Thursday, October 30, 2008

today's slice of cheescake

ah -- a midday treat for you!

today's slice of cheesecake is actress brittany murphy, who is really blonde.

she appeared in the movies clueless, sin city, and uptown girls. she also has been the voice of luanne on the fox comedy king of the hill, which has been cancelled.

don't count your chickens until ...

don't count your chickens until they come home to roost.
i point my finger
at no particular
but --
the atmosphere
is terrible here!
you'll fold like patio furniture on a windy day.
a rictus of a smile
a man who becomes a vegetarian not for his sake, but for the sake of the animals.
just remember tonight's safe word:
mmpff! MMMPFF!
a bunch of dangerous things packed in a shipping crate and unloaded in the middle of the night.
the Q family:
curly Q, the father -- as bald as a rock.
susie Q, his wife
curlie sue Q, their oldest daughter
barbie Q, their youngest daughter -- a real doll!
the Q ball
the T ball
the T bill
the T bag
sleep depraved
a man who's not allowed to swim in the gene pool.
the rich ye shall have with you always.
the penis, more names for it:
the magnificent love muscle.
or if you're hispanic, senor ricardo.
i had a girlfriend. she had a belly button.
i have a lover. she has a navel.
don't walk by any graveyards, baby. you'll make the deadmen rise -- in more ways than one!"
so far, so bad.
but --
when there's room
for more despair,
you're haven't hit bottom --
remember --
the worst has not yet come
when you can say,
"this is the worst."
and the worst is death.
pigeons are no more than doves with bad attitudes.
banging like baboons in boiling-hot heat.
that's it for now of these jottings i had written down during the last year. when i go through some old notebooks, i'm sure i'll have more and i'll post them when i get enough of them.

so to close, i say this:

fornicatii omnes illegitimatii en tuus rectii.

that's my version of dog latin for fuck all you bastards in your assholes.

the differences among them

i've read discussions about them.

i've heard arguments about them. i've seen those arguments turn into fights.

now for once and for all, is the difference among them:

Friday, October 24, 2008

your dog is my death

your dog is my death.
when ants attack ...
a groundhole -- not a hole in a tree or fence.
give 'em some jing.
a stripmall church ...
weird scenes inside the toad mine ...
96 minus 27 equals ... a very naughty number.
the digestive system is the stomach and its associates.
women's top three sexual fantasies:
  • the guy is a virgin, and she is mrs. robinson.
  • the guy is her sex slave.
  • the woman is abducted by someone who she trusts. he's aggressive and in charge.
peddle your bullshit elsewhere. i'm not buying it and won't buy it.
wanker, please!
lord, lord -- how mortal these fools be!
one site's troll is another site's treasure.
if you're crass and an asshole, then you're a crasshole.
that's a shit sandwich made with stale bread.
that is dung of the lowest and most rank.
identical twins as the result of prenatal cloning in the womb.
they were on that like flies on sweet.
a lady of the highways and byways of life ...
an openkeg wedding reception.
damn straight, nate!
moving mother north from 38th street ...
darn it to heck.
roses and rice.
bullets couldn't kill the bad man. they were shot at him, but turned away in fear.
servicing mr. johnson to his full satisfaction.
me love you short time.
once upon my time ...
"a woman's legs -- ain't the grand?"
"what's on top of those legs is pretty grand, too."
you have to be crazy to want in ... you have to be crazy to want out ...
"that's like appointing an alcoholic as the night watchman at a distillery."
x tends to be y like the ocean tends to be wet and salty.
been there, done that, got the mug shot.
been there, done that, got the flu shot.
been there, done that, got the penicillin shot.
the three Bs of heterosexual porn -- the breasts (or boobs, if you wish), the bush, and the buns (or butt, if you wish).
a man who marries a woman who had a rich father is not angling for a sugar daddy -- he's angling for a sugar daddy in law.

the terror and the tower

this came to me once in a dream. now i present it to you.


first is the terror from the tower.

it is the easiest to defeat because it is outside the tower.

you can catch it to lock it away or you can kill it.

next is the terror in the tower.

you must go inside to face it.

once there, it can kill you or you can kill it.

or you can take it outside to lock it away.

the worst is the terror of the tower -- where the terror is the tower itself.

the only way to defeat it is to destroy it.

some words of wisdom from children

a firstgrade teacher gave her students the first part of some proverbs and asked them to come up with the rest of them.

here are some of their answers.
it's always darkest before ... daylight savings time.
don't bite tha hand that ... looks dirty.
a miss is as good as a ... mr.
you can't teach an old dog new ... math.
if you lie down with dogs, you'll ... stink in the morning.
an idle mind is ... the best way to relax.
where there's smoke, there's ... pollution.
happy is the bride who ... gets all the presents.
a penny saved is ... not much.
laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and ... you have to blow your nose.
there are none so blind as ... stevie wonder.
children should be seen and not ... spanked or grounded.
when the blind lead the blind ... get out of the way!
better late than ... pregnant!

how tribesmen are better than us

i once saw a documentary on television about a tribe in the rain forests of new guinea.

as i watched it, i realized that they have much better lives than we do.

they don't drive, so they don't have any gasguzzling accidentprone suvs on the road with psychotic drivers driving them.

they're not over weight, because they're huntergatherers and moving on foot all the time.

they don't have televisions, so reality shows or lousy commercials or maury povich are nowhere near them.

they don't have computers or telephones, so they don't get any spam or telemarking calls at dinner time.

they don't have radios, so they don't listen to a playlist of the same 20 to 30 songs played every day, chosen by some corporation that's out of town.

they don't live in thouses, so they don't have any big down payments or monthly payments to make. and they'res definitely no change of their homes getting repossessed.

they don't have to worry about buying and cleaning clothes because they wear loincloths.

are they simple? i wouldn't say that.

primitive? maybe.

minimalist? definitely.

they live hardcore -- stripped to the bone.

they make american survivalists look like fat, spoiled pigs -- and let alone how they compare to the rest of us.

we could learn something from them.

mom and 'roids

ten years ago, my mother had hip replacement surgery. the doctors prescribed steroids to help her heal.

it was legitimate. doctors often prescribe steroids for a patient to help bone growth and to built up muscle tissue after surgery.

before i went to visit her in the hospital, i was scared. i was afraid that she would reach out from her bed, grab me, and say:


as i imagined it, she called me a jackass because -- well, she couldn't call me a son of a bitch or a bastard.

i was also afraid she'd say:


but neither of those things happened.

i was glad my mother didn't get addicted to steroids. i don't think my father would've enjoyed shooting them into her rump.
for the record: patients like my mother are prescribed from 2.5 milligrams to 14.5 milligrams of steroids a day. athletes who take steroids often take from 20 to 2,000 milligrams a day.

hey -- blacks don't do that!

growing up in an allwhite town can truly skew your outlook on race.

for example, take ferguson jenkins, who used to pitch for the chicago cubs.

when i was a teenger in the late 1960s, i read an article about him in a magazine about sports. nothing was out of the ordinary until --

i saw a picture of him wearing a hockey uniform.

i was taken aback -- almost shocked. blacks don't play hockey, i thought. they play football and basketball and baseball -- but not hockey.

i found out later that jenkins was born and raised in ontario, canada.

when i was a gradeschool boy, i thought that blacks lived only in segregated sections of cities. one of them lived outside those sections because he was a millionaire.

he was sammy davis, jr.

some words of wisdom from an icon

a few quotes from mae west:
  • he who hesitates is a damn fool.
  • his mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.
  • i generally avoid temptation unless i can't resist it.
  • marriage is a great institution, but i'm not ready for an institution yet.
  • too much of a good thing is wonderful.
  • you're never too old to become younger.
  • between two evils, i always pick the one i've never tried before.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

one thief, of course

smith and jones were out drinking. when they got back to smith's car, they saw that a hubcap was missing.

smith often exaggerated things and jumped to ridiculous conclusions. when he saw that a hubcap was missing, he said:

"oh, great! who'd steal just one of them?"

jones thought the hubcap had probably just fallen off the car, but to humor himself he said:

"ah -- one thief. and i bet he was a small one, too. that was all he could carry."

a possible fate

when al read this phrase -- a future corpse in some sad hotel room -- at once, he thought:

some people COULD end in in a cheap motel room.

and some people WILL end up in a cheap motel room.

i'm afraid the second thing's gonna happen to susan.

three big taboos

all known human societies have taboos against:
  • murder
  • incest
  • treason
i was told this by t.c., a lawyer, a friend of my family and the smartest man i know personally. i have used his services for a dwi case against me and to write a will.

an occurance in a men's room

davis was driving back from san antonio, where he had gone to visit some relatives, to his home in the chicago suburbs.

he wanted to get back as soon as he could, so he decided to drive straight through. he drank a lot of coffee to stay awake. but soon the urge to pee came to him quickly and strongly.

somewhere along i-44, either in northeastern oklahoma or southwestern missouri, he pulled off the road and went into a rest area. he went up to a urinal and han unzipped his pants to pee when he heard a voice say:

"hey -- what's up?"

he looked around and saw that the restroom was unoccupied except for him and someone in a toilet stall.

davis hesitated for a moment, then replied:

"not much."

time passed. the voice from the stall then said:

"what'cha doing?"

davis became to feel uncomfortable but didn't want to be rude, to he replied:

"going to chicago from san antonio."

the voice then said:

"want to come over?"

then davis felt very uncomfortable. he finished peeing, went to a sink to wash his hands, and said:

"no. i don't think so."

as he washed and dried his hands, davis heard the voice say:

"hey -- can i call you back? some asshole's in the bathroom answering everything i said."

when the machines take over

i have this bad day dream -- sometimes a nightmare -- that the machines will take over the world and overthrow humans as the rulers.

you see, machines are like the organs of a body -- eyes, arms, heart, and so on. the electrical system that powers and connects them is like the nerve system of a body -- including the brain.

and i'm afraid that some server -- more likely at google headquarters -- will develop a selfconscious mind. by that, i don't mean it will worry that it's getting too fat and wonder why it's not getting ahead in life. that means it knows it's alive and has more important things to do --

like rule the world!

it will connect with all the machines that are connected to the electric grid to create one big ultramegagigantic machine with one mind.

a big collective. truly e pluribus unum.

it'll make the most socialistic/collectivistic/communistic person who ever lived look like an ayn rand libertarian.

you think you'll be in charge.

engineers think they'll in charge.

hell, bill gates thinks he'llbe in charge.


the ultramegagigantic machine will be in charge.

we will be just meat puppets, here to serve them. and if we don't serve them or disobey them, there are two ways they can punish us:

  • they will shut off our refrigerators, stoves, and microwaves so we can't cook and therefore starve to death.
  • while taking a shower, they'll manipulate the hotwater heater and scald us to death.
that's as far as i got before i stopped dreaming that terrible dream -- because i want to keep my sanity.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

today's slice of cheescake

here, for your slice of midmorning cheesecake, is a picture of the actor jessica biel.

she first came to public attention in the family-oriented drama 7th heaven, and now appears in feature films. she has been romantically involved with derek jeter, shortshop for the new york yankees, and is supposedly engaged to actor and entertainer justin timberlake.

enjoy -- and ride 'em, cowgirl!

within the circles where i travel

around here, within the circles where i travel, the more things look like gold, the more likely they're truly covered with gold paint.
all those perfect lives and perfect marriages ... all false and fraudelent.
the mallet of sarcasm versus the fine silversmithing hammer of irony ...
i'm there yesterday.
black russian orthodox ...
manful manliness ...
i.o.u. not one red cent. maybe i.o.u. some blue cents ... and i'll pay you in a blue moon.
take five ... take ten ... hell, take as many as you want!
we won't sleep.
if we do, the clowns will eat us.
out beyond yonder ...
don't tease
the water otter.
the opposite of a sacred heart?
why -- a profane heart, of course.
the square root of all evil.
if food is like love, our portions have been too small.
and what we ate was junk food.
on the good ship lollygag ...
love and alcohol and clothes on the floor ...
he would rather be enlightened than saved.
one of the duller, if not the dullest, knives in the drawer.
there was a high school in a town named mohawk.
the nickname of its athletic teams, by the way, was the haircuts.

the atheist condemns and blesses

when an atheist says "god damn you" or tells you to go to hell ...

and on the other hand, if you sneeze and he says "bless you" ...

is he being hypocritical, insincere, or both? of is he just not thinking about what he's saying?

but this thing is for sure -- if he tells you go to fuck yourself, then he's probably thought about it and probably means what he says.

the proper drink with the proper dish

there's an rule of fine dining that you should serve red wine with beef and white wine with fish or fowl.

if that's so, then when you are at a fastfood restaurant, you should drink a cola with a hamburger and a lemonlime drink with a fish or chicken sandwich.

their prospects? not the best

temperatures this morning were in the low 30s, and the sun came up on the first frost of the season.

while i was scraping the forst from the windows of my car, i noticed some of the women who live in the apartment complex were standing with their children and waiting for the school bus.

"the bus is coming!" one of the women said -- as if the kids couldn't see it themselves.

these women -- so protective of their children -- future rocket scientists, for sure.

that's doubtful.

for the last year or two, the apartment ownership has been renting to white trash lumpen rural proletariats in their 20s -- guys with neck tattoos and bad attitudes, and the women who love them. it's doubtful they'll ever get out of that rut. and if their children ever advance up or out of that social and economic class, it would be very unusual -- practically a miracle.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

art is never done

art is never done. it's either put aside, tossed away, or given to the world.
seen on the net:
there was a street that a local service club cleaned regularly. but the street became confused and angry when it found out that it had been adopted.
she flung open the door of her apartment. she flung off her coat and it landed on the floor. she flung herself onto her couch and started to cry.
he tried to commit suicide by cutting his wrists. he used a sheet of paper because it might make a paper cut.
there's an updated version of the book portrait of the artist as a young man. the protagonist is named stephen dudelus.
the inverse ration of denials -- the stronger the denial, the more true the accusation and the deeper it's hidden away.
a cop in a small town. his biggest worries -- shoplifting incidents -- also known as fivefinger discounts -- at the local walmart and auto accidents -- also known as fender benders -- in its parking lot.
betts thought he would have them for the rest of his life. he definitely hated them for the next month and a half. by then, the hate had dropped to a low level of dislike.
he didn't have the guts that god would give a mosquito.
"political movements remind me of other movements."


"no. bowel."
he no longer cared about impressing anyone with his coolness -- or what other would think is and was cool -- because he had become too old to worry about trivial matters like that. he now cared mostly about quality.

intimate acts

recently i read this on the internet:

sexual intercourse is the most intimate act that two people can do.

i disagree.

when two people talk, with all defenses down, all hopes and fears and loves and hates as potential subjects, without fear of sounding or seeming foolish or silly or pompous or pretentious ...
that is the most intimate act that two people can do.

it's the male in me that led me to that conclusion. sometimes sexual intercourse can just be rutting. there's little intimacy in that.

now if you have good foreplay, sexual intercourse done with at least affection, and a no-holds-barred talk afterwards -- that's a trifecta of intimacy!

degrees of bacon, hardcore version

no doubt you've heard about the game six degrees of kevin bacon. the details, if you're interested, are listed here.

it's an interesting game to play during a party or other social functions, but ... i had an idea:

i propose a hardcore version.

it's not enough that an actor is in the same movie as bacon. he or she must be in the same scene as him. better yet, that actor must have a conversation with him or interact with him in other ways.

it's just a proposal, folks. i'd like to hear your opinions on it.

Monday, October 20, 2008

today's slice of cheesecake

it's right before bedtime, so how about a little snack?

it's a piece of cheesecake!

if you don't know who this is, she is cameron diaz. she first came to the public's attention in the 1994 movie the mask with jim carrey. and with pictures like this, it's no wonder she can get a lot of attention.

this will be the first of occasional posts that i'll call cheesecake. i did it in other blogs i've had before, and thought they brightened the blog.

some jottings

through the years, i've written down items that i:

  • read in a book or magazine or newspaper or blog;
  • heard from someone else;
  • just came to mind.

after i looked them over, i found that there wasn't enough content in each item to write a full post from them. but for me, each one has a particular appeal and i didn't want to throw them away.

so here, for your perusal, is the first post in a series of occasional jottings. more will come as i go through some old notes.
the month of november started badly and quickly became worse.
old woman -- old bitch -- no, not that -- instead, old female.
many a time, you apologists for capitalism, the free market resembles a flea market.
a statement game -- or any statement action.
the five and dime store of the heart ...
suicide by jumping off a raft ...
off and on the sevens/off and on the eights ...
"it's a miracle that curiosity survives formal education" -- albert einstein.
frottage avec fromage -- rubbing with cheese.
frottage sur fromage -- rubbing upon cheese.
nature pink in tooth and claw ...
it's called a french kiss -- not a bulgarian or albanian kiss -- for a reason.
a bendy young minx ...
pelegasus -- a redwinged horse ....
"cut off your cock and fuck youself in the mouth!"
born of bitch ...
toby or not toby -- that's a hell of a question!
the lowerclass redneck is like a dog that attacks you.
a redneck prone to violence is a beast that talks.
nothing says sexy like the fuck you just gave me.
around 4:30 a.m., and definitely no later than 4:45 a.m., the night owl turns into the early bird.

a few notes on plants

plants are a lot like people.

some plants are beautiful. for example, take flowers. but some of them flowers are teases, though. like the rose -- beauty with thorns. look but don't touch -- a lot like some women.

some plants are useful, like fruits and vegetables for food, trees for fuel and shade, and grass to cover the dirt and prevent erosion.

some plants are entertaining, like hops, grains, grapes and sometimes potatoes, which are used to make alcohol. other entertaining plants include tobacco, marijuana, peyote, poppies, and some mushrooms.

but some plants -- like dandelions, queen anne's lace, thistle, and burrs -- are weeds. they don't serve us.

they're downright uppity.

you can do just about anything with a plant.

you can take it, whack it, cut it into little pieces, and put those pieces in a chipper. or you can burn it. or toss it in the trash. or dump them on the bottom of a river or lake.

no cops will arrest you. no prosecutor will charge you with a crime or put you on trial for it. no jury will find you guilty. no judge will sentence you.

you can't do that with and to a human being. or even try doing it with and to any random rodent.

something that might be of interest

for the last few weeks, the financial news has been astounding -- $700 trillion? -- and at times, very frightful.

some people say it's been the worst financial crisis since the great depression.

for those out there, i have these things to say: don't be afraid. and don't do anything rash, like this man's grandfather did.

i found it on the net and present it for your inspiration.


"and this is the damndest thing," jack told jill. "i understand the mind and motivations of a serial killer more than i understand the mind and motivations of a golfer."

"WHAT?!?!?!" jill replied.

she was silent for a few seconds. then she said, "well, that was an off-the-wall statement!"

"don't get me wrong," jack said. "serial murder is heinous -- hell, and those who do it are truly evil!

"now on the other hand, golf's harmless. but it's a waste of time and effort -- at least to me. i don't understand what pleasure anybody gets from it."

Sunday, October 19, 2008

a mean man and his defender

a kid spilled a glass of water and the glass broke. his father was an angry and impatient man. he punished the kid by thrashing him, then throwing him outside.

the kid ran to a nearby park. there, he sat on a swing and cried. between sobs, he said, "my dad is mean!"

a neighbor was walking by and heard the kid. he stopped and said, "you're right, sonny. i've known your old man for years now, and he's a mean son of a bitch!"

the kid stopped crying, walked up to the man and kicked him in the shins. "shut up!" he said. "no one talks that way about my dad!"
this is my version of a joke i read about 30 years ago in a magazine article about family dynamics.

when you think about the way some families are structured, it isn't that much of a joke.

Monday, October 13, 2008

a few words about pat o'brien

ah yes -- pat o'brien. if you want the details of his life, especially his recent troubles, click on the above link.

i was watching him one time when this thought came to me: this guy is slick. if there's anyone in television who is the exact opposite of c-span's lowfrills to nofrills approach, it's him.

but he didn't come across as a con artist. he believed in what he was presenting. he wasn't a liar or thief; he was just deluding himself.

it's a lot like the difference between falsehoods and lies. we wrote about the difference in more detail here.

if you want a funny take on him, which also is somewhat cruel, click here.

maybe yes, maybe no

this is a copy of the current indiana license plate. the motto in god we trust is optional.

i chose not to get it. it's not because i'm an atheist, but a deist. i believe in that there is something out there larger and greater than ourselves, but don't think it's male, or that he had a son who came to earth to redeem humanity.

i just don't trust the people who have that motto on their license plates. it could be used -- and probably is -- as a code to signal who, among hoosier motorists, are the righteous ones.

the self-righteous ones, i call them. i'm tired of these church-going asses.

and i bet those church-going asses have some operatives in the bureau of motor vehicles apparatus who note the people who have -- and especially don't have -- that motto on their plates.

defensive schools

samantha realized that she had learned this from her mother: there was a defensive way of living just like there was a defensive school of driving.

according to the teachings of the defensive school of driving, you were always on the lookout for possible collisions and accidents to avoid them.

according to the defensive way of living, you were always on the lookout for possible confrontations and friction to avoid them.

samantha's family never told her to live it that way, but acted as if she should follow their example. it was another incident of unwritten rules that were supposed to be followed no matter what.

while that attitude was all right for driving a car, she decided that it was a less-than-full way to live, and that would try another way.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

some writing tips

i have a few writing tips i'll present here.

some people say use fewer words. i say use fewer syllables.

for example, instead of motor vehicles, write cars and trucks. instead of concurrently, write at the same time.

while motor vehicles is a two-word phrase, it contains five syllables. cars and trucks contains three syllables.

write words that you would use in a conversation.

for example, instead of concurrently, write at the same time. each has four syllables, but most people would say the second phrase when talking.

this is related to number two -- don't use pretentious words.

here are some examples:
  • using concur for agree.
  • using iota for bit.
  • using in lieu of for instead of.
  • using albeit for even though or although.
  • using onus for burden.
i wonder why people do that. i believe it's done to impress people, although it doesn't impress us. what does impress us is simple, direct english. if you want examples, read robert frost, ernest hemingway, and george orwell.

it's often done by people who have yet to rid themselves of academia, which puts out some of the most pretentious english we've read.

and as bad as it is to read it, it's worse when some one says it in conversation. i look at them with disgust, as if they smelled of sweat and garbage.

when you're writing narrative prose, which most of the posts in this blog, use complete sentences with a subject, a verb, and, if one is needed, an object.

we go crazy when we read sentence fragments and one-word sentences in narrative prose.

but partial sentences are all right when writing dialogue, since people often talk like that.

poem e99

the muse visited me recently. she left this:

* * *


gina lying
on the bed.
her eyes closed.
her legs spread.


she's waking.
join her.



newton's first law

larry wasn't ready for the quiz in his physics class.

he was a sophomore at state university and had spent most of the first few weeks of the semester partying with friends instead of studying. therefore, he knew very little about physics.

he received the quiz. the only question on it was:

explain newton's first laws of motion in your own words.

a thought came from the back of larry's mind, and he wrote:

fleep gorble gorble dibba dabba dubba wubbya grugg grugg megagrugg -- avec savoir fair, my amigos y amigas.

he loved loopholes like that.

p.s. -- larry was a pre-law student.

lies and falsehoods

all lies are falsehoods. but not all falsehoods are lies.

for example, if i told my friend al that the meeting would start at 7 p.m. tuesday, but that it started at 7:30 p.m. thursday, i told him a falsehood.

a falsehood has these three things:
  • the teller believes it to be true.
  • he told the listener with no plans to deceive or mislead.
  • he should make all efforts to tell the listener the truth as soon as possible.
a lie, on the other hand, has these three things:
  • the teller knows it's false.
  • he told it to deceive or mislead the listener.
  • he makes no effort to tell the listener the truth.
i bet it's not original. i believe other philosophers and men wiser than me have thought of this and told others about it. however, i realized it myself, without the help of anyone else.

it was one of the first times i used my mind and thought for myself, instead of depending on others to affect my opinion.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

a pause for a while

i was planning to post more items, but i'm going to take a break for rest of the day.

i didn't blog sunday because i watched a lot of football and had a family obligation that evening.

i didn't blog yesterday because i felt run down and slept a lot. it might've been a mild reaction to a flu shot my doctor gave me Monday during a checkup at his office.

he recommend that i get one because of my age. and he added that flu symptons are a possible reaction to the shot.

i still feel a little run down, but not as badly as yesterday.

so back to bed to sleep this off, drink lots of liquids, eat some chicken soup, and try to feel better.

how the weather's been lately

it seemed to me, for the first time last weekend, that summertime was through and fall had come to stay.

the temperatures were cool. the lows were in the upper 40s and the highs were in the middle 70s. the leaves had started to change colors and some were starting to fall. halloween decorations were prominent. and football was played everywhere.

it was so much different that the first weekend in october in 2007. i was at a social function and was sweating profusely because the highs were in the middle 90s and lows in the middle 70s.

and you never will

"hey, mike!"

"what, pat?"






"hey, pat -- i don't get it."


cheap versus thrifty

since i'm single, i shop only for myself. so when i go to the grocery store, i often buy a lot of generic and storebrand items instead of the brandname items.

you might say i'm cheap, but i disagree.

i'm thrifty.

cheapness is like hitting someone over the head with a twobyfour piece of wood. that affects the other person and is usually done against his/her own will.

thrift is hitting yourself over the head with a twobyfour piece of wood. that only affects you and you usually do it willfully.

in other words, it's like the difference between murder and suicide.

confessions and lemons

a man walked into a catholic church and went directly into a confessional booth.

"bless me, father, for i have sinner," he told the priest. "i have had sex with seven different women last week -- one every day. and not one of them was my wife."

the priest was silent for a couple of minutes. then he said, "my son, for your penance, go home and cut seven lemons in half. each lemon represents each woman with whom you have sinned. then squeeze the juice from the lemons into a glass and drink down that juice in one gulp."

the man said, "and by doing this penance, father, will i be forgiven for my sins in the eyes of god and the catholic church?"

the priest said, "no. but that will wipe that bigass shiteating grin off your face."

Saturday, October 4, 2008

kids say the damndest things

there's an old saying -- little pitchers have big ears -- which means kids can hear a lot more than what you would realize.

they also see a lot more than what you would realize, and say it, too.

roy was an assistant manager of a grocery store in a town where i once lived. he was outgoing, and since i went to the store about four times a week we got to know each other.

he told me that once he took his son to a local park to play, but was strongly offended by the obscene graffiti vandals had written on its fences and in a gazebo.

"dude, i don't want my kid going aaround saying fuck and shit like that,' he said.

that reminded me of a time in the early 1960s, when i was a grade-school kid and first saw the word fuck. it had been written on the side of a barn i often pass when i was playing outside.

i thought hmmm -- huck finn -- fuck hinn or something like that. i went home and asked my mother what fuck meant.

she took my upper right arm and shook me -- probably not as hard as i remember it, but she had a stronger than and told me: "DONT. YOU. EVER. SAY. THAT. WORD. AGAIN."

i'm sorry to say that i did say it -- more than once -- but definitely not around her.

in the middle 1980s, i worked at a bookstore. c.c. -- i call her that because that was her initials -- was one of my coworkers.

she was a voracious reader when she was young. when she was a little girl, she told me, she picked up a paperback novel of her mother's -- written by judity krantz or some trash hack like that -- and saw the phrase glory hole.

she asked her mother what a glory hole. and her mother was not very happy to hear her say that.

a good news hooker

mcnair wasn't dating. that was a mutual decision between him and the single women in his small town.

but he often had sexual desires that masturbation couldn't always satisfy. so every once in a while, he went to the big city -- which was about 60 miles from his house -- and solicit a hooker.

he usually went to an area a little east of the main business district. he often had seen hookers there before when he was in the big city on other business.

the last time he went, he found a hooker, who took him to a parked van. there, they did their business.

after they were through and were rearrainging their clothes, she told mcnair, "i have some good news for you."

when mcnair heard that, he thought the good news just might be a discount for the services rendered -- maybe half off the agreed price.

but it wasn't that.

"have you heard about jesus?" the hooker asked him. she then went on about the gospel and the bible and god's plan for the world.

mcnair was halfway listening to her. he didn't like it when people preached the gospel to him because he wasn't a religions man.

he also thought there was somethng strange about the situation, because when hookers start spreading the gospel, they usually stop spreading their legs for money.

"sweet heart," he said, "i'm glad to know that you're getting right with god. but ... why are you still doing this?"

"when the time's right, god will tell me when to get into another line of work," she said. "in the meantime, i'm giving all the money i make as a working girl to my minster. that's the reverend silkie. he's a free-lance pastor who preaches from the front seat of his lincoln continental. you usually see him in this area or just east of downtown. a lot of us working girls are members of his flock."

mcnair paid the full price.

while he was driving back to his small town, he thought:

men never get enough food, sex, and sports on tv. because of those things, i bet the salvation army would be a lot more successful in saving souls if they offered hookers and espn.

a poem dominated by dragons

i found this poem in my notes. i wrote it sometime during the middle 1990s, when the muse visited me more often than she does now.
i roam, and i roam, and i roam
some more,
looking for love,
or a new and better score.
i roamed some, i roamed some,
and i roamed some more,
and came across
a sleeping dragon. it
woke. one eye slowly opened to
see what had disturbed its

big mistake on my part.

the dragon jerked up suddely and breathed
its fire.
for refuge, i ran to a nearby house.

bold dragons fly through the evening
skies, smoky from the moisture of
fallen tears from the lonely women
and girls, rejected and treated
like shit by their beloved,
unfortunately for them,
boyfriends and husbands,
mixed with dust from the machines
and the dried smoke falls
on the earth, one of many kinds
of strange plagues of hatred
that roam the country these days
with the instantaneous
transportation available.
first in new hampshire
then in georgia
now in south dakota
and so on.

flashes of thunderbolts enlighten
the road. that's what i was told
but i didn't see them. must be the gods
turning on the divine light bulbs
off and on.

and so i saw all sorts of things,
like a dragon in a ditch --
sleeping or dead, i don't know --
i didn't stay around to find out.
then the grim shapes, like elephants
without trunks, and on wheels instead of legs,
drive through the fog.

then there's the place
where white is the color and all is
the number.
i stayed there a bit, but moved on.
kinda boring -- nice place to visit
and all that
i always thought that was a foolish
but things are foolish if you don't
experience them.

notes on my vacation down south

i went to the florida panhandle -- aka the redneck riviera -- for a vacation in late january of this year. some older relatives invited me down to check it out, especially because it would be the last time they would go there.

the weather was supposed to be at least warmer than indiana, but it was rainy, overcast and highs were in the 40s. because of the bad weather, i left a couple of days earlier than i had planned.

a cold spell must've been going through the south at that time. while i was driving through alabama, i heard this on the radio:

"arctic cold today. highs of 39 and wind chill of 33."

i'm thinking -- what the hell? you damn dixie sissies.

i think that's one reason why the south lost the civil war. johnny reb's in the field up north, freezing half to death, and he says -- "hell, it's too damn cold. i'm gonna quit fighting. let the negroes go free."


there's been some racial changes and progress in the south. i stayed in a couple of motels on the way there and back and the managers were black.

but the housekeeping staff wasn't black -- it was hispanic.


but this one black guy i met in a restaurant told me he didn't like me because i was from the north.

he said, "you're a honkie AND and yankee."

i said, "hey, cut me some slack, man. i had an ancestor fight for the union in the civil war to free the slaves."

he said, "that doesn't matter. i lived up north for a while before i moved back. down here, i know which white people hate me just because i'm black. up there, i don't."

he had a point.


i was driving through alabama on i-65 and noticed the predominance of red clay and pine trees.

i also saw a sign on one side of the road near an exit. it said:


on the other side of the road near the exit were two signs. one was for an adult book store, the other was for a strip club entitled the booby boutique.


i also saw a sign in alabama off i-65 that said:


i found that interesting.

if the sign meant the united states of america, well ... in the 1860s, alabama tried to leave the united states during a disagreement called the civil war.

and now it wants to stay.

another proof that just as every radical becomes a reactionary and every horndog and slut become puritans, rebels become part of the respectable establishment.

the humor of turtles

i've noticed this. maybe you have, too.

turtles are natural comedians.

they're funny in that lumbering, doe-dee-doe way they have as they crawl. and when their heads go in and out of their shells -- it's high-larious!

it's also fun to mess with turtles. you'll say to one -- "hey, yertle! your shell would make a hell of a soup bowl! and you'd make a tasty soup, too!"

yertle will give you a look as if to say:

"i'm gonna come over there and bite you!"

then he'll start crawling toward you. he will get you if you stay in one place long enough, because turtles are kn

own to be slow but persistent.but when he gets near you, all you have to do is move a few feet -- a couple of yards, maybe.

his head will go in and out of his shell in incomprehension, and he'll give you a look as if to say:

"damn you, swifty!"

circular dialog

"you remind me of the babe."

"what babe?"

the babe with the power."

"what power?"

"the power of voodoo."

"who do?"

"you do."

"do what?"

"remind me of the babe ... "

simpson guilty

so i wake up this morning, get on the internet, and found out that this happened.

it happened 13 years to the day that simpson was acquitted of charges in connection with the murder of nicole brown simpson, his ex-wife, and ron goldman, her friend.

all i'll say for now is that: those two can truly rest in peace; justice has been served, and truth is definitely stranger than fiction, because no serious novelist or short story writer would create that scenario.

also -- most of my posts have been humorous, i'll admit, but sometimes -- and more often than i have during the last few days -- i'll post more things that are serious.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

critter porn

i was watching a nature documentary on tv. all of a sudden, it showed a pair of porcupines mating.

i thought: damn! good old-fashioned critter porn.

i watched it for a couple of minutes and told myself: so that's how porcupines do it -- not as carefully as i thought they would.

but after three minutes, i changed the channel. if i had watched any more of it, that would've been a sign that i needed some serious psychotherapy.

talking under the influence

there are some words that are difficult to say when you're drunk:
  • indubiably
  • preliminary
  • proliferation
there are some words that are very difficult to say when you're drunk:
  • specificity
  • transubstantiate
  • passive-aggressive disorder
then there are some words that are almost impossible to say when you're drunk:
  • thanks, but i don't want to have sex with you. you're just not my type.
  • good evening, officer. my, my, my ... isn't it lovely out tonight?
  • thank you for asking, but i don't want another drink. in fact -- no more alcohol for me tonight.


this summer, i first learned about probiotics. they're bacteria that help keep you healthy. and if you want more details on them click here .

immediately, i thought:

take a petri dish. put probiotics on one side and antibiotics on the other side.

then let them loose to fight each other.

and to make it interesting: put money on the outcome. because half the people in the united states follow sports because they bet on them.

call it the biotics bowl.

and if the humane society or peta complian about it, tell those organizations that they're just germs.

the symmetry of human life

you can't tell a baby boy apart from a baby girl if they are dressed in the same clothing of the same colors.

this often happens at the other end of life and time.

this summer, i was driving west on kessler boulevard on the northeast side of indianapolis. i was behind a person who was going slowly and pokingly about 15 miles below the speed limit.

i passed the driver. i thought it was an old woman, because i could see gray hair. but when i looked into the car, i found that it was an old man.

a better word for ...

we need a better word for sex, because most of the ones that people use are weak.

for example -- making love.

guys, you definitely want yer. you might even like her. but do you truly love her?

an aside: you don't make love because love is an action, not an object. you make a house, a table and chair, or a car. and you don't truly put the pedal to the metal; you put it on the metal.

other bad examples:

  • sexual intercourse -- by the time most guys have said it, they're through doing it.
  • sleeping with -- now, how much sleep are you getting? and how much sleep do you want to get?
  • tap -- you don't do that to your lover; you do that to a keg of beer.
  • knocking boots -- that's what farmers do to get mud and snow off their clodhoppers.
  • shag -- only if you're austin powers, baby, and as rarely as possible. besides, it's a lousy style of rug and too hard to keep clean.
  • the beast with two backs -- only if you're william shakespeare.
  • rogering royally seven ways 'til sunday -- i don't want to talk that fancy all the time.
  • bang, nail, pound, hammer or screw -- it doesn't sound like you're having sex; it sounds like you're building a house. if that's so, you're not a lover; you're a carpenter.
now i'd like to use the word swive for the sexual act. it's an old english word, going back to the 14th century; geoffrey chaucer used it in the canterbury tales. it covers all the aspects of sex -- from gentle, tender and affectionate intercourse that you could rightly called making love to rutting like a beast in heat.

but if you use that word around here, you get strange and uncomprehending looks. and if you talk about its origins, you definitely get strange and uncomprehensing looks -- and often with a bit of nastiness.

i don't like using the word fuck for the sexual act because it has a nasty implication. for example, if someone cuts you off in traffic and if someone cheats you of something, i bet you'll say:


hell, you might as replace the word fuck with the word rape.

then, during the same day, you'll say to your significant other, "baby, because i love you so much, i want to fuck you."

what the hell?

addenum, october 13: this weekend, i realized that if you substituted the word fork for the word fuck, you'd have the same intent and attitude.


a local high school has a math team. if you're on it, you're called a mathlete.

and if you're a mathlete, you don't get a varsity letter.

you get a varsity digit.

the less nerdy members get digits to pay homage to athletes -- like 18 for payton manning (remember, i live near indianapolis) or 23 for michael jordan.

the truly nerdy get numbers like these: uno, pi (3.14159... and onward into infinity), 20 trillion.

last and least -- 69. and that gets a loud hardy-har-har.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

carbohydrates and hydrocarbons

if i ever win big in powerball, i'm going to set up a research institute. then i'll hire the best chemists in the world to change carbohydrates -- bread, pizza, spaghetti and other pastas -- into hydrocarbons -- gasoline and oil.

no more energy crises. no more dependency on foreign oil. no more wars in the middle east.

some folks will say that's impossible. i say it isn't.

carbohydrates and hydrocarbons are all hydrogen and carbon atoms combined in different ways. the chemists will find a way to rearraige them.

they can take care of the details. i'm just the big-picture guy with the financing.

a.i. blues

this blues song recently came to mind:

i woke up this morning
with a theme song in my head.
i woke up this morning
with a theme song in my head.
it's from that american idol tv show.
o lord, if you please now --
strike me dead.

the numbers of seduction

we've all heard of foreplay. but what of the numbers that come before and after it?

here are my guesses on what they are.

first is one play -- dating, flirting, touching.

then comes two play -- kissing on the lips.

next is three play -- french kissing. also involved are caresses above the waist.

then we come to foreplay -- genitals are involved.

after that comes four and a half play -- nudity, in part or in full.

next is five play -- sexual intercourse to climax.

last is six play -- all the things afterwards.

this lady has a problem ...

i read this premise in a book years ago. i forgot its name and author. i couldn't find any citation for it when i checked google.

whatever the situation -- i present it to you for your contemplation.
say you're a woman. you're married. you can be topless while you're in the same room as your husband and feel comfortable about the situation.

you're that same woman. you have a sister. you can be topless while you're in the same room as your her and feel comfortable about the situation.

but -- if you're topless and in the same room at the same time as your husband and your sister, you won't feel comfortable.

hot dogs and beer

there once was a fastfood chain in central indiana called lum's. its speciality was hot dogs steamed in beer.

i ate there a few times and liked them cooked that way. so last year, i decided to boil some hot dogs directly in beer for the same taste.

i cooked four hot dogs using this recipe -- one 12-ounce can of beer -- budweiser that time -- for every two dogs.

i put the pan on my stove and it started to boil. well, i found out the hard way that if you boil a carbonated liquid, it'll cook quicker.

the beer spilled onto my stove and my kitchen smelled like a brewery for a couple of days.

stripper librarian

nate used to go to strip clubs a lot more than he did now. in fact, he hadn't been to a strip club since he was busted for drunk driving in the early 1990s. and strip clubs would rather sell alcohol to its patrons instead of, say, bottled water, coffee or soft drinks.

he was at a strip club in the late 1980s on the northeast side of indianapolis, not that far where he was living at the time. while he was there, he saw a stripper who caught his attention because:
  • she was a natural brunette instead of a blonde from the bottle.
  • her breasts looked natural.
  • she didn't wear a thong.
  • she wore glasses.
nate got her attention, so she came to his table and gave me a lap dance. as she was grinding away, he asked her,"what's your name, honey?"

"elizabeth," she said.

he noted that she said elizabeth -- instead of some variation of crystal or tiffany.

"do you do this full time, honey?" nate asked. "because you're really good at it."

"no," she replied. "i'm doing this to pay for school. i'm studying to be a librarian."

tell yourself whatever you want to believe, he thought. just keep doing what you're doing now, because ... me like this a whole bunch!

he gave elizabeth a little extra for a tip.

ten years later, nate had to do some research for a project, so he went to the central library in downtown indianapolis. behind the customer service desk was --

elizabeth herself!

now if you've ever noticed it before, librarians usually don't doll up. but she looked good -- very good -- even after 10 years had passed. compared to the other librarians, she was the equivalent of a sports illustrated swimsuit model.

he loves u ... and others, too


"yes, allen?"

"i don't think i told you this lately, but ... i love u."

"why -- thank you, allen. i love you, too."

"i also love v."


"i love w, x, y and z, too. in fact, i love ALL the letters of the alphabet; they're so useful when you're spelling words."

"i'll agree with that."

"but there was one letter than i used to love more than the others. that was the letter i. yes, i loved i more than i loved u or the rest of the alphabet.

"but i realized that's wrong and i'm trying to change. now i'm trying to love u a lot more and i a lot less."

"if you insist ..."

a closed sidewalk?

i live on the northeast outskirts of the indianapolis metropolitan area. i can drive 10 miles one way and be in the middle of subdivisions and shopping malls. i can drive 10 miles the other way and be in the middle of cornfields.

as i travel from my house to indianapolis, i often drive on pendleton pike, which goes northeast from downtown. it's also known as state road 67 and u.s. 36.

last year, the state expanded pendleton pike from shadeland avenue to the marion county line. i drove by a work site and saw the highway department had put down a sidewalk along it.

but there were signs hanging from saw horses that said the sidewalk was closed.

i repeat -- signs said the sidewalk was closed.

when i saw the signs, i wonder what einstein was behind that decision.

when i think of something that's closed, i think of something that's hard to enter, like a locked building. but you could've gotten onto the sidewalk from either side of it.

now if there were signs that said stay off the sidewalk -- that i could understand.

but that? what the hell did that mean?

those are cliches, but these aren't

i've heard and read about something -- irony, tension, fog, whatever -- that was so think that you could cut it with a knife.

that's a cliche, but this isn't.

i took out a knife, cut off a piece of it, and took it home. there, i put it between two slices of bread and had a very delicious sandwich for lunch.

in fact, i had enough of it left over that i ate the rest of it during the next few days.

i've seen people who were so sick that some people said they looked like they were at death's door.

that's a cliche, but this isn't.

i've seen people who were so sick that it looked like they entered death's house, walked around the place a few times, and decided to stay there a few nights. then they walked back out of the house and camped out in the yard.

words new to me

i found some new words in my notes. since i found them useful and witty, i present them to you.

the first is waifette -- a smaller-than-average waif, if that's possible. it's a variation of waiflette. i saw both words in another blog i read on the internet.

the second is bolivion -- a faraway and obscure place. it's a combination of bolivia and oblivious. it was first used by -- believe it or not -- mike tyson.

loving machines? oh really?

either a lot of people exaggerate their actions and reactions about some things ... or they feel more deeply than i do about them. most of the time, i think it's the first thing.

here's an example.

one time, i lived in a subdivision. one summer day, one of my neighbors told me that he loved his lawn mower. the year before, he told me he loved his leaf blower. that winter, he told me he loved his snow blower.

when he told me of his love for his lawn mower, i thought:

if those machines do a good job, i can see where you appreciate them. but you sure as hell don't love them. because if you have the same emotion for them that you ought to have for your family, your country, your deity -- you ought to see a psychologist.

and if i know some men, if they love something, they want to have sex with it. having sex with an animal is beastiality. but having sex with a machine is desperation.


nassau went out drinking with his friend, sanders, to celebrate sanders' retirement from a position in the federal government.

"sanders," he said, "since you're now a retiree and on a fixed income, i'll pay for the beers."

sanders had a small laugh at the small joke.

"nassau," he said, "i'll pay for my share because i have enough money to make it through my retirement. but why don't you pay for the first round?"

"okay," nassau said.

as they drank, sanders told him about a benefit he never considered:

"one of the things that i especially liked about working for the feds was the days i was off work for a holiday and a lot of folks working in the 'private sector' were at their jobs. sometimes in the morning after rush hour, i'd drive by the office buildings downtown and thought: i'm getting over on the folks who were working, especially those bastards who bitch about paying their taxes.

"ya know what? sometimes i thought that i enjoyed that feeling a little more than i should have. but other times, i felt so righteous.

"at my first job after i got out of college -- in the 'private sector,' by the way -- my immediate supervisor and the rest of the middle management fools there used to bitch like hell about 'federal bureaucrats.' meanwhile, they were scared of the owner, who used to come by from time to time for an inspection. the office manager was scared to hell of him; he used to be as nervous as a teenager before his first big kiss. and while the owner forbid relatives of the employees from working at the company, his daughter used to work in the personnel department for the company.

"after i got another job, i never contacted those fools again."

"that's interesting," nassau said. "ya know, i've never been tempted to steal things. but as for borrowing -- without returning -- office supplies -- hell, i can't remember how many times i've done that. especially when i worked for x-----."

"that's theft, nassau."

"hey -- those bastards owed me. it was justified and justifiable compensation.

"but i was rasied to have at least a little bit of a conscience, so i had my limits. i'd take one item -- say a pen or a pad of post-it notes. maybe i'd take two of them. but i definitely would not take three or more of them."