Sunday, September 30, 2007

Diets: To Die For?

If rhetoric was edible, that sure would explain all those Fat Cats in Washington. Have you ever noticed that word 'diet' can be found in the word 'deficit?'

However, our President's diet of this staple hasn't even called for him to loosen his belt. Where he puts it is anyone's guess. I submit that his intake results as the ejecta of his rhetorical sputum. After all, one cannot digest what one doesn't chew.

In her recent post a long-time blogger friend, Ivy, was pondering a rather delicate dietary dilemma. She notes that diets which include grapefruit always call for only half of the fruit. She was wondering just what harm would it be if she were to eat the whole thing!

Her post and my subsequent comment left there had me thinking. I didn't think too long, however, thus avoiding the possibility of setting off the household smoke alarms.

What is it about that word "diet" that evokes discomfort in us?

It's an easy enough question to answer if we take the time to break down the word 'diet' itself by its two syllabic parts.
Di - (pronounced phonetically is 'die.')
et - (pronounced phonetically is 'et,' which is the past tense form of the verb 'eat.')
It is by the cruel design of the so-called 'dietitians' that there is so much confusion surrounding the word. I liken dietitians to lawyers in that they support their clients as long as there is money in it for them. The only fat that is trimmed is from our pockets.

Some lawyers become Fat Cats in Washington and can fall prey to the dietitians. Remember shark meat is food too, thus it can be subjected to dietary restrictions. It's a shark-eat-shark world out there.

It is a little known fact that most dietitians, while pontificating to others what constitutes a proper healthy diet, beyond public scrutiny, receive daily intravenous transfusions of pureed Big Macs, french fries and milkshakes. Thereby receiving such treatments, they are not seen physically ingesting these foods. The less we partake of it, the more for them. Haven't you ever wondered why so many dietitians are overweight?

Using an etymological breakdown of the title they choose to call themselves, one should pay particular attention of the phonetic sound of the last five letters of the word dietitian. It should be readily apparent that the title of another profession ends with this same phonetic sound. That word is mortician.
It's true. Dietitians are merely failed morticians.

In closing, work backwards when it comes to that dreaded word 'diet.' If you don't eat, you're going to die. That's a fact! Thus if the food on your plate isn't 'et,' you will die.

Do you really want to be a statistic for some some statistician who is appointed by some politician and who is hired by a dietitian who really wanted to be a mortician in the first place?


Saturday, September 29, 2007

Inner City S.A.T.

New Inner City S.A.T. (Thanks, Earl)

Schools are finally starting to teach practical math that these kids can
use in real-world situations! It's about time!


GANG/CREW NAME______________ CRIB_________________

1. Ramon has an AK-47 with a 30-round clip. He usually misses 6 of every 10 shots and he uses 13 rounds per drive-by shootin. How many drive-by shootins can Ramon hit before he reloads?

2. Leroy has 2 ounces of cocaine. If he sells an 8 ball to Antonio for $320 and 2 grams to Juan for $85 per gram, what be the street value of the rest of his shit?

3. Dwayne pimps 3 ho's. If the price is $85 per trick, how many tricks per day must each ho turn to support Dwayne's $800 per day Crack habit?

4. Raul wants to cut the pound of cocaine he bought for $40,000 to make 20% profit. How many ounce bags will he need to make to gets the 20% upside?

5. Desmond get $2000 for a stolen BMW, $1500 for stealing a Corvette, and $1000 for a 4 x 4. If he steals 1 BMW, 2 Corvettes and 3 4x4's, how many more Corvettes must he steal to have 9000 bills?

6. Pedro got 6 years for murder. He also got $10,000 for the hit. If his common-law wife spends $100 of his hit money per month, how much money will be left when he gets out?

7. If an average can of spray paint covers 22 square feet and the average letter is 3 square feet, how many letters can be sprayed with 3 - 8 oz. can of spray paint with 20% paint left over?

8. Tyrone knocked up 4 girls in the gang. There be 20 girls in his gang. What be the percentage of bitches Tyrone knocked up?

9. LaShaunda is a lookout for the gang. LaShaunda also has a Boa Constrictor that eats 5 rats per week and the cost be $5 per rat. If LaShaunda makes $700 a week as a lookout, how many weeks can she feed her snake with one week income?

10. Marvin steals Juan's skateboard. As Marvin skates away at 15 mph, Juan loads his 357 Magnum piece. If it takes Juan 20 seconds to load his piece, how much away will Marvin be when he gets whacked?

The sad thing: is that there are probably plenty enough kids in the inner city who would find this test easy.


Friday, September 28, 2007

Her Cups Runneth Over (9)

This is the ninth installment of a short story which began HERE.

A torrid sun; a tropical paradise; a frustrated writer; a cheating wife; a mysterious sultry woman ... the ingredients for a forbidden affair? Or the recipe for murder and the perfect crime?

"Eve? B-but you're d-dead. I saw your body," I stammered. I'd never known the fear of seeing a ghost until that moment. I'd never thought about the dead rising. If I'd had any doubts before that I was losing my sanity, those thoughts had returned.

"Do I look dead to you?" she snapped. "Aw, what's the use? A woman tries to look beautiful for her husband and what does she get when she comes home from a rough day on the job? He says you look ... dead!"

She removed the clip from the pistol and placed them on the dresser next to box I'd put there earlier. Inside it was the urn, empty no doubt, that contained what I had thought were her ashes. Still in shock at the sight of seeing her alive, I remained motionless watching her.

She approached the edge of the bed and stood with her feet on either side of my feet which were just touching the floor. She leaned forward as her hands pinned my elbows to the bed. I couldn't help but glance at her cleavage as she positioned her chest above mine. The blue material slipped from one of her breasts allowing a nipple to be exposed.

She arched her back and shifted her weight until she was balancing herself, her pelvis onto mine, and removed the bra. She grinned at me fully aware that my gaze was fixed upon her bare breasts and said, "Now do these look dead?"

I shook my head. I was powerless to resist. In spite of all that had happened, I was helpless. She was so beautiful ... so desirable. She cupped her breasts and one after the other maneuvered their hardened tips across my eager lips. She pushed herself back until she was upright straddling me. "Do they taste dead, dear husband?" she whispered.

"What have we here?" she laughed as she rolled off me. She pulled down the zipper of my pants and reached inside. Without hesitation she unbuckled my belt and then yanked my slacks until they fell in a heap about my ankles.

"John, I do believe you are dead!" She then removed my shorts and announced, "Look! Rigor mortis has set in!"
I awoke feeling refreshed and contented. I turned my head to see her standing by the bed still naked looking down at me, her hands on her hips. She always did love her own body. She loved being seen naked. I began to feel a stirring in my loins.

Noting the activity below my abdomen she said, "John, we have to talk. I have a few things I need to tell you about myself. You deserve that much." Her furtive glance to where the previous movement had been apparent told me that she hadn't missed the sudden turnabout there.

I rose from the bed and grabbed the two robes hanging in the closet. I threw one to her and donned the other. I was relieved to see that she took my cue and pulled the robe over herself. She certainly had a lot of explaining to do, and I didn't need any distractions.

I stood by her and asked, "What in the hell is going on? What's with the gun?" Although I was trying to remain calm, the anger was percolating in my blood, "How dare you point a gun at me!" She opened her mouth to speak but I raised a finger to her lips and continued my tirade. "Why the charade? Why was I led to believe you were dead?" I turned and walked a few paces away and then spun around and roared, "Spineless bastard? Is that what you think of me?"

She moved to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, "John, I had to make sure you were alone, that no one else was in the suite with you." It was her turn to stop me before I could speak. "You are in danger. So am I ... now that I've blown my cover."

"Cover? What cover?" I asked. "My God, who do you think you are, Eve Bond? And what's with all this cloak and dagger stuff?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the bed. "I can see you're not going to believe what I've said so far and you probably won't believe anything else I'm about to tell you. Please, John, sit down and hear what I have to say." She watched, silent as I sat down at the other end of the bed. If she was affected by my avoidance to sit any closer to her it didn't show on her face. She cleared her throat and said, "Bear with me, I have to start at the beginning." She paused and looked at me, "I'm sure you remember when we first met, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" I replied angrily. I thought at that particular moment that it might have been the darkest day of my life. Yet, the memory of that day ten years ago warmed my heart.

"Remember when I asked you to dance?" she purred. "Remember how fast everything happened? I'll never forget that wonderful night when I took you back to my room..." she was smiling but was trying to hide the fact. "I know it was impetuous of me to ask you to marry me, after all we had only known each other less than twenty four hours - but you said yes!" She leaned close and placed her hand on mine, "Then without further discussion, we hopped on a shuttle to Las Vegas and got married." Her voice seemed to crack. Something wasn't right.

I jumped upright and stood over her. "Who are you? You are not Eve!"


Two hours earlier, the cloaked figure took tentative steps creeping past the desk where Deputy Locke snored loudly. His feet crossed upon the desk, hands across his stomach, and head bent backwards, the deputy didn't stir as the figure picked up a set of keys. Undaunted the figure moved silently across the office and disappeared through the door behind the deputy's chair.

The beam from the flashlight pierced the darkness of the long corridor. The light moving left and right trained upon the brass plates that identified the purpose of each room. The figure stopped only when the light played upon the desired door. The free hand turned the knob of the door to the morgue.

Once inside, the light traced a path around the dark room until it fell upon the bank of large drawers against a far wall. The figure opened and closed one drawer after another. Apparently having found the correct drawer, the beam of light scanned from head to toe the body of the lifeless nude female form lying there.

With a sense of urgency, a gloved hand produced a small plastic case from a pocket of the hooded dark coat. The case opened, nervous fingers grasped the cylindrical object and held it in front of the flashlight. Carefully pulling back the plunger of the hypodermic needle, intense eyes peered at the clear viscous liquid inside of the glass object.

Whispering the figure uttered, "I sure hope you were right."

From another pocket a large magnifying glass was positioned over the neck of the ashen-skinned cadaver. Wide eyes concentrated and picked up a barely discernible red dot positioned above the left carotid artery. Using a red felt tip pen the tiny dot was enlarged making it visible without need of the magnifying glass.

The figure raised the syringe and gently depressed the plunger until a small bubble of the liquid formed at the end of the needle. The needle in one hand, the other came to the person's forehead to wipe away the beads of perspiration that had formed there.

With pained accuracy the needle pierced the pale neck in the center of the red mark. When the liquid disappeared from within the glass tube, injected directly into the carotid, the syringe was withdrawn and returned to the plastic case. The figure drew back a sleeve and noted the time on a watch. Only then did the figure choose to violate the morbid silence to again whisper, "I sure hope you were right. Fifteen minutes you said..."

Only twelve minutes had passed when a low hoarse moan arose from the throat of the cadaver. That was followed by a series of hacked coughs. The figure moved closer to the drawer in stunned silence. Abruptly the body bolted upright in the throes of convulsive vomiting and then fell back to its original position.

A strained voice struggled to speak managing only two strained words, "How ... long?"

"Oh, only thirty-six hours."

Ten minutes later she was sitting upright her feet dangling above the floor. With help from the one who had reanimated her she had been cleaned up and was soon fully clothed and standing on shaky legs. It would take a few more minutes before her heart and her entire circulatory system were back to normal. She turned to her rescuer and said, "Bring me up to speed. What has happened while I've been sleeping in this damned freezer?"

The figure answered, "They've shown us their hand. She's here."

Still somewhat weak she replied, "Then let's get out of this dungeon. The game's afoot."

The hood back in place and supporting the resurrected woman the figure exclaimed, "Welcome back from the dead ... Eve."

To be continued.... HERE.


Thursday, September 27, 2007

Star Trek vs Love Boat

(With two other posts in the last five days about Star Trek, I guess one more won't hurt!)

You wouldn't think so at first, but there are a lot of similarities between the Love Boat and Star Trek : The Next Generation television shows, for example...


Bald Captain

Young Vicki is related to a crewmember and works on the ship

Ship's doctor is a main character

Julie the cruise director is sexy but annoying

Actors stand in front of acreen upon which is projected background of open sea

A dumping ground for second-rate washed-up guest stars

Going to strange new ports of call

Cheesy opening song

Too many scenes of self-indulgent crap in the lounge

In late-night syndication

Socially retarded character with job description as name (Gopher)

Bad 2-hour pilot

Love Boat has lifeboats and flotation devices

Scenes lined with ship shots

One character inexplicably replaced, then returning (Julie)

After-the-fact bed scenes with pointless discussion

Intercrew friction always resolved within allotted 1-hour time slot

A bartender (Isaac) who always seems to come up with solutions to personal and career problems

Isaac the bartender has useless gesture, pointing slightly forward

Captain straightens uniform when disgusted/angry/nervous

Final scenes take place on a landing dock; the crew waves goodbye

Aaron Spelling rules with iron fist, annoying die-hard fans

At conventions, everyone is dressed like Dr. Adam Bricker


Bald Captain

Young Wesley is related to a member of the crew and works on the ship

Ship's doctor is a main character

Troi the ship's counselor is sexy but annoying

Actors stand in front of a screen upon which is projected background of open space

A dumping ground for second-rate washed-up guest stars

Going to strange new worlds

Cheesy opening song

Too many scenes of self-indulgent crap in the Holodeck

In late-night syndication

Socially retarded character with job description as name (Data)

Bad 2-hour pilot

Enterprise has shuttlecraft and emergency escape pods

Scenes lined with ship shots

One character inexplicably replaced, then returning (Crusher)

After-the-fact bed scenes with pointless discussions

Intercrew friction always resolved within allotted 1-hour time slot

A bartender (Guynan) who always seems to come up with solutions to personal and career problems

Captain Picard has useless gesture, pointing slightly forward

Captain straightens uniform when disgusted/angry/nervous

Final scenes take place on a transporter; the crew waves goodbye

Gene Roddenberry rules with a iron fist, annoying die-hard fans

At conventions, everyone is dressed like Mr. Spock


Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Star Truckin' : The Redneck Generation

What if they'd manned the Starship Enterprise with a compliment of Rednecks? Kinda gets your mind a-wonderin' don't it?

Space: Between my ears is the final frontier. These are the road trips of the Starship Fenderthighs; it's boring missions to explore strange nude alien gurls, to seek time away from the naggin' wife, to boldly go where no revenuers has gone before.

Captain's Log, Captain Jim Bob Cork in the big chair,stardate 864952617.99 1/2 , aw hell, September 20, 2007. Tarnation, I ain't never gonna get used to that stardate crap. I am in command of the first Redneck crew to be assigned to a starship and sent sent off on a mission into deep shit space.

Anyways, the Fenderthighs is approachin' the Butt Crack Nebula, a strange formation of gases shaped like a plumber's butt whiles he's a hunkered down a fixin' a sink or somethin'. The ship's sensors done picked up a signal coming from the area.

I called over to the Communications Officer, "Ensign Yoohoo, cain't you get a fix on that signal yet?" (I was always takin' this chance to get a peek at Yoohoo's drawers what showed under that short skirt of her uniform. Praise be the Star Fleet regulations regardin' dress codes!)
...."No, sir. There seems to be some interference, Captain Cork."
...."Mr. Clock, what do think about the signal?" I asked the Science Officer.
...."Captain, I'd rate it a six. It ain't got no beat. It could use some bass. Too hard to dance to."
...."Clock, be serious. Do I have to page Nurse Tabernacle up here to check your ass out?"
...."Damn, Cap'n Cork, that woman is always checkin' me out. Iffin she ain't a-pesterin' me in the shower , she's a-chasin' me all over the ship with a damned rectal thermometer!" Clock was visibly shaken.
...."What can I say? She likes that big ol' redneck butt of your'n."
....He got all kinds of serious all of a sudden, "Accordin' to my readin's, Cap'n, that is no welcome beacon. It's a distress signal."
...."RED ALERT!" My Worst Officer Piker shouted. There was somethin' funny lookin' on top his head. I'd ask him about it later.
....I shook my fist at him and tried to countermand his order, "Relay that ... er delay that ... aw hell, ignore that order!"
....The ship shook slightly. I hung my head in disbelief. Someone, and I knew rightly who t'was too, had done went and fired off a torpedo.
...."Ensign Strokenoff, who gave you the order to fire a Futon torpedo?" I swear on my momma's grave, he was the only Russian Redneck I ever heared tell of.
...."Cap'n!" Clock shouted in alarm. "My spectral analysis showed nothin', but the rectal analysis shows that the signal is made up of highly volatile methane and trace elements of what appears to be skunky beer, prolly Pabst or Carlings! It sure enuf is a distress signal."
...."You mean ...?" I tried to speak but was fearful of Clocks discovery.
...."Yes! It's an interstellar fart!"
...."RED ALERT!" said you know who.
...."Captain Cork!" It was Chief Engineer Snotty calling over the PA system. "Who'd the hell fired a Futon torpedo into a field of methane gas with traces of Pabst or Carlings in it? Does any y'all realize what's a-gonna happen when that Futon torpedo detonates in that gas? "
....I answered, "It'll be the end of the universe as we know it?"
...."It'll mean the end of the Fenderthighs and her crew?"
...."No, not exactly."
...."It'll be the end of this Blog posting?"
...."Well, maybe that too..."
...."RED ALERT!" (Persistent bastard ain't he?)
...."What? What's gonna happen, Snotty?"
...."Well sir, when that Futon torpedo done explodes in all that there gas, there's gonna be a whole lotta shit sent flyin' all over this quadrant of space!"
...."Snotty! Tell me, can the Fenderthighs survive the blast?"
...."Sure thing, Cap'n. No worries."
...."Then why did you up and make that urgent call to the bridge?" I asked my Chief Engineer.
...."Cap'n, the Fenderthighs is my darlin', my life ... you knows that."
...."Well sir, when that explosion done takes place ... why there's gonna be all kindsa shit splattered all over the Fenderthigh's paint job. ...And I ain't gonna be the one to clean it up neither!"
...."Captain!" Mister Clock looked up from his science station. "The Futon torpedo is set to detonate ... now!"
....Even in the soundless void of outer space the blast generated an ear-splitting "Pfffttt!"
....I looked at Clock in wonder, "It was a dud?"
...."Yes, Captain. The interstellar fart was was a dud - a silent one!"
...."RED ALERT!" (Someday I'm gonna find some more duties for Number Two.)
...."The Futon torpedo, Clock? What happened to it?"
...."Fascinating ... I could say ... logical." He turned to me and added, "The torpedo entered the nebula's butt crack - through the anus of the cloud!"
....I gasped, "Then if it detonates inside the nebula ... ?"
...."It could mean the end of the ..."
...."The universe as we know it?" I interrupted.
...."The end of the Fenderthighs and her crew?"
...."Well ... no."
...."The end of this blog posting?"
....On my signal Communications Officer Yoohoo done snucked up behind Piker and put some duct tape over his mouth. "Rmmm Mmmrt"
...."No, Captain. The Blog posting will end soon enough as it is."
...."Then what will happen?"
...."It will be the end of the Butt Crack Nebula as we know it, Captain."

Mr. Clock calculated that due to the immense pressures and radiation inside the nebula that there was odds of 1:1 that the torpedo would detonate before the end of this Blog posting.
....I decided to retire to my quarters for some rest and suggested that the crew members do the same. I was exhausted and needed some serious quality nappin' time. I dove headlong onto my special custom-made Captain's bed. Bye and bye, as was usually the case when I retired to my cabin, Dr. Smasher snuck in and crawled into bed with me. As was always the case when we was both ready I said to her, "Engage!"

A couple of hours later I joined some of the officers down at 10 Backward, a lounge and restaurant used for the crew to unwind. I noted that Hymen, a strange alien woman who ran the place, was workin' the bar. I don't know how someone who would hook up with Ted Danson, defend Michael Vick and take a job on the TV show The View was able to land a job on a Federation Starship, but she sure served a mean Saturnian Anchovy Sundae!

While I was about to sit down and enjoy my order Commander Piker did it again, "RED ALERT!"
....I looked up from under the table where I'd ducked and saw that the red-headed ship's MD, Doctor Smasher had entered the lounge. With everyone glarin' at him, Piker shrugged and returned his attention to his drink.
....I couldn't take it no more. That thing on his head was botherin' me to no end. "Number Two," I said to him, "Would you be so kind as to tell what the f**k is that on your head?"
....At the same time he pulled the thing from his head, our ship's Councellor Toy walked over and snatched it from his hands. "Piker, how many times must I tell you? Stop takin' my drawers as souvenirs!"

Mr. Clock's voiced boomed over the PA sytem, "Capain Cork, the Futon torpedo exploded seconds ago. You're not gonna believe what happened!"
...."Put it on the view screen down here in 10 Backward, Mr. Clock."

Everyone in the lounge grew silent in awe at the sight that done appeared before us. It wasn't the end of the universe as we knew it. It wasn't the end of the Fenderthighs and her crew. The Butt Crack Nebula had been transformed. Or maybe it had done been turned 180 degrees away from us! For now there before us was a true wonder of the universe.
....The Fenderthighs and her crew would go down in history for discovering the newly formed Vagina Nebula. I nodded to my First Officer Piker and said, "Make it so, Number Two."
...."RED ALERT!"

It is however, the end of this Blog posting as we know it.

(If you enjoyed this post and are a fan of Star Trek, you'll like a companion post, Rednecks in Space, which answers the question 'What if a Starship Captain was a Redneck.')


Tuesday, September 25, 2007

What Would Marcel Say?

On Sept. 22,the world famous mime, Marcel Marceau, died of a heart attack in his Cahors, France home. He was 84.

Marceau, born 3/22/1923, in Strasbourg, France, performed for 50 years and plied his trade in more than 15,000 performances around the globe.

(Pictured) The quintessential Marceau pose - white face with black-accented eyes, blank-and-white striped pullover shirt, white pants and a silk top hat - was a Chaplin-esque character called "Bip." He created the character Bip the Clown in 1947 and brought his act to the United States in 1950.

Some may remember him playing the part of a mad scientist, Professor Ping in the film Barbarella. While he did appear in films with speaking parts, he spoke professionally as himself in only one role. Playing himself, he uttered "Non!" in the 1976 Mel Brooks comedy Silent Movie. Ironically, it was the sole spoken dialog in the entire movie.

As a satirical tribute to the man, I started wondering What Would Marcel Say in certain situations.

He died quietly. I wonder, what were his last words? Marcel: "___________________." (I thought so.)

Does anyone recall the outcome of the Great Debate between Marceau and Harpo Marx? (Me either.)

Growing up it is said that he never talked back to his parents.

He was never sent to the principal's office for talking in class.

The message on his telephone answering machine could have been better.

If he'd had a career as a hit man would he have used a silencer?

What did he teach his pet parrot to say?

If he had ever been arrested, would the police have bothered to tell him he had the right to remain silent?

At Christmas time, did he sing along with the carol Silent Night?

I suspect there are some who would feel that the above jokes are disrespectful, but they are not intended as as such. In an interview once he stated that he didn't mind the mime jokes. He felt that the jokes helped make people aware of the talent and skills required to be a mime.

I for one find mimes entertaining, especially the very talented ones. They are much more than the street mimes who perform for change in the many downtown areas across the country. Over the years I saw Marcel Marceau on television many times. I remember seeing him several times on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.

I was in awe of his "man in a box" routine. No doubt Michael Jackson "stole" his moonwalk from Marceau. There is a rather short list of famous mimes that I can personally name, Marceau heading it. In fact, I can only think of one other mime act off the top of my head, and that would be the husband and wife team of Shields and Yarnell, who had a short-lived variety show on TV.

Rest in peace, MARCEL MARCEAU. You will be missed.


Monday, September 24, 2007

What the Health?


Q: I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life; is this true?
A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it... Don't waste them on exercise . Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: You're not listening....Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you? ... And remember potatoes are vegetables. What are french fries but fried potatoes. Got it?

Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans! Another vegetable. It's the best feel-good food around!!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.

Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is a shape! !

Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.

And remember:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, "WOO HOO, What a Ride!"

Diet Facts

A diet is a weigh of life.

It's not the minutes spent at the table that put on weight, it's the seconds.

It's something most of us do religiously: We eat what we want and pray we don't gain weight.

The problem with curbing our appetites is that most of us do it at the drive in window of McDonalds.

The most fattening thing you can put in an ice cream sundae is a spoon.

The biggest drawback to fasting for seven days is that it makes one weak.

Sweets are the destiny that shapes our ends.

Diets are for people who are thick and tired of it.

The toughest part of a diet isn't watching what you eat. It's watching what other people eat.

Diets are for women who not only kept their girlish figure bit doubled it.

A diet is when you have to go to some length to change your width.

Many women reduce and reduce, yet still never manage to become a bargain.

The best way to lose weight is by skipping ... snacks and desert.

Most people gain weight by having intimate dinners for two...alone.

People go to Weight Watchers to learn their lessens.

A diet is the modern-day meal in which a family counts its calories instead of its blessings.

A diet is what you go on when not only can't you fit into the store's dresses, you can't fit into the dressing room.

One guideline applies to fat and thin people alike: If you're thin, don't eat fast. If you're fat, don't eat - FAST.

Above all, dieters are advised to avoid Pepsi, "the pause that refleshes."

Holiday Stress Diet

The following diet is designed to help you cope with the stress that builds up during the holidays.

1/2 grapefruit
1 slice whole wheat toast
8 oz. skim milk

4 oz. lean broiled chicken breast
1 cup steamed spinach
1 cup herb tea
1 Oreo cookie

Mid-Afternoon Snack:
The rest of Oreos in the package
2 pints Rocky Road ice cream nuts
cherries and whipped cream
1 jar hot fudge sauce

2 loaves garlic bread
4 cans or 1 large pitcher Coke
1 large sausage, mushroom and cheese pizza
3 Snickers bars

Midnight Snack:
Entire frozen Sara Lee cheesecake (eaten directly from freezer)


Rules for This Diet

1. If you eat something and no one sees you eat it, it has no calories.

2. If you drink a diet soda with a candy bar, the calories in the candy bar are cancelled out by the diet soda.

3. When you eat with someone else, calories don't count if you do not eat more than they do.

4. Food used for medicinal purposes NEVER counts, such as hot chocolate, brandy, toast and Sara Lee Cheesecake.

5. If you fatten up everyone else around you, then you look thinner.

6. Movie related foods do not have additional calories because they are part of the entertainment package and not part of one's personal fuel. Examples: Milk Duds, buttered popcorn, Junior Mints, Red Hots and Tootsie Rolls.

7. Cookie pieces contain no calories. The process of breaking causes calorie leakage.

8. Things licked off knives and spoons have no calories if you are in the process of preparing something.

9. Foods that have the same color have the same number of calories. Examples are: spinach and pistachio ice cream; mushrooms and mashed potatoes.

10. Chocolate is a universal color and may be substituted for any other food color.

11. Anything consumed while standing has no calories. This due to gravity and the density of the caloric mass.

12. Anything consumed from someone else's plate has no calories since the calories rightfully belong to the other person and will cling to his/her plate. (We ALL know how calories like to cling!)



Sunday, September 23, 2007

"Avatar-ial" Satire on Life

Naked I came into the world. I was defenseless and naive.
I was dependendent upon others to survive. I had to learn right from wrong, and it was the hardest lesson of all! Nurtured on Mother's milk I was soon a young lad. I began to fantasize as all young boys as to what I wanted to be when I reached adulthood.

I had visions of being a swashbuckling pirate, feared on all the seas.

I often visualized myself as a chivalrous knight in shining armor on a crusade to slay the terrible fire-breathing dragon and rescue the fair maiden.
....But when the maiden tried to kiss me in a show of gratitude, I gave her back to the dragon and rode off in search of another adventure.
....You see, brave knights (and little boys) didn't like girls getting all mushy and kissy.

What boy didn't want to be a cowboy? A cowboy could fight savage Indians on the warpath. A cowboy could ride herd on his trusty skateboard steed.
....I could be like the Cowboy who met an Indian herding sheep in the Black Hills:

Cowboy: "Nice dog you got there. Mind if I speak to him?"
Indian: "Dog no talk."
Cowboy: "Hey dog, how's it going?"
Dog: "Doin' all right."
Indian: (Look of shock!)
Cowboy: "Is this Indian your owner?" (pointing at the Indian)
Dog: "Yep."
Cowboy: "How does he treat you?"
Dog: "Real good. He walks me twice a day, feeds me great food and Takes me to the lake once a week to play."
Indian: (Look of total disbelief)
Cowboy: "Mind if I talk to your horse?"
Indian: "Horse no talk."
Cowboy: "Hey horse, how's it going?"
Horse: "Cool."
Indian: (Extreme look of shock!)
Cowboy: "Is this your owner?" (pointing to the Indian)
Horse: "Yep."
Cowboy: "How's he treat you?"
Horse: "Pretty good, thanks for asking, he rides me, brushes me Down often, and keeps me in a lean-to, to protect me from the weather."
Indian: (Look of total amazement)
Cowboy: "Mind if I talk to your sheep?"
Indian: "Sheep lie."

Once I was going to be a brave scuba diver, just like Mike Nelson on Seahunt.

Then one day before I realized what was happening, I was a young man and had to go out into the world and get a job and drink coffee.

While being in the workforce I noticed that something was different about the girls. They had bumps and curves that weren't there when they were littler girls.So then I wanted to show my gratitude for their looking good and I tried to kiss them! For some reason the girls didn't want me to get all mushy and kissy! It was certainly not the last time I that I couldn't figure girls (women they wanted to be called) out. Where were the dragons when you needed them?

Well one day I finally figured out one woman (or so she led me to believe) and got married.
As I grew older I found some things don't change. I still tend to imagine that I'm heroic figures. As a softball player it was easy to picture myself slugging a game-winning homerun in the major leagues.
I can run through the middle of the line for a sixty-yard touchdown - through the magic of televised football. I can display my knowledge of the game by managing several Fantasy Football teams.

The older I get I've noticed I have come full circle. At home I'm often like I was when I came into the world - naked or nearly so. Who knows, but when I'm older still I might be in diapers again.

Strange, but it's almost as if some of those things I wished for as a child have come true.

No, I'm no pirate on the high seas. I'm no gallant knight. You won't see me scuba diving along some coral reef. I'm not riding the range under the big sky. But I have become a cowboy of sorts -

Just the other day I was fighting an Indian at the 7-11 Store over the price of a gallon of milk!

For good or bad - dreams can come true.

(The Avatar characters used in this post were created at Doppel Me.)


Saturday, September 22, 2007

Rednecks in Space

Your Captain might be a Redneck if...

Your shuttlecraft has been up on blocks for over a month.

He paints flames and a NRA sticker on the warp nacelles.

You have a shuttle called "Billy Joe Bob."

He refers to any intelligent alien race as "critters."

He refers to Photon Torpedoes as "Popguns."

He has the sensor array repaired with a bent coat hanger and aluminum foil.

He installs a set of bullhorns on the front of the saucer section.

He says "Get your ears on, good buddy" instead of "open hailing frequencies."

He hangs fuzzy dice over the viewscreen.

He rewires his communicator into his belt buckle.

He keeps a six-pack under his command chair and a gun rack above it.

He says "Yea Haw! Let's get this puppy movin!!!" instead of "Engage."

He has a hand-tooled holster for his phaser.

He insists on calling his executive officer "Bubba."

He sets the fore viewscreen to reruns of "Bassmaster."

He programs the food replicator for beer, ribs, and turnip greens.

He paints the starship John Deere green with racing stripes.

He refers to a Pulsar as a "Blue Light Special."

He refers to the Mutara Nebula as a "swamp."

His moonshine is stronger than Romulan Ale.

He sings "Lucille" instead of "Kathleen".

His idea of dress uniform is CLEAN bib overalls.

He wears mirrored shades on the Bridge.

His idea of a "gas giant" is that big ol' XO, Bubba, after a meal of beans and weenies.

He sets phaser to "Cajun."

He has ordered the Chief Engineer to dig out the jumper cables.

The warp reactor is coated in duct tape, Bondo, and Super-Glu.

He orders the Sickbay to carry castor oil and turpentine.

He lights his cigarettes with his phaser.

He keeps livestock in the cargo bay.

He refers to the Kobiyashi Maru test as "the best target practice I ever had."

He orders the ship into time warp so he can have another go at the "Tuesday Night All-You-Can-Eat Ribs" buffet.

The ship, all the shuttlecraft, and the ship's mascot are all named after his favorite movie actresses.


Friday, September 21, 2007

Her Cups Runneth Over (8)

This is the eighth installment of a short story which began HERE.

A torrid sun; a tropical paradise; a frustrated writer; a cheating wife; a mysterious sultry woman ... the ingredients for a forbidden affair? Or the recipe for murder and the perfect crime?


It was a god damned nightmare! I was being manipulated like a helpless marionette at the hands of some insidious puppeteer. I needed to find who was pulling the strings and why.

Suspects, there were plenty. I could not dismiss the two police officers because of their shoddy investigation into my wife's death. Were they puppets also? There was the bartender at the lounge who had lied to me, as well as to the police. There were the mysterious 'Men in Black.' Who were they? What was their involvement? Then ... and then there was Nova! Nova, with whom I had known intimacy, and yet I knew absolutely nothing about her!

Sergeant Baker and his deputy were too anxious to finalize the necessary paperwork and thus close the case. I was no officer of the law, but it was painfully obvious to me that there far too many answered questions regarding the case. Alas, most of the unexplained events would have been written off by the local lawmen. The passages in my novel and the letter of reference, both of which I didn't remember writing, could have easily been attributed to the eccentricity of a best-selling author.

It would have been easy enough for someone to come to the conclusion that my tryst with Nova was nothing more than the fantasy of a man dealing with the infidelity of his wife. It would have been noted that I had been drinking, probably to drown my sorrows. What better authority than a bartender who had been serving me the drinks?

What about the physical evidence? I sighed in resignation. I realized that both the blue bra and the note found in my wife's dresser drawer would probably have been considered circumstantial. It would have seemed obvious to an investigator that my wife would have owned a bra to match her underpants. How could I have convinced them that she'd gone out without underwear? I had been contemplating telling the officers about the blue bra, but how could I have been justified hiding it? Would it have not implicated me in some way?

What would they have thought if I'd told them that I had seen Nova on the beach wearing a blue bikini? What if I had suggested that she'd been wearing the same bra that I had hidden beneath the dresser and that she'd been wearing the matching pants that been found around my wife's neck? Of course, they would have thought the fantasy girl would have been wearing a fantasy bikini.

I slumped onto the bed. During the cab ride from the police station back to the hotel I had been tossing question after question around in my head. While I had managed to get a headache for my efforts, I had not come up with any answers.

What about the 'Men in Black?' Ignoring the throbbing in my head I tried to focus on the 'story' that the driver of the car had told me. Fearful for my life at their hands, I hadn't really let his words register. They had forcibly abducted me and had taken me for 'a ride.' What was I supposed to have thought? His 'story' began to reform in my mind.
"Mr. Earle, we know you have a lot of questions. We can answer some of them, but not all. You are a story teller, and for the moment, so am I. Please allow me to tell you a story. Listen and learn, Mr. Earle.
....It is not coincidental that the mystery in which you are so embroiled has been mirroring the novel you are currently writing. Do not forget, sir, that your novel is fiction. Your wife's untimely death, however, was not.
....Your wife's indiscretions, yes, we knew about your wife's dalliances, unfortunately placed her in the middle of a very ... delicate situation. I'm afraid I cannot reveal the exact nature of that situation as it deals with matters of National security.
....Let's just say that she happened to hook up with the wrong lover the night of her death. He was a certain international buyer of stolen documents posing as a business man on vacation. In the past he operated with the reputation of being very careful and discreet. This time, however, he was careless. He dropped his guard and allowed himself to be tempted by a very beautiful woman ... your wife.
....When there are secret documents and millions of dollars involved, it doesn't take much for things to go wrong. Your wife was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mr. Earle. Because you were her husband, certain parties have taken an interest in you. It is for that reason we have approached you. It is for that reason that we must insist that you finish your novel and leave this 'paradise' as soon as possible.
....Remember, as your novel is fiction, so too are my associate and I. We will be making no further contact with you. That is the end of my story.
I sat upright and buried my face in my hands. I was overwhelmed by the scope of the man's story. So, my wife had finally crawled into the wrong bed! What in the hell had she gotten herself into? This time she had managed to drag me through the mud as well.

What was it the driver of the car had said when I'd suggested that Eve's death could not have been a suicide? Yes, he'd said there had been an eye witness - an attractive woman wearing a white blouse and a leather miniskirt! That described the clothing Eve had been wearing when she'd left our suite. Yet, the clothing in her personal affects given to me at the police station was a red dress - the same dress Nova had been wearing that night. The note I'd found hidden with Eve's underwear had mentioned that they could change. I had assumed that it meant they could change partners. Nova, wearing Eve's clothes, was that witness!

Then I remembered the last thing the driver had said to me as he drove away. "Finish your novel, Mr. Earle, and don't forget to edit." Edit? Why should he have felt compelled to say that? He'd said something else about my novel also. He'd said something about it being no coincidence that my novel was reflecting the mystery in which I was embroiled.
I sat down at the desk and powered up my laptop. I did think it was odd that there were several passages that I didn't remember writing. The introduction of Nova into my novel was one thing. I suppose my fascination with her had something to do with that.

I suddenly felt violated as I realized that someone had been gaining access to my computer. Was it the 'Men in Black?' How else would they have known about the similarity of my novel to the real events? What was their interest that I finish the novel? Edit? Why should I edit and what should I edit?

I navigated through the main menu of my novel and opened the folder for chapter one. I could see no other course of action but to start at the beginning. I was determined to read and reread every word, every sentence, every paragraph and every chapter. It didn't take long for me to discover that I was having difficulty distinguishing fact from fiction in the novel's story line.

After two hours of painstakingly poring over the novel, I was intrigued. It was as if I'd been reading a murder mystery by another author. Yet, the whole thing was structured in my own unique style. It was exactly written as if I had written it. Then why did I feel that I had not written ... all of it?

I scrolled down to the edit field. Was I not so succinctly reminded to edit? I stared dumfounded at the box that appeared on the screen. It read: ENTER PASSWORD TO EDIT. I shook my head. I had not installed password protection on this novel.

Acting on the premise that I had installed it, although I knew I hadn't, I began to feverishly type in password after password that I may have used. I was a creature of habit and have always used the same few standard passwords when one was required. None of them were accepted. I have another bad habit of 'hiding' my passwords by taping them to the bottom of the laptop. I lifted the device and peered underneath. There was but one piece of paper there. It bore the password I always used to gain access to the computer itself.

I sat back in disgust. Not only had someone been tampering with my computer, but that person or persons had installed a program that only they could access! Then something caught my eye at the botom left side of the screen. It was a word counter that counted every five letters to keep track of my novel's wordage. It was double the count that it should have been!

I was startled by a sudden knock at the door. I shut the computer off and rose from the chair. Other than Baker and his deputy, I had no idea who would be calling on me. I paused as I was struck with a sense of fear. The 'Men in Black' had said I was being watched. They'd also said they were trying to keep me alive. Inspite of the nervous dread, I pulled the door open.

A breathtaking body clad in a tiny blue bikini filled my eyes. Though her face was partially hidden in the shadows of the hallway, there was no mistaking the legs, the narrow waist and the perfect upturned breasts!

"Nova!" Inspite of all that happened, inspite of the suspicions I was harboring, I wanted nothing more than to pull her body to me. My arms encircled her frame and I lifted her from the floor.

I tensed. I felt something cold, steel-like between our bodies. Suddenly she shoved me away, sending me stumbling backwards until I fell on my back onto the bed. My eyes were locked on the barrel of the pistol aimed at me. I shook when I heard the 'click' of the chamber as she cocked the gun.

"Don't you go pawing me and slobbering over me you spineless bastard!" she shouted.

Her voice was all too familiar.


To be continued.... HERE.


Thursday, September 20, 2007

Try a Little Southerness

Southerness - a state of bliss somewhere between right and wrong, smart and dumb, rich and poor, and not knowing and not givin' a damn!

Only a Southerner from Sebastian County knows the difference between a hissie fit and a conniption fit, and that you don't " HAVE" them, you " PITCH" them.

Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc., make up "a mess."

Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of "yonder." Remember 'yonder aways' is further than 'yonder.'

Only a Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is, ... as in: "Going to town, be back directly."

Even Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table.

All Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.

Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a neighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad. If the neighbor's trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin!

Only Southerners grow up knowing the difference between "right near" and "a right far piece." They also know that "just down the road" can be 1 mile or 20.

Only a Southerner, both knows and understands, the difference between a redneck , a good ol' boy, and po'white trash.

No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.

A Southerner knows that "fixin" can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adverb.

Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines, ... and when we're "in line," ... we talk to everybody!

Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they're related, even if only by marriage.

In the South, y'all is singular, .. all y'all is plural.

Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.

Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.

When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin'," you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!

Only true Southerners say "sweet tea" and "sweet milk." Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it -- we do not like our tea unsweetened. "Sweet milk" means you don't want buttermilk.

And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say,"Bless her heart" .. and go your own way.

To those of you who are still a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call me in the morning. Bless your heart!

And to those of you who are still having a hard time understanding all this Southern stuff, ... bless your hearts, I hear they are fixin' to have classes on Southernness as a second language!

And for those that are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, all y'all need is a sign to hang on y'alls front porch that reads "I ain't from the South, but I got here as fast as I could."

Bless your little ol' pea-pickin' hearts. Y'all come back, ya hear?


Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I Never Stole A Joke I Didn't Like

"I never stole a joke I didn't like." - Milton Berle

Jacob and Rebecca

Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Florida, are all excited about their decision to get married. They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way they pass a drugstore. Jacob suggests they go in.
....Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: "Are you the owner?"
....The pharmacist answers, "Yes."
....Jacob: "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"
....Pharmacist: "Of course we do."
....Jacob: "How about medicine for circulation?"
....Pharmacist: "All kinds."
....Jacob: "Medicine for rheumatism and scoliosis?"
....Pharmacist: "Definitely."
....Jacob: "How about Viagra?"
....Pharmacist: "Of course."
....Jacob: "Medicine for memory problems, arthritis, jaundice?"
....Pharmacist: "Yes, a large variety. The works."
....Jacob: "What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for Parkinson's disease?"
....Pharmacist: "Absolutely."
....Jacob: "You sell wheelchairs and walkers?"
....Pharmacist: "All speeds and sizes."

Jacob: "We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."

Not In My Garden

A father watched his young daughter playing in the garden. He smiled as he reflected on how sweet and pure his little girl was. He thought about her seeing the wonders of nature through such innocent eyes. Suddenly she just stopped and stared at the ground. He went over to her to see what work of God had captured her attention.

He noticed she was looking at two spiders mating, "Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?" she asked.

"They're mating," her father replied.

"What do you call the spider on top?" she asked.

"That's a Daddy Longlegs," her father answered.
"So, the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?" the little girl asked.

As his heart soared with the joy of such a cute and innocent
question, he replied "No dear. Both of them are Daddy Longlegs."

The little girl, looking a little puzzled, thought for a moment, then took her foot and stomped them flat and said, "Well, we're not having any of that Brokeback-Mountain crap in our garden."

Never Make A Woman Angry...

A woman arrived at the Gates of Heaven. While she was waiting for Saint Peter to greet her, she peeked through the gates.
....She saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting all around were her parents and all the other people she had loved and who had died before her. They saw her and began calling greetings to her "Hello - How are you! We've been waiting for you! Good to see you."
....When Saint Peter came by, the woman said to him, "This is such a wonderful place! How do I get in?"
...."You have to spell a word," Saint Peter told her.
...."Which word?" the woman asked.
...."Love," he replied.
....The woman correctly spelled "Love" and Saint Peter welcomed her into Heaven.
....About a year later, Saint Peter came to the woman and asked her to watch the Gates of Heaven for him that day.
....While the woman was guarding the Gates of Heaven, her husband arrived.
...."I'm surprised to see you," the woman said. "How have you been?"
...."Oh, I've been doing pretty well since you died," her husband told her. I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won the multi-state lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a huge mansion. And my wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation in Cancun and I went water skiing today. I fell and hit my head, and here I am. What a bummer! How do I get in?"
...."You have to spell a word," the woman told him.
...."Which word?" her husband asked.

Moral of the story:

Never make a woman angry... There will be Hell to pay later!

Ladies Night Out

Last night, my Red Hat friends and I went to a Ladies Night Club. One of the girls wanted to impress the rest of us, so she pulled out a $10 bill.
....When the male dancer came over to us, my friend licked the $10 bill and stuck it to his butt cheek!
....Not to be outdone, another friend pulls out a $20 bill. She called the guy back, licks the $20 bill, and sticks it to his other butt cheek.
....In another attempt to impress the rest of us, my third friend pulls out a $50 bill and calls the guy over, and licks the $50 bill. I'm worried about the way things are going, but fortunately, she just stuck it to one of his butt cheeks again. My relief was short-lived.
....Seeing the way things are going, the guy races over to me! Now everyone's attention is focused on me, and the guy is egging me on to try to top the $50.
My brain was churning as I reached for my wallet. What could I do?
....The woman in me took over!

I got out my ATM card, swiped it down the crack of his butt. Grabbed the eighty bucks, and left!!!!

Dearly Departed

An old man, Mr. Goldstein, was living the last of his life in a nursing home.

One day he appeared to be very sad and depressed. Nurse Tracy asked if there was anything wrong.

"Yes, Nurse Tracy," said Mr. Goldstein, "My Private Part died today, and I am very sad."

Knowing her patients were forgetful and sometimes a little crazy, she replied, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Goldstein, please accept my condolences.

The following day, Mr. Goldstein was walking down the hall with his Private Part hanging out his pajamas, when he met Nurse Tracy.

"Mr. Goldstein," she said, "You shouldn't be walking down the hall like that.. Please put your Private Part back inside your pajamas."

But, Nurse Tracy," replied Mr. Goldstein, " I told you yesterday that my Private Part died."

"Yes, you did tell me that, but why is it hanging out of your pajamas?"

"Well, he replied, "Today's the viewing."

Being a Good Catholic Girl.....

A train hits a bus filled with Catholic school girls and they all perish.
....They are in Heaven trying to enter the pearly gates when St. Peter asks the first girl, "Tiffany, have you ever had any contact with a male organ?"
....She giggles and shyly replies, "Well, I once touched the head of one with the tip of my fingers.
....St. Peter says, "Okay, dip the tips of your fingers in the Holy Water and pass through the gate."
....St. Peter asks the next girl the same question, "Jennifer, have you ever had any contact with a male organ?"
....The girl is a little reluctant but replies, "Well, once I fondled and stroked one."
....St. Peter says, "Okay dip your whole hand in the Holy Water and pass through the gate."
....All of a sudden, there is a lot of commotion in the line of girls. One girl is pushing her way to the front of the line.
....When she reaches the front, St. Peter says, "Pattie! What seems to be the rush?"

The girl replies, "If I'm going to have to gargle that Holy Water, I want to do it before Jessica sticks her ass in it." !!!!!!

Ooh La La!

Pierre, a brave French fighter pilot, takes his girlfriend, Marie, out for a pleasant little picnic by the River Seine. It's a beautiful day and love is in the air.

Marie leans over to Pierre and says: "Pierre, kiss me!" Our hero grabs a bottle of Merlot and splashes it on Marie's lips.

"What are you doing, Pierre?", says the startled Marie.

"I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have red meat, I like to have red wine!

She smiles and they start kissing. When things began to heat up a little, Marie says, "Pierre, kiss me lower."

Our hero tears her blouse open, grabs a bottle of Chardonnay and starts pouring it all over her breasts.

"Pierre! What are you doing?', asks the bewildered Marie.

"I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have white meat, I like to have white wine!"

They resume their passionate interlude and things really steam up. Marie leans close to his ear and whispers, "Pierre, kiss me lower!"

Our hero rips off her underwear, grabs a bottle of Cognac and pours it in her lap. He then strikes a match and lights it on fire.

Marie shrieks and dives into the river. Standing waist deep, Marie throws her arms upwards and screams furiously,


"I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I go down, I go down in flames!"

Anyone Up For A Quickie?

Bush and Cheney are at a restaurant for lunch. The waitress comes over and asks what they will be having.

Bush says, "I'll have a quickie."

The waitress steps back in disgust and says, "Mr. President, I thought that kind of piggish behavior went out with the last administration!"

She storms off and Dubya looks confused.

Cheney shakes his head at the president and says, "George, it's pronounced QUICHE!


Tuesday, September 18, 2007

I Won't Cry Over Spilt O.J.

Isn't it ironic that a man who got away with a double murder could ultimately be put away for the theft of "his own" property?

Gone are the days he ran wild on the gridiron. Gone are the days he ran through airport terminals for Hertz. Gone are the days of the low-speed highway chases.

Gone are the days on the golf courses across the country looking for his wife's killer. Gone are the days of teeing off on a par 5 hole with a dog leg to the left while scanning the horizon for any sign of the murderers. Gone are the lonely vigils in the clubhouse at hole nineteen.

....Unless he receives a Presidential pardon.


— Late Friday afternoon, President Bush announced that O. J. Simpson would be replacing David Kay as head of the Iraq Survey Group.
"I am confident that my pal O. J. can find the real weapons of mass destruction," said Mr. Bush.

It warms my heart and restores my faith in our Commander-in-Chief that he is never going to give his search. Dubya will assist O.J. in finding the elusive killers and O.J. will help locate the enigmatic Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Perhaps their respective searches will take them to the ends of the earth.

Then and only then will O.J. be able to enjoy the fruits of his book. Who knows his novel may join the long-awaited publication by Michael Jackson and the posthumous tell-all of Sadam Hussein as Oprah Winfrey recommendations.

Then at long last we can kick back and wait for the jury selection process for the case against against Michael Vick!

Monday, September 17, 2007

A Woman's Needs

I have never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.


One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.

Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, 'I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me.'

I said, 'WHAT??!! What was that?!'

So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear...

'You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man.'

She responded to my puzzled look by saying, 'Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?'

Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, 'Lets get a pair for each outfit.'

We went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you... she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis.

I think I threw her for a loop when I said, 'That's fine, honey.' She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement.

Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, 'I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier.'

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, 'No honey, I don't feel like it.'

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, 'WHAT?'

I then said, 'Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman.'

And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, 'Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?'

Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either... but at least she knows I'm smarter than her.


DATING: The process of spending enormous amounts of money, time, and energy to get better acquainted with a person whom you don't especially like in the present and will learn to like a lot less in the future.

EASY: A term used to describe a woman who has the morals of a man.

EYE CONTACT: A method utilized by a single woman to communicate to a man that she is interested in him. Despite being advised to do so, many women have difficulty looking a man directly in the eyes, not necessarily due to the shyness, but usually due to the fact that a woman's eyes are not located in her chest.

FRIEND: A member of the opposite sex in your acquaintance who has some flaw which makes sleeping with him/her totally unappealing.

INDIFFERENCE: A woman's feeling towards a man, which is interpreted by the man as "playing hard to get."

IRRITATING HABIT: What the endearing little qualities that initially attract two people to each other turn into after a few months together.

NYMPHOMANIAC: A man's term for a woman who wants to do it more often than he does.

SOBER: A condition in which it is almost impossible to fall in love.

ATTRACTION: The act of associating horniness with a particular person.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: What occurs when two extremely horny, but not entirely choosy people meet.

LAW OF RELATIVITY: How attractive a given person appears to be is directly proportionate to how unattractive your date is.


A woman was shaking out a rug on the balcony of her 17th floor condominium when a sudden gust of wind blew her over the railing.

"Damn, that was stupid," she thought as she fell. "What a way to die."

As she passed the 14th floor, a man standing at his railing caught her in his arms. While she looked at him in disbelieving gratitude, he asked, "Do you suck?"

"No!" she shrieked, aghast.

So, he dropped her. As she passed the 12th floor, another man reached out and caught her.

"Do you screw?" he asked.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. He dropped her, too.

The poor woman prayed to God for one more chance. As luck would have it, she was caught a third time, by a man on the eighth floor.

"I suck! I screw!" she screamed in panic.

"Slut!" he said, and dropped her.