Air Traveler's Lament

This actually started out a long time ago as a comment I left at King Shamus' place. Finally got around to finishing it up.  Some people had trouble with my audio-only attempts in the past, so I used YouTube again since it is pretty much universally supported. 

I still can't sing and the editing has a few choppy spots but I hope you like it. The voice of the PA announcer and of the icky TSA guy are my wife! (So be nice!)

Barry secret mission

Barely topical, recycled photo.  You're welcome.

[Axelrod] "Bams, the bump you got in the polls for offing Bin Laden has came and went.  That was about the only good thing that has happened in the last year and a half.  We need to recapture that brief, fleeting moment of success and ride it all the way to election time."

[Obama] "But every time I retell the story, my numbers go down, down, down."

[Axelrod] "Well, it's because of all the I, I, me, I you put into it.  And getting your backside bored .060" over by Netanyahu the other day didn't help.  What we need is a surrogate to go out there and sing your praises and remind the world of your awesomeness.  But without all the taint of you being the one saying it."

[Obama] "Gotcha" [into intercom] "Joe, I have a very important mission for you."

[Biden, entering] "Sir, yes sir!"

[Obama] "Joe, regarding the mission to kill Bin Laden..."

[Biden, interrupting] "Wait!  Lemme guess!  The CIA has figured out where Zwarahiri is, and you want me to lead SEAL Team 7 and take him out!" [Jumps up on chair, wielding imaginary machine gun and making gun noises] "Rat-a-tat-a-tat Oh, you want some?  Ba-da-da-da-da  Oh, you want some, too?  Bam bam bam pow.  You can't handle the truth!  Boom!!"

[Obama] "Joe, there is no SEAL Team 7."

[Biden] "Oh yes there is!  It's so secret that I'm the ONLY one who even knows about it! Ba-da-da-da-da-bang!"

[Obama] "JOE!  Knock it off! Get a grip!"

[Biden] "Sorry, sir.  I get a little bit excitable when I'm wearing my Star Fleet underoos.  I feel like I can take on the whole galaxy!"

[Obama] "Joe?  Seriously?  Star Fleet underoos?"

[Biden] "Yep!"

[Obama] "Ha!  Me too!  I wear gold.  'Cuz it's a command color."

[Biden] "No way!  I wear red.  RED is the command color."

[Obama] "No, red is the color the anonymous nobodies wear."

[Biden] "NO!  Red is Captain Picard's color!"

[Obama] "Picard?  Pthbthbth.  He never had to fight the Klingons.  Heck, they were allies."

[Biden] "It was a delicate relationship!  Lots of Smart Diplomacy going on behind the scenes, let me tell you!  Those dorky Klingons that Kirk fought weren't even real.  They were just humans with brown shoe polish on their faces, and fu-manchu mustaches."

[Obama, leaning out into the hallway] "Michelle?  Why do Klingons always look different, depending on which Star Trek is on?"

[Michelle] "Babe, you know I'm forbidden to speak of it."

[Obama] "Oh yeah.  Sorry."

[Biden] "Tholian Web? Tribbles?  Ooooh, scary!  Kirk never had to deal with Q or with the Borg.  Kirk never had to face half the challenges Picard did!"

[Obama] "Yeah?  Tell ya what would have happened...  Kirk would have strolled right into the Borg Collective.  He would walk right up to the Queen and tell her 'Set phasers to love.  Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded!' and she'd be all like 'ravage me!' and then he'd like totally bed that bossy Borg babe and like totally blow her mind and that whole subspace thought-control network of hers would crash and there would be Peace in Our Time.  Then Kirk would say 'I have to go rescue some trapped miners on Rigel-7.  Gotta go, toots.' and she'd be like 'please, stay with me!' "

[Biden] "OK.  You got me there.  I could totally see that happening.  Picard would have just blabbered on in his logbook about the moral dilemmas of having to boink an evil chick that was half robot in order to save the Federation.  Heh.  I imagine the Borg Queen would be like "Kirk!  Please come back!  I promise to stop assimilating alien races, if you can just make me feel like that again!"

[Obama] *snorting LOL*  "Hee.  Then Barney Frank would chime in: 'Assimilating?  I don't know what that is, but it doesn't sound so tewwible to me'."

[Biden, laughing uproariously] "Bwa-haa-ha-Barney bwaa-haa-ha-or bwee-hee-hee-that hah-hee-hah-Larry har-har-Sinclair guy."

Obama's face goes instantly sour.  He makes silent eye contact with a Secret Service agent who nods knowingly.  The agent approaches Biden from behind and fires his taser.  The barbs embed deeply in the veep's scalp, placed perfectly to maximize the disabling energy passing through the target's brain...

[Biden] "Bwaa-haa-haa-hee-hee-ouch-haa-haa-hee-hee-haa!"

The agent presses the zap button repeatedly. 

[Biden] "Bwaa-haa-haa-hee-hee-haa-haa-hee-hee-haa!"

[Agent] "Sorry sir.  He seems unaffected by it."

[Obama] "Alright.  Just give him a second to laugh himself out."

Biden continues laughing at his joke.  Eventually his spastic laughter leaves him unable to breathe normally and he passes out.

[Axelrod] "Umm... Yeah.  Bams, maybe we should consider sending out somebody else to remind the world of your awesomeness."

Blogger's Block: CURED!

Can't think of anything to blog about?  I HAVE DEVELOPED THE CURE!  Never again will I be too busy/harried/tired/lazy/indifferent to come up with an idea, and if you follow my easy 2-step program, neither will you!

Step 1:  Look at the first comment in your previous post.  Use their comment as a starting point for your next post.  Voila!  Instant content!  See how easy this is?  However, if your blog is brand new and you're already writer's-blocked on your first post with no previous post to refer to, then you stink.  Do not try to access the previous post.  You'll get a division by zero error and the internet will crash.

Step 2:  This is the most important step.  **DO NOT LET MANHATTAN INFIDEL BE FIRSTIES ON ANY OF YOUR POSTS** Just trust me on this. 

So, let's see how this works!
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Yesterday, Bob, who (not surprisingly) blogs at Bob's Blog wrote:

Finally, an historian who accurately writes about history!

Quality comment.  Complimentary of the blog author.  Also has some sarcasm directed at the pointy-headed types.  A lot to like there.

But.

Bob used the indefinite article "an" instead of "a" which suggests he elides the "h" at the beginning of words.  Like some bloody east-end limey.  " 'ave a look at that, mate!  That bloke done bumped is 'ead on a crumpet! " I was pretty sure Bob isn't a bloody east-end limey, but now my suspicions are roused.  If any of you are bloody east-end limeys, remember that you are reading a Patriotic American's blog and we don't put up with that kind of junk around here.  And what's up with "theatre"?  When rednecks like me read that, we always mispronounce it as "thee a tree" and end up looking dumb, so knock it off.  When some lispy Barney Frank type says it, it ends up sounding like his lispy version of "see a tree" as in "wook over dere! I think I thee a tree wiff a wittle birdie netht in it!"  I'm sure we're all in agreement on this is something we all want to avoid, so use proper American English instead of that loopy English English, OK?
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See how great this works?  Just follow these two easy steps and you, too, will have an endless supply of top-notch content! You'll have readers fighting for the opportunity to read your blog!

Field Guide to Hippie Identification

In the previous thread, Buck asks a thought-provoking question: "WHY is everyone so down on hippies? They never hurt anyone!"  Well, if there's one thing in life I like better than a root canal, it is answering readers' questions!






In the beginning, there were Beatniks.  These were artsy-fartsy people who hung out in coffee shops and listened to acoustic Bob Dylan songs.  Remember, this was way back in the beginning - before all the coffee shops had free WiFi.  Heck, there wasn't even an internet then.  There was ARPAnet, but you had to either be a VAX/VMS geek or Al Gore to even connect.  But I digress.  Sorry... The Beatniks would have spent their time looking at bizarre porno on their laptops off the free WiFi, if it had existed. But it didn't, so they sat around and wrote a lot of bad poetry.  So it was for decades.  Then there were some among the Beatniks who said "this is great, but it would be even better if we bathed less often!"  Not all of the Beatniks were on board with this, though, so a schism formed.  There was conflict and contentiousness.  Soon, the peace-loving less-bathing group split off from the rest of the beatniks.

These were the protohippies.  Forced from their native habitat, they began a westward migration towards places like Berkeley, Taos, and Eugene.  As they settled in this new bountiful region, the favorable conditions allowed them to indulge in liberating behaviors like humping in the park while their friend tapped out the Morse Code for "got any weed?" on a bongo.  Some particularly successful bands of hippies even had a guy named Ravi playing a sitar while they humped in the park.  By now the protohippies had evolved into full-blown hippies.  Gone were the berets and trenchcoats, which had been replaced by patchwork skirts and tangled hair.

About that time, LBJ said they had to go to Vietnam and shoot Charlie.  The hippies, being peace lovers, were not cool with this at all.  They had recently discovered fire, and they put this new discovery to use in the burning of draft cards.  And bras.  All was well for the hippies, and their population surged.  Some remained rooted in their territories, while others chose a more nomadic existence following the Grateful Dead around in multicolor buses.  Thus they gained sway over more and more territory. 

When it appeared that they might be unstoppable, there was a concert at Altamont.  The Hells Angels biker club had been hired to perform "security" at the event.  Despite outward appearances, the Hells Angels might well be considered anti-hippie.  There was a disturbance, and the hippies' fatal weakness - namely, pacifism - was exploited to the fullest and many a mangy hippie was beaten with a tire iron by a liquored-up Angel.  This proved a turning point in the hippie history, as things were never quite as rosy afterwards.  Some took up new identities, wearing saffron robes and giving out plastic flowers at the airport.  Some actually cut their hair and got jobs.  The remaining fled to communes where they survived on organic produce and LSD.

During the '80s, things got even worse for the hippies.  There was a movement towards consumerism marked by things like improved grooming, stylish clothes and the Sharper Image Catalog.  Yuppies, preppies and other -ppies arose and usurped the place once held by the hippies.  Unfortunately this pendulum swing went too far in the opposite direction and Miami Vice was the result.  Most of the hippies were now extinct - a mere remnant of them remained.  Some came out of hiding having morphed into a meaner and more aggressive sub-species which would later come to be known as "neo-hippies."  These were a distinct group from the earlier group, who would thereafter be known as "classical hippies."

The classical hippies clung to their live-and-let-live lifestyle and infrequent bathing.  Examples of this breed include Jerry Garcia, Tommy Chong and Willie Nelson.  The more assertive neo-hippies went on to take positions in the media and academe.  Some neo-hippies even ran for government office - a complete refudiation of the classical hippie mantra against The Man.

Which brings us to the present day.  It may at times be difficult to classify a hippie that one might encounter.  The best way is to tell the hippie "Why doncha get a haircut, you maggot-infested lump of human debris!  And maybe get a job while you're at it!"

If the hippie says, in a Tommy Chong accent, "Hey man, conflict is not the answer, man!" then the hippie is a classical hippie.  Take advantage of the classical hippie's pacifist tendencies and kick him at will.  Or, if he doesn't smell too bad, invite him to your next party.  Sometimes hippies are fun to party with.  This is a decision that should be made on a case-by-case basis.

If the hippie gets all indignant and tries to run you over in his Prius, then he is a neo-hippie.  While the Prius is unlikely to do any lasting harm, be aware that the neo-hippie can be quite vicious.  He may try to take out a hydroelectic dam to save the salmon, or may make your incandescent light bulbs illegal.  If you choose to kick this hippie, be aware that he either is a lawyer or married to a lawyer and you may face some kind of civil penalty.  But because of neo-hippie policies we are all broke and thus pretty much lawsuit-proof.  It is unlikely that the judgment against you will ever be collected because you are penniless.  Again, the decision to kick this breed of hippie should me made on a case-by-case basis on whether you have any assets that could be seized by some lefty judge.  Even if you do, you may find the satisfaction from kicking the hippie to be worth the expense.  I certainly do.

Curses! Foiled again!

Six, who blogs at The Warrior Class, sprayed a little common sense on yesterday's Big Brother Is Watching My Dog post.  I'd like to think that I'm soooo important that the authorities data-mined their secret database of secret stuff to figure it all out, but they probably just asked my neighbors.  Kind of a disappointment.  Maybe someday I'll be subversive enough to merit more than just an occasional traffic ticket, but I guess I ain't there yet.  A man has to have goals, ya know.

On the bright side, this means they're probably not onto my secret identity as a nocturnal crime-fighting hippie-kicking caped superhero...

Your neatly combed hair and spiderman suit don't fool me, hippie.
I'm still comin' after you!

**UPDATE**
There's some confusion brewing in the comments.  Ahem, let me be clear.  I AM NOT SPIDERMAN.  Nor am I Aquaman and never will I be.  For one, I'm straight.  Secondly, I have crappy form when I swim so I get tired pretty fast and lobsters never do what I tell them.  So screw them and all the other undersea critters.  I am innominatus, the generic superhero.  This grotesque semihuman abomination pictured above is my nemesis.  'Cuz every superhero needs a nemesis as Frank J. made so clear yesterday.

I hope we're all clear on this now.

Cool or scary??

Yesterday was a busy day.  Evening church service was canceled because we had a bunch of cleaning and re-arranging to do before some contractors show up today for the next phase of our project.  So I was at the church helping out.  When I got home, I found a note on the front door say "Your dog was out loose and terrorizing people.  I got him back into your backyard and closed the gate."  There was a name and phone number on the note, so my wife called and thanked the helpful lady who did this for us.  The lady backpedaled a little on the "terrorizing" and said it was more like "running up to everybody passing by, acting protective of the property."  She said "I just forcefully told him to get back there and pointed at the gate, and he went right in and I closed it behind him."  Anyway, I'm thankful she took the time to do that for us.  And I don't know if Chance was really being aggressive or just curious.  He's SUPER gentle when we're around, but I don't know how he acts when we aren't around, because, well, we're not around!  Anyway, I bungee corded and twined the gate closed.  I'm not sure how he got it open to begin with, but it should be extra secure now.

So when I get to work this morning the boss says "How was the weekend?  Dog on the loose, huh?"  Evidently the local police called my boss to see if he knew how to contact me.  He was in the middle of singing "Happy Birthday" so he didn't answer the first time they called. They then called HIS DAUGHTER!  Who lives in another county about an hour away.  I only see her once or twice a month.  Heck, since she got married a year or so ago, I don't even know her last name!  Yet the police were able to find her and call her on her cell!  She had no idea how to get a hold of me, so they called the boss back a second time.  He answered and said "It's Sunday, so he's probably at church" and gave them my home #.  Dunno if they called, as there was no message.

HEADS - It is really cool that the local police went to so much effort to find me and let me know what's going on.  And (so far, at least) no citation or anything.  Had my boss not mentioned this, I'd have never known that the police were ever involved.  They just used their resources to try to solve a problem I didn't yet know I had.

TAILS - How did the police even know where I work?  And how to contact my boss and my boss' daughter?  I can see (maybe) how they could check the dog's tags and figure out who I am, then check some kind of tax record to see where I'm employed, then check some kind of record to see who owns the place where I'm employed, and then, and then...  I'm thinking of that line from the first Terminator movie: "I have detailed files."  This is spookin' me a little! 

Maybe the dog license form asks for all this kind of info.  Dunno.  My wife fills them out and sends them in.  I'll ask her when we both get home from work.  But in the meantime, I am simultaneously glad that someone was willing to make sure the pooch was OK, and also feeling like Big Brother is watching VERY closely!

I know at least two of my readers are in law enforcement.  Can either of you offer any insights?

Blogger back to normal?

No, not blogger as in "author" but Blogger as in the googlesoft that has been down a lot lately.  Last night I came up with the PERFECT strategy to ruin any democrat election chances AND simultaneously cause all R's to cut taxes, balance the budget, bomb our enemies, seal the border, and still have money left for free guns for everybody.

So when I went to post on this breakthrough idea, Blogger said "Umm, sorry, we're in read-only mode for some 'maintenance' for a while." 

And now I can't remember what my plan was.  Dang.

Presidential numerology

So there are some dingalings out there predicting the End of the World on May 21.  Even though Jesus himself said nobody would know the day or the hour. Guess that means these people are smarter than Jesus or something.  And they used numerology to figure it out.  Which, like astrology, divination, witchcraft, etc, is a sin.  So I'm not exactly freaked out about their predictions.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if God pulled the trigger a day early, just to embarrass these morons.

But it got me to thinking about numbers and patters...

The human brain is magnificent at pattern recognition...

And I noticed an interesting pattern:

In the modern era, Republican presidents with monosyllabic names have been quite inferior to those with two-syllable names.  And it is the main reason why John McCain got whupped.  Think I'm crazy?  Let's give it a closer look.

• George - Dubya was good at some things, stunk at some other things.  I think we can agree that he was a mixed bag.
• George the Elder -  Remember his "Golly!" moment at the check-out line?  'Nuff said.
• Ronald - Shut up about amnesty and the Beirut Marine barracks getting blown up.  In every other way the man was like pure kickass rolled in a tortilla of awesome.
• Gerald - Two syllables, but yet he mostly sucked.  'Cuz he was just filling in for Dick.
• Richard - Was really monosyllable "Dick".  And he pretty much sucked.  Thanks for opening China, you [bleep].

The opposite is true of Democrats.  Since they are like bizarro-Superman antimatter version of Republicans, everything is perverted inverted.  If you think about it, it makes a lot of sense.

• Barack - Colossal megafail.  Too bad he had such commie crackhead parents who gave him that weird name.  Imagine if he had been named Brock.  Every Brock I've ever met has been manly, decisive and generally cool.  But no, Stan had to put an extra "uh" in her kid's name.  Buh-rock.  The world is paying a heavy price for that little moment of stupid.
• Bill - Monosyllable.  Yeah, he sucked.  But as democrats go, it wasn't as awful as it could have been.  His administration was a couple Mongols short of being a full-on MCF, which is exactly what my theory would predict.
• Jimmy - Two syllables, twice the suck.
• Lyndon - Two syllables.  Quagmire in Vietnam...  Great Society... I'll stop there.
• John/Jack - Either way, he was monosyllable.  And he was also the last D that was borderline decent.  Coincidence?  I think not.  Had his moral failings but cut taxes and didn't take crap from commies.

What does this all mean today?  It means just say no to Newt, Mitt, and Huck.  Unless they add a syllable to their names.

Quick Joke

How many ecofreak progressives does is take to screw in a CFL light bulb?

Bin Laden Went Down to Pakistan

OK, the blog has been neglected lately. I hope this (at least partially) makes up for it. It was a lot of work but also a lot of fun. I don't mind country music, but I don't really count myself a fan. But to me this song has always ROCKED!




I started this a few days ago before barry & the boys started changing their story. So it is no longer as "historically accurate" as it was the day OBL's death was announced.

Feel free to link and/or embed a copy if you like this. Also, it is my first youtube so please lemme know if it misbehaves.

Some parts of the song Charlie sings like a friggin' auctioneer and I can't really keep up. Written lyrics below for those who can't understand my mushmouth.


Bin Laden went to Pakistan, fear he was startin' to feel
He was in a bind, had to hide his behind, Americans pursuin' him with zeal.
Then he came across some Navy SEALs in a chopper, comin' in hot.
Bin Laden jumped behind a girl and said "Oh crap, I've been caught!"

"Now I may have failing kidneys, but I'm a rifle shooter, too
"And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll shoot it out with you.
"Now you have a pretty good rifle, boy, but give Allah his due:
"Convert or die, whore infidel!  Akbar allahu!"

The SEALs said: "We're here for you Osama, there's no way that you can win
"Tonight you die, you sonvabitch, 'cuz we're the best there's ever been!"

Johnny's magazine is full, pilot pulls up hard.
Hell's broke loose in Pakistan, Bin Laden's drawn death card.
He can't win, he'll get no Paradise or gold
But when he loses, the devil gets his soul.

The SEALs flicked their safeties off and said "time to start this show."
And fire flew from their barrel tips, Bin Laden felt the blows.
Osama gathered himself one last time and made an evil hiss.
Then a few more SEALs joined in and it sounded something like this:
[simulated combat]
With Osama finished, Johnny said: "Now you're dead, oh, Bin Laden.
"That big hole in your skull, right there, thats' how SEALs git-r-done!"

Fire in the compound, jihadis run.
Bin Laden's brain's out in the shining sun.
Chopper sets down, hurry up let's go
"Casualties?  Any wounded?"
"No, sir, no."

The hole in his head proved to all that he'd been beat.
Deep red blood pooled on the ground around the SEALs' feet.
"My soul is now in the fire, I know not what to do
"For I find out too much late that Allah is a Joooooooo!"

Fire in the compound, jihadis run.
Bin Laden's brain's out in the shining sun.
Chopper sets down, hurry up let's go
"Casualties?  Any wounded?"
"No, sir, no."