Horn Broken, Watch for Finger!

Yes, it's been around for awhile, but every so often there are clever lines that just withstand the test of time. I was behind a truck with this bumper sticker today and it's just so subtly funny I still have to chuckle.

Of course, then I blew right by him and flipped him off as I went past.

I'm Going Mad

Taking a walk on a bright sunny day, my shadow was outlined in front of me. With an iPod and headphones around my ears, the silhouette of my head was startlingly similar to that of Alfred E. Newman!

Middle Age

I had the privilege of spending the weekend investing my hard fought compensation in a water-park resort at the Wisconsin Dells. Not only did I feel the speed as I hung on for dear life on one of those slippery inner tubes as I glided through those Teflon tube slides, I began to wonder about those middle aged folk that hovered around me like zombies in their faded speedos. My initial thought as I walked by in my svelte hardbody was the old expression "old tire" in reference to the mid-section. And that was just the women! So where did we come up with that expression? Does the mid-section actually resemble a Goodyear when one hits 45?

Britney Spears Naked!

Okay, this was really just a cheap ploy to get someone, anyone, to read our blog. But seriously, after all that was written about our Brit after the MTV awards, you would think she was the second coming of Roseanne Barr. Say what you will about her (and there is a long list of shortcomings), she still looks fine. There's just no reason to have the audio turned up.

Shacking Up

And how exactly should we refer to a person's co-habitant without the formality of marriage? Somehow the use of "live-in" in my last post seemed somewhat vague. Using the term "live-in lover" seems a little over-the-top and frankly paints a picture I don't want to look at. And once people are in their 50's, "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" should no longer apply. Ladyfriend? Manfriend? I'm afraid they're simply dating. Husband and wife are clearly incorrect because these people have made a conscious decision to not be exactly that.

Oh well, I'll just ask my roomie.

Show Me the Money!

I work with someone who tells me that their "live-in" is an excellent investor. Mind you, these people have received a few million dollars (outside of investing) in recent years - I think that may have gone a long way toward this "excellent" investing track record.

I'm always rather skeptical of people who brag of their own success or the success of those near and dear. However, as I contemplated my own investment skills, I came to a conclusion. I'm an excellent borrower!

I may not invest much but I sure can bring it in! Well, there is that minor catch of having to give it back some day but for now I'm a regular debt magnet. Mortgage? Got it. Line of credit? All over it. Car loans? You know it! And credit cards? I think there is a forest in Washington designated for the exclusive use of sending me pre-approved credit card offers.

Oh yeah, don't bother telling me about your financial prowess - I'm right there with Warren Buffet. Well, maybe across from him - with a loan document placed in front of me.

If I Stole the Memorabilia

What you are about to read is entirely hypothetical...

Let's say I'm a famous former professional athlete. And let's further say that certain mementos of my career had fallen into the hands of others - and I wanted them back. How would I go about going to get them back? Hmm.

First I would have to develop a plan. Let's see, as a famous former professional athlete, my face would be familiar to thousands. Perhaps a covert plan would make sense. After all, bursting into a room to confront the scurrilous thieves would be foolish since they would all know who I am.

Next, I guess I would have to assemble a team. Perhaps a gang of gun-toting thugs is in order? No, I think I need more of an intellectual bunch. Someone who could disarm security and sneak around without detection.

I think that should cover it. Yes, if I stole the memorabilia, I think I would organize a gang of gun-toting thugs to shout obscenities and generally bully people around in a crowded hotel room until I get what I want.

But again, this is all strictly hypothetical.

Seasons in the Sun

Amazing how things change, yet they are so different. Take cars, for example. It's that time again to begin thinking of the new models that are rolling off the assembly line, and also how you got cheated from buying what you thought was a great deal last year, only to find out that the new version is $500 less than what you paid AND includes dual sunroofs AND a nifty feature where you push a button and your seat turns into a massager! But this is life, and just as the seasons must change, so too must the old cars. I used to think that the car I bought would be timeless, and even would go as far as ridiculing the new style, being smug that I made the right decision. However, as time marches on, I've become enamored with the advances in technology, and find myself growing to like the new style! Am I just the by-product of sophisticated marketing or is this something more sinister?

All I know is that the Prius is beginning to look more attractive to me. Perhaps, it is because of my fascination with how the hybrid works, the incredible gas mileage, or the number of coeds I see driving by in them.

Mad Scramble

It was amazing to watch the historic event of Barry Bonds' record breaking steroid induced home run shot. I happen to be watching it live on TV, and realized that steroid or not, that ball would be worth a few Winnebagos when the dust settled. What was most amazing was to see the inhumanity of the fans as they pummeled each other to just trying to grasp the precious tar laced, leather stitched ball. As people literally jumped on and bloodied each other, the sheer pandemonium struck me that humankind and sports have regressed into the dark ages. Planet of the Apes is no longer just a strange movie, but it is here. Think about the macabre soccer matches when the fans storm the field ready to wreak havoc. Take for example the violence that occurs in the streets after any major world championship. Is it the media, the greed, the competition that says we must win at all costs? Or is it a sinister gene that lays dormant from years past that is steadily emerging? Why can't I just live in peace in my Infiniti G38 while savoring my banana knowing that some sucker out there bought a G35 for the same cost with less horsepower and frills?

When in Rome. . .

Ever notice that the most articulate speaker becomes full of over used cliches when he joins a baseball team? Why is it that during an interview, a Stanford grad like Mark Prior spews "we'll just take this one game at a time." Just what does that mean? Perhaps, that's been his trouble all along! Somehow, good ole Stanford boy got confused and was playing thirteen games at a time? How about my personal favorite: "you have to keep your eye on the ball." Duh?!?

Great Moments in All-Star Game History

I can't believe about 35 years have passed since Pete Rose bowled over Ray Fosse to score a run in the All-Star game. One of the most memorable plays in baseball history and one that effectively ended Ray Fosse's career.

Quite the contrast this evening as Alex Rodriguez pulled up in front of Russell Martin as Martin grasped the ball in front of home plate. With both hands facing forward in front of him (as if to say "don't hurt me"), Rodriguez came to a stop as Martin gingerly tagged A-Rod out.

What a difference now that the game "counts".

Welcom Back

I hate to admit it, but after taking off for two weeks in what was like Haiti, and just as hot as Hades, I really missed posting. Kind of like missing Heity Cruz who used to play for the Cubs, I think in the Eighties. Speaking of the Cubs, I'm amazed that they are on this incredible winning pattern. In fact, their inspired play has allowed my attention to expand beyond the game. For example, I was watching today's game against the Nationals, and noticed that their first baseman, Dmitri Young, looks alot like a cross between Linc Hayes and Bill "mad dog" Matlock. Who has afros these days anyway? He looks a little pudgey, but they you look over in the dugout and see Ray King who looks like he hasn't many Whoppers in his lifetime. He must be carrying close to 300 pounds with that overhanging gut of his. I wonder if Rafael Belliard is just keeping a spot warm until they can get Prince Fielder's big ass over to Washington.

Cheap and Lazy Bastards!

Whatever happened to honoring someone on their special occasions by getting off one's lazy ass and taking a trip to the local Hallmark store (with those cute names they used to have like "Gertrude's Hallmark")? People can't plunk down $1.50 for a nice card anymore? Well, maybe not $1.50 but perhaps $2.49 might do the trick. But I digress.

No, nowadays, we all just log on to the Internet and send someone some lame e-greeting for no charge at all. No time spent driving to the store. No spending half an hour reading each and every card (especially the racy one's for the guy's even if it's your wife that you're buying for). Oops, I digress again.

I long for the days when people cared! Cards were cards! People were people! Hookers were cheap! Damn, there I go again.

Anyway, I suppose a nice blog posting is as good as any card would be.

On The Road Again

Open Road Tolling has come to Illinois! And along with this advancement in technology comes appropriately new signage - a series of delightful pictures that only the artists themselves can truly understand. Sort of like a drive-through museum I suppose!

However, I think I'd prefer that drivers unfamiliar with the Illinois highway system be more focused on proper lane usage rather than assessing the merits of "fine" artwork. Lately, newer signs have appeared based on research conducted by our local toll authority. Apparently this research has yielded an astounding result. Drivers find the use of words on these signs to be helpful! Who'd have thought!

Nice to know that a species that advanced from Hieroglyphics to language thousands of years ago can now... well, do the same thing yet again. Let's get to work on reinventing that wheel thing now.

Shock Jock Don Imus

Why are people named Don or Donald so "nappy headed" anyway? Think about it. One one hand we have the always mundane, and wacky mane, but somehow a guilty pleasure, Donald Trump, affectionately referred to as the Donald. On the other, we have crazy Don Imus, current mascot for the Rutgers womens basketball team and his flowing brittle, electric shock, grey "do" that he claims is his real hair. Donald duck, for instance, is another character, literally, that has unusal locks. And let's not forget that perpetual Hawaiian idol himself, Mr. Don Ho, who somehow keeps getting dragged into the Rutgers controversy. . . but I digress, who happens to have that tropical unkept style that the islanders all tend to mimic with more passion than a kiwi fruit. And finally, somewhere out there is Don Corleone who likes like a horse's ass or is that a horse's head? Ever look at Don Henley lately?

Less we forget that universal icon of boxing promotion and oversize Smurf, my personal favorite, and Mike Tyson's savior, the efferscent and ebullient, the King of Dons, Don King!

I rest my case.

Oprah Winfrey

Why do talk show hosts make so much money, and have so much influence? Is this indicative of how warped society is that it values the ribald likes of Jerry Springer by awards him gobs of money to showcase lesbian midgets gone wild while doctors and lawyers have to skip their lobster cocktail appetizers because they cannot afford it? Aren't ambulance chasers worthy of a little amenities now and then?

This leads me to the conclusion that Jed Clampett was really the father of Anna Nicole Smith's daughter. I didn't even know Zsa Zsa was married to that cad. Didn't she settle down with Big Ed Albert in sunny Hooterville? Or did I miss that episode since I was too busy watching Maury?

Baseball, Hotdogs, Apple pie, and HGH

There's pine tar in the air and hypodermic needles in the trash bin, so it must be that time of hope again that is affectionately known as spring training. We have several of yesterday's superstar players trying to make it back to the fame and glory of big league baseball. First, a personal favorite of mine is Eric Gagne who's name no one can truly pronounce correctly, and is the son of the infamous former world wrestling champion Vern Gagne who is trying to come back, yet again, from a couple of miserable years spent recuperating from arm surgery. After countless years of incredible success, and a Cy Young award to boot, he is trying to prove he still can outwit the hitters he made look so hapless in the past. Someone, please tell him to lose the old dorky, Chris Sabo-type, aviator goggles. He looks like a Japanese zero. If it's supposed to be intimidating, then someone should tell him Chris Sabo's nickname was Spuds Mackenzie. Hardly, the moniker that could strike fear in anyone's heart.

And that us back to doe. I mean dough. Or is it fame that brings us the enigma known as Slammin' Sammy Sosa? After repeated denials that he took steriods, he was embroiled in controversy in Chicago who previously claimed him as their hero. But after walking out on his teammates during the last game of the season, and claiming he was misquoted for outright lying, he tried to prove all his critics that he was wrong as he was shipped out on his ego inflated ass to Baltimore where he made Corey Patterson (another Chicago Cub's castoff) look like a star. After bailing out, like he does with any inside pitch, Sosa decided to retreat to his palatial home and stare at his 20 foot likeness of himself that adorns his foyer. Now, why would anyone claim his ego is as big as his ass? So here he is in all his glory, and is hitting .500 for the Texas Rangers. Of course, spring training doesn't count, and there is a long season ahead of us, but hope springs eternal. And hopefully, for Sammy, some of those springs contain a little human growth hormone or steriods if he is to truly compete against the big boys. All it would take is one brush back pitch, and I would bet, Mr. Sosa, decides to high tail it back to his safe abode, and remember when he had the city of Chicago in his clutches. I'm hoping that in a few years they start a steriod league and have the Palmeiros and Bonds represented. My fear is that we would be fielding a double A ball team in Chicago, and would risk ending up with the worst record in the National League. But, hey!!!!

Only two things that you can always count on. . .

Taxes and Jock Itch. Yep, it's that time of the year again when we shed our cycle of excuses and sit down for a lonely weekend with nothing but dried ketchup stained receipts and our trusty ten key calculator. Uncle Sam is asking for another donation, and I aim to please. By the way, I wonder if Uncle Sam ever gets lonely? Isn't there supposed to be an Aunt Samantha to keep him warm during these cold winter days? But I digress. Anyway, here I am plunking away trying to figure out how I can keep the "revenooers" from taking the farm. Or taking me to the cleaners. I guess I should be taking one for the gipper. Why is the tax code so damn complicated? I sincerely believe that they instituted it to see which one of us has the fortitude to actually study the details and spend countless hours trying to determine if I can save 32 cents on that alleged business call to Aunt Myra. After sheer frustration, I will eventually give up and decide to let the federal government take it. I suppose it is good fiscal sense to get people frustrated in order to make more money. Of course, I would rather be frustrated with an image of Britney Spears, but that's another story. Enough! Now I must be a good patriotic citizen and do my civic duty. Can I claim that deciduous conifer that shaped like Aunt Myra as a dependent?

Speak Out for Change!

I'm not one to turn my back on technology but I'm starting to long for the days when cashiers actually counted the change they returned to their customer. I think those days left when the electronic cash register came on the scene and simply indicated the exact change to be returned.

I remember selling a cheeseburger, fries and a coke for a mere 89 cents when I worked at the local McDonald's. After receiving a five dollar bill for payment, the proper procedure was to drop eleven cents in the purchasers hand ("that's one dollar") followed by 4 singles ("two, three, four and five dollars"). And those were the days when virtually all transactions took place over a counter inside the restaurant.

Nowadays, when drive-thru lanes are common practice, I get handed my change bills first with the change on top. Invariably this leads to a balancing act with the coins to keep them from sliding out of my hand. Of course, with the currency between my hand and the coins, I have no feel for the change as it skates across the bills like Michelle Kwan at Rockefeller Center.

I say it's time for change! (no pun intended - for once.) Can't someone train these people to hand out the coins first? How hard of a concept is this to grasp? I think the fast food restaurant industry must make up for razor thin profit margins with all of the lost coins customer lose in the drive-thru lane. I, for one, am mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!

The Colorado Emissions Test

I spent about an hour at one of Colorado's emissions testing facilities recently. This no doubt is one person's attempt at eradicating the brown cloud that occasionally hangs over the city of Denver. I wonder if it really works. Consider this:

• I spent about half an hour in line, with motor running (I would advance a few feet every so often), along with a steady stream of 25 or so other cars waiting in line with me.
• The test itself (again, with motor running) took another 30 minutes or so.
• With nothing better to do than watch the various monitors scattered about the facility, I noticed that there were frequent delays because the "ambient" air was often above "acceptable" levels. Do you think that may have had something to do with all of those cars at the facility, engines idling away?

Perhaps there may be a more efficient way to reduce Denver's air pollution. Maybe closing the emissions testing facilities would help?

Tis the season . . .

• where carolers ring your bell incessantly and sing off key in hopes of garnering a little holiday cheer and some vintage toddy
• where normal neighbors attempt to compete vigorsly on how much wattage they can apply to their yards to bring the electric switching station to its knees
• where office workers everywhere stress at how to come up with original excuses for not having to attend that obstentatious office party where the boss's flirty wife is obnoxious and everyone has to put on the painted smile right before the .0035 merit checks are handed out
• where inflatable Santas dominate subdivision everywhere by casting an effervescent red hue across the entire skyline and chokes out any possibility whatsoever for any living creature to obtain any ultraviolet radiation
• where you attempt to find a parking spot within the same zip code as the mall despite the fact that even the handicapped spaces are triple parked by cell phone toting, able-bodied, denizens who happen to have a unscrupulous brother-in-law who can sign for the disability placards that can easily be reproduced on a 19.50 color printer. . . if you can only get a spot to buy one at the mall before the moon surfaces.
• where you can watch "It's a wonderful life" for the umteenth time and still get misty eyed over the incredible personality tranformation of George Bailey before you realize that all the bullied, arrogant, crass, and condescending remarks made by the main character seem so much meaner each year where you begin to hope just this one year Mr. Potter finally succeeds or turns into a nice guy via Scrooge transformation
• where you attempt to send that special, hard sought gift for that distant favorite friend only to realize all your packing peanuts refuse to stay in the overpriced corrugated box, but instead decide to static cling you, your dog, your lawn, and entire carpeted surface of your house
• where you can begin a lawsuit to question the need for a nativity scene in front of the local post office even though such a scene will further complicate pedestrian traffic that has crawled to a stop, but regardless will lead to an endless stream of attorneys filing claims on behalf of those who need to see a Kwanzaa display, Menorrah candles, etc. even though the holiday was somehow meant to represent someone's birthday
  
• where those who generally implore others to recycle and save the planet from some unforeseen danger decide to ravage an innocent forest by decimating the latest pine tree to dry out for a month in the comfort of their living room only to be sent reeling head first into the nearest street come January
• where we are barraged with generic christmas letters outlining the latest insignificant accomplishments in poetic prose despite that fact that Uncle Billy who was sent up the river and Auntie Anne is now Auntie Fred were somehow overlooked
• where no one amongst the sane population known as civilization has ever, ever, ever purchased anyone a Lexus as a present despite the marketing claims, but am encouraged that the marketing people truly believe there is some lonely shallow person out there who may bite at the prospect
• where you attempt to be the 15 billionth passenger waiting in line to make it through the airport turnstyles while the other passengers begin to grimace at your holiday green and red socks are on stage display as you take off your shoes through security and realize that the special cotton absorbing material does not retain the smell. . . unfortunately, of your perspiring feet, which obviously alerts the airport personnel who have been observing your awkward movements and decide to detain you and examine you only to determine that you are just "stinky" and place you to the rear of the line to repeat the "groundhog day movie" activities once again
• where you can introduce seemingly insignificant ramblings while still being perceived as the next coming of Kurt Cobain while just trying to wish every one a very happy, safe, and peaceful Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Cool Kwanzaa, Joyeux Noel, Feliz Navidad etc. and the best New Year!
  

Get Smart!

That's an order!

Or at least it could be construed as one. Personally, I'd rather construe it as a sitcom. Agent 86. 99. Who can forget the cones of silence?

This could all be mine! Mine, I tell you!! For a mere $199 that is. Yes, the entire catalogue of Get Smart episodes is available for the low, low price of only $199 from Time Life books.

Okay, maybe the price tag isn't quite as "low, low" as I would like. But I am seriously considering adding it to my Christmas list. Oh, if only Santa read my blog - or, if only anyone read my blog for that matter; but that's a whole different issue. Of course, it may be just as well that Santa doesn't come through; he seems to be using my credit card when he makes his purchases.

Sorry about that, Chief.

Time to give THANKS!

It's that wonderful time of the year that begins shortly before Halloween. No, I'm talking about that profit enhancing enterprise called Christmas. I realize that it's oft overused, but Christmas comes earlier and earlier each year. I noticed the local Wal-Mart already had the Christmas displays up before Halloween. I recall that it was considered sacroligious to begin decorating a tree before Thanksgiving. My, how times have changed! Now, what used to be a joyous occasion, now brings stress to not only the retailers as they scramble to squeeze out that very last cent, but more importantly, it's the average joe who suffers because he has to be up by the crack of dawn to get the newest playstation wiii. Now, I must remind you the most important part of my message: what the begonias ever happened to THANKSGIVING!!!!???!?!? Didn't we forget that this was an important occasion to remember our long ago ancestors who came over on the Mayflower. . . who raped and pillaged the local Indian population. . .er. Native Americans. . .just so we could eat their turkey? Isn't this a day of THANKS?!?! So, I implore you to remember this sacred holiday as you dive in for another round of Aunt Bernice's pecan pie, and think about the other 364 days that we need to appreciate what we have. By the way, I think I'll use Mayflower van lines the next time I move since they go waaaay back. Happy Thanksgiving!

I fight authority and . . .

Because of the era that I grew up, I learned to respect (and abhor) authority. I always try to distance myself from work superiors so as to not appear as the "kiss-up" of the crowd. I do notice the occasional overt "butt-kissers" who do garner some extra attention from the boss, but I sincerely believe that they eventually will be discovered for their shallow intent. Even though I may actually like my boss, I still try to keep my distance, which has led me to the thought: Is it because I do not want to be perceived as a brown-noser or is it my inate perception that a boss should be in a different league, much higher than I? I finally concluded that it must be the former when I witnessed my boss passing gas in the adjacent urinal. Damn animal, needs to find some social etiquette!

Everything I learned in life, I learned in college

If you truly think about it, you were naive, yet ecstatic, yet prepared for life when you were in school. Those formative years chasing the young nubile coeds were what life was truly about. Besides raging hormones, you were gifted with "knowing everything" and caring about nothing. No real responsibiliites to speak of; certainly no mortgage concerns, car debt, braces, etc. You had the entire future to consider and all was incredibly fun and possible. No limitations as you dreamed about learning to drive a motorcycle, skydiving, and fornicating with a million plus women. College was an opportunity to grow and transition into adulthood. No longer would you be concentrating on Power Rangers but the Texas Rangers. What is amazing to me is the sight of overaged grey haired men back on campus trying to relive those days of glory, as they mumble along the quad, thinking about what might have been. I think I actually saw a balding one driving by in his new corvette the other day.

I Just Adore a Penthouse View

Load up the wagons people, Oliver Douglas is heading to New York! Apparently he got allergic to smelling hay and is looking for Park Avenue now, baby. Please, please, please, just leave the pig, Eb and that fat Mr. whatever his name was home.

Next thing you know, he'll be movin' on up to the east side... to a de-luxe apartment in the sky. Hey, by the way, could you get me a piece of the pie?

Milestone Birthdays

No, I did not say headstone, but milestone. Amazing how we wait until we reach a milestone birthday to reflect on our achievements or rather lack there of. Think about how many people consider this the time to start jotting down skydiving, college degrees, buying a corvette, etc. when most people observing would consider that too late to truly enjoy the aforementioned activities. How many times have you seen that balding, over-aged, hawaiian print wearing corvette driver whizzing by? I think we should try to get as many accomplishments done while we truly have the capacity to enjoy them, and accept the fact that when we reach 50 that the penis enlarger just won't work.

Grab Some Bench

Since when does a baseball manager need a bench coach? Is in-game strategy so complex that the manager can't figure this stuff on his own? For 100 years, managers such as Connie Mack, John McGraw, Sparky Anderson and Lee Elia got by without the benefit of a bench coach. Of course, Lee Elia may have needed a clubhouse coach, but that's a different matter entirely.

What? I can't hear you!

Being the cool hipster that I am, you'll occasionally see me cruising the mean streets of my neighborhood wearing an iPod. Furthermore, as a music afficionado - and world traveler - I have invested in an expensive set of headphones that not only transmit the tunes directly to my ears, they also cancel out unwanted external noises. Or so they say.

The noise cancelling feature is operated by a swith on the left earpiece. I have observed that when I move the switch to the on position, the music in my ears becomes louder. Could this be the noise cancellation technology at work? A simple increase in volume to "cancel out" those harsh exterior sounds. Perhaps this technology is not all its advertised to be! Have I been had?!

Alexis Gomez

So when did the father of the Addams family get a starring role on the Tigers? What kind of name is Alexis anyway. No wonder he's had such a tough time in the major leagues. He's got a woman's name! Imagine how Brandon Inge must feel when he has to tell his wife that he's going out with Alexis after the game. What the hell kind of name is Inge anyway? Sounds like something that keeps a door swinging, not a ballplayer. Almost as bad as Neifi Perez. I mean what is that?!?! How in the world do you curse a child by naming him a "Neifi!" What were they thinking? As if, Perez dispenser is not bad enough, they have to label the poor kid with a moniker that sounds like a freaking fairy. Now don't start me on Wilfredo Ledezma. His first name sounds like a white sauce for pasta while his last name is a skin disease. Great combination. Too bad he was saddled with both and bad acne. Jamie Walker? Didn't he star in Good Times? He's just Dyno-MITE! My favorite is obviously, Kenny Rogers. Damn, he makes good chicken!

Genuine

Somewhere amongst our possessions sits a genuine Swiss Army Knife - manufactured by Victorinox. And then there's the business portfolio I carry from time to time with the Swiss Army logo; it is made by Wenger - the "manufacturer of the genuine Swiss Army Knife". In our closet we have an officially licensed Swiss Army suitcase also made by the "maker of the genuine Swiss Army Knife" - Swiss Gear.

If all these people claim to make the same thing, can there really be a genuine Swiss Army Knife? In fact, does a "neutral" country even have an army? And if there is no army, is there even a knife?

I submit that this entire Swiss Army Knife thing is a fraud. Perpetrated, I'm sure, by those same people that try to pass off the servers at Olive Garden as real Italians.

Catch a Tiger by . . .

Ok. It's late in the baseball season, and the Detroit Tigers no longer have the best record in baseball like they have all year long. That distinction now belongs to the hated New York Mets. There is the chance that this could be another subway series with dismal ratings that only a Lee Mazilli fan would enjoy. However, the season is wrapping up to be a real thrilla in Manilla as the ghost of Kirby Puckett and those surging Minnesota Twins prepare to overtake Leyland's Lions. But don't count out the Jim (Thome) Sox even though they probably stink like an old used pair of gym socks right now. I think they'll go down to the wire, and perhaps a little cheating like a dropped third strike. But then, they don't cheat in baseball, steriod boy, do they? Certainly, not on the South side of town.

Toastmasters International

I recently heard of this organization, and believe I have now heard it all. Imagine, a group dedicated to the love of toast! A global entity at that! Just imagine - we can have a Sushimasters, or a Weinermasters, or a head cheese masters, or even a Webmasters Intl! I, myself, recently joined the much heralded: Sexmaster organ-ization. Feel free to bow to me accordingly, envious folk.

They're Fake!

When I dine at a Mexican restaurant, it seems perfectly natural that the servers and busboys are Hispanic. Likewise, at the local Chinese restaurant, I have no problem believing that the staff is all Asian. Somehow, though, I'm having a hard time believing all of these waiters and waitresses at the Olive Garden are Italian.

Sure, they sound Italian. Most times they may even look Italian. But when I"m outside of the Olive Garden, I almost never run into any Italians. Hispanics and Asians are all over the place.

HIJACKED POST: Perhaps if you ate INSIDE, you would notice the Italians!

Baseball and Strategy

Whatever happened to strategy anyway? I look at the so called "strategists" in baseball today, and notice that the big league managers, like Dusty Baker, have no plan when they manage a game. Doubtful? When was the last time anyone ever executed a trick play, like the hidden ball trick? Rarely does anyone even consider stealing home. I would be happy if anyone even considers hitting behind the runner to sacrifice himself for the good of the team. Fundamentals are no longer basic. Everyone wants that next big contract or endorsement, and is in it for himself.

Now let's examine the business world. When do companies ever really carry off real long term strategy instead of pandering to Wall Street analysts. Instead of prostituting oneself, a CEO should just say, the public be damned, I'm going to do what's right for this company, and invest for the future. Perhaps, they could buy a baseball team, like the Cubs!

Chucky Baby

Little known baseball factoid: that infamous manager known far and wide as having a body far and wide, and managed the Pittsburgh Pirates to a world championship on the strength and abiltiy of Dave Parker to outrun duracells in the outfield, Chuck Tanner, is credited with having hit an Illiad, or homer, to those less educated than me, on his first pitch. What? Don't believe moi? Check out this, you mentally incompetent, imbeciles:

http://www.baseballlibrary.com/baseballlibrary/ballplayers/T/Tanner_Chuck.stm

Let those who doubt my wisdom and tenacity, cry for you mommies!

Stop! I've fallen and . . . the world keeps spinning!

Why is time going at warp speed these days? The old adage that time flies when you're having fun just doesn't ring completely true. I seem to recall the days when things would just drag on when I was in grammar school. High School in all of its charms still seemed to last forever. Somewhere between college and the REAL WORLD, I must have fallen into some kind of time warp. I occasionally feel like the arch-foe of that speedy super hero, the Flash, who was the slowest man on earth, the Turtle. (Not sure who the comic book author was, but what a dumb premise, but I digress). I still can remember Christmas like it was yesterday, and now I look up and the 4th of July is right around the corner. Now before I can savor the sound of M-80s blasting away my neighbor's mailbox, I need to go out and fertilize my lawn for the coming of leaf raking season. Before you know it, we will be tossing a few turkey drumsticks over the fence, and gearing up to bring out the artificial forest product. I think this year I'll just leave it up, right next to the Easter bunny, the 4th of July flag, and my framed picture of our Commander in Chief, John F. Kennedy.

Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence

As the school year closes, I am reminded of the number of graduation cermonies currently taking place and the increase in number of cars clogging my cities' arteries. I am sitting in my car in congested traffic wondering if they could come up with a wonder drug, like Lipitor, to clean up this mess. That's when pomp and circumstance came to mind. Just when did we ever equate pomp and circumstance with graduation? Probably the same guy who was crazy enough to first eat a lobster! I wonder if he started gnawing on a hedgehog or scorpion, and decided that lobster was more attractive. Probably a caveman version of Jackass, the movie. Now back to my original point, what is a pomp anyway? Sounds like a hooker's manager. At least, it would explain "circumstance."

Why do we mark the occasion of a graduation anyway? It's not like there won't be other challenges in life. Almost like giving a false sense of accomplishment when you realize, you've got a long way to go. .

• kissing up to the boss
• falsifying the Enron-esque statements
• serving your time
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's dog
• sleeping with the neighbors's dog of a wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife of a dog
• spending your Saturday's in AA
• pledging your assets for $0.30 on the dollar for bail
• listening to your neighbor about how he has it so bad

. . .to obtain that enriching life that you so much sought after. Of course, you could while away your time keeping your sanity talking about the good old days of innocence and graduation by spending time on a blog.

Remember: Graduation is the beginning of your life. Just imagine those deadbeats who never made it that far, like Steve Jobs.

Peace.

Door Etiquette

Since I was brought up to be somewhat of a gentleman, I will usually open and hold the door for a woman to enter a room or building. I assume the gentlemanliness of this act is derived from the principle of "ladies first". However, the act of opening the door has the added benefit of relieving the woman of the effort of moving the door. This of course raises the question in my mind - what to do with a revolving door.

If the woman precedes a man into a revolving door, the man has followed the ladies first principle to the letter. The woman, though, has then been burdened with the bulk of the effort of moving the door forward. However, should the man precede the woman into the revolving door, thus sparing her some of the effort of moving the door, he has ignored the doctrine of ladies first. So I ask you, which is more gentlemanly with regard to a revolving door: the man first or the woman first?

I posed this question to a female friend that I hold in the highest regard figuring she could provide some guidance. My question wasn't answered but I did sense that she thought psychiatric help may be in order for me. Naturally I now turn to the blogging world for answers. If only we had some readers.

Stir Fired Condoleeza Rice

Ever notice that there are some favorite (or favourite) words? I prefer "persnickety", "eucalyptus", "centrifugal" and wwho could forget the perennial favorite, "jambalaya". Go ahead, and say it, it does feel good.

One Year Anniversary!

On March 31, 2005 the first entry was posted on this blog. The impact it has had on blogdom is immeasurable - largely because the impact is something akin to none. Just the same, this should be the cause of some sort of celebration. Well, maybe celebration is too strong of a word. Perhaps an acknowledgement is in order.

Our first comment appeared almost immediately from someone who now goes by Katy. I don't know who this Katy is but she only commented once and her name has changed a time or two since then. I think Mr. Huge should post a comment on her blog just as a thank you for her input, which was as follows: "Lots of pressure, unh?".

Then there is echotig. She was a frequent commenter in the middle months of this particular publication and one who even caused MH2U to fawn all over her while commenting on her blog. For obvious reasons she has abandoned reading our blog.

There was also this guy named Monkey. He was hired and fired as a "consultant" in the span of about a week. I believe both his hiring and firing were self inflicted.

And now we are left with 2 bored authors and a readership that is non-existent. Please stay tuned to this website during year 2. We might actually post something. Or not. Who really cares anyway.

Ed Farmer's Almanac

I'm sure you've heard about the snow storm that is blanketing the east coast. This made me wonder about the farmer's almanac, and all those predictions. Years ago, presumably, Farmers would rely heavily on what was contained in the almanac. But who creates these weather predictions anyway. Just like the groundhog's shadow. Who came up with the idea in the first place? Besides, just because either predicts a cold winter or vice versa, how do they know what the weather will be in your locale? Just seems ridiculous that anyone would even refer to either one even for entertainment value. Just how entertaining is it to pick up a rodent and shake him in front of a national audience for laughs? Sorry for venting, but now I need to go see Andi Macdowell while you dream of Andy Van Slyke or is it Sam MacDowell. Happy Groundhogs day, you vermint!

Another Conundrum

Yesterday, Antonio Davis of the New York Knicks charged into the stands when he observed his wife in an argument with a neighboring fan. This has created quite a clamor on the sports radio airwaves today with the general consensus being that it was an honorable act he performed - but he should be suspended anyway. And he was, for five games. Given the circumstances, I think the suspension was a tad excessive. However, I do think he should be forced to pay full price for a game ticket ($90 where he was) and fork over $5 for that beer he snuck from the Miller Lite vendor.

Colorado, here we come

I had a rocky relationship with an old flame, but boy did she have a nice set of mountains. She asked me out for breakfast, and guess what? I had a Denver Omelette. She then asked if I wanted to get back together, and instead of Spring-ing to attention, I just responded: Boulder-dash!

How much for that Santa in the window?

Ok. So the commercialization of Christmas has been repeatedly reported, and this is another feeble attempt at another perspective. Why is it that retailers choose this time of the year to cash in on what was originally supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus? (By the way, I'm also referring to the Mexican pronounciation for Jesus to not offend those who can't speak correctly). Just when did we begin to realize that we HAD to buy a tree with embedded lights in the branches, and HAD to spend $745 to keep our economy from sliding into the Iraqi gulf, and HAD to wear women's underwear when you play hockey, er, sorry wrong blog. Anyway, I propose we set aside a special time during the late spring when kids are ready for a big summer where they can freely play with their material things, and celebrate a retail boon. Think about it, we can ignore or forget about "good will toward men" during the midyear and think about greed! By the time, we come to our senses, guess what? It's that most wonderful time of the year. . . again!

By the way, anyone know where I can get a deal on the new Nokia 6256i?

Legal Opinion

I understand that the Boston Red Sox are suing Doug Mientkiewicz to recover the baseball that was used for the final out in the 2004 World Series. It seems that Mr. Mientkiewicz quietly took that baseball home with him since he was the guy who caught the ball for that third out.

Personally, I don't think the Red Sox have a legal leg to stand on. Among other things, I think the legal doctrine of "finders keepers, losers weepers" applies here. Or perhaps "possession is 9/10 of the law". Either way, Doug had the ball last and major league baseball has historically granted full discretion to the final holder of the baseball.

Take the home run for example. Has major league baseball ever gone up to the fan who caught a homer and said "give us back our baseball"? Same with the foul ball.

Perhaps one would argue that a player is not entitled to the same privileges as a fan insofar as ball possession is concerned. Poppycock, I say! (Well, I don't really ever say poppycock but it seemed like a nice aside in this instance.) There are countless times that I have witnessed a fielder make a catch for the final out of an inning and then casually toss the ball to some greedy fan in the stands. Are these players ever fined or suspended (or sued)? I don't think so. Major league baseball has therefore implicitly granted full discretion to said player with regard to the final disposition of the baseball. Just because Doug's baseball has a little more value attached to it (sentimental or otherwise), it doesn't entitle baseball to all of a sudden reverse 100 years of history and attempt to enforce some alleged "rights" that it never cared about before.

Of course, now that the Red Sox have sued, there is even greater notoriety attached to that baseball. The value to Doug is increased even more. I say if the Red Sox want that ball so bad they should by it back from Doug; at the newly inflated price. You go, Doug!

After Thanksgiving Sales

Why would a normal, sane human being subject themselves to getting up at 4:00am to get in line with hundreds and thousands of other poor, sleep deprived souls to get a "good deal"? Is it really worth the morning breath, the parking lot hassle, the rude bumps, the non-existent sales clerk who is too busy hiding from the wretched patrons, the commotion, the stress in realizing that another store may actually have a better deal, or worse, have what you need in stock when this one's out! I think not. I propose we go back to simpler times when we have a quiet cholesterol clogging, high starched meal with family members we see once every couple of years as we while away the hours with good in depth conversations of how the family cat got caught in the combine, where we learn more about Aunt Mertle's close encounter with bean salad, and how Billy Joe ended up in the slammer. . . again. I yearn for that simple life that you only can find on the Jerry Springer show. . .

Big Box Retailers

Well, I'm finally home after spending the last 93 minutes of my life at Circuit City trying to return my latest Samsung A950 cellular phone. (Note the unabashed use of brand names in an attempt to generate search hooks from interested readers). I truly believe they have a recruiting strategy to enlist low life, scum sucking, uneducated, rectum like, etc. employees to man the cell desk. This idiot must have been about 300 pounds overweight and was sweating profusely as he tried to wait on a line of three customers, and you guessed it, I was numero three. I watched in disbelief as his turtle-like motions tried in vain to punch the keys on his keyboard to sign up the first customer. Do you know how long it took to type in "William"? Five minutes (after having to backspace because he kept getting it misspelled). Trust me, I timed it. After each keystroke, he had to look over his glasses to see if the character showed up on his monitor as he expected. Amazingly, he finally made it. The customer in front of me interjected that he should just have spelled "Bill", but the clerk just ignored him. (Good thing his name wasn't Richard). Anyway, after an hour, I finally get my turn, and he finally calls me up. Unfortunately, customer number one, Bill (as I like to call him) shows up, and makes a comment to me like "you still here?" To which I was about to respond, but was rudely interrupped by our favorite clerk who asks what he needs. He immediately stops my return transaction and proceeds to cater to Bill's problem. Apparently, he somehow lost the little door that covers his charging port, and wonders if the clerk can get him another one. Great, the idiots are now breeding! Somehow between the store and his home, Bill loses the door, and expects the clerk to help him. Incredibly, the clerk apologizes to me, and goes to the back room to get him a spare one. At this point, I'm ready to take over the controls of the keyboard and give myself a few credits because the clerk just left me alone with a live terminal. Instead, I decide to be nice and start unplugging all the cell phones on display just for fun. There were at least 7 clerks now walking around, but of course, they just ignore me, because I'm at the cell phone booth which is a different world, you know. As the acne faced clerk watches me, he realizes what I'm doing for entertainment, and gives me a smile and exclaims "cool" which I obviously take as an encouraging display of support. I now disconnect the cords from every phone, and then satisfaction becomes mine. The phones begin beeping. I imagine there's some type of security alarm in the event someone's trying to walk off with one. The beeping becomes increasingly annoying to the clerks but, surprisingly, they do nothing! Well, the cell clerk comes waddling back and gives the part to Bill and gets him on his way. The clerk finally gets back to me and proceeds to complete my transaction. Meanwhile, the beeping is still going on in the background. He comments to me that "boy that's driving me crazy", and admits that it must be one of his cell phones disconnected. Thankfully, he decides to work with me rather than investigate. He's down to the last question as to why I'm returning the phone. I'm tempted to explain that I'm returning it because I HATE THIS ENTIRE EXPERIENCE AND STORE, but I catch myself and say that I have no reason. Again, he looks puzzled, and tries to see whether "no comment" is an appropriate response on his drop down menu. He seems enamored with the drop down list as if he's never been on a computer before. He finds some generic answer on the list, but lo and behold, it prompts him for another response. He takes 2.5 minutes to type "empl not nown (sic)". Trust me, I know how long 2.5 minutes is. Finally, he completes my transaction, and now I am finally out the store. I scrutinize the credit and ensure that it matches my original receipt. As I get up to leave, he hands me my phone back and puts it in another bag! I begin to walk out the store again, but uncharacteristically, I hesitate after getting up to the door, and decide to leave the bag at the customer service desk. Although it would be amusing to have taken the phone, especially after all the trouble, I just couldn't do it. I figure with idiots like him working at Circuit City, there days are numbered anyway. Now for my latest experience with Wal-Mart. . .

This is a Test

I just noticed this "Blog This" hyperlink at the top of our blog. Having now clicked on it I see that it opens up a page that apparently should be used to create a new post. It wasn't actually obvious at first but once I expanded the window, and deleted whatever text was in this space I'm currently writing in, it became much more apparent. But, as I said, this is only a test.

Mama Mia!

The Dancing Queen must be 45 by now! It seems like just yesterday she was young and sweet, only 17.

It is what it is

Is there ever a time when it is what it isn't? Or conversely, it isn't what it really is. Maybe that's when things really aren't what they seem to be. But when things really are what they seem to be, then that's when they are what they are. Or, in the singular, it is what it is.

They're Not Marshmallows!

The marshmallows in Lucky Charms have got to be the most un-marshmallow-like food items ever. I'm sure those crunchy little things in the Lucky Charms are virtually pure sugar like your run of the mill marshmallow but they don't taste like a marshmallow and they certainly aren't soft like a marshmallow. I most definitely don't want any floating around in my hot chocolate.

I think we need to be a little more racy to attract attention!

No not the Jimmie Johnson of Nascar fame type of racy, nor the Go Speed Racer either. I'm talking about plain raw sex! So, have you seen the latest National Geographic which depicts the mating habits of the portuguese dweezil?

(Please note the blatant use of brands to hopefully get snared by cheap search engines).

Are you a chair?

Why, in the interest of political correctness, have we replaced the word "chairman" not with "chairperson" but with simply "chair"? More and more I see people referred to as the "Chair" of this organization or the "Chair" of that function. It seems too concise to me.

However, in the interest of blogging, and under the presumption that the "Chair" is in charge, I offer up this additional suggested terminology to go with chair...

Table - the all knowing wise counsel; the chair is really not useful without the table.
Credenza - George, from Seinfeld.
Mat - the designated punching bag; the one who takes all the abuse.
Napkin - the one who has to clean up after everyone else.

Milk is a Cereal Killer

This is especially true with your flaked cereals (Corn Flakes, Frosted Flakes, Raisin Bran, etc.) Cheerios and Apple Jacks, on the other hand, stand up pretty well to milk. It's no wonder that "a bowl a day keeps the bullies away" with regard to Apple Jacks. Now Cracklin' Oat Bran practically requires milk to not do severe damage to the delicate tissues located throughout the mouth. And your Granola type cereals really don't give a damn about milk one way or the other.

And finally, why don't people pour chocolate milk on cereal?

Let's Go Mets!

I can't believe it will be 20 years since a Mets world championship next year. What has happened to our beloved team? Tom Glavine was our second best pitcher and he'll be 40 next year! Carlos Beltran was an all time great in the playoffs last year as an Astro - this year as a Met he was mediocre.

I think I know the missing ingredient - we need a player with a name like Mookie. How can anyone lose with a Mookie on their team? I know they've tried by getting a Kazuo and a Shingo but we really need a Mookie. Or maybe a Tug.

What's in My Fridge?

We have an all butter pound cake in our refrigerator. A Sara Lee product. But I have 2 problems with our all butter pound cake. First of all, it's not all butter. If it were all butter it would be exactly that, butter. And then the modifier "all butter" would be useless because what's the point of labeling butter as "all butter butter"?

My next issue is the pound part. Our cake weighs 10.75 ounces. Sounds to me like we were ripped off for 5.25 ounces of cake. Or was it butter that we were shorted? I can say this for certain, if I wanted to butter my toast in the morning with my "all butter" product, I'm about one pound short of being able to do it.

The New Five Blade Gillette Razor

I'm so embarassed. I actually bought into that two blades is better than one thing - but I figured that two blades was the absolute peak of shaving requirements. But then came three blades. And four blades. And now somehow we actually need five blades to shave?!

I suppose at some point there must be a limit. At a maximum I figure the number of blades should not have a combined height that exceeds the length of shavable inches on the average face. I think that would make about 50 blades.

Then there is the weight consideration. Once the razor exceeds a certain number of ounces I would assume one's dexterity would begin to diminish. There has to be a point where the benefit of extra blades is offset by the loss of agility as one struggles to move this behemoth across one's face.

And what exactly is the benefit of all those extra blades? The twin blade supposedly used the lead blade to pull a hair a little further out of the face while the second blade chopped the sucker off. Are we now to assume that the first four blades each pull that hair ever further out of the face just before number five comes along to finish the dirty deed? At some point I fear a vital organ might come peaking out with all those objects tugging on my face. God forbid that I shave one of those right off of me. That would take some kind of after shave to soothe that razor burn!

Hurricane Katrina is coming

and will be bringing some hefty waves. Afterwards, I'm sure we'll be walking on sunshine again. And don't it feel good!

We've Lost Our Audience

Or bored them to tears.

Apparently there is not a lot of demand to read through an endless series of nonsensical puns. We've barely added new posts over the last couple of months and as a consequence our readership has dwindled! Even Echotig has only posted a comment or two. And when was the last time we heard from Allen? We need to stir the pot more! I'm willing to post to our blog if Mr. Huge 2 U is willing to post comments on other blogs to generate interest. I'll even try to be interesting - or at least more interesting than this particular posting.

Can I tell you something?

You know what? There are too many catchphrases in society today. You know what I'm saying? I mean, so many things people say seem pre-fabricated. You know - been there, done that. To be honest with you, I think it's gone too far. You know what I mean?

Stop the Insanity!

It has been far too long since something new has been posted in this space as a BLOG. We have been far too preoccupied with frivolous and silly comments that only serve to extend a nonsensical string of puns well beyond the thrust of the blog to which they were attached.

More importantly, in light of our "gentleman's agreement" to only comment on the most recent 4 blogs, this will serve 2 further purposes:

1. It will end the string of St. Louis Cardinal player puns (appropriately at 70 since Mark McGwire was the last pun reference) and,
2. Mr. Huge won't have the last word that he covets so much.

As always, thanks for reading.

Am I Obsessive Compulsive?

There I was a couple of days ago in the middle of a sand trap on one of the local golf courses. Being the sportsmanlike person that I am, I grabbed the rake and smoothed out any trace of my presence in the sand so as not to disturb the next poor guy. As I carefully tended to the landscape, not only did I straighten out my own footprints, I was also taking care of some inconsiderate predecessor's as well. Consciously even, not by accident. This could only mean one thing: I'm an obsessive compulsive person (and I leap to conclusions rather quickly).

There is further evidence. At magazine racks in newstands I've been known to rearrange errant magazines so that they're back in their proper place. After all, we can't have FHM covering up the Time stack, can we? And how about the grocery store? I can't stand having the tomato paste oozing over into the tomato sauce section. And God forbid that the vanilla and butterscotch flavored Jell-O puddings should intermingle.

So there you have it, only one possible explanation - obsessive compulsive.

Or a neatnik maybe.

Are you Dodging my question?

I have been getting a substantial amount of earwax lately to the point that it's literaly falling out of my freaking ear. Hope I don't develop an Eric. Oh no, Gagne with a spoon!

Ever notice that contractors. . .

I'm working with a cement contractor and a landscaper. Fortunately, it hasn't rained too much here because I'm told that whenever it does rain, they cannot perform their work, and that further strains their schedule because of the backup of assignments. Strange, that they are so dependent on the rain forecast since the successful outcome of their "work" is essentially dependent on the rain.

I have this fixation with trash...

This being a holiday week I took the trash out one day later than I normally would. For as long as I can remember this has been the appropriate thing to do during a holiday week. This of course raises the obvious question of "how does my garbage man benefit from a holiday?".

Let's call my garbage man Tom. Tom enjoyed his Memorial Day holiday watching the Cub game on TV. On Tuesday, Tom picks up all of the garbage he would have otherwise picked up on Monday. On Wednesday, he picks up Tuesday's trash and so on through the week. So what happens at the end of the week? Does Tom pick up Friday's trash on Saturday? Would Saturday normally be a day off? If so, why not work on the holiday so Tom can enjoy his usual day off on Saturday?

Does anyone have trash day on Friday? Maybe Friday people just don't get their trash picked up at all during a holiday week. Or maybe they add a few extra houses at the end of the day each day to make up for the lost productivity at the beginning of the week. But who are those people that get added at the end of the day? And how does a customer know he's one of the "late in the same day" customers versus a "next day" customer?

Tomorrow's topic: Do I really over-analyze things?

What ever happened to Vanilla Ice?

I heard that the Ice man was going to be on some reality TV show. Amazing that he made a career off of that one song and wild personality. Only in America. Next thing we'll hear that some guy with a big 'fro who's a fight promoter will end up King.

This is Garbage!

I dragged my trash can out to the curb last night for pickup this morning. That trash can has to be at least 15 to 20 years old by now and is in fine working condition. But what if it wasn't? How would I throw it away?

Every Tuesday evening I leave the trash can and its no longer useful contents by the street. The next evening, there it is again but emptied of the family discards. This is, of course, how the world should work in suburbia. However, say I wanted to rid myself of this can once and for all. What if I wanted a new can to match the house? Do I leave the old can outside without anything thrown inside of it and hope the garbage collectors take the hint? Should I flip it upside down to signify that it died and it's time for burial? I could put it in the recycling bin but I don't think it would fit. I suppose I could leave a sign on the side along the lines of "take this trash and the can it rode in on!". However, I think if I were the trash collector, I would simply take the sign and leave the can. I think someone has to be more clever than that to rid themselves of a trash can.

Why do birds. . .

allegedly NOT leave droppings while in flight? Tell that to my neighbor who told me she got a doozie planted on her head and laundry as she was putting her clothes up on the line.

Amish Furniture

So why is Amish furniture so special? I know it's made by hand, but wouldn't you think that there are other craftmen around that could do as good a job? Also, what is wrong with a high volume production process? One would think that the quality would be consistent and of a higher grade than that of a hand made special anyway. Would you buy an overpriced car because it was hand made? Think about those cars made in 3rd world countries with cheap labor! Production Line Automation is not a bad thing especially considering the cost advantages and the fact that you'll get tired of whatever you bought in a few years anyway. BTW, anyone want to buy a "like new" Subaru?

It's Time for a New Post

Hey! How's it goin'? Guess I'm kind of at a loss for something to say, eh? Dude, get a life. This is so bogus man. What am I talkin' about anyway. Totally cool.

I'm glad you've read this far because I've clearly established there is nothing on my barren mind. Yep, I'm a desert. Not a dessert. But that brings up an interesting question, if you could be any kind of dessert what would you be?

I don't think I'd be cake. Or pie. Maybe ice cream - ice cream is cool. Ice cream with hot fudge. I'm cool but hot! And a little nuts. I guess I'm a sundae.

There you go, top that!

Happy Birthday...

to anyone who may read this post on their actual birthday. For those blog reading hobbyists who happen to pass by when it is not your birthday, please check back on that special day and this post will still be here for you! You may, of course, have to check the archives.

And for those readers whose birthday actually falls on the date of this post and in fact read it today - well, see the title above. I'm sure you're not over the hill and wasting your life away in some smoky, low rent casino in podunk, U.S.A.

Why does Zamboni make me laugh?

We have all heard of the ice surfacing machine, right? So why does the mere mention of the name bring out grins and belly aching laughs? Is it the sound as one pronouces it? Could it be the service it provides? Or is it the weird spelling? Not sure, but I do know that he's one of the best pitchers that ever took the mound. Hopefully Carlos Zamboni can keep his emotions in check before his next start.

Time for Phase 2

Enough of double entendre, innuendo and blatant pandering to the basest of the human instinct. Our heretofore fruitless (save for one much appreciated reader) attempts at generating an audience have not achieved the desired result. Puns certainly have their place in the world - or at least here on this particular blog - but we need more. Something approaching real discourse, though not necessarily rational or intelligent.

My inclination here is to suggest we solicit viewership from family, friends and co-workers. However, a quick mental read of our prior posts leads me think I'd rather start with Mr. H2O's family, friends and co-workers. I might even go so far as to suggest we offer member status to frequent or favored posters so that they are not confined to only comment. In short, we need to network this blog. Create a conblogerate, if you will.

So there you go, Mr. H, invite a friend. Or even a foe. I dare you.

Cingulair vs. Cingular

My doctor prescribed an allergy medication for me today, and for some reason the pills have a weird electronic ring, but the good news is that I stop sneezing whenever I'm on my cell phone. Perhaps, I should have monthly prescription from Cingular instead of a subscription from Cingulair, but what the hay, the comics section is funny.

Phreakin Phunny Puns

So, I see, you resorted to shameless advertising in your feeble attempt at generating interest through the new blog name. Perhaps, we should post a picture of you and call our site: human jack o'lantern? By the way, did you notice the post in the April 19 blog?

Cinco de Mayo

Today is the day we celebrate mayonnaise! Cinco must be some latin word for spread or something like that. I don't know why we don't have a special day for mustard. Or ketchup either for that matter. Of course, one doesn't spread ketchup so Cinco de Ketchup wouldn't make sense. Maybe Pouro de Ketchup! I nominate the fourth of some month (you know, pouro sounds like four-o; hey maybe the fourth of October - the "o" could be for October!)

I'm a frickin' genius!

Wal-Mart

just thought I would see if I could garner some interest by introducing a shameless plug. kind of like your lips on your bosses derriere

Over Spammed

Are you noticing an increase in SPAM ever since we joined Blogger? I had 26 messages today alone. How ironic, most of my messages relate to discount Viagra. I guess they thought I was an impotent executive.

Dirty

Caught your attention, eh? I went to the store today to purchase some top soil for the yard and realized that I also needed some manure for fertilizing the Spring plantings. Feeling pretty good that they both were on sale for 79 cents for 40 pound bags until I reached the line for checkout. As I was standing there in the midst of my fellow patrons, I started thinking how great I deal I got for dirt and a cow's bowel movement. I'm actually paying for crap and essentially nature free land in a plastic bag. THEY should be paying ME to take this garbage out of their store!

Short Blogs

Don't you just hate them? I mean, what's the point?

Unbelievable Sex Positions and Secrets!

and you thought a Marketing degree from Northwestern was a waste.

Hey You - Casual Reader!

Please comment on our blog site! We're looking for viewers. Personally I recommend the Tortoise and Hare or the How are You posts.

So if you just happen to be passing by, please comment.

Thanks.

Use Tax

I just got a letter from my local taxing body indicating that I owe a Use Tax after purchasing my new vehicle. Since I've never had to pay such a tax before, I am questioning the need to do so. Why should I have to pay for a car that I am NOT using? The car is essentially sitting in the garage while I use my other vehicle. Should I ask them for a tax rebate since my car is not being used? My other car was already purchased and USED prior to moving into this lovely midwestern city. After my property taxes doubled since moving here, I would think they would have the decency to not charge me more. What's next? A tax on income? What is this world coming to!!!

Naked Truth

I can't seem to find a blog with naked women. Perhaps, we can put naked stick people on this site?

Shopping Idea

You know Mother's Day is coming up on May 8th. If you're looking for an alternative to the ordinary flowers and candy, the Citgo station at the corner of Rand and Euclid in Mt. Prospect has a gift shop.

Any truth to the rumor that. . .

former Cubs 1st baseman and part-time model, Pete LaCock, is related to Dick Pole, former pitching coach of the Chicago Cubs? And they say nepotism is only skin deep.

The Tortoise and The Hare

With the exception of this present venue, there seems to be an effort to squeeze words out of our vocabulary. Take a look at most sets of instructions - light fixture installation, windshield washer replacement, etc. - crude drawings have replaced the written word. How far we've come as a society!

My favorite example is my lawn mower. Having treated myself to a self-propelled mower, I went the extra mile and picked up a 2-speed model. On the left side of the mower sits the throttle that controls 6.5 horses of raw power. And how is this throttle labeled? High and low? Fast and slow? Nope, it is labeled with pictures - of a rabbit and a turtle.

Now the casual observer would likely reason that rabbits run fast while turtles tend to meander at a rather slow pace. Therefore, rabbit is fast and turtle is slow, right? Well not so fast, Peter Cottontail. What about the story of the tortoise and the hare? We all know who won that race, don't we? And it wasn't the rabbit. It was the turtle!

So let us now extend that logic to the lawn mower. If I want finish mowing as fast as possible, do I trust the outward appearance of rabbits being faster or do I follow the legend of the tortoise and the hare? If I set that lever on rabbit, will I find my mower darting hither and yon across my yard, stopping to talk to the neighbor and generally focusing on everything but mowing the lawn? Conversely, if I shift the lever over to the turtle side, will I find the mower moving so painfully slow that I'll have to start mowing again as soon as I'm done just to keep up?

Two simple words could have solved this conundrum for me - fast and slow (or even high and low). Instead, these crude drawings have led me to merely contemplate - where should I set that lever?

Meanwhile, my lawn is now a foot tall.

Blog On, Blog Off

What do you think of the new template? So cool you can eat right off of it, but please use a spoon as you'll want to get every bite.

Walk in the neighborhood

I took a stroll through several blogs today, and can confidently say that there are a lot of disturbed freaks, horny adolescents, sales pitches, lonely mothers, etc. in blogland. I really don't have any problems with the horny teens or lonely mothers, but some of the bloggers are just plain scary. Whatever happened to good old fashioned people who enjoyed a little rock music in their diet and getting a little cheerleader under the stands? I mean what is happening to the world these days! Next thing you'll tell me is Britney is pregnant. Oh well, blog on!

Duck!!!

Did you realize that most violent crimes occur as a result of domestic violence? If I were you, I would sleep with one eye open. You might consider getting a kevlar vest? At least the hair on the kevlar could make you feel more like a man.

Rocket Man

I'm thinking of adopting a nickname. What do you think of "rocket"? Just imagine as I walk by the mall, and someone yells - "hey Rocket"! or "there goes the pocket rocket".

How are you?

Naturally, I don't really want to know. But that question gets asked thousands of times a day by people just like me who don't really care how the heck you really are. Which makes one wonder why we even bother to ask. Why not just stop at "hi" - or "hello" for the more formal out there. After all, what do we really do armed with the information that the person we just encountered is fine. Or good maybe. Or perhaps they'll say lousy but we know they're really being sarcastic. Of course, if we truly detect that lousy is an honest assessment of how they are, we can use that information to run as fast as we can the other way just in case they may look to us for some desperate measure of help. Yes, there is that benefit - but on the other hand, we probably never would have learned of their despair if we hadn't asked in the first place. So again, why bother?

There are those who don't inquire as to how we are but instead wonder "what's going on". This is a tricky one. The standard response of course is "not much" or "same ol' same ol'". But unlike "fine", which implies that life is generally going along as it should, what does "not much" really say about us? One could say they're fine until they're blue in the face and still feel okay about themselves. Say not much is going on for too long and maybe you'll realize you need to get a life! I think I prefer to be asked how I am.

The obligatory follow up to hello has become so ingrained in our society that I'm afraid we couldn't simply drop the practice just like that. The pregnant pause following "hi" would likely render an uncomfortable chuckle as passing greeters quickly look the other way and move on. Maybe the moment could be filled with more meaningful inquiries such as "where did you buy those pants?" or "was that your wife I saw last night at Durty Nellie's?" The possibilities are limitless. In fact, I encourage - no, dare - you to ask the next person you greet some more meaningful question. Something that tells them you really are interested in how they respond.

As for me, I'm fine.

So Britney Spears is pregnant!

Makes me think of mattresses. Did you ever wonder why mattress manufacturers/retailers come up with so many variations of product names/numbers that it is virtually impossible to compare based on names/descriptions? Wouldn't it be to their advantage to allow consumers to compare based on price? At least, they could save a lot of money instead of having all these cross-references and product tags in their inventory systems. Whoever came up with this idea should have his ass examined!

Lawn Mower

Why don't they invent other things to be self propelled? Wouldn't it be cool to have a self propelled shopping cart or a self propelled office chair? Maybe they could invent a self propelled cart so you could go to work? Perhaps, they could call it a . . . scion?

Went to Chicago this weekend

Amazing how many people don't use their turn signals! After driving around so many aggressive drivers, I became more alert and aggressive as well. I saw two near accidents that resulted from another driver who was adamant that they wouldn't let another car into their lane. I thought someone should invent something where you can push a button and both drivers would be forced to sit in a time out situation until cooler heads prevailed. By the way, who came up with that phrase? On second thought, I think they should invent cars in the shape and composition of bubbles, then we could bump into each other without incident. Of course, if you bubble gets pierced, I wouldn't want to be standing around when you let your gas out!

I went to a party with a friend of mine

He told me a woman had took his pride. Sorry, just being Petty.

Tollis Lane

This toll increase has really increased the amount of traffic in the I-Pass only lanes. I think it would be super if they set up a separate lane for the people who had an I-Pass before January 1.

They Built That City

I have to stop hitting Enter after typing the title! Hey, this is kind of title-ating.

What was Jefferson Starship supposed to have done? Was it destroy rock and roll? I think what happened is that they built San Francisco on top of it (rock and roll that is). That probably accounts for all the hills. What is a rolling hill anyway? I've never heard anyone describe the hills in San Francisco as rolling but they sure are rocking. If these hills are a rocking "Mr. Huge" is probably searching for Farrah - or re-living that first date.

Dr. P is back in town - had a short detour in K.C. Everyone I met was friendly but it sure was dark there.

This "Mr. Huge" thing - just like calling a big guy "Tiny".

Who really cares about Michael Jackasson anyway?

I'm still chasing fantasies about Farrah. Do you think she's a virgin? Do you think she cooks with virgin olive oil? Somehow I want to combine the last few thoughts. Second verse, same as the first. Hey, this is really fun. Too bad I don't have any more wisdom teeth, because I could refill my pain medication.