I sent this card to myself so that I could post it here as a card to all of you out there!
....(Did you remember to hold back your favorite candy before the Trick or Treaters showed up?)....
The would be-guest answers, "I came as a pull toy!"
"Did you remember to turn your clock back tonight? You wouldn't want to give me an extra hour in your closet, would you?
Listen up you lame brains out there! It is no longer correct to be politically correct. In fact the term itself is incorrect.
Let me deviate from my diatribe for a moment. Just what do you think of when you see the letters "P.C.?" Hold on, stop right there! Read the first paragraph again! Now, do you care to answer the question? I thought not.
The letters are to be renamed post-haste! The insignificant blather of the insignificant individuals or groups must forthwith be quashed. No more! Do you understand? What part of "N-O" do you not understand?
Help me out here, let's assign newer, more correct words to those letters once and for all. I have a few suggestions myself. I'll bet some blog readers out there can come up with a few themselves. Perhaps you current PCers can take your heads out of your asses long enough to participate. (Wow! It sounded like like a million bottles of champagne being uncorked at the same time!)
My first idea will use a hyphenated phrase as one word: "Pain-in-the-ass Creeps." Pretty good, huh? Oh, it's not to your liking? I guess the truth hurts. How about " Preposterous Curmudgeons?" No? "Pontificating Cretins?" How about "Poppy Cocksuckers?" Yeah, you're probably right, that one's a little too crude. (But it works!)
"Pretty Cool?" Who said that? Come on, surely you can do better than that! Okay. Okay! I'll stop calling you Shirley!
Look, we have to retrace our steps a bit, I guess. All of this "Politically Correct" bullshit that we are being bombarded with nowadays didn't just pop-up one day out of nowhere. Believe it or not, at its humble origins it was a practical tool against racism and sexism. It created an awareness of the unjust treatment of certain peoples and their beliefs.
Somewhere along the line, its message of correctness became misconstrued. A well known quote which was just created this moment says it all. "When something is misconstrued, somebody gets screwed." -(The Pointmeister, Oct. 29,'05) Everyone who had in the past been told to "get a life," or "get a job" decided to take up the P.C. banner. Those who needed to "wake up and smell the coffee," suddenly had a purpose. In growing numbers they got up off their collective asses and set out on their crusades.
After they had began spreading their messages, little did they know hat they were actually spreading manure! While they were patting themselves on their backs, which is hard to do when one's head is so far up their ass, they didn't notice that the garden they had been fertilizing was full of weeds. Yes, the "victory gardens" they reveled in were not displaying flowers or vegetables, but instead were useless plots besieged by unsightly and unwanted growths.
Did they ever think that maybe they should repair the damage they'd caused? Of course not, that wouldn't be P.C. to admit that they were wrong. Instead, the just recklessly moved on to a another Cause Du Jour. Not satisfied with forcing schools to change their time-honored team names, they mounted up and charged off to another arena.
Hey dumb asses! Do you see where this is going? That's right, I know about your latest victory. If it wasn't bad enough, the two individuals asked, and were granted the right, to remain anonymous. It "offended" them that elementary kids were going to have a Halloween dress-up day at school? Little second grade boys and girls dressed up in their Trick-or-Treat costumes is offensive? Collecting candy from the other class rooms is not "Politically Correct?"
You know what OFFENDS me? Sniveling spineless morons like you offend me! I assure you that are more than two of us who feel this way! What ever happened to the majority rules? Is this or is this not a Democracy? If it wasn't bad enough that 200 kids had to be told they couldn't have their party, the P.C. Police, two strong, didn't have the contents of a scrotum to be identified! It is probably a good thing you jerks did remain anonymous. I've been itching for a public hanging, not by the neck until dead, that wouldn't be very P.C. would it?
That brings me to the last suggestion for the new words for those letters. Yes, I want see to a hanging - by the short hairs! We'll call it Pubic Constraint!
It is a Preferred Choice that I end this Posting Calm. The Pointmeister Cares!
"Hubie ubis thubie bubioss," Buster said to her. She smiled and nodded her head. He turned back to Harry and said, "It's okay, boss. I just told her that you are the boss."
He was not used to playing second fiddle to Buster. "How in the hell do you know how to speak that gibberish of a language?" It didn't make sense. Buster Cherry had enough trouble with English, let alone a foreign language. Harry had tried to teach him "pig latin" once, but the deputy just couldn't grasp it.
"It's kind of funny, Harry. It's not really their language. It is an earth language," Buster replied. He saw the look on Harry's face and knew he would have to explain. "You see, Harry, these people are from another planet. They learned that language from listening to our radio and television signals that have been spreading through outer space for a long time. They heard other languages too, but they decided that this one was the one most likely that intelligent beings would use."
"Wait a minute!" Harry shouted. The beings suddenly shifted into a defensive posture. Harry paused. "Okay, okay. What are they getting in a huff about, Buster?"
"You're not gonna believe this, Harry. They don't trust you because they are offended by your smell."
"What?" Harry shouted again. "Are you going to stand there with your pants full of shit, and tell me they think I stink!"
"I'm afraid so, Harry. They told me that I smell like the air on their world. I remind them of home. Then when they found that I could communicate with them, they were happy they had found a friend," Buster said almost to proudly to suit Harry.
"All right. Assuming all that to be true, just what is this language they thought was spoken here? I have never heard it as far as I know," Harry said. "And how is that you of all people understand it?"
"Why it's Ubbi Dubbi, of course! They just happened to pick up the signals from a PBS program for kids called ZOOM." Buster grinned before continuing. "I was a kid once, Harry. ZOOM was one of my favorite shows."
Still confused, Harry decided he would deal with the details later. He was still faced with a town invaded by giant shrimp from outer space. It sounded like one of those old Saturday matinee b-movies he used to watch as a kid. Since he was responsible for maintaining the law in this town, it was time for him to take the bull by the horns and try to gain control of the situation.
"Buster, try to find out what are Shrimp People want. Why are they here?"
The deputy cleared his throat before answering, "They are here to take over the planet!"
To be continued.... HERE.
When Hoss gets wind of this deal, he will be hearing the melodious ch-ching of cash registers. This will be a hard deal to pass up for a man who is hell-bent on making his pile. Who knows, he could franchise his blog. He'll make a pile large enough that he can afford to buy the Old Folks Home outright!Then he can sit back and watch the Old Hoss TV Network. Of course, he can have the Internet piped into his television set so that he can read his blogroll during the commercial breaks from "I Love Lucy" and "Death Valley Days." (Rumor has it that he is the Old Ranger.)
Sheriff Harry Fuzz tightened his finger on the trigger as Deputy Buster Cherry began to pull open the door to the refrigerated chest. Someone, or something was trapped in there. It had been a harrowing night in the small fishing town of Barbie. He wanted nothing more than to apprehend those behind the crime wave. After that, he wanted to get as far away from his deputy as he could. The fool had gone and shit himself only minutes earlier. He was already beginning to smell rather ripe.
He held his breath as the door swung open. A limp body slumped to the floor, just missed by the sheriff's reactionary shot. The bullet ricocheted off the concrete floor and careened from metal wall to wall before striking a compressor suspended from the ceiling. The smell of ozone wafted from the motor and sparks lept about before the compressor came to a stop. From behind him, Fuzz heard water dripping. He didn't need to turn around. Buster had just pissed his pants too.
He knelt beside the man's body on the floor. It was Dick Bender, the grocer. Harry was relieved to find that he was alive. He was nearly frozen, but he would recover. "Oh, damn," he looked up in the direction of Buster who'd entered the chest to look around. He grimaced figuring Buster had probably thrown up this time. "What's gonna happen to all these Sara Lee desserts with no professor?"
Harry sighed, "Compressor. Compressor!" Shortly at the front of the store, the sheriff completed his questioning of the witnesses. Neither Lottie Butz nor Myna Bigger had seen anything. They assumed that Mr. Bender was using the facilities when they came in. Nearby in one of the aisles, Buster was spraying a couple of cans of Glade into the air. The pine scented one seemed to work the best. Satisfied, he ambled over to the produce department after passing between the two women. Both of them sniffed, aware of an unpleasant bouquet. Mrs. Butz looked at Mrs. Bigger and stated that it smelled like someone had crapped in a Christmas tree.
"Hairy fuzz!" The sheriff turned to his right to where Buster had gone. "Can you belive it, boss? Everyone of these peaches are covered with hairy fuzz!"
"I need a vacation, a long vacation," Harry mumbled. "Come on, let's wrap this investigation. Okay ladies, good night."
In the patrol car, he watched Buster walk stiffly home. Harry wasn't about to let him in the squad car. It smelled bad enough from the time Buster had left a limburger sandwich in the car. Just what he needed, he thought, a medley of limburger, shit and piss. He pulled into the lot of the Chinese restaurant, he was hungry. He glanced up at the marquis above the entrance. Suddenly, he had no appetite. Tonight was not the night to eat at the Poo-Ping Chinese place.
He had sent Buster home to clean up and to meet him back at the park bench where their investigation had begun. They had some shrimp to capture. He pulled out his small telescope and began to scan the park. He nearly dropped it! "What in the hell was that?" he said aloud. He trained the telescope to the same spot and tightened his grip on it. He couldn't believe his eyes. The reports were true! Seeing was believing! There were several of them frolicking in the park. Damned if they didn't look like big shrimp he noted. Their movements and size suggested that the creatures were more human than the witnesses had reported.
It was at that moment that he decided he would have to capture and arrest them on his own. If he called the State and asked for help, he would be the laughing stock of every law enforcement agency around. "Hey Sheriff Fuzz, got any more of them king-sized shrimp left?" He knew that before long there would be Forrest Gump jokes spread all over the Northeast.
"What the..?" His deputy appeared in the telescope. He was creeping up behind the Shrimp People from the shadow of some trees. "Nice going, Buster. We have them surrounded now," he exalted. He headed in that direction, stopping every few yards to use the telescope. Then he noted some odd behavior from the creatures. Their heads were raised skyward. They appeared to be smelling the air. "Well I'll be damned," he said angrily. "He must have gone and shit his pants again!"
He became frantic, he could not see them anywhere. Even Buster was no where to be seen. He had closed to within twenty feet from where they had been. It was quiet, much to quiet. Even the crickets had ceased their chirping. He pulled back a branch to get a better look. He jumped back. There was one next to the tree holding some kind of electronic device, a weapon maybe? It turned and looked over his shoulder at him. It had bared its teeth causing Harry to jump. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn it was grinning at him!
He realized it too late, but he was surrounded. They had formed a ring around him and were moving in cutting off an escape route. The one with the electronic device was the closest. It raised it, and was aiming it at him. The device was making a faint beeping sound. Harry would have prayed to his maker at that moment, had he not felt a grumbling in his stomach. He was about to shit himself.
To be continued.... HERE.
I wonder what methods you other bloggers employ when experiencing writer's (blogger's) block. There is one method that some probably use ... Which I am too stubborn to use ... And that is to simply not post anything. How do you do that? You know, after giving it some serious thought, I really don't want to know!