Tongue In Check

If you ever get the urge to lick your armpit or put a cucumber up your ass, I strongly suggest you visit Post-Secret because it is full of posts from people with very similar interests.

Fortunately for you, I was able to “intercept” 5 post cards that were destined for Post-Secret.

Carmen’s Post Secret.

George Bush’s Post Secret.

Atlas Cerise’s Post Secret:

Stick Figure Man’s Post Secret:

Britney’s Post Secret:

There was a time in Michigan when winter meant one of two things. It was either snowing, or it was too cold to snow. There were no other options. Words like “wintry mix” were never uttered by the weather forecasters unless they were talking about Ohio or some other God-forsaken place.

Now that Al Gore has invented global warming, things have changed and not for the better. This year, with the exception of one snow storm dumping 8″ of snow on us, we have had one ice storm after another. This used to happen maybe once a year in late February or maybe early March. Now it seems to be the norm.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think life was so much better when Al was busy worrying about family values and the record industry. At least I wasn’t sliding all over the fucking road. God damn you Al Gore.

Man, I hope Lynn is still on her road trip or she is going to kick my ass for this.

Have you ever wondered how many Republicans it would take to change a light bulb? I am sorry to admit this, but it is something that I think about quite extensively these days. First of all, I don’t think that there is a clear-cut answer to this question. I mean the question itself is seriously flawed because we all know that a Republican would never simply change a light bulb.

Once the Republican finally realizes the bulb is burned out, he approaches the problem as follows:

1. Declare war on the light bulb.
2. Bankrupt America in the war against the light bulb.
3. Be outsmarted by the light bulb.
4. Declare victory anyway.
5. Spend the rest of his life sitting around in the dark uttering nonsense.

Next week we will discuss another very important philosophical question–Why did the Republican cross the road?

Yesterday’s news story about the Siberian Tiger that escaped and killed someone reminded me of something that happened to me as a kid. Now to be honest, I can’t remember if I might have told this story on here or on my other blog before because I am old and tend to forget what I might have said before. Besides, being old, I just naturally repeat myself a lot.

Anyway, when I was a kid, my dad took me and several of my friends to an armory to see a circus. At this circus, they had all of the animals in cages lined up just behind the bleachers. When the circus people (carnival people with more teeth and fewer tattoos) needed an animal, they would just walk behind the bleachers, take the animal out of its cage and then drag it out into the ring.

It was a typical circus full of all sorts of circus-y crap like tightropes, elephants, assclowns wearing bowler hats, lion tamers, and trapeze acts. Honestly, I don’t remember much about the actual circus itself because I am really old and tend to repeat myself a lot. Hell, for all I know, I have told this story before because I tend to repeat myself a lot.

At some point during the festivities, someone had to go to the bathroom. My dad, being the caring sort that he was, lined us all up and marched us all off to the modern facilities at the same time. On the way to the bathroom, we had to walk behind all the animal cages. This included the cages where they kept the lions. Maybe it was the tigers. I don’t know for sure which it was because I am old and tend to repeat myself a lot. Anyway, I do remember that we had to walk behind some cages full of furry animals with big teeth, claws, fur and long tails.

It was the long tails that I came here to talk about. See, one of the large, furry cat like creatures had it’s tail hanging out of the back of the cage. It was swishing back and forth to the rhythm of the jungle drums in its head. I, on the other hand, was dancing to the rhythm of a far more sinister beat. As we approached the swishing tail of the animal, I began to synchronize my own rhythm with the animals distant rhythm. Step, swish, step, swish, step, swish. We were in perfect harmony.

I was walking directly behind my dad. When he got to the large furry animal with claws, teeth and a swishing tail, he stepped over it and kind of giggled that gentle fatherly giggle that fathers often giggle. I watched with delight as the creatures tail again swished in my direction. When it was almost even with my own feet, I leaped into the air as high as I could and came down on the animal’s tail with both feet.

Now I don’t know if you have ever stepped (I guess stomped would be a better word for it) on a large cat’s tail before, but let me tell you this, they simply do not take it lightly. I thought that fucking thing was going to tear that cage apart in its efforts to kill me. I would have loved to have stayed around and watch the whole thing play out, but after my dad slapped me on the back of my head and jerked me away by the collar at something approaching the speed of stupidity, I sort of lost track of space and time. It all became a blur, as they say.

For those of you that might have heard this story before, I apologize. I was going to go back and look through my archives to see if I could find the story, but honestly, I am just way too lazy for that.

Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I stomped on the large cat’s tail? Oh man, you should have been there.

• 3,044 pounds of food is wasted in America every single second of every single day.
• The war in Iraq costs 7.4 million dollars an hour.
• David Caruso is the most annoying actor ever.
• 36 million Americans live at or below the poverty line.
• My balls itch.
• According to a recent study on human sexuality in America, Jazz fans and gun owners are the most sexually active. (Ummm…shouldn’t that be Jizz fans?)

Dear Santa,

I wish Warren Oates was still alive so he could play the lead role in the Slim Whitman story.

PS…Would you please leave all the people on my blogroll (and the lurkers too) a ham sandwich, an orgasm, and a lump of coal under their trees?

I think it is best we cover all the bases with that bunch.

Merry Christmas.

You knew it had to happen. All you freaking hippies out there passing out a bunch of cheap ass good will instead of presents have totally fucked up the economy. I hope you are happy about it because Santa had to die for your sins.

Now we have to hire a new Santa Claus and naturally, I’ve got a few candidates in mind.

Candidate Number 1. He may work cheap, but I think there may be a few serious political correctness issues to work on. Don Imus got fired for something very similar.

Candidate Number 2. Well, this may not actually be a candidate. I think this is Joey Polanski’s nested butt plug set that I got him for Christmas.

Candidate Number 3. This guy could either be the new Santa or he could do a Phoebe Fay beefcake day. Or he could just do Sara Sue.

Candidate Number 4. What the fuck? This must be the post-apocalyptic Santa. Better wait until after 2012 for this guy.

Candidate Number 5. Actually this is not a candidate either. Man, I’m glad I gave up Gin.

Candidate Number 6. This guy could never pass the drug test.

Candidate Number 7. I’m just not sure that America is ready for a black Santa.

Candidate Number 8. Isn’t it sad that my mental image of Santa Claus comes from a Coke advertisement? Of course it is perfectly fitting considering what Christmas has become.

Candidate Number 9. Who knew Abe Vigoda spent his spare time playing Santa?

Candidate Number 10. This guy had a lot of potential until it was discovered that his papers weren’t in order and he was sent back to Mexico.

Candidate Number 11. I don’t know much about him, but I wish my girlfriend would stop licking him.

Candidate Number 12. I’m gonna have to check the rule book on this one because I am pretty sure you can’t hire a cocksucker for the job of Santa Claus. Cocksuckers are usually better suited for the position of morbidly delusional 3rd rate self-appointed internet personae….or exceedingly stupid Presidents. Hey, except for the whole Dungeons and Dragons thing, it’s hard to tell the difference.

Candidate Number 13. Not at all sure about her Santa Clausing abilities, but she sure sets my balls to jingling.

Obviously I’ve got my work cut out for me. I think I might have to call in Candidate #13 for an interview. I seriously want to check out her assets.

Contrary to the obvious, I was once a wise man.

When I was a kid, I was in a church play and played the part of one of the wise men. Now I will be the first to admit that there are two things wrong with the preceding sentence. First, I used the word “church” in a sentence that included the word me, and secondly, I used the words “wise man” in a sentence that also included the word me.

Despite the fact that it doesn’t really seem all that obvious today, I was once a regular church goer. My parents would wake me up every Sunday morning and send me off to church. That’s right, they would “send” me off to church. In this case, that means everything that it implies because my dear parents did not go to church with me. I really think they just wanted me out of the house for an hour or so on Sunday mornings. Now personally, I have to wonder what they were doing for that hour or so while I was being force fed Jesus, but it’s really not my place so I’ll just leave it at that.

One year the church decided to put on a Christmas play and I was tapped to play the part of one of the wise men. Despite the obvious mis-casting, I studied hard for my role. I spent weeks riding around on a plastic camel and staring off into the heavens practicing my wise man “look”. In the end, it all paid off because I played the part flawlessly. So flawlessly in fact, that I can still remember my role to this very day.

So, without further adieu, I am going to present you with the role of me as a wise man in a play about the birth of the baby Jesus in its entirety and without commercial interruption or the benefit of commas.

Imagine, if you will, 3 wise men perched high atop some hill in middle east before it became the hell hole it is today. One of the wise men says something of very little importance, and then it is my turn. I look up towards the heavens at the single 60 watt light bulb that is supposed to be the Star Of Bethlehem and say the following (please hold your applause until the end):

“It is indeed. I saw a strange light in the distance.”

I delivered that line with such expertise that the audience was completely speechless. As a matter of fact, the only sound that could be heard that fateful evening was the sound of audience members asses squirming on the cold hard church benches. Well, that and the sounds of my parents snoring as they were sleeping off their afternoon “couple of drinks.”

Of course that little play turned out to be a life-changing experience for me. I mean ever since I learned that The Star of Bethlehem was actually just some cheap ass 60 watt light bulb, I’ve been just a wee-bit skeptical about the whole Christmas story.

In retrospect, if this play had a Village Idiot character, I probably would have won a fucking academy award or something.

It seems that at the end of every year we are inundated by predictions for the following year and if you are looking for a reprieve from those predictions, you should probably just move on because I am going to jump on the prediction bandwagon.

Now I’m certainly no Jean Dixon but I have been known to have a vision or two in my time and I thought I should share a few of my predictions for 2008 with you.

• Blogger/Google will start putting ads on our blogs without our permission and we won’t profit from them at all.
• Michigan will break away from the union and declare itself a third world nation and demand foreign aid from America.
• Britney Spears will die in a car accident and be elevated to Princess Di status overnight.
• My mom will finally learn how to spell the word “appointment.”
• I will drink a Gin & Tonic and not turn into a werewolf.
• Mitt Romney will take Ann Coulter as his second wife.
• All Detroit sports teams will disappoint their fans.
• I will not vacation in Tahiti.
• Hillary Clinton will fall from grace when a sex tape featuring her and Rosie O’Donnell wearing a strap-on is discovered on Ebay.
• News stations will finally stop playing that tape showing Miss South Carolina yammering on endlessly about why Americans can’t find America on the map.
• Lynn Spears will be the first woman in America to undergo a mandatory retroactive abortion.
• Bill Clinton will be arrested for selling disturbing sex tapes on Ebay.
• George Bush will grow a mustache.
• My son will actually pick up his running clothes as opposed to leaving them on the floor throughout the house.
• I will hack up a hairball and my cat will have to clean it up.
• Scientists will reveal that aliens have been living among us for some time.
• I will invent a driveway that shovels itself after a snowstorm.
• Bill O’Reilly and Michael Moore will marry each other and then go fuck themselves.
• PBS will suspend their Begathon for exactly one day in 2008.
• February 12th will be declared “Put Dick Cheney In the Microwave Day.”
• Howard Stern will finally get through puberty.
• My wife will not fall down a single flight of steps.
• The pagan phrase “Merry Christmas” will be declared illegal and will be replaced by the less offensive phrase “Go Piss Up A Fucking Rope.”
• I will not receive a single irritating telemarketing phone call from 1-800-931-6388.
• One of the bloggers in my blogroll will become famous and ridiculously rich for inventing a set of nesting 3 Stooges butt plugs.
• Ann Coulter will squat down and accidentally fall through her own vagina.
• George Bush will finally shut the fuck up and go away, but not before he sticks his big foot in his mouth exactly 27 more times before the end of 2008.
• After many years of speech therapy, my dog Carmen will finally learn how to say her L’s.

Okay, there you have it. Those are my predictions for 2008. Now I am just going to sit back and see how many of them come true. If you have any predictions to add to the list, tell us about them.

First of all, don’t blame me for what is to follow. If you feel the need to assign blame, blame MSNBC because they handed me this on a golden platter.

I was watching the news on MSNBC this morning as I usually do and there was breaking news from Washington DC. It seems that the Eisenhower Office Building is on fire. Of course this is probably only news because this office building is on the grounds of the White House.

When I heard this news, I quit watching porn on my laptop and looked up at the television where there was the typical scene of smoke billowing out of the building and a breathless reporter describing the scene to us as if we couldn’t see from the pictures that yes, indeed, there is smoke “billowing” out of the fucking building.

The on-the-scene reporter, after having yammered on endlessly for for about 5 minutes searching for just the perfect cliche’, finally turned it back over to the in-studio anchor. The in-studio anchor, after thanking the on-the-scene reporter for bravely standing a mile away from the smoldering building, looked into the camera and in all seriousness actually said the following:

“Well, we should all be thankful that neither the President or Vice President were in the Eisenhower building at the time of the fire.”

What???

Now I don’t want to be cruel or mean here¹, but really, I wish to reserve that kind of “thankfulness” for human beings, and I am sorry to say that neither the President nor his little friend qualify in that regard.

¹Total fucking lie. I do so desperately want to be cruel and mean.