Archive for March, 2008

Switchin’ It Up

Posted: March 27, 2008 in Uncategorized

You’ll be happy to know, my loyal Reader, that I am finally back at home, camped out in my trusty recliner. Ahhh the creature comforts of home; those comforts that we often take for granted but are appreciated ten fold when you are away from them for any length of time. It’s good to be home, and it is good to be able to share a vision with you.

During my return voyage to the homestead, I got to thinking about my image. Like many of you out there, I am, for the most part, content with my self image. However, from time to time, I feel the desire to switch it up, and this desire is currently burning a hole in my soul like a cigarette on upholstery. And, as Barney says, sharing means caring, and considering that I care for you all, I feel it only right to share my ideas for a new image.

To start off the overhaul, I am thinking I should get a perm. Not one of those wavy perms but a really tightly curled perm, much like that of one of the Brady boys. I figure you can’t go wrong with a perm, so it’s a good place to start. Next up on the Extreme Makeover LongStar Edition is the addition of some facial hair. Not just any facial hair mind you, but a nice, solid standalone mustache, or pornstache if you will. Something strong and bushy, yet well manicured, like Sam Elliot from Tombstone maybe. What is a new image without new clothing, so I’m thinking I can bring in some tapered jeans. Tight around the butt and crotch with that awesome leg design that says “Hey, I’m ready for a flood when you are.” I’m a bit undecided on the top, but I’m leaning towards a tight muscle shirt, or maybe even just a sleeveless shirt, you know, to show off the guns.

In my mind, the look is complete…so complete in fact that I figure I might need to find a new career to go along with it. I think male stripper would only be fitting. I bet I could parlay this into other career paths. Really, if you think about how hot it will be, I would most likely be in really high demand…music videos, the talk show circuit, Playgirl magazine. So with that, I would probably need an alias of sorts. Considering that I have really thought this through (it’s a long drive people), I think the perfect name for the new me would be Johnny McCockstein. I could market myself as an Irish-Jewish stripper. I can’t recall there ever being a prominent Irish-Jewish stripper in American society (or really any society), so it seems as though I would have a corner on the market, and nobody would have to know that I’m not really Jewish, or Irish for that matter (and so long as I don’t go on Oprah I should be okay with that little fib). I could cut an album at the pinnacle of my success called “Rock Out With Your McCock Out.” Maybe I could even write a book entitled Jew Wanna Piece of This? when my rise and fall is complete (but again, Oprah avoidance would be paramount).

It’s settled. Tomorrow I will make an appointment with a salon, take a detour by Cavendar’s, and begin my exciting new life as Johnny McCockstein.

So many memories, so many strange fluids gushing out of patients’ bodies.
–Dr. John D. Zoidberg



On the Road Again

Posted: March 26, 2008 in Uncategorized

Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. I mean, I’m not actually on the road while I write this as that may be incredibly dangerous. I like to text while I am driving, but I’m not sure that breaking out the ol’ laptop while I navigate through the sea of morons at 90 mph is such a hot idea (though I will admit that it might be something fun to try one day…maybe if I get a terminal illness that involves dementia).

So my friends, I have no singular purpose this evening. As I sit in my hotel room and wish for sleep to overtake me, I find that I don’t really have that much to bitch about this evening. Life is, for lack of a more descriptive word, good. But don’t fret pals…even though I don’t have many darts to throw on this lovely early spring evening, I do have a few observations to share with you.

I was flipping through the channels earlier and I came across one of the all-time great movies: Blazing Saddles. If you have not seen this classic, I suggest you go out, grab it, and pop it into your DVD player (or VCR if you still roll old school). I would normally suggest that you watch it when it comes on TV, but unfortunately, I cannot. I happened to catch it on AMC which is, as you may or may not know, a channel that censors (back in “the day” the channel was uncensored and commercial free…money really is the root of all evil). This hilarious Mel Brooks production is not the type of movie that should be shown on a censored channel. While I am not a proponent of the racial slur, such slurs are a crucial part of the comedic flow of this movie and attempting to show it without them should be considered a felony and the folks that decided this was a good idea should be rolled in honey and dropped on an ant hill (not a small one either, but the kind that engulfs a dead carcass, preferably that of a large animal…maybe an elk or something). Showing this film in a censored state not only does a disservice to Mel Brooks, but also to anyone that sees it in this fashion and missed out on the side-splitting humor that the uncensored version provides. After all, anyone that watches this movie and is offended by such language should be slapped upside the head with a greased up summer sausage….it’s just a movie people (and one from the 60’s at that). Shame on you AMC for misrepresenting the name of your channel: American Movie Classics (you might as well show Iron Eagle assholes).

On a completely different, but equally random note, I am thankful that I am not a psychic this evening. Of course I am not referring to a psychic of the mind-reading variety (I would LOVE to be a Jedi), but rather one of those psychics that searches for missing or dead people and does so by coming into contact with objects of those people. Why, you ask, might I be thinking such a thing? Well, here’s my thought train: I am, as I previously mentioned, in a hotel. Hotels are, according to Dateline NBC, notorious for having jizz splattered all over the place. I would think that if I were a psychic, I could possibly be having never-ending flashbacks of the fat guy and hooker that occupied the room previously and I just don’t think I could handle seeing such things. Would my psychic impulses involve the act that caused said goo to be strategically placed throughout the room, or more day-to-day tasks like seeing the fat guy stuff his face with two-all-beef-patties-special-sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles- onions-on-a-sesame-seed-bun? Or could my flashbacks be even more disturbing (I am in Arkansas after all)? Who knows really…but I can safely say that I wish not to find out. Maybe Montel should do a show on that with that psychic Sylvia Brown that he is so fond of…I wouldn’t mind seeing her freak out like that. I smell a pay-per-view event. I’ll drop him a line tomorrow.

Well, it is about that time to pull the top comforter that hotels never wash off this decidedly uncomfortable hotel bed and treat myself to some fractured sleep. I wish I had a more clever way to finish this little, whatever it was, but I don’t.

We need more lemon pledge.
–Head of the Maid’s Union


This Just In…

Posted: March 20, 2008 in Uncategorized

BEJING, CHINA–Today in Bejing, the world’s largest man was released from the hospital after giving birth to what is believed to be the Far East’s first talking bowel movement.

Liong Xi, standing at 8’2″ tall, had been complaining of severe abdominal pain for nearly two months before being admitted to a local hospital. After trying many different medications, doctors were perplexed by the nature of his condition, and the inexplicable growth protruding from his midsection.

“We became incredibly concerned when Mr. Liong continually failed to produce an appreciable bowel movement, despite the number of laxatives that we had been prescribing him, ” said Dr. Chow Mein of the Bejing Institute for Intestinal Health. “After many different remedies did not produce results, we made the decision to admit him for more drastic measures.

The drastic measures, as it turned out, involved an enema comprised of goat milk and and the Chinese herb Yu Li Ren. After several applications, Liong finally produced a stool measuring at 3’2″ in length, much to the suprise of doctors and Liong himself. Further shock was produced when the bowel movement spoke to Liong and reached out to shake his hand.

“It always felt like something was clawing at me from the inside, I just assumed it was all the fast food I was eating,” quipped Liong, 54.

Liong also admitted that, while initially frightened by what he produced, he just felt something right.

“He said ‘please don’t flush me away’ and reached for my hand. I just knew I had made a new friend,” Liong said.

The intestinal anomaly, which Liong has named “Mr. Hanky” after his favorite American television show, South Park, appears to be here to stay. Shortly after the procedure, Liong could be seen laughing and playing with “Mr. Hanky”, and even giving him a high-five.

“My days of being lonely are over,” predicted Liong.

While this is the first documented talking bowel movement in the Far East, the first recorded talking bowel movement worldwide was produced by filmmaker Michael Moore during the production of Fahrenheit 9/11.

Just a Quick Thought

Posted: March 19, 2008 in Uncategorized

I love bananas. This love affair with my yellow-peeled buddy is rather recent however, just over the last year or two. Although I admit that I don’t much care for banana flavored treats, such as candy, nothing beats a banana milkshake on a hot summer day. So, considering that I like to get the full skinny on the things that I love and/or interest me, I decided to look into what a banana can do for me, other than just make my taste buds happy.

Did you know that bananas contains 23% of your recommended daily fiber intake? There are, as you can imagine, many other health benefits, none of which I will really go into right now, but it is nice to know that they are not only delicious but good for you to boot. Now we have that out of the way, my friends, roll with me here for a second..

I hate to keep hopping on the monkey train, but much like bananas, I love monkeys. I think they are funny and cute and sometimes I wish I could be a monkey and swing from tree to tree. Knowing this, you can easily understand why I always throw monkeys into the conversation (even mean ones that aim to harm my insides). So, onto the monkey train I go once again, and I had the following thought process…

Monkeys like bananas. Monkeys like to poop (and fling it). Bananas make you poop. With those three facts pretty well undisputed, doesn’t it seem only logical that if you wanted to curb a poop flinging monkey that you should cut bananas out of its diet? Do zoos know this? If they don’t maybe someone should send them a note. In my mind, it would seem that incidents related to poop flinging might dramatically decline if a monkey’s banana intake was limited, particularly in an enclosed atmopshere, such as a zoo (or your apartment). Even if monkeys in the zoo (or your apartment) still felt inclined to fling a little doo-doo, even without bananas, I theorize that such activity may decrease substantially.

I guess the moral of the story here is, beyond the fact that eating bananas does the body good, that if you ever decide to own a monkey, and the poop flinging has gotten out-of-hand, try cutting out the bananas.

This shit is bananas, B A N A N A S
–Gwen Stefani


Breach of Contract

Posted: March 17, 2008 in Uncategorized

For those of you that have read my wild and wooly thoughts from the beginning, you will remember that I promised, in a manner of speaking, not to discuss “deep” issues, such as politics or religion. I will apologize now if my forthcoming rant constitutes a breach of contract, and while I do not plan to discuss such topics with any regularity, sometimes I just cannot help myself.

I admittedly drive a gas hog. Six years ago, when I purchased such guzzler of petro fuel, the price of gasoline was still reasonable. Back in August of 2002, the events of September 11th were still fresh in our minds; gasoline was still bounding upward, albeit slowly, from the $.89 a gallon that we saw immediately after the attacks on our country. I will also admit that, as a younger man in those days, I was not as wise as I am now and perhaps I did not have the forethought to purchase a vehicle that was a little more fiscally responsible. But with that aside (let me add a side here and advise my Readers that I purchased the aforementioned vehicle new, and it is almost paid off, so you can see my dilemma), never in a million years would I have suspected the cost of gas would have reached the plateaus it is reaching today.

I am, for the most part, not a conspiracy theorist, but at the same time, I do not bury my head in the sand. I am well versed on current events, and with such knowledge comes an opinion. Keeping this in mind, it seems silly that we, as taxpaying consumers in the United States of America, do not start to connect the dots and get to the root of why it costs some of us (not me personally, but close) upwards of $4.00 a gallon for gasoline. I am not going to get into a Michael Mooreish type of debate regarding GW and Cheney’s role in all of this, simply because I think Mr. Moore often grasps at straws and looks to incite a riot, possibly because he was decidedly unpopular as a child, I don’t know. I will, however, give you a little, as we say in the hip-hop industry, sumthin’ sumthin’ to think about.

First thing to consider is this: the oil companies, despite the issues in the Middle East, are still turning in record profits. We should all pose the following question: why? If they are paying so much per barrell of oil, why are they still turning over such a profit? Why can we not get a straight answer? Why does Congress not investigate this instead of wasting their time investigating steroids in baseball (it was “legal” in baseball at the time) or whether or not the New England Patriots videotaped a walk-through (the Eagles still would not have beaten the Patriots Arlen)? Have we as a nation become so desensitized by the lack of action by our elected officials that we turn a blind eye to this? It seems to me that all of the momentum is put behind the environmental impact that the oil industry has on the planet and less on the financial impact that the oil industry has on each of us as they bend us over the stall and take us for a ride.

The second thing to consider is the Middle East itself. Sure, we all know they hold the keys to the liquor cabinet, but do we know why they only let us have a drink on the weekends? It seems fairly obvious, and perhaps I am being too simple-minded about this, but…they hate us (and by “us” I mean the United States), pure and simple. The government and the media try to confuse us all by talking about oil production, and the cost per barrel, and blah blah blah, but let’s not mince words. They loathe us. They have always loathed us, and on some level, it is easy to see why. We as a nation supported the invasion of their land (1947) and continue to support a country (hello, Israel) that has just as many terroristic tendencies as its neighbors, but hides behind the veil of “military action.” And, of course, thanks to our current administration, we have, by proxy, supported the action to depose a leader that was reviled in the area and not a threat to anyone but himself, simply to carry out a vendetta for someone’s Daddy (because said Daddy didn’t have the stones to finish the job the first time). If you think about it that way, is it any wonder why they can charge the United States as much as they want per barrel of oil, and limit us to however much they want to give up?

The last thing to consider and this is more of whatever conspiracy theorist that lives inside me speaking, but if a gallon of gas is costing us so much money, how much is it costing the airline industry? A reasonable person would surmise that it is costing them quite a bit, but when you think about it, is it really? If the airline industry is paying a comparable amount for fuel that we as drivers are, is there a reason why airline tickets have not gone through the roof? Sure we have seen a gradual increase, but the price of just about everything gradually goes up. Could it be, and this is just my thought, that the United States government wants to keep us flying on vacation, and would like to discourage us from taking road trips by making the cost per gallon of gas impossible to manage on a drive of a substantial distance? Is this the government’s way of ensuring that the airline industry stays afloat? I can’t say for certain of course, but again, it is just something to think about.

These are the type of issues that we, as a country, as taxpayers, should be focusing on. Answers will only come to those that ask questions, and I believe that we owe it ourselves to interrogate the oil companies, and our government, with the same ferocity that they have raped our wallets over the last seven years.

Rally ‘round the family, with a pocket full of shells.


The Rebellion Continues…

Posted: March 17, 2008 in Uncategorized

As we discussed about 10 days ago, my dearest Reader, my body has decided to undergo a rebellion of sorts. This rebellion has not only accounted for my slight absence from this forum, but has also accounted for a number of other less-than-savory happenings in my life. The long-clawed monkeys that were initiating a prison break in my sinuses apparently made their successful escape and decided to make a run for the border. The border is not Taco Bell in this instance, but rather my abdomen. It would appear that the behavior of these rebels was mild while imprisoned in the jail of my sinuses as their behavior has become quite a nuisance since escaping the mucus filled confines of my face.

Essentially, over the last two weeks, I have gone from being punched in the face to being punched in the belly. The constant battering I have been taking has sidetracked my new found desire to exercise and return to my former stallionesque form and has clouded my brain in ways that I didn’t think were possible. My condition has not been without its benefits though. Beyond being able to quickly lose a few L b’s, I have had plenty of time to mull over topics to discuss. While I attempt to navigate my way out of the woods, I think it is high time to put my thoughts to good use (or mediocre use, depending on what you might think of these musings).

Let me tell you Reader that I should have been a doctor. Before you get all Jennifer Lopez on me, let me explain. I have a high level of curiosity for useless information. I also like to freak myself out. Both of those tidbits in hand, I decided it would be a good idea to diagnose my condition. As many of you know, I love the Internet (yes, Internet is a proper noun, look it up); moreover, I love Google. I firmly believe this is one of the best inventions ever, and not a day goes by when something pops into my head and the answer I so seek is revealed 10 times over. My current situation was no exception, and so Google it I did.

I gathered all of my information prior to seeing the doctor. I had acquired it all: symptoms, treatment, misdiagnoses, etc. As I sat in my doctor’s office and listened to his interrogation, I realized I could predict everything he was going to say once the questioning was completed: which direction he would want to go at first; the questions about my lifestyle (and of course my horrible habit of smoking took center stage once again); what my symptoms meant. He told me what he thought it was, and I just nodded and smiled. I couldn’t help but think…I pay loads money for this? Now, before you go jumping down my throat, I know that I am trivializing his role a great deal and many people out there in Lalaland do not have the means, the know-how, or the desire to figure out what is wrong with them prior to going to the doctor. And I also understand that even though I knew what was wrong with me, there wasn’t jack shit I could do about it without having my suspicions confirmed.

Out of the doctor I and back to my humble abode I go. I’ve been told (and I knew this as well) that I have to cut fat out of my diet and see if my condition subsides. Well, there goes my fast food addiction. Damn, I really like Big Macs too. Oh, and Taco Bell at 2 o’clock in the morning after a heavy night of drinking. It seems like such a shame that I am going to miss out on these the finer things in life. I guess it is true…all the good things in life are bad for you.

Keeping the previous thought in mind, I flipped on the TV and I heard a story on the local news (this is my last thought train, I promise). I sincerely hope that this is a big of surprise as it is to you, loyal Reader, but did you know that it is more expensive to eat healthy than to eat crappy? I was floored. Wow…what a fucking revelation that is. Honestly, do they pay people to acquire these stories or do they just have elementary school kids write down a bunch of topics and they pick them out of a hat? Between the murderers and pedophiles they slip in a ground breaking story about how expensive it is to eat healthy. Hey, here’s another epiphany that should be picked up by local networks: it’s expensive to dress nice too. Yep, it’s true. It costs more money to buy things that cost more money to make.

So in the end, even while under-the-weather, I am not only a doctor, but a reporter as well, all without having to stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. I wonder if I could parlay both into one megacareer? I guess I’ll have to Google it.

The sky is crying. Can’t you see the tears roll down the street?


Euphemismal Etiquette

Posted: March 10, 2008 in Uncategorized

Okay ladies and gentleman, I would like to mix it up a little bit and discuss a very serious topic. Much like my discussion of discourteous drivers (still a big fu…oh, it’s not worth it), this particular subject has been eating away at me for quite a while now, and I hope that today’s conversation will resonate with you just as much as it does with me. My ultimate goal here is to talk you into acting upon, and assisting me in, halting this behavior of our fellow human beings.

Before we really get rolling, let me butter the bread first by admitting that my thoughts are, for reasons you will soon learn, primarily aimed at men. I am not in the position to discuss the actions of women in this regard, but I am sure any of the women (girls, gals, ladies, chicks, whatever) that read this could probably attest to this issue. Now that you have my disclaimer, let’s chat…

There is probably not a single person on the face of this planet that has not had to use the public restroom. Whether it is at the mall, or at work, or at church, all of us have been subjected to the travails of public restrooms. There are too many disgusting features of such places of relief to list, and I’m sure we could palaver all day about the nastiness that is public restrooms (for the record, I have heard that women’s restrooms are much more disgusting than the men’s room, if you know exactly why, drop me a line). But, plethora of topics aside, let us stay on point here and talk about the main issue at hand.

I am not one to drop off a dinky load in a public restroom. I know some of you out there have no problem with it, and I applaud your tenacity. However, I am not one of those people. Personally, I don’t even like taking a leak in a public restroom, much less shedding my drawers (partially at least) and blasting a dookie. So, knowing this little tidbit of information, I can safely say that the following situation does not apply to me.

Guys (and gals of course), if you feel the need take a dump in a public restroom, is it that difficult to refrain from talking on your mobile phone? I know that some people are just that important, and perhaps your constitution is going to take the better part of the day, but it seems a little, um, gross, to me that you feel the need to engage in idle chit chat while pinching a loaf. Think about the person on the other line. Does he (or she) know you are dispensing some soft serve while you are talking about what to have for dinner? I would argue that if the person knew you were engaged in a round of colon bowling that she (or he) would seriously object to continuing the conversation and would more than likely grant you leave from the present conversation so that you could concentrate on dropping a deuce. Of course, if you are forthright enough to tell your chat buddy that you are exorcising the demons, I probably should not object so strenuously, but alas, I still feel it is beyond inappropriate.

Restrooms, especially ones of the public variety, are there for you to get in and get out, not to hold a phone conversation regarding the latest episode of Gray’s Anatomy (that’s for you ladies). Some folks may not work so well under pressure, and if you are undercutting another person’s ability to roll some logs, then you are doing a great disservice to your fellow man. Oh, and one last thing before I forget, don’t talk to me while I am taking a leak. In my opinion, draining the lizard is not happy time social hour. Thank you for your cooperation.

–Keanu Reeves