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the benefits of drinking water.  That's why we're handing out these free government stillsuits.  They're so cool.  They even have the Otreides logo embroidered on them.  See, you put this on, and it recycles all your sweat and whizz and stuff so you can drink it again.  Recycling is also good for the planet!"  [excitedly] "Is everybody with me?"

[Little girl] "No!  I only drink Kool-Aid, Pepsi, and Rock Stars."

[MichelleO] "And that's exactly how you got to be such a fat graceless cow!"

[Little girl] "And you only drink water?"

[MichelleO] "Yes!"

[Little girl] "Then what's your excuse?"

[Camera operator turns away, trying to stifle a snortLOL]

[MichelleO] "Wait. What? Are you saying I'm a..." [screams an enraged scream and stomps off the set]

The First Lady's stomps, combined with her thighs slapping up against each other, create a thumping effect that proves irresistible to a nearby sandworm.  The sandworm suddenly and violently breaches the ground and swallows the First Lady whole.

[sandworm, in Jersey accent] "Blech!" [vigorously spits First Lady out.  She lands some distance away in an unceremonious heap of sand, melange, and worm spit] "Tic-Tac!  Mentos!  Anything!  Help me out, I'm dyin' ovah hee-yuh!" [disappears back into the ground]

Meanwhile, at MSNBC studios...

[Chris Matthews] "Good evening, I'm Chris Matthews and I'm here with our dreamy super-groovy über-smart President, RuPaul Otreides.  Mr. President, let's begin with the situation in Middle East."

[RuPaul Otreides] "Let me be clear: Bashar al-Harkonnen is no friend of House Otreides.  But we're not going to get involved in their internal matters.  It is his civil war and we're content to let him butcher people."

[Matthews] "But what would happen, say, if he were to use WMDs?"

[RuPaul Otreides] "That would be crossing a red line.  That would change our thinking.  That would change our calculus."

[Matthews] "Whoa!  I knew you were smart, but I had no idea you knew calculus!  So, you can really, like, calculate the flux through a 3D surface using a triple integral?"

[RuPaul Otreides] "Ha!  No.  That's just a figure of speech.  I topped out at algebra.  And even then I was so choomed up on the spice that I don't remember much except that usually x=7 and y=4.  Usually.  Not always.  That's why they're called variables or something."

[Matthews, finger to his earpiece] "Breaking news!  Bashar al-Harkonnen just used his Family Atomics against his own people.  Mr. President, now what?"

[RuPaul Otreides] "You cross this red line, you die!  OK, you cross this red line you die!  OK, you cross this red line, I'm not going to play golf with you.  But seriously, uh.  Umm.  I'll get back to you." [leaves hastily]

Later that day, RuPaul Otreides meets some colleagues at a Lodge Meeting of the Loyal Order of RINOs.

[John McMentat] "This makes me so mad..."

[audience] "How mad is he???!?"

[John McMentat] "It infuriates me that computers are illegal in this universe, because I'd really like to be playing video poker on my iPhone right now."

[RuPaul Otreides] "John, I need your advice.  What should I do about Bashar al-Harkonnen?"

[John McMentat] "Bomb!  Bomb, I say!  I particularly enjoy bombing commies and brown people.  Better still, brown commies.  But if all there is to bomb is a pasty white Paraguayan papaya picker, well, bombs aweigh!  I just love me the smell of jet fuel and high explosives!"

[RuPaul Otreides] "Agreed."


[RuPaul Otreides, addressing the nation] "My fellow people of Barrakis, the time has come to intervene.  Bashar al-Harkonnen has used his Family Atomics on his own people.  To my friends on the Right, be assured:  Lots of brown commies will die as a result of our relentless attack.  To my friends on the Left, be assured:  This is a surgical strike that will have minimal effect.  A pinprick.  A tiny prick that should be just enough to salvage my legitimacy and discourage the further use of Family Atomics."


On the other side of the globe, Vladimir Harkonnevich and Bashar al-Harkonnen watch the broadcast intently.

[Vladimir] "Ha!  He again tries his Tiny Prick strategy!"

[Bashar] "Vlad, you smiled.  This is strange."

[Vladimir] "I reserve an occasional smile for special occasions such as this."

[Bashar's son] "My father, you derive much joy from this."

[Bashar] "Yes. Much merriment."

[Vladimir] "Da.  Is great sport.  Should be Olympic.  I vould vin Gold Medal."

[Bashar's son] "I only wish that computers were legal in this universe, 'cuz right now, I'd love to be on Facebook mocking President Otreides."


There might be more to this story but the Beaver game is about to start.  So, finis.  For now...

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Joe Joe Joe to Rome, gently down the drain

I'm not Catholic, so I don't really know what I'm talking about.  Don't freak if I get something wrong.  And if you're Catholic, please don't be offended.  I'm just goofin' on Joe.

Vice President Biden and his entourage arrive at the Vatican.  They are ushered in to meet the new Pope. 

[Biden] "Hey there!" [offers handshake which the Pope hesitantly reciprocates] "I'm Catholic, but I've never met a Pope before.  Umm...  Oh yeah, I'm supposed to kiss your ring, right?"

[Pope Francis] "That is customary.  But it isn't anything I insist on."

[Biden] "Well, I'm all about doing things right.  May I?"

[Pope Francis, uncomfortably] "Well, I guess."  [offers hand, Biden kisses ring]

[Biden] "Sorry.  That's peppermint Trident.  Hey, at least it's sugar-free, right?" [retrieves gum from Pope's ring and pops it back in his mouth]

[Pope Francis: eyeroll]

[Biden] "So, uh, your Holy Popiness, we have come to congratulate you on your high level of Popitude.  We are thankful for your leadership and look forward to OWWWWW!" [grabs his mouth and falls to his knees in pain]

[Pope Francis, alarmed] "My son, what has happened?"

[Biden, spitting out gum] "I think I broke a tooth." [Examines gum] "Yeah, right here!  It's one of the diamonds from your ring.  The gum must have pulled it out of its setting and I broke a tooth on it.  I'm gonna sue the crap out of you!"

[Biden's aide] "Sir, you can't sue the Pope.  He has Sovereign Immunity."

[Biden] "But that only applies to heads-of-state."

[Aide] "Yes.  The Vatican is its own little country and the Pope is head of state."

[Biden] "This is a country?  What a bunch of malarkey.  I mean, it's is super nice and very well decorated, but geez, it's only a few city blocks.  Al Gore's house is bigger than this place.  And what about Separation of Church and State?"

[Aide] "Doesn't apply here."

[Biden] "Aww, crap. We're off to a really rough start here.  Please forgive me.  Let's start over."

[Pope Francis] "Of course."

[Biden] "Ya know, I love Jell-O Pudding Pops.  Ever consider marketing Pudding Popes?  Like a little pope-shaped plastic mold a kid or a Vice President could pour his pudding into, then stick in the freezer?"

[Pope Francis] "Commercializing the office of Pope is a terrible idea."

[Biden] "Lighten up, Francis!  Heh.  Sorry.  Heh.  I've been waiting for years to meet a guy named Francis so I could use that line."

[Pope Francis, anxious to change the subject] "My son, why do you have that Manson-esque scribbling on your forehead?"

[Biden] "Ash Wednesday.  It is hard to draw on my own face in the mirror because the mirror makes my right hand look like my left hand and I'm right-handed so I tried to use my left so it would look right in the mirror and ummm, well, sorry the cross turned out so screwy."

[Pope Francis] "But Ash Wednesday was a month ago."

[Biden] "Yeah, see, after that cat/furnace episode, Jill won't let me play with matches any more.  No matches, no fire, no ashes, nothing even vaguely related to anything flammable. So I used a black Sharpie pen.  Wow, that stuff is really permanent!"

[Pope Francis, trying to hide is growing annoyance] "Surely there is a substantive reason for your visit.  I mean, the conversation has been pleasant enough, but"

[Biden, interrupting] "Oh, yeah!  See, the Republicans won't pass enough tax hikes and we need some money.  Maybe you could, you know, sell off some of this fantastic artwork you have here and help a guy out?"

[Pope Francis, somewhat indignantly] "No.  These treasures are not mine to give, loan, or sell."

[Biden, getting testy] "Not even gonna consider it, huh?  Really?  So that's how you want to play it, player? We 'intervene' in little countries like this pretty much daily.  We have swarms of drones circling everywhere.  Do you really think your little crew of guys with jester suits and spears can hold off a Marine Expeditionary Unit?  You think you can dodge the missiles comin' off a Reaper?  You think you're all that?  I'm not talking about a garden-variety slap upside your funny hat or a shotgun blast through the doorway.  I'm talkin' about the wrath of pResident Peace Prize and his wife, Our Lady of Unfortunate Proportions!  You really think you can withstand all that?!?"

[Pope Francis, making cross gesture] "Egredere de hic vobis stultus bastardus."

[Biden, triumphantly] "Yeah, that's what I thought.  I knew you'd see things my way"

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Still haven't posted to Twitter

The urge to blog has certainly been absent lately.  The best I can muster is twitterish short takes, but I can't bring myself to actually break my twitter embargo.  So I guess I'll post them here.  You're welcome.

  • Dear NUKS students, thank you for coming to the shop and placing an order.  However, despite what is depicted in Axe TV ads, it is NOT SUGGESTED that you wear a whole can of Axe spray when you are ordering your awards.
  • Frogs (and amphibians, in general) are said to be a barometer of an ecosystem's health.  The land around my house is a VERY HEALTHY ecosystem.
  • 7:00pm - "Hear all the froggies?"  "Yeah, grandpa!  Cool!"
  • Midnight - "There HAS to be a way to shut these @#$%^& frogs up!"
  • Seriously, it's like a biblical plague of frogs out there.
  • The sunny days are nice, but the frosty windshield thing is getting old.
  • One might think that subfreezing temperatures would shut up a frog.  One would be mistaken.
  • She packed a SpongeBob Gogurt in my lunch?  Seriously?
  • My neighbor shoos the Canada geese off his land with a shotgun.  Wonder if it works on frogs.
  • Oh-so-thoughful brother-in-law brought us a small inflatable pool.  Yay.  Grandkid insisted that I inflate it today, even though it is way to cold for a swim.  I think I burst a vessel in the process.
  • What are the symptoms of an aneurysm?  The spots I'm seeing that look rather like miniature fireflies, will go away, right?  Right?
  • The inflatable giraffe that is part of the inflatable pool is already drooping at half-mast.  Little brat better not have popped the pool before we've even put water in it.
  • It would be nice to have recovered from inflating the pool with my lips before the pool was destroyed.  Guess I ask for too much.
  • I suppose that popping the pool is better than pooping the pool.
  • Next time I'm asked to inflate a pool, I'll decline.  Knowing what I know now, I'd think I'd rather be shot in the glans with a frozen paintball.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

In and out list

What's in?  What's out?  What's hot?  What snot?

IN:  The two grandkids' birthdays are only a couple days apart.  Since they can't tell time or read a calendar, we can get by with only one birthday party.
OUT:  Since the live with me, it is reasonable to expect some of my smarts to rub off on them, and they'll (eventually) learn how to read a calendar.

IN:  Having said birthday party at the OTHER grandparents' house.
OUT:  The grandbrats come home with YET MORE noisy toys.

IN: Little wavy red lines under typo errors.
OUT: Typing "calenday" and seeing the little wavy red lines twice already in this blog post

IN:  Fisher-Price still makes the corn popper push toy.
OUT: They're just as obnoxious as they were 40 years ago.
IN: At least it doesn't use batteries.

IN: Hardwood floors so the wheels of corn popper push toy slide instead of roll, resulting in no popping noises.
OUT:  Grandbrat gets mad at lack of poppage and makes more noise than the toy.

IN:  Hilarity of watching Grandbrat the Elder try (and fail, miserably) to vacuum a leaf off the floor using corn popper push toy as if it were a Hoover Upright.
OUT:  She doesn't have the same enthusiasm for running the real vacuum.

IN:  Grandbrat the Younger's walking record so far: 9 steps before flopping buttwise on the floor.
OUT:  Her nine steps looked just like those of the very drunk driver in that episode of COPS who couldn't pass a field sobriety test.
OUT:  There's a drunk guy who can't pass a field sobriety test in pretty much every episode of COPS.
OUT:  Watching COPS.

IN:  Years ago, that Saudi guy who used to be my neighbor vigorously explaining how COPS is the #1 show in Saudi Arabia, complete with his staccato "Badda boy, badda boy, what you go to do?  What you go to do when come for you" rendition of the theme song.
OUT:  That I used to have a crazy Saudi neighbor.
OUT:  Watching COPS

IN:  The music made by Fisher-Price toys is much improved over the lame plink-plink music box kind of sound they had when I was a kid.  The sax sounds very real, and the guitar sounds just like an old hollow-body electric.
OUT:  Out of all the buttons on the dang thing, they only ones the grandbrat will push are Rockin' Robin and If You're Happy and You Know It.

IN:  Being not happy and knowing it.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Good news/bad news

The bad news: Texas resident aA hasn't posted anything to his blog in over a year.
The good news:  He forwards me a lot of good stuff like this, that I post to my blog for the enjoyment of thousands hundreds dozens of people around the world!

In the news this week, a Southern California man was put under 72-hour psychiatric observation when it was found he owned 100 guns and had (by rough estimate) 1 million rounds of ammunition stored in his home. The house also has a secret escape tunnel.

The television reporter said: "Wow! He has about a million machine gun bullets!" and the headline referred to it as a "massive weapons cache".

By California standards someone owning even 100,000 rounds would be called "mentally unstable".

If he lived elsewhere, such as Arizona, he'd be called "an avid gun collector."

In Oklahoma, he'd be called "a novice gun collector".

In Utah, he'd be called "moderately well prepared", but they'd probably reserve judgment until they made sure that he had a corresponding quantity of stored food.

In Montana, he'd be called "the neighborhood 'Go-To' guy".

In Idaho, he'd be called "a likely gubernatorial candidate".

In Wyoming, he'd be called "an eligible bachelor".

and... In Texas, he'd be called "a Hunting Buddy"

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Decisions, decisions

Hmm... Beyoncé, or trim my dogs' nails? . . . . "Sunshine! Hold still or no treat!"

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Weekend randomness with a canine emphasis

Been a rough patch for several Labradoggies among my circle of blogfriends.  Thankfully things seem to be looking better.  As for mine, she's totally recovered from the pyometra surgery and has been back to her spastic self for a while now.

Speaking of which, the floor plan of our house is a bit odd.  The front door is pretty far away from where we park the car.  The back door opens to the utility room, and often has laundry or other junk stacked so that it isn't readily used.  So we use the sliding glass door as our main access.  Mother-in-law was really sick the other day when we left for church so she stayed home, and we left through the sliding door as usual.  When we got home, Sunshine went into her overjoyed-freak-out routine where she rears up and paws at the glass door.  She managed to hit the little lever and LOCK US OUT.

The front door was installed new when we moved in, and I haven't bothered to get a key for it since we use it so rarely, and my wife didn't even bring her keys.  The utility room door was quite impassibly barricaded, as usual, and MiL was so NyQuil-ed out that she couldn't hear us yelling at her to come open the glass door.  MiL's bedroom is at the back corner of the house where the landscaping is basically nonexistent, save for MUD and BLACKBERRIES.  After a messy and painful slog, I was able to reach her window and bang on it enough to wake her up and get us inside.


OK, that little tale wasn't very exciting.  Maybe this one will be better...

The neighbors with the horses and chickens moved out.  There's a pack of coyotes in the area that we've been able to hear sometimes at night. But now that the horses are gone, the coyotes seem to think the neighboring pasture is a great place to assemble and do their little yip-yip song.   Last night, from 1:45 to about 2:20 in the morning, that is.  Not cool.  Noisy obnoxious critters.  I'm pretty sure my fence is coyote-proof, but it is a bit unsettling for them to be that close.

I gotta check into the local laws.  If I remember right, there's a prohibition on discharging a firearm within X feet of an improved roadway.  We're pretty close to the road.  But if it turns out that we're far enough away, I'm a gonna shut me up some coyotes!

If we aren't far enough away, ahem, I may have to acquire one of these and do my coyote-silencin' on the sly:


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