I was talking with my friend Alan earlier today, both of us sharing some bitching and moaning, when I thought of another new Public Service Announcement. Since my torso has been pretty much scarred of late, along with my knee and hip, and of course my hair loss, which I, much like John Glenn, prefer to refer to as my overabundance of testosterone, about the only thing I've got going for me is the realitively unscathed appearance of my hands. As an aside, that is one of the longest sentances I've ever put in print. So anyway, being unable to actually work for a number of years now, I am always on the lookout for a way to bring some funds into the house. One that does not require me to actually leave the house, as I am not too much into that anymore. What could be better than in home hand modeling? Here's my pitch--"I'm not looking for a hand out; just a hand job." What do you think? I can honestly state that every female nurse I've come into contact this year, and that has been a few, has marveled at my strong and hearty nails; most asking me to trim them. You get kind of punchy when you're being held against your will, and I generally reply, "Why. They just grow back stronger and thicker." Which thoroughly pisses them off. If I'm feeling particularly prickish, I'll exlplain it's the same with trying to trim your pubic hair or giving yourself an ass-wax.
Allright, that last one was uncalled for, but it does have a comedic effect. For the record, I have done the former of that duo a number of times this year. When you are going to have to be naked except for a little piece of paper gown which is unflattering at best, and you find out that they have absolutely no concept of privacy down there, you do tend to do a little preparation. Actually, it wasn't until after my first surgery this year that I was told they wait until after you're sedated and then put in a catheder. I guess that's why they don't call them "Privates" anymore. Funny thing is, and my friends will all back me up on this, I have almost no personal body modesty issues, and nearly everyone who knows me has seen me naked, but I was kind of put off by the fact that they don't mention they're going to be "Putting a straw in your personal can of YooHoo" until after the fact. Mind you there is an upside. My little gender-maker has been handled by some of the most highly paid professionals in the North County area quite a few times this year. How many people get to say that? The ass-waxing however was a total joke, I've never tried that one. I figure if they want to parade you around in gowns with very open ventilation back there, they deserve what they get. I find it funny that when I go to see my ortho surgeon for an exam, the first thing the assistant tells you when you are shown your room is to remove your shirt. Then, and this is consistant, they want x-rays, and ask you to put your shirt back on while you walk down the hall "for modesty's sake." Really. So you're telling me that your nurses and physician's assistants and x-ray technicians have never seen a man with his shirt off before? That must truly make going to the beach in summer a rather traumatic experience.
Seriously though, this really has been an interesting year or so for me. I've had my share of things removed and/or replaced, and without the benefit of thirty years or so, am exhibiting a lot of the symptoms and failures that my mom used to often complain of. I know I should have said "of which my mother used to often complain," but I'm just getting lazy. I apologize to all of the English teachers I used to sleep with in the past. And if any of them are reading this, you know who you are, and shame on you. I didn't need the grades, I'm pretty good in this subject.
So this is a little more personal that usual, but then again, aren't you proud of me for avoiding politics? I'm trying very hard to write without bringing up my usual subjects of rants and raves, and given the past week or so, I believe the effort is nearly Herculean. I don't know if keeping the cat litter boxes clean is as impressive as cleaning out the Agean Stables, but I do think I deserve some recognition for the effort. I'm not naming names here, but truly, the old phrase 'It's a world gone mad" has taken on mew meaning of late.
As always, Yours from the ether.
Fearless Leader
The Virtues of hair dye
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
No rant today, just humor in poor taste
The least fearsome of all dinosaurs was, of course, the Limpidocious. The Limpidocious is normally found resting in it’s furry sack until roused by a natural predator, urge to mate, or threat such as the Bladderasaurus, which, when so confronted, the Limipdocious sprays camouflaging fluid which has an unpleasant scent, thus discouraging further attempts to lure it from it’s nest. When fully aroused or threatened, however, the Limpidocious can swell to up to seven times its normal size. This can happen up to twenty or so times a day during the pubescent years of the Limpodocious, but as it ages, rarely repeats. Best viewing places for the Limpidocious are slightly below the equator. They are most commonly found in cotton blends, although the more active of the species have been known to coil in the seams of denim or even polyester blends or leather. Having, by itself, a poor sense of eyesight or smell, the Limpidocious forms symbiotic relationships with carnivores, herbivores, and even omnivores. It takes it’s nourishment by it’s attachment to this species. What could seem like a one-sided relationship is not so on closer inspection. The exact details of the symbiosis is not, and may not ever be known for certain, as the Limpidocious is nearly impossible to reason with. It has its own mind and does whatever it wants. Even the most stable of species, those that tend to monogamous relationships, can be swayed by the combined presence of the Limpidocious and Testicudons, and can be found exhibiting destructive, and sometimes life threatening behavior.
As most dedicated observers of the Limpidocious are aware, direct tactile stimulation is an almost certain method of bringing the Limpidocious out of its somnambulant state, as is, for reasons unknown to most modern scholars, menthol cough drops, alcohol and cocaine. Further study on this is ongoing, research often conducted in bars, restrooms, and lately by web cam and the internet. As was referenced hereinabove, one rarely finds the Limpidocious when not in the company of (most generally) a pair of Testicudons. These are, again, generally, non-identical twins who attach themselves to the very base and nerve center of the Limidocious in another symbiotic nature. It is possible to have Testicudons without the presence of a Limidocious, but in these cases breeding choices are limited. Do not be deceived by this, however; any carrier of the Testicudons can be a very fearsome opponent. The Vaginaraptor when carrying a pair of Testicudons can become a very credible threat to all Limpidocous.
Study of this relatively non-rare, but still misunderstood species will undoubtedly remain ongoing. One of the true advantages to the study of this particular beast is that is almost always willing to show itself. Many public places, such as toilets at sporting arenas are a prime viewing area. Public or private locker rooms and gyms are also a sure viewing spot. On a good day, and in a furtive glance at a public toilet during a break in play, you can often see as many as thirty or so displaying their defensive spraying mechanisms at the same time. A note of precaution here, when in crowds, these seemingly inoffensive creatures can be dangerous. Photography in these situations is strongly not advised. A much safer amount of available sites on the internet are recommended to avoid physical harm or possible incarceration to the advanced student.
If you are lucky enough to actually have formed a symbiotic bond with one of these creatures, there are certain terms and facts of which you must be aware. You will generally have one of two types: The “baldy” or the “hoodie.” Again, there is not enough factual evidence in to support any real conclusions, and the difference is mostly visual and tactile. The “baldy” is basically that, it’s full head is exposed. The “hoodie” maintains an air of mystery, in that it looks a lot like an evil emperor in a Star Wars film at almost all times. Both, at their fully threatened and aroused state, tend to look interchangeable, and the reasons behind the dichotomy are still uncertain. It would appear to be a social or societal thing among the Limipidoucious. Each undoubtedly prefers its own state, but then again, as was pointed out, you just can’t reason with these things. Size or shape, hooded or bald, each Limpidocuious has exactly the same internal workings and purpose. If you drive an automobile, think of it as an automatic and a stick-shift, it’s the same thing, it’s just how you drive it. You will probably come up with a name for you companion, there are plenty, most commonly being ‘Rod,’ ‘Peter,’ ‘Dick,’ ‘Johnson,’ ‘Willy,’ and a score of others. Or you will simply call it junior after yourself. You author has known a number of ‘Big Dicks’ who can’t wait to ask if ‘Little Dick’ can come out to play. Many of them not attached to a person named Richard, but that is another story. If you yourself have named your companion, do not feel ashamed. It is natural. It is when you start to separate and name your Testicudons separately that you should start to worry, and spend a little less time on the internet. Speaking of Testicudons, which you will almost certainly have, do not be alarmed that they are not identical twins. By nature, all Testicudons are fraternal. One will be a little larger (although by no means dominant) , or one will hang lower. This is no cause for alarm. Just try to avoid getting them to switch their positions in their protective sack. This is not only impractical, but can be quite painful as well.
There are certain terms you should be accustomed to when your Testicudons arrive. A “Scrouch” is when you sit on them or cross your legs fast. A “Scritch” is what you see in every baseball game on TV or often in pro-tennis when televised when the athletes must manually adjust them for comfort and protection. A “Script” is what you are trying to do when you attempt to display them for affect, although generally trying to adjust them into some semblance of order is like trying to make sculptures out of warm jello. A “Scrupling” is when one starts to squeeze into your ass after you’ve been sitting for awhile. A “Scrouting” is when you’re wearing shorts and one of the Testicudons decides to try and make a break for it and run free. Of course, if they’re really short shorts, you could have a “Sloony,” in which case both them try to escape at the same time. A serious danger in the “Sloony” is that the host Limpidocious will also rear its head, and then you are in serious danger of a “Sceamie,” which is followed by embarrassment at best, and the quick presence of security or law enforcement at worst. A “Snarch” is when you decide that man-scaping is a good idea, and discover that it’s just as painful as it sounds. A “Snorp” is when most of your downstairs friends catch the elevator when you sit or stand, but one decidedly does not, which requires the often publicly embarrassing “Scritch” that is not so endearing when done by others than highly paid athletes.
Similar terms are available for the Limpidocious. A “Zouch” is a common malfunction when zipper meets tender flesh. Then there is the “Zocket” when you discover that you have a whole in the seam of your pocket and the Limpidcious tries to find a new home in there. As with your new Testicudons, your Limpidocious will also try to find its way out of clothing. This is known as a “Flash” and should only be attempted under controlled circumstances. There is also the dreaded “Zloor” which occasionally occurs when your little friend, despite your attempts at aim, misses the toilet. This will most often occur when you are a guest at another’s home. Which brings up, to pardon the phrase, “Zlippzing” which is when your Limpidocious, to the best of your knowledge, has finished his defensive spraying, only to decide when it is tucked protectively back into your clothing, that it is not quite through yet. This again, will generally happen when you are in public or a guest in another’s home. Do not be alarmed by this. Think instead of witty and amusing things to say when your dinner or theater companions notice. My own favorite is “Don’t bother calling the plumber, I’ve found the leaky pipe,” but there are many more. Then there is the dreaded “Zlarddy” when your Limpidocious decides it may be ready to mate at particularly inappropriate places or times, such as in church, or in the produce section of the grocery, business meetings, or at the cinema when you really don’t want your companions to know that the “Art” film you recommended has copious nudity. Again here, a witty and distracting thing to say is useful. Avoid making any personal commentary though. “Sorry. I was just admiring your wife’s rack” will not improve personal relationships.
This is just a sample of this author’s advice. For a full transcript, please feel free to send a small remuneration.
Yours from the ether.
As most dedicated observers of the Limpidocious are aware, direct tactile stimulation is an almost certain method of bringing the Limpidocious out of its somnambulant state, as is, for reasons unknown to most modern scholars, menthol cough drops, alcohol and cocaine. Further study on this is ongoing, research often conducted in bars, restrooms, and lately by web cam and the internet. As was referenced hereinabove, one rarely finds the Limpidocious when not in the company of (most generally) a pair of Testicudons. These are, again, generally, non-identical twins who attach themselves to the very base and nerve center of the Limidocious in another symbiotic nature. It is possible to have Testicudons without the presence of a Limidocious, but in these cases breeding choices are limited. Do not be deceived by this, however; any carrier of the Testicudons can be a very fearsome opponent. The Vaginaraptor when carrying a pair of Testicudons can become a very credible threat to all Limpidocous.
Study of this relatively non-rare, but still misunderstood species will undoubtedly remain ongoing. One of the true advantages to the study of this particular beast is that is almost always willing to show itself. Many public places, such as toilets at sporting arenas are a prime viewing area. Public or private locker rooms and gyms are also a sure viewing spot. On a good day, and in a furtive glance at a public toilet during a break in play, you can often see as many as thirty or so displaying their defensive spraying mechanisms at the same time. A note of precaution here, when in crowds, these seemingly inoffensive creatures can be dangerous. Photography in these situations is strongly not advised. A much safer amount of available sites on the internet are recommended to avoid physical harm or possible incarceration to the advanced student.
If you are lucky enough to actually have formed a symbiotic bond with one of these creatures, there are certain terms and facts of which you must be aware. You will generally have one of two types: The “baldy” or the “hoodie.” Again, there is not enough factual evidence in to support any real conclusions, and the difference is mostly visual and tactile. The “baldy” is basically that, it’s full head is exposed. The “hoodie” maintains an air of mystery, in that it looks a lot like an evil emperor in a Star Wars film at almost all times. Both, at their fully threatened and aroused state, tend to look interchangeable, and the reasons behind the dichotomy are still uncertain. It would appear to be a social or societal thing among the Limipidoucious. Each undoubtedly prefers its own state, but then again, as was pointed out, you just can’t reason with these things. Size or shape, hooded or bald, each Limpidocuious has exactly the same internal workings and purpose. If you drive an automobile, think of it as an automatic and a stick-shift, it’s the same thing, it’s just how you drive it. You will probably come up with a name for you companion, there are plenty, most commonly being ‘Rod,’ ‘Peter,’ ‘Dick,’ ‘Johnson,’ ‘Willy,’ and a score of others. Or you will simply call it junior after yourself. You author has known a number of ‘Big Dicks’ who can’t wait to ask if ‘Little Dick’ can come out to play. Many of them not attached to a person named Richard, but that is another story. If you yourself have named your companion, do not feel ashamed. It is natural. It is when you start to separate and name your Testicudons separately that you should start to worry, and spend a little less time on the internet. Speaking of Testicudons, which you will almost certainly have, do not be alarmed that they are not identical twins. By nature, all Testicudons are fraternal. One will be a little larger (although by no means dominant) , or one will hang lower. This is no cause for alarm. Just try to avoid getting them to switch their positions in their protective sack. This is not only impractical, but can be quite painful as well.
There are certain terms you should be accustomed to when your Testicudons arrive. A “Scrouch” is when you sit on them or cross your legs fast. A “Scritch” is what you see in every baseball game on TV or often in pro-tennis when televised when the athletes must manually adjust them for comfort and protection. A “Script” is what you are trying to do when you attempt to display them for affect, although generally trying to adjust them into some semblance of order is like trying to make sculptures out of warm jello. A “Scrupling” is when one starts to squeeze into your ass after you’ve been sitting for awhile. A “Scrouting” is when you’re wearing shorts and one of the Testicudons decides to try and make a break for it and run free. Of course, if they’re really short shorts, you could have a “Sloony,” in which case both them try to escape at the same time. A serious danger in the “Sloony” is that the host Limpidocious will also rear its head, and then you are in serious danger of a “Sceamie,” which is followed by embarrassment at best, and the quick presence of security or law enforcement at worst. A “Snarch” is when you decide that man-scaping is a good idea, and discover that it’s just as painful as it sounds. A “Snorp” is when most of your downstairs friends catch the elevator when you sit or stand, but one decidedly does not, which requires the often publicly embarrassing “Scritch” that is not so endearing when done by others than highly paid athletes.
Similar terms are available for the Limpidocious. A “Zouch” is a common malfunction when zipper meets tender flesh. Then there is the “Zocket” when you discover that you have a whole in the seam of your pocket and the Limpidcious tries to find a new home in there. As with your new Testicudons, your Limpidocious will also try to find its way out of clothing. This is known as a “Flash” and should only be attempted under controlled circumstances. There is also the dreaded “Zloor” which occasionally occurs when your little friend, despite your attempts at aim, misses the toilet. This will most often occur when you are a guest at another’s home. Which brings up, to pardon the phrase, “Zlippzing” which is when your Limpidocious, to the best of your knowledge, has finished his defensive spraying, only to decide when it is tucked protectively back into your clothing, that it is not quite through yet. This again, will generally happen when you are in public or a guest in another’s home. Do not be alarmed by this. Think instead of witty and amusing things to say when your dinner or theater companions notice. My own favorite is “Don’t bother calling the plumber, I’ve found the leaky pipe,” but there are many more. Then there is the dreaded “Zlarddy” when your Limpidocious decides it may be ready to mate at particularly inappropriate places or times, such as in church, or in the produce section of the grocery, business meetings, or at the cinema when you really don’t want your companions to know that the “Art” film you recommended has copious nudity. Again here, a witty and distracting thing to say is useful. Avoid making any personal commentary though. “Sorry. I was just admiring your wife’s rack” will not improve personal relationships.
This is just a sample of this author’s advice. For a full transcript, please feel free to send a small remuneration.
Yours from the ether.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Delawaryans
I just heard that word following the nomination of yesterday. I did not know this one, although I did live in Idaho for a few years and learned that they do not prefer the term "Idawhores," nor do the people of Boise like the term 'Bozarians." Go figure. I probably shouldn't have started with that, but with my recent posts I have shown my facination with words, whether real or imagined, so it seemed like a good place to start. Once I get started with a few keystrokes, I generally come into my own, and things start to flow.
Anybody else upset with the media for the over coverage of book burning? Is this concept, which I believed to have fallen way, way, way, out of favor in the 40's actually news? Rather than simply point out that there is some wackjob wingnut out there trying to resurrect the idea, is there anything else to say? Does said wackjob deserve 38 hours of media coverage? Hell, when I think of poor Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston doing everything in their power to hold on to their fifteen minutes of fame, I feel sorry for them. Why try so desperately to shop for a reality show when a simple declaration of that which is by all standards unholy get them a few minutes more of media attention? Instead of being an unwed teenage mother preaching abstinence, she should simply make the case that she is publicly and forcefully against the cooking and eating of babies. That will get her as much attention as appearing on Dancing with the Stars. Levi, whose carefully posed nakedness in Playgirl Magazine showed why his last name is Johnston and not "Johnson," as he clearly does not have enough to photograph, could come out in favor of teen pregnancy and unprotected sex. This would be a gold mine for him, and again, the advice is free once I hit 'Publish Post."
You've probably all seen the PSA's (Public Service Announcements) that CBS runs, "The More You Know." I have been wickedly fantasising about doing a few of my own. I won't bore you with them all, they are better done in person, but one does involve the sexual position of the "Sharon Angle", which is personally uncomfortable and truly disturbing to watch as someone's Dick Chenney intrudes of the very values of another's Orrin Hatch in an unnatural way. You'll have to just picture that one in your imagination. I think it would be hysterical, but only, of course, if done with taste. Anybody want to guess what I'm picturing with the Karl Rove and theory of bi-partisans? Maybe a warning from Christine O'Connell of why it is important to not pay income tax for five years until you run for Senate. Perhaps a personal message to the Divine Ms. Palin to actually vett a person before she throws her imaginary support their way. Maybe a warning that the woman who claimed on a PSA video of her own that masturbation of any kind was adultery, and should be treated with the full force and fury of the Bible against adulterer's. Death by stoning to anyone who touches themselves, that should secure the teenage vote and the heart's of single men everywhere. What's the problem with lying about the college education you don't possess? Doesn't everyone lie on employment applications?
I realize I'm coming off as an angry man here. Believe me, I know. Guess what? I am an angry man. I try and cover it with humor, but in reality, I'm one of those people whose rage at the current state of the economy and affairs of state and endless warfare and conflict does not react by voting clearly crazy people into public office. I'd rather make light of them as the truly disturbing individuals that they are. If I had a couple of hundred millions dollars to kill, I'd probably be running for Governor of California with a very simple promise "I'm totally unsuitable for this office, in shaky health at best and a known drunk, but do you really like the other guy? At least I'll be honest with my flaws. He has only nearly thirty years of public service to his credit; but I'm rich."
I apologize from the ether. Like I've said, I just don't understand your planet.
Anybody else upset with the media for the over coverage of book burning? Is this concept, which I believed to have fallen way, way, way, out of favor in the 40's actually news? Rather than simply point out that there is some wackjob wingnut out there trying to resurrect the idea, is there anything else to say? Does said wackjob deserve 38 hours of media coverage? Hell, when I think of poor Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston doing everything in their power to hold on to their fifteen minutes of fame, I feel sorry for them. Why try so desperately to shop for a reality show when a simple declaration of that which is by all standards unholy get them a few minutes more of media attention? Instead of being an unwed teenage mother preaching abstinence, she should simply make the case that she is publicly and forcefully against the cooking and eating of babies. That will get her as much attention as appearing on Dancing with the Stars. Levi, whose carefully posed nakedness in Playgirl Magazine showed why his last name is Johnston and not "Johnson," as he clearly does not have enough to photograph, could come out in favor of teen pregnancy and unprotected sex. This would be a gold mine for him, and again, the advice is free once I hit 'Publish Post."
You've probably all seen the PSA's (Public Service Announcements) that CBS runs, "The More You Know." I have been wickedly fantasising about doing a few of my own. I won't bore you with them all, they are better done in person, but one does involve the sexual position of the "Sharon Angle", which is personally uncomfortable and truly disturbing to watch as someone's Dick Chenney intrudes of the very values of another's Orrin Hatch in an unnatural way. You'll have to just picture that one in your imagination. I think it would be hysterical, but only, of course, if done with taste. Anybody want to guess what I'm picturing with the Karl Rove and theory of bi-partisans? Maybe a warning from Christine O'Connell of why it is important to not pay income tax for five years until you run for Senate. Perhaps a personal message to the Divine Ms. Palin to actually vett a person before she throws her imaginary support their way. Maybe a warning that the woman who claimed on a PSA video of her own that masturbation of any kind was adultery, and should be treated with the full force and fury of the Bible against adulterer's. Death by stoning to anyone who touches themselves, that should secure the teenage vote and the heart's of single men everywhere. What's the problem with lying about the college education you don't possess? Doesn't everyone lie on employment applications?
I realize I'm coming off as an angry man here. Believe me, I know. Guess what? I am an angry man. I try and cover it with humor, but in reality, I'm one of those people whose rage at the current state of the economy and affairs of state and endless warfare and conflict does not react by voting clearly crazy people into public office. I'd rather make light of them as the truly disturbing individuals that they are. If I had a couple of hundred millions dollars to kill, I'd probably be running for Governor of California with a very simple promise "I'm totally unsuitable for this office, in shaky health at best and a known drunk, but do you really like the other guy? At least I'll be honest with my flaws. He has only nearly thirty years of public service to his credit; but I'm rich."
I apologize from the ether. Like I've said, I just don't understand your planet.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Exsanguination
No, this isn't a Palinism, it's just one of those words that taste good when you say them. There are 50 cent words, and then there are words that just feel good to roll of the tongue. This post has nothing to do with the subject matter, any more than some other good words do. I have always been fond of lilliputian, caravansary, rhombus, and systolic also. The words you never use at the grocery store, but are always at the readiness should you need them.
When you think about it, we have specific language we use on a day to day basis. Almost every normal activity has it's own language. Think about it, you talk differently when going to the grocery than you do at the bank, or taking your car in for service, or shopping for clothes. The nice thing about the concept of a universal language is that it is an absolute. The dictionary is almost obsolete these days, we all depend on spell checking and other such programs, but what if we revitalized it? Instead of a huge tome of words which we never use, have smaller books for the words that we most often do use? Kind of like the "...... for idiots" series of books. Dictionaries for a specific purpose or activity. Websters might be able to save their publishing with this. The dictionary specifically for sexual terms as a stand-alone might be a best seller. There aren't that many of us who worry about how to spell or pronounce polydecatrahedon, but the proper use of cunniligus could be of real use to all the desperate single men everywhere. That one however, like some of the other terms, should have a sub-chapter which includes the strong advice to actually be honest with your partner. Is this it?, should not really be buzz-words for any man who wants to have intercourse on a steady basis. Likewise for fellatio. Putting a mouth and a penis is the same room does not always guarantee success. I personally want to write the sub-chapter on "missionary position." Is there a person alive who had ever actually seen missionaries do it? Other than Mormans that is. But truly, what a poor term that one is and yet it is in common usuage. I honestly believe the the 'Webster's Dictionary for Sexual Idiots" or some variant of that title, has a chance to save the company. This is free advise here, once I hit "Publish Post" I've lost all my rights to it.
Another thing I'd like to see is the blending of the realty shows on the Discovery Channel and the Food Network. I have a number of ideas on this, but they are better delivered in person, stand-up comedy style. I consistentaly bore my poor wife with this almost every evening we watch some of these shows. Am I the only person who wants the snooty semi-celebrity judges to actually cook for the contestants and taste a bit of their own medicine? Am I the only person who wonders about the trials and tribulations facing the "survival" type of shows when their film and sound crew and the producers of the show are staying at the Hilton just across the ridge? I do admire these shows, but I, like eveyone else, also contributes to traffic jams to get a look at the accident scene. I don't mean to be intollerant, I'm just saying that at least we could make it funny. There isn't enough laughter in the world as it is. Why do we support such sad and sorry things?-- Tonight, on the Sylvia Plath channel, we have another episode of "My Head is in the oven and I can't get up," followed by by the sad and antic ravings of the child of two celebrities who had a tumultuous and troubled childhood "Money, Wealth and Power made me crazy," hosted by Paris Hilton. Then, stay tuned for the late night news, which will covering the frightening tendency for young runaways to enter into the lives of drug addiction and prostitution. Learn the shocking conclusions that teenagers and parents do not always understand one another. Then stay tuned for a special replay broadcast of award winning documentary that links the tragedy of 9/11 to the assisination of the JFK, his brother Robert, and Martin Luther King, with special guest host Glenn Beck, who will deliver his sermon over the very eternal flame of JFK's gravesite in Alrlington, Virginia on they date of the fallen president's tragic death. There will be a special 800 number throughtout the broadcast to help Mr. Beck pay the tithing to the LDS church he claims to be a part of on the 38 million dollar a year salary he makes, which he seems to be very quite arrears in doing. But then again, he is starting his own religion with himself as the prophet and seer, so maybe he gets a break. God himself communicates with Mr. Beck, the rest of us should just staple tea bags to our hats and support him. The waste of perfectly good teas is what our founding father's wanted after all when they staged the Boston Tea Party.
That's the televison to watch 24/7.
I'm glad I'm in the ether, I don't think I understand your planet at all.
When you think about it, we have specific language we use on a day to day basis. Almost every normal activity has it's own language. Think about it, you talk differently when going to the grocery than you do at the bank, or taking your car in for service, or shopping for clothes. The nice thing about the concept of a universal language is that it is an absolute. The dictionary is almost obsolete these days, we all depend on spell checking and other such programs, but what if we revitalized it? Instead of a huge tome of words which we never use, have smaller books for the words that we most often do use? Kind of like the "...... for idiots" series of books. Dictionaries for a specific purpose or activity. Websters might be able to save their publishing with this. The dictionary specifically for sexual terms as a stand-alone might be a best seller. There aren't that many of us who worry about how to spell or pronounce polydecatrahedon, but the proper use of cunniligus could be of real use to all the desperate single men everywhere. That one however, like some of the other terms, should have a sub-chapter which includes the strong advice to actually be honest with your partner. Is this it?, should not really be buzz-words for any man who wants to have intercourse on a steady basis. Likewise for fellatio. Putting a mouth and a penis is the same room does not always guarantee success. I personally want to write the sub-chapter on "missionary position." Is there a person alive who had ever actually seen missionaries do it? Other than Mormans that is. But truly, what a poor term that one is and yet it is in common usuage. I honestly believe the the 'Webster's Dictionary for Sexual Idiots" or some variant of that title, has a chance to save the company. This is free advise here, once I hit "Publish Post" I've lost all my rights to it.
Another thing I'd like to see is the blending of the realty shows on the Discovery Channel and the Food Network. I have a number of ideas on this, but they are better delivered in person, stand-up comedy style. I consistentaly bore my poor wife with this almost every evening we watch some of these shows. Am I the only person who wants the snooty semi-celebrity judges to actually cook for the contestants and taste a bit of their own medicine? Am I the only person who wonders about the trials and tribulations facing the "survival" type of shows when their film and sound crew and the producers of the show are staying at the Hilton just across the ridge? I do admire these shows, but I, like eveyone else, also contributes to traffic jams to get a look at the accident scene. I don't mean to be intollerant, I'm just saying that at least we could make it funny. There isn't enough laughter in the world as it is. Why do we support such sad and sorry things?-- Tonight, on the Sylvia Plath channel, we have another episode of "My Head is in the oven and I can't get up," followed by by the sad and antic ravings of the child of two celebrities who had a tumultuous and troubled childhood "Money, Wealth and Power made me crazy," hosted by Paris Hilton. Then, stay tuned for the late night news, which will covering the frightening tendency for young runaways to enter into the lives of drug addiction and prostitution. Learn the shocking conclusions that teenagers and parents do not always understand one another. Then stay tuned for a special replay broadcast of award winning documentary that links the tragedy of 9/11 to the assisination of the JFK, his brother Robert, and Martin Luther King, with special guest host Glenn Beck, who will deliver his sermon over the very eternal flame of JFK's gravesite in Alrlington, Virginia on they date of the fallen president's tragic death. There will be a special 800 number throughtout the broadcast to help Mr. Beck pay the tithing to the LDS church he claims to be a part of on the 38 million dollar a year salary he makes, which he seems to be very quite arrears in doing. But then again, he is starting his own religion with himself as the prophet and seer, so maybe he gets a break. God himself communicates with Mr. Beck, the rest of us should just staple tea bags to our hats and support him. The waste of perfectly good teas is what our founding father's wanted after all when they staged the Boston Tea Party.
That's the televison to watch 24/7.
I'm glad I'm in the ether, I don't think I understand your planet at all.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Merry Labra Day
May the strength and magics of the holy flow unite us all on this fine day. It's been a pretty busy weekend for us here at Casa Brooks. We nitched a trip up to Palomar on Saturday when a peruse of the weather reported that it was 100 degrees in Julian, and rising as you headed higher and more eastward. We wisely choose to drive to Cardiff instead and try for some sunset shots by the shore. Yesterday we went necessity shopping, forgetting only necessities such as toilet paper, coffee, and a few other items. The van needs to be run regularly though, so this will give me an excuse to get out of the house and for both of us to get some exercise.
Yesterday (Sunday), we drove up to Oceanside Harbor and took a nice long hike around all the slips and docks along the sea. Growing up more used to Mission Bay, I forget how many such pockets of boatatude exist along the coast. The weather was just about perfect, and the people were all in a fine Holiday mood. Most be could be classified by: People with dogs; People with food; People with children (which goes in with the last one); People with sail or surf gear. Oddly, at least to me, being so close to Camp Pendelton, I did not see a real Marine presence, other than the fact that it was actually a Marine presence, oh f**k it, that one's hard to explain. The only military I noticed was a Pearl Harbor Memorial. Terri might have spotted more, she has a finely developed nose for these things.
Today, Labra Day, will be a day of rest and contemplation. I am planning one of the usual sacred feasts. Unspecified, and generally for the best, meat products formed into tubes to be served between warm welcoming folds of doughy goodness and carrying no sexual imagery whatsoever, Beans baked to perfection with the rich brown sugars, onions, and the bellies of porcine animals, and Potatos made into a festive salad with a creamy dressing. I must admit, I didn't plan a dessert course, but Labra Day is a day of inspriation, so I'll wing it. That, or embrace the bold spirit of the women who labor on this day to keep the markets open so that all may be fed (and whom are probably lowest on the pecking order and forced to work Holidays), and just pick up a frozen cheescake or something.
I mentioned, I think, in my last post, that I'd had a few doctor's visits the past week or so. I found out that a Mormanoscopy is possible, but is not covered by my insurance. Oddly, a Lutheranectomy is covered, as is a Protestantethis. I don't actually need a Pentecostalectomy, but they throw in the Chemocatholisis on that one, so it is a realtive bargain. Going in for a Judectomy requires regular dialectolysis, but I love deli foods and I'd prefer to keep my Wednesday's and Saturday's free. That pretty much means I could go for the Sabbatholitis treatments, but those are not really guaranteed to totally remove your early indoctrinations. Maybe I'll just stick with invasive surgical trauma and work the other stuff out in my head. I'll be able to make a better and more informed descision after the new CT Scan that is coming. I do have a referral to outpatient physical therapy also, which I must call to arrange after the Holiday. It will be fun to actually drive somewhere to have new pain inflicted. It gets so boring at the house.
Best of Wishes on this day from the ether. And If I may Varley to say. May the flow unite us all.
Yesterday (Sunday), we drove up to Oceanside Harbor and took a nice long hike around all the slips and docks along the sea. Growing up more used to Mission Bay, I forget how many such pockets of boatatude exist along the coast. The weather was just about perfect, and the people were all in a fine Holiday mood. Most be could be classified by: People with dogs; People with food; People with children (which goes in with the last one); People with sail or surf gear. Oddly, at least to me, being so close to Camp Pendelton, I did not see a real Marine presence, other than the fact that it was actually a Marine presence, oh f**k it, that one's hard to explain. The only military I noticed was a Pearl Harbor Memorial. Terri might have spotted more, she has a finely developed nose for these things.
Today, Labra Day, will be a day of rest and contemplation. I am planning one of the usual sacred feasts. Unspecified, and generally for the best, meat products formed into tubes to be served between warm welcoming folds of doughy goodness and carrying no sexual imagery whatsoever, Beans baked to perfection with the rich brown sugars, onions, and the bellies of porcine animals, and Potatos made into a festive salad with a creamy dressing. I must admit, I didn't plan a dessert course, but Labra Day is a day of inspriation, so I'll wing it. That, or embrace the bold spirit of the women who labor on this day to keep the markets open so that all may be fed (and whom are probably lowest on the pecking order and forced to work Holidays), and just pick up a frozen cheescake or something.
I mentioned, I think, in my last post, that I'd had a few doctor's visits the past week or so. I found out that a Mormanoscopy is possible, but is not covered by my insurance. Oddly, a Lutheranectomy is covered, as is a Protestantethis. I don't actually need a Pentecostalectomy, but they throw in the Chemocatholisis on that one, so it is a realtive bargain. Going in for a Judectomy requires regular dialectolysis, but I love deli foods and I'd prefer to keep my Wednesday's and Saturday's free. That pretty much means I could go for the Sabbatholitis treatments, but those are not really guaranteed to totally remove your early indoctrinations. Maybe I'll just stick with invasive surgical trauma and work the other stuff out in my head. I'll be able to make a better and more informed descision after the new CT Scan that is coming. I do have a referral to outpatient physical therapy also, which I must call to arrange after the Holiday. It will be fun to actually drive somewhere to have new pain inflicted. It gets so boring at the house.
Best of Wishes on this day from the ether. And If I may Varley to say. May the flow unite us all.
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