Friday, July 11, 2014

A whole new kind of pain

So...

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...

Smack!

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!

Umm.

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:

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Barry good skeet shooter

I shot bin Laden myself, with my skeet gun
[Obama, to press corps(e)] "Of course I honor America's hunting tradition.  In fact, I go skeet shooting at Camp David all the time.  Anything other questions?  No?  OK, gotta go."

Obama, surrounded by his entourage and security detail, leaves and heads back to the Oval Office.

[Chief of Staff guy who took over for the guy who took over for Daley who took over for Rahm] "Sire!  How could you say something like that?"

[Obama] "Easy.  Lying comes second nature to me."

[CoS guy] "But sire, aren't you worried that somebody might call you out on that lie?  Challenge you to a skeet contest?  Something like that?"

[Obama] "Nah.  Everything will be fine."

The Chief of Staff exits.  About five seconds later, he barges back in.

[CoS guy] "Sire!  Some Republican congresschick dared you to a skeet-shooting competition.  Bitter clingers across the country are laughing at the idea of you handling a shotgun.  You must appear for a photo op!  You must, lest your carefully crafted tough-guy image be tarnished!"

[Obama] "Ok, ok.  Get Joe and his Beretta shotgun and some Secret Service guys with some of their guns and let's head to Camp David."

The pResident's helicopter, Marine-1, touches down at Camp David.  The pResident bumps his head as he disembarks, prompting howls of laughter from the veep and the Secret Service personnel.

[Obama, angrily] "Knock it off.  Big deal, I bumped my head.  Again."

[Biden, stifling laughter] "Sir, hee, sir...  It's not that.  It's that hee you look ridiculous in that hee hunting outfit.  Worse than when John hee hee Effin Kerry went shoppin' for one 'em huntin' licenses."

[Sec. Service Agent] "Sir.  The first rule of gunhandling is to treat every weapon as if it is loaded, until you have personally confirmed that it is not.  The second rule, is keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire.  The third rule is never let you muzzle (that's where the stuff comes out) point at anything you're not willing to destroy.  The fourth rule is always be aware of who/what is downrange..."

[Obama, interrupting] "Enough with the rules nonsense.  I make the rules.  I am The One.  Gimme a shotgun."

[Sec. Service Agent] "Here's a .410 to start you off with."

[Obama] "Wait!  Joe!  Didn't you say that with shotguns, the smaller the number the more powerful it is?  That would mean .410 is like a stick of dynamite!"

[Biden] "Sir, the .410 is an exception.  It refers to the diameter of the shell.  Which can differ from the diameter of the muzzle, depending on the choke.  There's cylinder choke, modified choke, full choke..."

[Obama, interrupting again] "Stop it!  Stop making it so complicated, you guys!"

The pResident takes the offered shotgun, and promptly ignores every safety rule.  The muzzle swings past the veep's head as a finger hits the trigger...

BLAM!  A few plugs of hair are blown off Joe's moptop.

[Biden] "Wow! That was kinda loud!"

[Sec. Service Agent] "Ready, Mr. pResident?  When you say 'pull' I'll launch a clay pigeon.  Start a little behind the pigeon and swing the muzzle through the path of the pigeon.  Pull the trigger right when your muzzle is pointing at the pigeon and follow through.  At this range, that will help you lead the target just the right amount."

[Obama] "Pull!"

The pigeon flies.

BLAM!

The pigeon lands in the grass, unbroken.  Leaves on a distant tree are struck, however.

[Sec. Service Agent] "OK.  Maybe we should try the 12ga.  It has a lot more pellets, which will improve your chances of making contact." [Hands Obama a 12ga]

[Obama] "This thing is HUGE!  It'll knock me totally cattywampus!"

[Sec. Service Agent] "Don't worry, sir.  We're using sporting clays loads.  They're really light.  Not much more than that .410, actually."

[Obama] "Sporting?  The only sport I'm good at is basketball.  I could dunk over any one of you fools.  But any other sport, I suck.  My whole body just kind of convulses like Joe does when he drinks his slurpee too fast."

[Sec. Service Agent] "You'll be OK.  Trust me."

[Obama] "OK.  'Pull!' "

The pigeon flies.

BLAM!

The pResident slams backward cartoonishly, his feet acting like a hinge, and lands flat on his back with the muzzle pointed skyward."

[Obama] "Did I get it?"

The pigeon lands in the grass, intact.

[Biden] "Nope!  Try 'er again!"

[Sec. Service Agent] "Sir, this time lean into it, and hold your cheek tightly against the stock."

[Obama, still on the ground] "No!  Just take a @#$%^&* picture of me holding a shotgun and get me the hell outta here!"

Friday, January 25, 2013

+3 Meandering Blogpost of Doom

This engraving project made me think of Harvey (thank you for your service, bro!).  The anchor is about 17" high and not quite 11" wide.  Since the brass is all reflecty and stuff, it's a little hard to read.
Prior to engraving
Dunno who Don Strickland is.
Following the compound curves was kinda tricky but it turned out well.
USS Enterprise (CVN-65) is presently undergoing decommissioning.  One one hand, it's kind of sad that Big E ist kaput, but on the other hand we're decommissioning stuff that other countries wish they could even begin to build.

-----------------------------------------------------

Speaking of which, the Russians have one (1) carrier, the Admiral Kuznetsov, which looks like it has been punched in the nose and they barely have enough functional Su-whatevers to fill the flight deck.  The UK, France, Spain, etc, have a carrier or two apiece.  But they're baby helicopter carriers that probably would sink if you tried to land a Harrier on one.  The Chinese have one (1) carrier, which was just commissioned a few months ago.  They're still working on mastering carrier-based flight operations - which we had pretty well figured out, like, 75 years ago.  We have 10, I think, supercarriers, plus  9 or so smaller ones for Harriers and helicopters.  It is stuff like this that makes me look down my nose at the lesser countries of the world.  Which would be all of them.

---------------------------------------

Recently finished another, um, "interesting" project:  Vehicle magnets for the State of Oregon Governor's Mounted Guard.

Really?  Governor Kidslobber needs a mounted guard?  Just seems like pretentiousness to me.  And how do they get the magnets to stick to the horses?

------------------------------------------------------

I have never posted or retweeted anything on my twitter account, yet I have three followers.  That must be some kind of a record.

-------------------------------------------------

Oh.  Maybe they mean one of the other definitions of "mounted."  With these weirdos, it's hard to know.

-----------------------------------------------

Finished yet another, um, "interesting" project:  Window/door graphics at the Hilton Garden Inn.  Floor-to-ceiling two-tone stylized beanstalks.  I guess that's what passes as "garden-y".  They call it a "reed motif" but... no.  It's beanstalks, man.  Beanstalks that kind of resemble jail bars.  I guess that's what stupid people think is cool after they've smoked a lot of beanstalks.  While we were working, just about every passer-by said something complimentary.  Genuinely complimentary, not that faux-friendly smalltalk crap that people barf out while they're standing there waiting for the airport shuttle.  Scares me that so many people, who otherwise appeared normal, would actually like this design.  Ugh.  Worse yet, if people actually do like them, it might attract a little more business...  Which would mean better numbers for the Hilton Corp...  Which would mean... a little more money in Paris' purse.

Gack!
--------------------------------------------

I haven't weighed in on the Manti Te'o issue yet.  It is just so bizarre.  Personally, I think *SHUT UP ABOUT MANTI TE'O ALREADY!*

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Barry grabby gun debate

A cabinet meeting.  The usual cabinet heads, czars, and thugs notably absent.  The pResident paces around the room restlessly.

[Obama, checking watch] "Dang it!  Where is everybody!"

An unnamed person enters.

[unnamed person] "Sir, the entire government computer system has been compromised."

[Obama] "What?!?"

[unnamed person] "Yes.  It seems the veep has been looking at smut on his PC and somehow a trojan got installed.  It has worked its way through the entire network."

[Obama, into intercom] "Get Joe in here!"

Biden arrives.

[Biden] "Hey, boss!  Whassup?"

[Obama] "I've just been informed that you've been looking at pornography on your official PC."

[Biden, nervously] "I, uh, uh, I... that can't be!  I don't even own a pornograph!"

[unnamed person, to Biden] "Sir, your computer has been infected with a trojan horse, a kind of malware.  It has compromised the entire network.  That typically happens when people visit bad websites."

[Biden] "Oh, I remember now.  The antivirus said it was trying to install a trojan.  I clicked 'OK' cuz, ya know, when I need protection, Trojan, is, ya know, top shelf stuff.  I didn't realize that was a bad thing."

[unnamed person, facepalm]

[Obama] "Anyway.  Joe, I put you in charge of coming up with a comprehensive gun control policy.  How is that coming along?"

Before Joe can answer, a disheveled Hillary enters.

[Hillary] "Sorry I'm late.  Had a rough night."

[Obama, sarcastically] "Brain swelling up again?  Losing your memory?"

[Hillary] "You're half right.  As usual.  See, I was doing tequila shots off the small of some co-ed's back.  Then I hopped in my official State Department SUV and went for a spin.  I saw some right-wing blogger in the crosswalk.  I swerved to hit him, but lost control.  I skidded into a fire hydrant and the airbag deployed.  That's the last thing I remember before the alarm clock went off this morning."

[Obama] "So you probably have no idea what's going on in Algeria."

[Hillary] "Algeria bought Fat Albert's 'Current TV' network.  That's about all I know about it."

[Obama] "That's what I thought, too.  What about your discussions with world leaders about the global gun ban?"

[Hillary] "Ain't got around to it, yet."

Obama is growing visibly impatient...

[Biden] "So, I met with representatives from the NRA, concerned citizens, and other groups.  We..."

Obama cuts him off and dials the phone.

[Obama, into phone] "Eric!  You're late!  We need to talk about guns."

[Holder, on other end of phone call, nervously] "I, uh, uh, I... No can do.  I, uh, uh, I...  I just washed my mustache and can't do a thing with it!"

[Obama] "I'm not talking about Fast and Furious.  I'm talking about taking guns away from law abiding citizens."

[Holder] "Oh!  In that case, I'll be right there!  But first, I have to finish the second level of Angry Birds."

[Biden] "Ya know, boss, I think you should just introduce legislation that bans everything.  Reid will get the Senate on board, and well, the Republicans in the house, well, they're just a bunch of cheese-cutting surrender monkeys.  It'll pass."

[Obama] "Isn't that supposed to be 'cheese-eating surrender monkeys'?"

[Biden, to unnamed person] "I'll give ya one guess who in this room has never ridden in the elevator with John Boehner."

Unnamed person laughs.

[Obama, angrily] "You all are worthless.  I'll handle this myself.  I'll make a televised appearance, surrounded by innocent children, and make an appeal directly to the American people.  My charm will win the day.  Like it always does."

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...