What's For Lunch?

The saying goes, "You are what you eat." It's not the most profound adage I've ever heard, but there is a certain touch of truth, if only symbolic, in its message.

I have decided to take some time to ponder that message. I'll delve deep into it's meaning, but I'm not about to go spelunking into caverns of the imagery of that the phrase. I'm going to remain on the surface and take those words at face value.

Come along, walk with me through the neighborhood....

Accompanied by the echo of her hooves on the sidewalk, that's Mrs. O'Leary approaching us. Please forgive me for saying so, but she has one helluva set of udders. She is nodding a hello to us as she moo-ves on past us. You see, Mrs. O'Leary is an avid patron of McDonalds' and Burger King.

Ah, here comes Mr. Green. Did you ever see that old movie, "The Day of the Trifids?" Yes, the one where spores from space create walking plants. Well, I have to admit that I find it somewhat disconcerning talking to an asparagus spear. In his defense though, he does have a buttery-melt-in-your-mouth pleasant personality.

The Bakers live around the corner. It seems that Mrs. Baker is constantly baking. Whether it be cookies, breads, cakes or pies, the aromas can be smelled several blocks away carried by the breezes. Let her find that someone is having a birthday or an anniversary, you best believe she'll be showing up at their door with some special confection. Her husband looks like he is the official taster and benefactor of her hobby. It should be noted that his nickname is Poppy.

Mr. Meyer lives in that mustard-yellow house across the street. He is a bit introverted because of a difficult childhood, they say. It seems that all of the other kids were always trying to take a bite of him. It's ironic, wouldn't you agree, that his food of choice is the frankfurter? He may be tall and lanky, but don't call him a weiner!

His next door neighbor is a recluse of a sort. He is seldom seen around the neighborhood. Someone suggested he is disfigured and unsightly. Someone else said he was grossly obese, like a mass of putty. Judging by the trash he puts out, Mrs. Meyer said he eats a lot of tofu and soy products.

That white house on the corner is owned by the Frost family. They're away now. Unlike a lot of folks around here who go to Florida during the winter months, the Frosts migrate north of the Arctic Circle to Greenland during the summer. Their snow and ice sculptures and Christmas decorations are unrivaled for miles around. An apparent steady diet diet of ice cream and other frozen treats only enforces the fact that they love the cold weather. Talk about your Abominable Snow cones!

You probably know some people that remind you of a particular food item. They don't have to literally resemble the food, but rather may have characteristics and mannerisms that render a vision of some food stuff.
....I like to look at people in the news, celebrities and sports figures, etc. Even though he struggles to keep his head above water, Terrell Owens has never been see eating fish on a regular basis. It's little wonder that his favorite entree is crow.
....Take Michael Jackson, for instance. Knowing his affinity for small and young males, it should come as no surprise that his cuisine of choice would consist of bantam rooster.
....Now, how could I possibly spotlight someone in the news and not include our President. Many people see one of his attributes as his "beady" eyes. They may be beady, but I see them as multi-faceted. He may not buzz around on wings, but his culinary taste buds lend themselves to hot gourmet manure. That's right, he eats shit!

....So, what's on your menu? You don't care to divulge that information, huh? I can't say as I blame you. I am of the mindset that not all the things we eat have negative reflections on us. Some of you are Teddy Bears, dolls and angels, and i'm sure you don't eat any of those things. Being as sweet as honey can make you a Teddy Bear. I'm sure that you're an angel if you eat angel food cake.
....You snakes and worms out there, might not actually sup on things that slither, but if the shoe fits .... To all those assholes, I think I'll just leave this to everyone's imagination.
....I know some of you are waiting with breath for me to breech a certain tasty delight, but I'm going to stay away from that better reserved behind bedroom doors.

....It's time to close. You'll have to excuse me ... I have to cough up a hair ball!

No. 614

The Eagle Has Landed

My truck was parked at the base of one those concrete poles that support the lights about thirty feet off the ground for the parking lot. When I returned from the store, my first reaction was that I had walked into the wrong row. That wasn't the case.
....My truck, a '98 Sonoma has a maroon metal-flake painted body with white pin-striping on the sides. For a moment, there didn't seem to be a truck there matching that description.

I've never seen an eagle in these parts. Everett, Massachusetts has a population of about fifty thousand, and there is no wilderness to speak of for a hundred miles in any direction.
....It appeared however, that such a bird might have been in the area. Said bird had a serious case of diarrhea, and was unable to make it to the nearest avian restroom. If it wasn't a single large bird, then it was a whole flock of some smaller feathered bastards.
....Now, I happen to know for a fact that cattle have yet learned to take flight. With the possible exception of the Far Side cartoons, I can honestly say that cattle do not have wings. The cow that jumped over the moon at least had flight clearance from Mother Goose.
....In any event, the deposits that been so deftly decoupaged onto my truck rivaled anything a flying bovine might have left behind. How fortuitous, I thought, for the owners of the two vehicles parked on either side of me. Both the Taurus and the Corolla were unscathed. I surmised that the assailant had an affinity for General Motors products.
....Someone not familiar with my truck and its condition when I first parked in that spot, might have thought that it was a white truck with large splotches of maroon paint splattered onto it. For some reason, looking at my truck between the other two cars, I pictured three stalls in a public restroom. With the other two stalls in use, no one would dare to enter, much less use the middle one.

Atop a light post at the other end of the parking lot, were a half dozen crows or ravens perched upon the light fixtures. I was certain that I had found the culprits! They were animated, as if they were conversing with one another. Perhaps somewhere nearby, cameras were running while one of those Windex commercials was being filmed.
....I wonder if birds can recognize each other's guano? If so, perhaps their malicious droppings are an act of "tagging," not unlike those graffiti artists who leave their signatures on trains and walls.

...."Hey, Jack! Check out out that maroon truck over yonder!"
...."I saw it, Pete. I knew in a minute that was your handy work. I said to myself, 'Only Pete could decorate a whole truck like that!"
...."Heh, heh. Well, thanks. That's mighty kind of you. You're no slouch yourself, I saw that new limousine you got over on Broadway."
...."You liked that, did you? Doesn't our art look good on a black background?"
...."By the way, Pete, what in the hell did you have for lunch anyway? Taco Bell™?"
...."Nooooo! I dined at the trash cans behind that new Thai restaurant on Elm! That stuff gives you just the right consistency."

All of a sudden, the lot of them were airborne, scattering in different directions at once. A dark shape in the corner of my eye caught my attention. As I turned, a large bird dove past the perch where they had been roosting. Almost too fast for to me to focus, it grabbed a hapless bird in mid-flight with its talons. Behind its path a flurry of feathers could be seen floating to the ground.
....They predatory bird, its prey clutched in its claws, landed on a strip of grass at the edge of the parking lot about fifty yards from where I stood. I realized that it wasn't much larger than its catch. It was definite that no eagle had landed. It was a either a hawk or a peregrine falcon. Like a doctor performing an amputation, it surgically removed the legs and beak of the victim. Then it took to the air, its prize locked in its talons, no doubt off to a nest somewhere and its waiting mate.

I wonder which of the six it had caught. Would Jack ever get a chance to try out that Thai restaurant? Would he get another shot at a limousine? And what of Pete? Was justice served before my eyes?

No.613

Coming Distractions

MOVIE PREVIEWS

We are on the cusp of the summer blockbuster season at the movies. Movie-goers are poised to hit the theaters for this year's offerings. Coming soon is the long-awaited The Da Vinci Code, Mission: Impossible 3, and X-Men: The Last Stand.

As for myself, I tend to think of these summer releases as the blockbuster rentals of Autumn. I don't go to the theaters anymore. First and foremost is that it is just too damned expensive! Ten to fifteen dollars for one ticket just to get in for a first-run film? That's before making it to the concession stand. Do I really need to expound about the "bargains" at the stand?

I'm not prone to previewing movies as a rule, but in this post I am making an exception. However will be the operative word as far as these previews are concerned. I am not going to preview this summer's up-coming releases. Au contraire, I am going to preview next year's blockbusters!

Mission: Impossible IV: - Can Tom Cruise save the franchise as he struggles to save a marriage that was doomed from the start? His mission this time? To put on a convincing performance, unlike his efforts in the first three of the series.

Brokeback Valley: - Guilt-ridden, the cowboy's marriage is on the rocks. A mutual separation finds him heading back to the mountain and the man he had loved. They meet instead at a little cabin in the valley below the mountain. Together they both must find the answer to the same question: "How deep is my valley?"

The Bourne Nightmare: - Matt Damon's character awakens only to find that he'd been having a nightmare all along. The adventures that he'd experienced in the first two films had only been a bad dream. He experiences a real nightmare when faces reality and returns to his job as a lady's shoe salesman in a Wal-Mart store.

Rocky IX: - Rocky Balboa returns to train his grand son for a fight with Clubber Lane's grand daughter. When the two fall on love on the eve of their title bout, Rocky confronts his old nemesis in attempt to gain his assistance in breaking up the relationship between their grand children. The drama takes a strange turn when he discovers that Clubber is having an affair with Adrian.

Grumpy Old Women: - Sophia Loren and Ann Margaret reprise their roles, this time as widows. As terms of their husbands' wills they must get remarried. All is well and good until they set their sights on the same potential husband. There is one hitch, the man is more interested in wearing their clothes than he is in the women.

Grease 3: The Reunion: - It's been 30 years since the gang graduated from Rydell High. As they gather for the reunion, the alumni find that things have changed considerably. Danny has been shacked up with Frenchie. Kinickie is the mayor and is married to Cha Cha DiGregorio. Principal McGee and her former secretary Blanch are living together. Coach Calhoun was married to Vi from the diner. Betty Rizzo was on her third marriage, the current one with Eugene Felnic. The suspense builds as they await for Sandy to show up. Little do they know, she is now a porn star performing under the name of Cherry Pop. Her agent is none other than Vince Fontaine.

Well, there you go. You've read the previews here first. If you also think movie tickets are too expensive, then you can consider the above as previews for next fall's rentals.

No.612

Pitch Counts

The elderly couples seated in the booth behind us had been relatively quite until they had placed their order with the waitress. The two women immediately launched themselves into a heated round of "Bush-bashing." In a way it was refreshing, for they weren't targeting the President, but instead were attacking the distaff member of the Bush clan, the First lady.
....Laura Bush has remained unscathed during her husband's tenure. It has only been recently, due to the President's waning popularity, that she has stepped out of the shadows and into the lime light.
....It should have come as no surprise, however, that she would stumble right out of the gate. In an apparent affront to the Catholic Church's recent decision to approve the use of condoms as a deterrent to AIDS, she has come forth in disagreement with the Holy See.
....She said that even in the poorest regions of Africa those people should be practicing nothing more than abstinence. She went on to say that the availability and subsequent use of condoms would only serve to promote sex. According to her, condoms would not affect or deter the spread of AIDS or any other sexually transmitted disease.
....Apparently it runs in the family, and it is a clear case of another Bush opening a mouth and succeeding only in spouting nonsense. Like her husband and her in-laws before her, she should have been gagged before being allowed to speak in public.

Meanwhile, the two men had entered into their own hot debate. Both were on opposite sides of baseball's philosophy of limiting the number of pitches a pitcher should throw in a game. One argued that they were professionals, and they are paid handsomely to pitch! His counterpart suggested that limiting pitch counts in the first half of the season would "save" the pitcher's arms for the important end of the season. He said it was better to have strong arms down the stretch drives for the pennant races. These two elderly gentlemen probably had seen the likes of Babe Ruth and Jimmy Fox in a different era of America's pass time.

Out of the blue one of the ladies chimed in. "I agree with you, George. There are too many pitches." The other man turned and looked at her in stunned silence for a moment.
...."What do you know about baseball, Marge? You're always giving Bill a hard time when he wants to watch the Red Sox games."
...."Baseball?" she answered. "Who's talking about a stupid sport?"
....The woman next to her, both of the men, and me in my booth all were showing a puzzled look on our faces. The woman next to her spoke up, "They were talking about baseball. What were you talking about?"
...."Television, of course!" I'm sure the rest at her table were, as I, still wearing puzzled faces. "Advertisements! You know they are just glorified sales pitches. As I see it, there's just too many pitches!"

While I had never noticed that correlation before, I had to agree with her. The analogy, actually was a pretty good one I thought. To use her logic, the "pitch count" on TV, especially on the major networks, can be quite overbearing at times. The wheels were turning, and on a napkin I jotted down the words pitch count, and commercials on a pad of paper that I always carry with me. Yet again, I had been out and about and had picked up some possible blogging fodder from an unlikely source.
....There are only so many times you can get up to go the bath room, fetch a snack or get a drink during an hour-long TV program. It's not as if the producers don't know that there is mass exodus away from the television sets during virtually every single commercial. Perhaps that is why they run anywhere from three to six of them back to back.
....Oh, a pet peeve of mine is that after the last commercial when the programs logo reappears and a voice announces that the program will continue after that wonderful feature "Station Identification." What kind of idiots do they take us for? Do they honestly believe we don't know what station we are watching? Hell, I deliberately turned the set to that particular station in order to watch a particular program, which by the way just happens to be on only that particular station! Did someone forget to tell them that the station also appears in the upper right-hand corner of our television screens?
....I think that if I worked for the advertising department of a company, like Coca Cola, I'm not so sure I'd want people so stupid that they don't know what station they are watching, buying my product in the first place. In this day and age of frivilous lawsuits, I'd be wary of accusations that my Coke caused memory loss. I can see the headlines now: Consumption of Coca Cola Linked to Alzheimers and Dementia. Imagine the shareholders getting wind of that. The audience doesn't know what stations or networks they are watching due to excessive intake of the products of the Coca Cola Company.
....Now we know ... Now we know why they feel the need to air a "Station Identification," don't we?

It's all coming to me as clear as a bell about the connection of pitches to both TV programs and the game of baseball. I almost forgot that baseball is comprised of innings. Innings mean breaks in the action. Breaks in the action mean it is time to get a drink ... of Coke. A drink of Coke means we will forget what station we are watching. In case we forget, they are only too happy to remind us which station, that carried a Coke commercial,we were watching. What goes around, comes around!

No.611

Bush Sings

....This morning I was watching the news. It was pre-empted by an "important" address by President Bush concerning the price of oil. As he began to mumble and ramble and stray from the topic at hand, I could have sworn I heard a musical backdrop. The words he was saying, whatever he was saying were turning into lyrics.
...." We Americans are addicted to oil ..."

Mumblin, mumblin, mumblin. Keep ramblin, ramblin, ramblin. Though they're disapprovin, keep them ol' fogies wonderin 'bout their Raw Hides. Won't try to understand 'em, I'll just jerk and fool and srew 'em .... "Cause I'm livin high and dry. Lead em on, stretch em thin, stretch em thin, give em hope, lie to em' jerk around their ... Raw Hides! Knock em down, ride em hard, ride em hard, beat em up, hold em down, cut up their ... Raw Hides!

As Frankie Lane's baritone faded, it was replaced by the drone of Bush's rambling. It reminded me of yellow jackets buzzing around a cow pile. "We have to tighten our belts..."

The White House is the place to be, Presidentin' is the life for me. My bullshits a spreadin so far and wide. Bomb Iraq 'n Iran for the WMD they hide. Washington is where I'd rather stay, I'm allergic to what the people say. I just adore an oval office view. America, I love you, ... But give me Penn Avenue!

The image of Green Acres disappeared ... and still the blowhard's lips were moving. "We are dependent on foreign oil because that's where it comes from...."

George is George, of course, of course, and no one can talk like a horse's ass of course, That is, of course, unless the George is the famous Mister Dubya. Go right to the source and ask Geoge about it, He'll give the answer that's full of shit, he's never on a steady course. Talk to Mister Dubya. He can yakkity-yak a streak and waste your time of day, But Mister Duya speaks when he has nothing to say. George is George, of course, of course, And this one'll talk til his voice is hoarse. You never heard of our talking George? Well, don't listen to him, He's Mister Dubya.

I was laughing in spite of myself. Anyone nearby would've thought I was quite nuts laughing at a Presidential press conference. They would wonder what I thought was so funny about the escalating price of oil. One moment I was imaging Mr. Ed, and the next thing I know, I am seeing Elmer Fudd. "Be vewy, vewy qwiet. I'm hunting Iwaqis! Huh-huh-huh!"

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, A tale of of a wasted stint, That started from the Florida polls, On the back of the President.
....The VP was a mighty shooting man, The Commander a naive l'il worm; The country voted that day, For a four-year term ...a four-year term.
....The economy started getting rough, The country was tossed, Despite the men of the White House crew; The people's trust was lost ... The people's trust was lost.
....The country's aground on the desert sands of Iraq; With Cheney, and the Prez too, The millionaires, and their wives, The movie stars, the rich and you and I .... Here on George's Isle.

Still laughing, I jotted down some of the images I had conjurred up while the President spoke. I had scarcely heard a word of his diatribe. I'm sure it was a bunch of gobbly-gook and rhetoric that I didn't want to hear anyway. I folded up the notes and stuck them in my pocket and got my mind set to the thought of finishing dressing for work. I shut off the TV, leaving Dubya either in mid-word or a yawn, I don't know which.

The product of those thoughts, inspired by our glorious leader have become this posting before you. In hindsight, I guess the President's speech was worthwhile after all.

(For a limited time, a 2-CD set of George W. Bush's compilation of the greatest TV theme songs will be made available to the general public. The $79.95 proceeds will be donated to the George. W. Bush retirement fund. Get your copy today.)

No.610

Days of Whine and Roses

How do I get myself into these messes?

Since it was a miserable rainy day this past Sunday, I decided to break with tradition and tackle a long overdue project. (Sorry Peg, but this isn't a Honey-Do post.)

For some time we have discussed converting our old pictures, slides, and 35 mm reels of film to a digital format so that they can be viewed on the TV through the DVD player or on the computer. While it isn't exactly cheap to have this done, we have decided it is something that should be done.

Making the decision was the easy part. The hard part? We have to sift through the photos and slides to decide what gets to be digitalized and what doesn't. I knew that there would be a second, third and who knows how many more sortings. So initially we started the process by creating three piles: 1) the definite no's, 2) the definite yeses, and 3) the undecideds.

Have you ever tried to sort through pictures and such without getting caught up in the trip down Memory Lane? It was a cinch that this project wasn't going to be completed on a single Sunday. When the cat decided to join in on the fun by pouncing on the piles like a kid into a pile of leaves in the yard, that cemented the fact we wouldn't complete the task that day. Three gallon-sized zip lock bags was used to secure what we had sorted. A tall kitchen bag was put into service as a suppository depository for the remaining pictures. (We never got to the slides. It seems that I had forgotten ((how many years ago?)) that the slide projector needed a new bulb.)

Finally, it was time for Sunday afternoon at the movies! For those of you old enough to remember, how many times did a white sheet or a bare white wall serve as a screen for your 35 mm home movies? (For that matter, do you know how hard it is to find a plain white sheet nowadays?) After adjusting the legs on the projector to get the projector beam to hit the middle of the sheet, trying to remember how to thread a reel of film, and getting the images focused, the preview of our past lives was coming to life on the living room wall.

We were only a third of the way through the first of the "untitled and undated" reels, when I noticed my wife had become all teary-eyed. I said to her, "It sure does bring back the memories, doesn't it?" Reaching for another tissue she just nodded. I watched with interest as there appeared a scene of us at the beach playing badminton. I thought to myself, "We must have been in our twenties!" We were just dating then. It was a year later when she got her diamond. I got up anticipating a close up of her on the wall-screen. Strategically placing my hand in the projector light, I shadow-squeezed one of her boobs and said, "They are as nice then as they are now!"

I suppose I should have expected the adamant remark, "Pig! Is that all you ever think of?" I also suppose she should have expected my next move as the scene showed her wiggling her cute backside as she was walking away from the camera. This time I shadow-patted her butt. This time I said what I thought was the next right thing to say, "Some things just get better with age."

She was clutching a handful of tissue and I realized she was almost bawling! Wiping away the tears she said, "Look how thin I was!" I glanced at my watch and glanced at the grainy images on the wall. I had just gotten what I hoped was a great idea. I made an excuse that I had to run to the store. I think she was glad that I had chosen that moment to make myself scarce. The first reel was finished and I started another. We quickly realized that this was a reel of film of our wedding. If I had guessed right, once I returned it should coincide with a particular scene coming up on the reel.

Ten minutes later, I walked in at the same moment I was walking in on the screen. (Actually, I was early, heard the voices from the movie and waited until the moment was just right. The sequence on the film was shot by my mother-in-law on my first day coming home from work as a married man. I opened the door and was immediately met with a passionate embrace and kiss. I had in one hand behind her a bouquet of a dozen roses. It was the first of many times that I would open the door and say, "Honey, I'm home."

I bent over and kissed her on the cheek. Then I handed her some roses I had just purchased down the street and said, "Honey, I'm home." I thought it was good idea. I felt my timing had been impeccable. She laid the flowers on the floor next to her and looked up at me and said, "You only got those because I'm fat!" My protests of denial fell upon deaf ears.

We watched the rest of that reel in silence. She got up and handed me the roses and told me to put them in a vase. "I'm going to go lie down for a while." After I had boxed and put away the projector and the bags of memories, I stared at the wall where the images of our past had been. I thought to myself, "What did I do? How do I get myself into these messes?"

I guess it was just one of those Days of Whine and Roses!

No.609

The Brokeback Ranger

I can still hear the flurry of The William Tell Overture in the background. Then I hear Fred Foy's voice:

....A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty "Hi yo Silver!" The Lone Ranger. "Hi yo Silver, away! "
....With his faithful Indian companion Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains, led the fight for law and order in the early west.
....Return with us to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again!

I read recently that there are plans to make another movie about the Lone Ranger. I hope they do a better job this time. The last effort to return the masked man to the big screen was an utter embarrassment.
....While contemplating the idea of new Lone Ranger film, I was suddenly overcome with dread. What if they allowed Ang Lee to get his grubby little paws on the rights? He might even hire E. Annie Proulx to write the screenplay! Horrors!

There will a stirring rendition of the theme from the Banana Splits ! Then you will hear Gary Coleman's voice:

....A swayback horse tripping along, a cloud of talcum and a hearty "Hi yo Lilac!" The Brokeback Ranger. "Hi yo Lilac, away!"
....With his faithful Indian lover, Tonto ...

A daring and resourceful lawyer goes on a hunting trip with Shotgun Cheney to a desloate canyon known as the Hole in the Wall. He finds himself in Cheney's sights and is left to die with birdshot wounds in his groin. A young Indian man happens upon the fallen barrister. At first, noting the injured man was a lawyer, the Indian remounted his horse and said, "Only good lawyer is dead lawyer." In the end, once he realized where the man was injured, the Indian did the wrong thing and helped the man.

He deftly removed the buckshot and suckled the wounded area to remove any possible infections. He slept in the same saddle blanket at nights to keep the man warm. When the man's fever broke and he regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was a magnificent stud. Smitten, the Indian told the lawyer what he had done to save his life. The lawyer, still weak, was surprised when the Indian pulled down his trousers and demonstrated how he had saved him. He half heard the Indian when he pledged his devotion, "Tonto never leave Kemosabe's behind." The lawyer closed his eyes and dreamed of mounting that big stud.

When he was able to walk, the lawyer, who's name was John Ranger, finally got to mount that stallion. Sitting atop the white horse, he looked down at Tonto and asked what the horse's name was. "Him Kemosabe," answered the Indian. Ranger said, "I don't like that name. I think I'll call him Lilac!" Tonto said, "Him belong Tonto." The lawyer looked him in the eye and with his left hand cupped his crotch and said, "If Tonto wants any more of this trail mix, then Lilac is mine." Tonto looked up and replied, "Whiteman make hard bargain. Tonto like trade."

So it was, that the legend of The Brokeback Ranger was born.

(Following are a few interesting things about The Brokeback Ranger.)

According to Gary Larson's The Far Side, kemosabe means "horse's rear end." In Spanish, Tonto means "dumb." When he tells Tonto where to take the trash, the Brokeback Ranger says, "To the dump, to the dump, to the dump,dump,dump!"

....Return with us to those thrilling days of yester rear. The Brokeback Ranger rides again! (Lord help us!)

No.608

Got Gas?

I do believe Maxine is missing a few. A lot of people are sitting on it. Some people are talking through it.

Unfortuately, most of us are getting something shoved up it!

Who's operating that heavy equipment that's being driven so viciously along the Hershey Highway? Is taking the Cocoa Causeway some kind of short cut? I don't know about you, but I consider the Poop Parkway an exit ramp, not a friggin' expressway. I want Rectal Road closed to that kind of traffic. Sphincter Street should be made one way. Stay away from Anus Avenue too!

Of course, I am referring to the ever-escalating price of gasoline. For the past several weeks I have been filling up on a half a tank. The way it's going, it won't be long before I have to consider topping off at three-quarters of a tank. Just as surely as I am jamming that nozzle into my truck, I'm being assaulted from behind.

I have found a little bit of relief by comparing prices at the pumps of the local service stations near my home. I came across a site that has proven quite handy in this regard. If you are not familiar with the site, you should check it out. Gas Price Watch lets you monitor the price of gasoline in your area. After you've toured the site a bit, it is easy to use. You can enter your zip code or town name and state to get a list of your local gas prices at the various stations. The site will also provide you with a street map of the stations locations.

You can also become a member of the site. The prices are provided by individual drivers who post the prices as they come across them. Signing up allows you to also report the prices you find. I have found differences in gas prices ranging from two cents to nine cents this past week. Last week I found a station 12 cents cheaper than others in my area. Planning a trip out of town to a place unfamiliar to you? Type in the zip code and/or town name and find the cheapest gas there. You can also check out the stations along the route.

In closing, I have to let off some more steam because my ass hole is sore! If they aren't shoving it up our collective asses for one thing, they'll find something else.

No.607

The Laughing Place

You should never sit at the table after a day of work and discuss your day. Why? It's a waste of perfectly good Blog material.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah ... Zip-a-dee-day ... Plenty of sunshine comin' my way.

My good buddy, fellow Blogger, and Hillbilly brethern, Greg, fulfilled a long-standing wish of mine the other day. I'm sure many of you recognized the italacized lyrics above as the famous song from the Walt Disney classic, Song of the South.

My wish? I have longed for a copy of this movie for many years. It has not been seen in theaters since 1986 and was never released on VHS in the United States. Leave it to Greg, to procure a copy of it through e-Bay and to produce a copy for me. I received it on Thursday and have watched it no less than four times since, in less than 12 hours.

I have wanted a copy because not only is it a great film, but it holds sentimental memories.
While I did see it as a kid, the sentimentality doesn't stem from that time in my life, but rather from my adulthood. Many years ago, I bought a hard-bound book "Walt Disney's Story Land" for my daughter who was five or six years old at the time. It soon became a nightly ritual for me to read a bedtime story to her. Of the 55 stories in the book, there was one, the story of "Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby," that she loved. Because the story was being narrated by Uncle Remus, the dialog was in a deep-south vernacular. At that time, I still had a lot of my West Virginia accent and I was able to read the story to her with that drawl. It wasn't long before the other 54 stories were not acceptable to her. By the time she had begun to "grow out" of having Daddy read her bedtime stories, I had virtually memorized the entire story.

In 1980, when she was eight-years old, Song of the South was re-released at the theaters. Of course, we took her to see it. She too has been wanting to see the movie again ever since. She'll be here tomorrow to watch it with me for the first time in 26 years. (Well first time for her, fifth time for me.)

Joel Chandler Harris lived among former slaves after the end of the Civil War and wrote down the colorful tales they told him. He created the fictional story-teller Uncle Remus, and compiled the stories in the book, Song Of The South. In simpler and happier times these tales were considered classic folklore.

To me, Disney's screen adaptation of that book, is the best film they ever produced. It's a shame that the sensitivity to the issue of slavery has denied a generation the pleasure of this wonderful film. Scarcely anyone below the age of 30 has had the opportunity to see it. That is unfortunate. I am not insensitive to the subject, but the fact is that the film has nothing to do with slavery beyond the fact that some of the characters were so indentured. Indeed, the scenes with black and white children holding hands and playing together seems to prophesy Dr. Martin Luther King's famous "I Have A Dream" speech, wherein he envisions children, both black and white playing together.

The title I chose for this post comes from the movie. Remus tells us that we all have a Laughing Place of our own. It's that special place, it can be imaginary, that we go to ... Laugh! It's a happy place, a place where you can escape life's travails. When life seems to be too much to bear, we need to laugh at our troubles. In our Laughing Place we can all be like Brer Rabbit when trapped and in trouble at the hands of Brer Fox and Brer Bear. When he tricks his nemeses and gets away, he is free to laugh. The wisdom that can be found from his escapes are allegorical lessons of life.

If you haven't ever seen this film and you have the chance, please do! Set aside any ideas of being politically correct and watch it for what it is. What it is, is a marvelous and lovable film for all ages.

No.606

Hu's On First?

One day at the White House:

Receptionist: Mr. President, Hu is here to see you.
George Bush: I don't know. You're the receptionist.
Rcpt: Pardon?
Bush: What? Oh yes, I am Listening to Dolly Parton on my iPod.
Rcpt: O...Kay! Your 10 am appointment is here, sir.
Bush: Who?
Rcpt: Yes.
Bush: (Blank stare) Who is my first appointment?
Rcpt: Yes, he is.
Bush: Look, is my first appointment here?
Rcpt: Yes, Sir. He's in the lobby.
Bush: ...And who is it?
Rcpt: Yes, Sir.
Bush: Why can't you just tell me who's out there?
Rcpt: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Mr. President.
Bush: You've been trying to tell me who's out there?
Rcpt: Yes, I have.
Bush: So tell me already!
Rcpt: Hu!
Bush: You! Is there anyone else here?
Rcpt: No, Sir. He's alone.
Bush: Who is alone?
Rcpt: Yes. There's no one with him.
Bush: There's no one with who?
Rcpt: Whom, Sir.
Bush: Uh ... Okay. Whom's with him?
Rcpt: Who, Sir.
Bush: Tell me, what's on the list for the name of my first appointment?
Rcpt: Oh no, Sir. Watson's the second appointment. Hu's first.
Bush: Why are you bringing up the second appointment?
Rcpt: You mentioned his name, Mr. President.
Bush: Who's name?
Rcpt: No Sir.
Bush: (Blank Stare) Look, you have a list of names there of my appointments for the day ... Right?
Rcpt: Yes, of course, Mr. President.
Bush: Now if I were to tell you to send in the first person on that list, who would come in first?
Rcpt: That's correct.
Bush: So, what's on the list for his name?
Rcpt: Watson's on second. Hu's on first.
Bush: I don't know! That's why I'm asking you.
Rcpt: ...And I told you, Hu's just outside the door, Sir!
Bush: Who's here?
Rcpt: Yes! He's been waiting twenty minutes now.
Bush: Who is waiting?
Rcpt: (Sigh) Yes, he is.
Bush: Let's try something else. Most people come here to my office looking for funds. Am I right?
Rcpt: That's right, Mr. President.
Bush: Let's suppose that my 10 o'clock appointment out there in the lobby convinces me to allocate his funds. I will make the check payable to ... Who?
Rcpt: Yes.
Bush: I mean, who gets the money?
Rcpt: Correct, Sir ... Every dollar!
Bush: Why at this time everyday, do I get a headache?
Rcpt: Wyatt is the third one, Mr. President.
Bush: Huh? We're on the third appointment now? I still haven't the seen the first one. What's on the list for them?
Rcpt: No, Watson's on second.
Bush: How come you're talking about the second one again?
Rcpt: You said his name again.
Bush: Who's name?
Rcpt: No, not his name. Watson's name.
Bush: Let me guess ... Who's on first?
Rcpt: Yes! You finally got it right, Sir!
Bush: I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about!
Rcpt: Oh no, he's not here until tomorrow!
Bush: (Considers reaching for the pistol in the top drawer)

No.605

Icon Tell A Lie

Love them or hate them, advertising Icons have been around for a long time. It's hard to imagine life without them. A phenomenon that has become an integral part of our culture, many of the advertising icons have become known worldwide. From Sharpie the parrot hawking razor blades on the Friday Night Fights of the 50s, to the Geico Gecko and the Aflac duck on the airwaves of today, Icons create name recognition.

How many times have you ever wanted to squeeze Mr. Whipple's head? We may have been annoyed at that man peering over his glasses as he admonished the customer's who ignored his pleas to "Please, don't squeeze the Charmin." Mr. Whipple might be gone, but who doesn't remember and recognize the Charmin name when we shop for toilet paper.

I wonder what some of these Icons did for a living before they became so famous for pitching their products. When their sales pitching days are over, what will they then do?

The Crash Test Dummies got sick and tired of being mangled in head-on collisions and formed a rock band. Hamburger Helper can always return to work as an assistant to Dr. Proctor. Mr. Whipple went into plastic surgery, specializing in breast enhancement procedures, and ironically he now advocates squeezing. As for Colonel Sanders the founder of KFC, he is still serving time in prison since they discovered just what his secret ingredients of herbs and spices actually were. A favorite of the other convicts there, he has discovered that 'finger lickin' good' takes on a whole new meaning behind bars. The Taco Bell Chihuahua met an untimely death after eating one of the chelupas he was famous for pitching. Ronald McDonald is not only the symbol of the burger chain, but he also moonlights as the President of the U.S. It is rumored that the Burger King King is pursuing a career in the NFL.

According to this site, the following is a list of the top 10 advertising Icons of all time. (By clicking on each link, you will get a brief history of the Icons.)

The Marlboro Man - Marlboro cigarettes
Ronald McDonald - McDonald's restaurants
The Green Giant - Green Giant vegetables
Betty Crocker - Betty Crocker food products
The Energizer Bunny - Eveready Energizer batteries
The Pillsbury Doughboy - Assorted Pillsbury foods
Aunt Jemima - Aunt Jemima pancake mixes and syrup
The Michelin Man - Michelin tires
Tony the Tiger - Kellogg's Sugar Frosted Flakes
Elsie - Borden dairy products

It's been an awful long time since Borden's Elmer and Elsie have made a public appearance. You don't suppose McDonald's should be questioned in this matter? When there have been power outages, has Reddy Kilowatt been held accountable?

Well, it's late and Icon not think of any other Icons to write about at the moment. Maybe you con think of some?

No.604

Component Parts

I've come across the term component parts many times. Be it a schematic of anything from a lawn mower to a DVD player or an owner's manual for an automobile, that term can appear virtually everywhere.

....I am not, and never was, a fan of "Professional Wrestling." To stress my point, it is no wonder that the WWE and its ilk often appear not in the sport pages, but in the entertainment section of most newspapers across the country. It is more comparable to a cult than to be called a sport.
....In any event, while channel surfing I once caught one of those staged interviews with one steroid-riddled behemoth. He was talking about an upcoming title bout with another beefed up "wrassler." He said that would tear his foe into his component parts.

That got me pondering about the typical human's anatomy. Counting only the bones and organs, homo- sapiens have many component parts. This fact, of course, applies to the typical human being. How about our atypical fellow denizens on this planet?

Why not start at the top? Our first anatomy lesson will begin with the President of the United States of America, George W. Bush himself. I trust that everyone in class is paying attention and taking notes. There will be a quiz on this material.

Students, please observe that once the incisions have been made, our President is made up of only TWO component parts; (1) a mouth, and (2) an asshole. While this is not entirely unique among humanity, Mr. Bush does have those two parts that are interchangeable! Both parts can operate either independent of the other, or in unison.

He is only the second President in recent history who could spout as much incomprehensible bullshit from two different orifices simultaneously. The former, of course, is the father of the latter. Married to a cow with the same qualities, it was no surprise that they would spawn a child with identical attributes.

It is ironic that these two "bi-componal" * Presidents could actually make Bill Clinton look good. Clinton had his own characteristics worth noting. He had three component parts; his mouth, asshole and an organ that could also be utilized as a substitute for a cigar. He got into trouble because he didn't know when to turn over a new page.

There are other well known people who are blessed/cursed with the same two component parts. Some examples are: Oprah Winfrey, Martha Stewart, Michael Moore, Spike Lee, Al Sharpton, Tim McCarver, Tom Cruise, and a plethora of others too numerous to mention in this decorum.

How can we deal with people with only two components? Myself, I am in the same corner with Marv above. I can only contemplate whether the glass is half-empty of half-fool!

No.603

Mona Lisa's Revenge

With all the fabricated controversy over the works of Leonardo Da Vinci, one can see Capitalism at its best. If one wants to write a best selling novel, all they need do is to either steal the idea, or to make it appear to be plagiarized. After the book has taken off, the next step is to make the movie. Anything that gets that much publicity is either, or both, a Best Seller or a Box office hit.

Remember Mel Gibson's "The Passion of Jesus Christ?" How about "The Last Temptation of Christ?" Both of these films were protested by religious groups, and to what end? People flocked in droves to see them. Unbeknownst to themselves, these groups became free publicity for those films. Inadvertently, they insured that both films made money.

Why not expose another side of Da Vinci? Who was it depicted in his famous work, The Mona Lisa? What was their relationship? Keep in mind, our goals are to write a best selling novel and to sell the movie rights. So a little speculation "factualized" will draw the attention of historians. When they openly dispute our facts - voila - best seller!

We have found that "Mona" was an accomplished painter in her own right. Her soon to be famous painting, titled "Mona's Leo," depicts her with that well known grin, standing by a painting of a nude Da Vinci. Our ficticious characters have discovered a secret encrypted message hidden within her work.

They also discover that Mona had made many drawings of the nude male body. Her studies depicted the men more anatomically correct than those of Da Vinci. Also among the artifices professed to have belonged to her, were designs for some magnificent machines. Most outstanding of these was what appeared to be a steam powered dildo.

The sketch to the right depicts her and some other Renaissance artists drawing a posing nude. Her attention to detail can be seen as she forgoes the common use of the thumb in lieu of a ruler.

If the discoveries of her work weren't enough to turn the art world upside down, our heroes make an incredible discovery. Leonardo Da Vinci couldn't even draw a crooked line much less a straight one. Everything attributed to him was actually Mona's work. The great Da Vinci was guilty of plagiarism! The Last Supper, all of Da Vinci's masterpieces were done by Mona Lisa Da Vinci. Yes, she was his mother!

Once it's put together and published, the controvery of the Da Vinci code will dry up and evaporate from the collective conscience of the book readers. The new game in town will be "Mona Lisa's Revenge."

No.602

The Faking of a President

What Makes A President?

Charisma? Connections? Money? Or a phone call?

It all started with a fateful phone call. {Ring-Ring!} "Hello? George Bush speaking." {Muffled voice.} "This your Father! How many times have I told you, I'm George Bush! You're supposed to answer Geoge W. Bush, knuclehead!"
...."Daddy? There must be a bad connection. I can hardly hear you." {Much louder muffled voice.} "Turn the $#*%!+#% hand set around you, moron!" { Airhorn blast.} "You hear that? Get your head outa Laura's underwear."
...."Heh-heh, sorry Daddy. Somebody keeps hanging it up wrong."
...."Damnation! When I get off this phone, I'm gonna punch Barbara's lights out! There is no way I could have fathered such an idiot!"
...."Daddy, why are picking on Jeb?" {Airhorn blast.} "Ouch! That hurts! Are you at a Hockey game or somethin'?"
...."Never mind! I've been looking over the financial statements..." {Airhorn.} "Are you trying to bankrupt my oil business?"
...."..But Daddy, you said I could be Prezdent!"
...."No. I said that while you're living in my house, you should make yourself a useful resident! For cripes sake, look what you did to my baseball team!" {Airhorn.}
...."Well ... I ... Uh ... Treated the team to a night out on us."
....{Airhorn.} "Three thousand dollars at the Chicken Ranch? You call that a treat the night before a road trip to the East coast?"
...."Heh-heh ... Well, they did score 5 runs against the Yankees."
...."Yes, they did, didn't they? ... In a four-game series!"
...."Well, that was four more runs than they scored against the Red Sox."
....{Airhorn.} "Listen up good, George! I'm gonna do for you what I did for your brother."
...."You're gonna have me arrested, Daddy?"
...."No, dammit! I'm gonna get you a job. And if you screw it up, then you're on your own."
...."Oh boy, you'll fix it so I can be a Gubnor?"
...."No, not Gubnor! You aren't smart enough to be in a job that important. With your brother's help, you might make a half-assed President."
...."But Daddy, I'm already a Prezdent."
...."Read my lips, son. You're fired!" {Click!}
...."Hello? Hello?"
...."Who was that, George?"
...."Hi, Poopsie-Woopsie. I thought it was my Daddy. But it wasn't. Can you believe it I'm gonna be on telebision!"
...."George, Laugh In was cancelled years ago."
...."Laura, you don't understand...."
...."Well, then why don't you enlighten Mrs. Bush?"
...."Ooh ... You mean that game where we get under the blankets and I use my flashlight...?"
...."George!! So, who was on the phone?"

...."It was ... Donald Trump!"

This Blog has been brought to you by Republicard. You can trust the credit card company that takes a lot of interest in you.

No.601

Poof! You're Camel Dung!

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

In a surprising turn of events, President Bush has decided to send the latest in stealth technology over to the Middle East. Samantha Stevens, of "Bewitched" fame, will begin flying secretive sorties over Iraq.

Her husband, Darren, was unavailable for comment. It was learned however, that her mother Endora, and daughter Tabitha may also also be pressed into service. Bush was quoted as saying, "A few spells here and there in the right places, and before you know it they'll be volunteering to join our armed forces."

It was hinted that Jeanie could be drafted to handle some of the more covert clandestine operations.

One proposal involving these enchantresses, would be their combined use of magic to plant post-hypnotic suggestions to the entirety of the Middle East. The spell would convince the Arab world that Mohammad had been resurrected. When he faces the people, Muhammad Ali would step forth and recite his famous poetry. First he would convince them to French-kiss their camels' asses. Then he could convince them to lay down their arms.

Yes, desperate times call for desperate measures! ....But you know, this just might work!

No. 600

Spotlight: Aka Monty

One of my Blogroll buddies, the lovely Monty , conjures up an image of a loving mother and a diligent homemaker. You all know the type; all-American, like baseball and apple pie. She's the kind of woman any guy would want to greet him at the door, pull off his shoes, and to fetch him a beer.

When you watch TV Land or Nick at Night you will be reminded of her by the likes of Harriet Nelson, and June Cleaver. Your chest, among other things, will swell with pride as you take in her shape which brings to mind Jeannie and Seven of Nine.

Okay, as you who know her can attest, I've exaggerated a bit. Instead of fetching your beer, she will be in the kitchen chug-a-lugging it. More than likely she'd be throwing the shoes when she pulls them off. Oh, there's some Harriet and June, but a little Rosanne will be rolled into the same package. Okay, okay. So what if they are Table Talk pies?

No matter how wonderful one can be, there is always the chance that one incident can taint a wholesome image. In her defense, she did come forth and admit to the affair. By clicking on the link above, you can read about the whole sordid incident.

It seems she was in a rush to pick up something at the store and neglected to put on a certain article of clothing. Unfortunately it was a very windy day. A sudden gust blew up her skirt thus making visible the southern exposures of her charms. To make matters worse, she was loaded down with bundles. Until she got to her car, her skirt was as free as Old Glory on a nearby flagpole.

At first she wasn't too concerned, thinking "So what if they see her underpants?" That was until she remembered she wasn't wearing any. To quote the otherwise unflappable Monty, she said, "Shit!"

The story would have ended there, Monty with a red faced moment and her readers sharing a chuckle, had it not been for a certain security guard. It seems that the Rent-A-Cop had access to the security cameras that monitor the property, including the parking lot. In a mere two hours after the "Scatter Rug Affair," the still photo, above left, was up for auction at e-Bay.

Because this a family-friendly Blog, I am posting the least revealing of a dozen or so photos that are available to the highest bidder. This posting is actually a public service notice to all you readers who chance upon my Blog. I am urging all of you not to go to e-Bay and to ask you to not bid on any of these pictures. Monty is a friend and a wonderful person. I don't want to see these pictures all over the internet. So help me to preserve her honor and integrity!

Besides, I am currently the high bidder on the whole lot of them!

(Disclaimer: This posting is really just a parody. I am just poking fun at Monty. She is a funny lady and a nice person. If you don't know her, stop by her Blog from time to time. You'll like her too.)

No.599

Of BVDs and BBQs

...But first a word from our sponsor, BVD.
Hide your weapon of mass seduction in our briefs.
Fight the dating wars in comfort until you are ready to launch your missile.
...You have met the enemy and she is in your sights.

It looks like Dubya should have spent a tad more on his defense budget.

Ladies, BVD thinks of you too. There are times when you'll want your silos camouflaged. Then there are times you'll want to face friendly fire.

We now return you to the Blog in progress..

But first a public service announcement from the producer of this Blog.
....It is Spring, and across the nation people are planning outdoor cookouts. When preparing your yard there are a few things you should remember. (1) Never hang a bird feeder over your picnic table. (2) Never place unexploded fireworks on your grills. (3) If there is no breeze, set up a large fan to blow the aroma of your steaks, burgers and hotdogs in the direction of that neighbor who never invites you to his cookouts. (4) Feed your dog any "extra" meats while the same neighbor is at the fence salivating. (5) Be sure to have plenty of beer to drink in front of all the neighbors gathering at the other fences. (6) Be sure to at least feign that you are distressed from having eaten too much. (7) Yell at your dog because it didn't eat all of the food on the plate you gave it. (8) Yell at kids for not eating all the food over-flowing their plates and remind them that there are people starving in the world. (9) Play frisbee with the remaining steak. (10) Yell at the one who was "supposed" to have put up the "Open BBQ" signs around the neighborhood.

Remember these tips and have a lovely cookout folks.

Please drink in moderation, especially if you are driving. If not, have at it!

Seeing as the advertisements and public service announcements took up so much of our time, the scheduled Blog will be aired tomorrow. Stay tuned to your favorite Blog station for the very best in farts farce and satire.

No.598

Adults Say The Damnedest Things

Art Linkletter made a lot of money with a booked called "Kids Say The Darnedest Things." Well, maybe I can make some extra pocket change with a book of my own.

With my book idea, I'll take a different path than that taken by Mr. Linkletter. For my material, I'll focus on what the adults say and approach it from the kids' point of view.

Speaking with Jimmy, a ninth-grade teenager:
...."Your not gonna believe what my old man told me! He said that people used to get tattoos only if they were drunk. And then, they'd put them where nobody could see them. Can you imagine?
....Now this my dad I'm talking about! He's the same man who told me that he and my mother never slept together until their wedding night! Man, if that's not a crock of shit, I sure feel sorry for him.
....I mean, you buy a new car, don't you take it for a test drive first? If you buy a new coat, you try it on.
....And they call their youth the 'good old days?' I don't think so!"

Jimmy's sister, Jennifer, a sixth-grader:
...."I think my mother lived in a closet when she was a kid. On the night of my very first date with a boy, she said we had to talk. I think she was going to give me that "the-birds-and-the-bees" speech. I was dumbfounded when she said I shouldn't kiss on the first date. She was talking "first base" stuff! I asked her how old she was when she gave her first blow job... you should've seen the veins in her head and neck pop out!
....I tried to tell her that giving head wasn't real sex. To keep her from having a heart attack, I had to tell her a fib that I had not done it. I told her that's what the other, older kids are saying. Put this in your book; she told me that she and Dad had sex for the first time on their honeymoon. How sorry is that?"

Speaking to the first two kids, I could see a pattern developing. Their parents were behind the times. I'm sure, you the readers are probably stunned that parents actually believe those things. Aren't you?

I think I'll scrap this book before I go any further. I mean, if there are actually adults that don't believe in oral sex on the first date, how can I possibly hope to sell any books? If they think tattoos should be hidden and you only get them when you're drunk, who'd want to read such crap? Isn't the advice to get drunk before getting tattoos promoting drinking to our youth? The horrors of waiting till wedding vows before sleeping together! No one will buy a book with such prudish ideas!

Maybe I'd better leave such shocking material to Erica Jong and those who write Romance novels.

No.597

Amnesty For The Easter Bunny

Illegals are not sick birds of prey.

Now that we've had our glossary lesson for the day, allow me to clear up another matter. "Amnesty" is not an acronym for "American Money Now Easily Siphoned To You. Every bonified citizen of the USA knows it is: America, Many Numbnuts Enter States This Year. (And no, "numbnuts" has nothing to do with castration.)

Knowing full well that the Political Correct Police, aka the Civil Nazis, will be issuing a warrant for my arrest, I am writing this because it is my pet peeve du jour. I'm exercising my freedom of speech under B.L.O.G. (Blogger's License Of Grandeur)

Lord knows our country was built by immigrants. Our Founding Fathers were all immigrants. Legal immigrants! The diversity of our nation's peoples is what makes it great. It is great because of its legal citizens, despite the Illegals. I don't know if "illegals" is yet considered an acceptable word, but it has several synonyms that are. How does "freeloaders" strike you? Don't like that one? Try "interlopers" to see if it fits. How about "squatters?" "Sponger?"

While it's true that many of these people are migrant workers who toil at low paying jobs most Americans won't take, there are laws that are to be observed. If you don't pay into Social Security, then you cannot receive benefits. If you don't pay into Unemployment, then you don't rate unemployment benefits. If you don't pay into or have taxes withheld, then you cannot claim or expect tax benefits. These are not subject to debate. This means that you do not purchase a single family home and then smuggle into the country 27 members of your extended family to live there with you.

Aliens do not enter this country by way of flying saucers. They arrive here by means of deceit and forged papers. Now that these people are being offered amnesty, you'd think they'd be signing up in droves to become legal. Not so! Most fear they will be deported once they come out in the open. Does that make sense? Then why on earth would they show up en masse in the recent demonstrations against tighter immigration laws to stand up for their rights? Hello? You don't have those rights if you are illegal. However, it just might be poetic justice. They have your faces on television and closed circuit cameras. Can you say "massive sting operation?"

Easter Bunny: Politically Incorrect?

I guess it was only a matter of time before the Easter Bunny himself would be attacked. The scene of the first reported assault on the famous bunny occurred in St. Paul, Minnesota, where the lawgivers have banned him from City Hall. They claimed "it may offend some non-Christians." Since when did the Easter Bunny have anything to do with the real significance of the Easter celebration? Having said that, why hasn't he ever offended Christians themselves? Cal Thomas, a syndicated columnist suggested that they should change the name of their city from St. Paul to maybe, Paul Bunyon.

I pause to wonder why it is that only the symbols attached to the Christian faith come under these rediculous PC charges. Why are there no targets made of other faiths and their celebrations? Could it be that God-fearing and God-believing people have nothing but respect for other theisms? I think so. Isn't freedom of religion one of the principles of which this country was founded? To me, that means my religion, or lack of religion, is honored and will not infringe upon the beliefs or non-beliefs of others, and vice versa.

Has it come to this now, that we are willing to divest ourselves of our own rights, lest we offend someone who may or may not share the same belief?

Hear my rebel yell! It is politically incorrect to be politically correct! Put that in your PC pipes and smoke it!

No.596