A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Ah, the first day of School. It started off the usual way, with my wife speaking in tongues about something currently pissing her off (Note to self : Call the priest and schedule that exorcism as soon as possible) and her boot half way up my son's ass because he was ignoring her constant requests for him to get dressed for school. It didn't take long for the day to lapse into complete chaos, which by my usual standards is roughly 3 minutes.

My day of chaos starts with Loving Wife telling me that she forgot to get batteries for the camera. Not to worry says I, Nothing-Gets-By-Me Husband, we can can get batteries out of one of the gajillion remotes we have laying around the house...or even better....one of those Wii remotes that no one ever seems to use (as opposed to the plastic uterus massager my wife thinks I don't know about hidden under her mattress). So with that catastrophe avoided, we all head out to the place where my son gets on the bus. As the time draws forth and it is almost "that time", All-Knowing Wife begins the ritual of documenting my son's ascent into the big yellow bus....not to be confused with the pictures of him getting on the same bus LAST YEAR...no...these would be totally different and totally worth documenting.
So my wife, the Annie Liebovitz of the Lunchables Set, starts snapping pictures.

*CLICK* "That's right...that's right..." *CLICK* "Work iiiit...woooooork iiiiiit. Give me more! You own that lunch box!" *CLICK* "You're hungry! Show me hungry! That's right! You're not a bad boy! You're just misunderstood! That's it!" *CLICK* "That's it!"

Well that would be it if the batteries didn't die after ONE PICTURE. GARRRRRR!!!!!!

No fool this one, I speculate that I could hop in my truck and speed down the hill to the local Inconvenience Store and snap up some Double A's with juuust enough time to scope out the Double D's (sploot!)...yet still have enough time to make it back for prime photo op time. Upon returning to the bus stop as predicted, I hand off the batteries and the bus arrives. CLICKCLICKCLICK Action shots of my son standing in line and staring at the back of the next kid's head are gobbled up by this newly energized and reinvigorated camera. This camera is the best. It's the Cadillac of Cameras let me just tell you.

(This is what my English teacher would call FORESHADOWING)

That, of course, is when the unthinkable happens. The wife says she needs to get to work because the loading ritual has taken too long. So the task of immortalizing his trip OFF the yellow bread box is left to me. So I don my Super Dad cape and drive like a mad man.....right across the road to where the school lies. Thankfully my Super Dad peripheral vision notices my old nemesis LIGHT POLE trying to attack me when I backed out so I manage to swerve and avoid it. Curses! says the Evil Light Pole. Foiled again! Anyway, I get into the parking lot and begin fighting my way through the herd of water buffalo...er....jobless school moms in the parking lot before running to the grassy knoll to gain a high vantage point for maximum photo op happiness. I am rewarded with a perfect view of my son, ready to exit stage right. Awesome! With camera in hand I power up the photo capturing device, and with hand trembling prepare to take THE MOST AWESOME PICTURE EVER. Whoop. No. Wait. Not yet. They are taking off the kindergarteners first. Power off. (Don't want to waste those batteries!) and then.....AHA! Movement! The time has come! The light is perfect...I'm zoomed in close.....the world has stopped around me....nothing can prevent me from fulfilling my DESTINY!! .....except that they didn't get off the bus....GRRR. The bus was merely moving forward one bus length. *sigh* OK! NOW they are exiting the bus! I check the lighting...perfect. Zoomed in just so....awesome. This will be THE BEST picture of children exiting a bus EVER. My heart begins beating rapidly as I slowly reach for the silver button that will ensure my winning the Nobel Prize for Photography. CLICK! HA HAAAAA!!! YES!! My immortality is assured! My greatness will be talked about for many.......say, why is the screen black? WHAT? AIGH!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

THE &$#^@&!!!! CAMERA SHUT OFF!!!! GARRRR!!!!!!

So at this point all there is left to do is to get a shot of my son as he WALKS to the school as opposed to the awesome sight of him coming down off those bus stairs like he is the mother-luvin' Fonze! Fine. I can still do this..... "Hey L'il Buddy! Pose for Daddy!" *CA-CLICK!* .....aaaaaaaaaaaaaand that would be the same moment some random dumbass would happen to walk right in front of him blocking my shot.....Illustrated herein with a few minor adjustments, namely protecting the faces of those who randomly walked into my beautiful shot here and totally ruined it's awesomeness. For those of you with IQs in the 30's....no, my son does not go to school with Homer and Lisa Simpson....I just don't want to get SUED for posting some kid's photo without permission. :P

Anyway....it is at that point that I abandon all hope of the Nobel Prize and snap a few panoramic crowd shots from 40 feet away that wouldn't be worthy of the last page of a student newspaper, so I don't come away COMPLETELY empty handed. *sigh* Oh well. If anyone needs me I will be away preparing my lawsuit against Fuji for negligently putting the stupid power button next to the more important picture taking button. Good day!

The Day The Music Died

It was June 14, 2010 and I was glad to be alive. I remember the day as if it were yesterday, for it was the day I survived another noxious round of my friend/co-worker's gastrointestinal failings. I also remember it because, ya know....it *was* yesterday and stuff....But anyhoo....I would like to dedicate the following blog to my friend Simon, who's Adventures In Babyshitting has inspired me to create a guide exploring the best places to relieve pressure in public. Now farting in public may seem like a dangerous and embarrassing escapade, but if done carefully and considerately you can make it past your unfortunate choice of Chinese food washed down with Pale Ale.....Orrrrr you can continue down the path of the Dark Side and hope that the co-driver in your car finds your Dodge Charger version of the Dutch Oven, complete with automatic window lock-out for maximum nasal penetration, as funny to him as it is to you. Yeah. That's right fucker....I lose one more nose hair to your faulty colon and I will introduce you to a new brand of suppositories.....


That being said, let's start out with the easy stuff.

Situation # 1 - The Right Cheek Sneak
Need to scrape the scab off a turd yet find yourself stuck in the line to purchase Miley Cyruss tickets? RESIST THE URGE. The odds of getting away with it are really against you. In a line full of strangers, escape may not be readily available. Instead you must pick the right moment to unleash a torrent of liquid air on the unsuspecting masses. Might I suggest the line at the local McDonalds. Trust me....With all the smells of the shit they serve....ain't no one gonna smell the difference between their quarter pounder with cheese and YOUR quarter pounder with Fromunda Cheese.

THE VERDICT :

Situation #2 - The Crop Duster

Three day old lasagna looked so promising sitting in your refrigerator, and now it is putting pressure on your lower intestine. Dear Lord when will this day end? Not to worry! The solution is awaiting you nearby. The local mall or office building is the easiest place to squeeze cheese until you can unload that two pound Hershey's Kiss payload that is currently coating your cantankerous colon. But beware! There are dangers abound! That revolving door may look like a quick in-and-out operation....but if you have a long drawn out flatulation, you run the risk of discovery...or worse.....coming 'round full circle and walking into your own fart cloud. Not Cool! Instead, opt for the down escalator. Heat rises, thus making your escape from the Ass Cloud of DOOM much easier.

THE VERDICT :

and finally....

Situation # 3 - Floating The Air Biscuit

There you are. Standing in line at the local supermarket and boy do you have to blow mud. You think you have the perfect patsy standing innocently nearby. Yes. The poor sucker standing there with his Sugar Smacks and a six pack of RC Cola has no idea the trap you are laying for him. The problem is that he will know it was you! This can lead to parking lot confrontations and you may spend some time in someone's trunk if you choose the wrong unknowing accomplice. No, What you need is the nearest busy crosswalk. The busy crosswalk is THE BEST PLACE TO UNLOAD UNWANTED ASS BAGGAGE. Think about it. You're moving...there are random unassuming (heeheehee..ASS....) accomplices crossing the street with you....and sometimes but not always....it could be windy. You drop your payload of brown heat right in the middle of the crosswalk, and if anyone noticed the pungent odor of Indian food and the equivalent of the smell you would get from turning your mother inside out.....who's going to figure out that it was YOU? And even if someone does pipe up in the middle of the wandering pack of street nomads you can always whip out with the indefensible logic of "Whoever smelt it, dealt it!"

THE VERDICT :

If you found these few insights helpful, you might want to check out my new book written especially for situations like these.


And for those of you who did not find my new self-help book very helpful at all and feel the need to voice your opinion to the negative....well let's just say I have a book for that problem too. :P

Woody's Guide to Surviving NYC - Part II

So you read my guide to how to survive the city and you *still* want to go there? You think that just because you know enough not to piss off the local prostitutes, pigeons, and punjab cabbies that you are technically sound enough to taunt fate once again? Not even close! My original outing was designed to allow one to make a quick in and out calculated strike. However, If you plan on staying for more than one night without ending up on a milk carton, your going to need my help.
Today's tips are all about blending in. Like a chameleon blending in with his surroundings to ward off predators, so must you blend with the native street level inhabitants.

Lesson # 1 - Under no circumstances do you wear apparel that reflects the local sports teams.

This invites confrontation by way of conversation! Unless you are a fan of said sport and can hold your own, it is unwise to throw out random sports terminology as if you know what a balk or a hat trick are....

Seriously...Are you TRYING to get killed by an overzealous fan?

Lesson #2 - Never wait to cross the street until the pedestrian light says it's time.

You want some warm milk and cookies before you go to bed too, sissy? Suck it up! City dwellers are brazen anarchists! They break the law whenever they can! You wait for the Stoplight Gods to tell you when to walk and when to stand still then you may as well paint a target on your back for pickpockets and ne'r do wells!

In a smaller city, you could get away with something like this....

But in New York City it's complete anarchy! There is no rhyme or reason to the comings and goings of your average New Yorker. Even the traffic lights have an understated attitude that you won't find in your average Zagat's guide! The following picture was taken from Times Square. No...Really. What do you mean it doesn't look like Times Square? Who's telling this story anyway! *ahem* Anyway....You will notice the general lack of common sense when crossing the streets, as illustrated herein:

See? A complete clusterfuck!

Lesson # 3 - Never make eye contact!

Eye contact leads to bad things like conversations about how the local sports team is doing. Eye contact leads to Alpha male chest puffing. Eye contact leads to this:

Thankfully the Ronald McDonald house is there to pay for his hospital stay. Note to self : Never ask for a Whopper at McDonalds.

And now it's time for the final lesson. The biggest mistake one needs to correct when visiting the big city.

Lesson # 4 - NEVER and I mean NEVER take pictures!

Listen. These people live in, walk around and have survived tall buildings every day. Nothing annoys a native more than the group of idiots bumping into them because they are trying to snap a shot of the Empire State Building, or blocking their way because you just HAVE to pose in front of the mini Statue of Liberty sitting on the corner next to the souvenir store. These people are from the streets! You wanna get shanked on 5th Avenue? Whip out a Nikon and start snapping away. People! This is serious! I beg of you! Leave the photography equipment at home! Your unruptured kidneys will thank you!

And there you have it. Follow the rules and you might survive long enough to be around for when I publish my Tips on Surviving The Grand Canyon....but I doubt it.

THE END!

The Real Story Behind The Healthcare Debate!

Behind the scenes of any great debate is usually a greater story struggling to be heard.
The Healthcare debate is no different.

In this corner....Weighing in at 12 sweat socks and hailing from Trousersnake, Ohio....House Minority Leader and Republican Senator John BOEHNER!

ANNNNND IN THIS CORNER....Weighing in at 16 ounces and hailing from Tubesteak, New York.....Democratic Senator Anthony WEINER.

Yahoo.com reported today that Weiner was under attack for his support of the health care bill, which will bring insurance to all the people who suffer from irritable hemorrhoids and have no way of seeing a proctologist. Boehner on the other hand, stood FIRMLY against the bill, stating that those assholes should pay for their own insurance. While usually an athletic supporter, when asked for further comment, he told reporters to "get bent". When reporters finally managed to ketchup to Weiner for a rebuttal, he explained....with great relish....that Boehner was being a real DICKHEAD. Weiner is, as a matter of public record...behind the people all the way. He is deep into the problem with America's buns, and frequently champions their cause with all the passion he can mustard.

As a result of his passion for the Healthcare bill....Weiner received a package in the mail. The contents of which could only be described thusly....

Contrary to popular belief, it was not Boehner's "Dick In A Box". No. It was a vicious attack by a contingent of the Senate known only as the Republi-CANS. Their motto being "Are you a Republi-CAN or a Republi-CAN'T...ya know...like that Palin chick..." While Boehner is said to be a part of this group and sticks out as the obvious leader, the group is rumored to be led by Senator Mariah Kuntz of Summer's Eve, Virginia. Sources close to the matter said that while it does smell fishy the way Kuntz has cozied up to Boehner, in the end...it was a perfect fit.

Kuntz is said to be keeping a stiff upper lip when talking about the attack on Weiner. In fact, it's pretty accurate to say she....clammed....up. She later issued a statement through her assistant which read : "Loose lips sink ships". Indeed!
I imagine Boehner was pissed that his group was blamed for this sticky situation, However, he has only himself to blame. The man may have a lot of stroke in Washington, but this is what happens when you go off half-cocked like that. As I find myself with my head bobbing up and down, I realize it is because I am subconsciously "giving the nod" to Boehner as the winner of this cockfight....or as Alex Trebek would put it....

WHEN IT'S A BOEHNER!

My advice to Weiner is to stop backing the bill and if someone grills you as to why you gave up support of the bill for people with sore buns in need of some free government paid for lubrication....Just remember....
(Editor's Note : No Democrats were harmed in the writing of this blog. None of the names have been changed to protect the innocent....but only half of this shit is made up!)

(link to original story which spawned this idea below)

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/20100325/ts_ynews/ynews_ts1335

Woody's Guide To Surviving The Modern Bathroom

Laugh if you will, but there is danger and excitement (and a hint of feces) behind every corner when you step into one of these public bathrooms. I came to that conclusion recently when I narrowly avoided having my change purse permanently stretched to the length of your average disco mirror ball. But I am getting ahead of myself....
Back in the day, things were simple. You went into a box, dropped trou and did yer business.

Ahhhh yes. The good old days. "Doing some paperwork in the Reading Room."...."Sitting on the Throne." As the ages rolled past, things started changing. For one, men were unceremoniously forced to urinate side by side like cattle. I don't know who came up with that idea...but it must have been after a hard night of drinking and perhaps involved some limp-wristed tendencies.

Now I don't know about you....But the last thing I need while having a meeting with the "Heads of Staff" is greedy eyes upon my Heat Seeking Moisture Missile. No good is going to come out of using this medieval device! Thankfully the Powers That Be came to their senses and the use of individual urinals became the norm. I know what you are thinking....We're saved! Right?

WRONG!

Don't be lulled into a false sense of security! Sure, the possibility of getting dysentery from your pee co-mingling with 10 other dudes standing with you at the trough is waaaay down...But there is still a threat lurking in this corner of the bathroom!

Tip # 1 - DO NOT EAT THE BIG GREEN MINT

Wait. That's not it.....

Tip # 1 - ALWAYS BE AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS

Yes! Your surroundings! Unless you are Chuck Norris (Chuck Norris Fact # 157 - Chuck Norris can pee with YOUR dick) then you had better get used to keeping an eye on your nether regions because one moment you are an off duty cop tapping a kidney...and then next thing you know you look down and George Michael is palming your magic mushroom! A wise man once told me that he "looked down and that's when [he] realized [he] wasn't born with three hands" split seconds before having to defend another man's amorous advances. Ya see? One moment of wool gathering and the next thing you know you are the victim of a KNOB GOBLIN. Fortunately, some genius out there (probably a victim himself) finally came up with the idea of Urinal Screens (those neat privacy dividers between urinals), thus literally cock-blocking would-be Bone Smugglers.

The next pitfall I'd like to discuss is an equal opportunity offender. Yes. It's The Bathroom Stall of DOOM (OOM OOM) (Echo Echo). Let us say for argument's sake that you have to fire Torpedo #2 off the Poop Deck.

BEWARE!

That innocent looking toilet is two steps away from being the next SKYNET bent on wreaking havoc on your genitalia!

Oh sure, it may LOOK safe....but rest assured. This is a throne of PURE EVIL. That's right. It's time to talk about the auto-flusher! It has a life of it's own. I wrote an expose' on this on Facebook but I feel it must be revisited here. As you sit on this porcelain monster...perhaps reading the latest issue of Jumbo Jugs...perhaps flushing down yet another virgin blood offering to Satan...whatever. Ok perhaps "Virgin Blood Offering to Satan" is a little much. Let's just call it Aunt Flo. But how else do you expect me to understand why these auto flushers act this way! I mean you sit there....minding your own business...and then when it comes time to perform some rudimentary cleaning of your naughty bits, the toilet takes over and releases the hounds of hell on you! Alright....it only flushes....but it flushes so hard that I'd swear a rift to another dimension appears. This is where Sid and Marty Krofft got their idea for Land of the Lost I tell ya! And therein lies the danger! No....not ideas for cheesy Saturday morning TV shows....but suction capable of removing any signs of sex! What happens if you die on the toilet after an episode of this magnitude? They would need to identify you by dental records........or...that....wallet in your pocket. Listen, I'm not saying it's impossible...just more difficult. :P

If you happen to survive the suck of Satan's glory-hole....you ain't out of the woods yet. Because the damn thing has a fail safe plan! Upon flushing, the toilet shoots a geyser of cold water upwards at the force of roughly, say, a firehose....into your crotchal region. This is a ploy to get you to spend more time on the bullseye while it gears up for another attack! You need to be prepared! Hence...

Tip # 2 - ALWAYS HOVER TWO INCHES ABOVE THE BOWL! MINIMUM!

It may actually be easier to hang from the top of the stall walls if you can manage. This prevents making a seal around the toilet bowl, thus negating half of the suction power. if you feel like living dangerously, FINE. You may use the alternate tip instead.

Tip #2A - ALWAYS USE THE HANDICAP STALL RAILING!

Holding onto the railing will prevent you from being the next fatality. However...your girl and boy parts may be irrevocably altered forever. When I sat down on the toilet that fateful day, my boys were hanging at a cool 2 inches below the meat thermometer....now, tragically they hang down like a GRANDFATHER CLOCK. Ladies, time for a reality check. I don't care how neat and manicured everything is down there...when these power flush toilets get done with you, it will go from looking like a little man in a boat to a pound of CANADIAN BACON! Use those toilets enough and you will have more Moose Knuckle than Bullwinkle's family tree. Trust me, no one's going to want to watch you pull a rabbit out of a hat after that.....Don't believe me? Take a gander....

Not pretty eh? You were warned.

Moving on....let's say you manage to not be groped by pedophiles, contract dysentery, or be sacrificed to Satan on the porcelain altar....or just get a bad case of camel toe for your troubles. Well you still have to wash those hands...you don't know who was in that stall before you...so you head for the sink thinking you've made it home free. I don't know who invented these things but the automatic sinks are the spawn of Satan. You put your hand under the sink. Nothing happens. You put your hand under the next one...the first starts spraying water. So you stick your hand under it...and it stops...or the trickle is barely enough to get the head of a pin wet much less two hands. Or better yet....you have the kind that you have to push the nozzle down to start the water, and yet you have to keep one hand on the sink at all times because every time you take your hand away, THE WATER STOPS. So you end up lathering up and then holding the sink mechanism down while you rinse each hand...which guarantees you will only get them dirty again as you have to take your NOW CLEAN HAND and put it on the sink mechanism where your dirty hand was a moment before!

Tip # 3 - BRING YOUR OWN HAND SANITIZER AND WIPES

This will be your new best friend. Otherwise you have to take your STILL DIRTY HANDS now fermenting with bacteria and possibly the Ebola virus and then take on one of your last adversaries. The dreaded automatic towel dispenser. This beast has a mind of it's own.

It never gives you enough paper to work with...unless you have, say, a bloody nose from losing your grip while trying to hold onto the top of the stall walls when pooping like some kinda idjit. So you then have to sit there trying to make the sensor acknowledge you so it will spit more paper out. But yet since it already did, it won't do so again! So you have two options...Either sneak up on it like a Ninja and fool it into thinking you are a different patron of the bathroom...or
perform a bizarre ritual of dance and hand gestures in front of the bank of paper dispensers like you are drunk and trying to play the Dance Dance Revolution game. If you are lucky, between the three or four dispensers...you may get enough paper to dry your hands.
Now all you have to do is walk out......without touching the doorknob that some slovenly scumbag touched after he took a crap and didn't wash his hands. ah HA! Didn't think of that did you. And that ladies and gentlemen leads us to my final tip.

Tip #4 - ALWAYS USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM!

Buddies are wonderful things....they can tell you when you have a piece of tissue on your shoe...they can help you if you "accidentally" fall into the toilet....yeah like anyone believes that one...and if you use them wisely...they will open the door for you and then you can grab the edges of the door so you don't have to touch that doorknob where more germs are congregating than there were at Woodstock. And that as they say.....is that.

WHY I HATE POLITICS
(AND EVEN WORSE PEOPLE WHO TALK ABOUT THEM)

There is nothing worse in this world than someone with a working knowledge of politics who is not *IN* politics TALKING about politics....

WHY do I hate politics? Well! Allow me to retort!

#1 - The Party System - Why must you be a Democrat or a Republican or an independent? Why can't you just go into that frickin' big room with the microphones and just vote what you feel is best for the country? Gee. This bill banning abortion makes sense to me! I'll vote for it! But wait! I can't because it is a Democrat bill and they are the root of all evil! Darn! Oh well.
Seriously? WTF! Yes...people do cross party lines blah blah blah. Save your comments for the Rush Limbaugh Show. I ain't interested. Put it to you this way....Here's how I feel about the different parties....

# 2 - Salaries - You want to help the friggin' deficit? Here's an idea...A PAY CUT WOULD BE NICE. Seriously, You guys continually vote yourselves raises....and wonder why people hate you. How about term limits for every top job in government? Sure the President has a limited term...but how long was Senator Kennedy a friggin' senator? Or at least a salary cap. This job is worth X dollars no matter if it is 1977 or if it's 2015. Oh that's not fair, right? Well...I guess if you had been doing your job keeping inflation in check then your salary would be buying you a better class of prostitute (the kind with teeth anyway).

# 3 - Mixing Business with Pleasure and then business again - Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, some gay yet still married to a woman New Jersey Governor. Yes. They cheated on their wives. Here's an idea. How about you let the wives deal with the potential ass kicking (or threesomes if you are slick enough....yeah I'm talkin' to you Bill Clinton!). What does it have to do with his ability to run the government. But wait...that means we can't trust him! Hi. How ya doin'. You uh....know you have a sheep sitting on your face or did it sneak up and pull itself over your eyes? Yah. THEY'RE POLITICIANS ASSHOLE. YOU COULDN'T TRUST THEM TO BEGIN WITH! You mean to tell me if someone cures cancer tomorrow you are going to stone him to death before he writes down the answer because he got a handjob from a coworker in the lab one night?





















Say what you will but I was paying 99 cents a gallon with this dog loving, cigar chompin', intern screwing cheating husband. I for one can turn a blind eye to him sampling the goods. :P

# 4 - Welfare Reform - Never happen. I believe that it is merely one of those hot button issues politicians use to make you think they care. They should just walk up to the podium for the debate and say "Abortion! Welfare! Taxes! Oil! Stem Cells! Iraq!" and then walk away. Guarantee he's the next President. Solving the welfare problem is simple. If you are on it...you have to produce. Not kids idiot! Produce a valid excuse to BE on welfare. How is that it just so happens that you...your wife and alllllll 6 kids of yours are ALL too impaired to get jobs? Really? Ok fine. Here's what we're going to do.

A) We take away their right to vote. You don't pay taxes...you don't get to decide the direction this country is going in.

B) We make it illegal for anyone under the age of 18 to have children. People are clamoring for babies to adopt. So if you get pregnant...we take it and give it to someone who WANTS to have a child because they have love in their hearts...not because they didn't pull out in time. This will alleviate the need for NEW Welfare recipients. You have a child under that age then you pay the price. The price being some jail time. Yeah...we might have some over crowding issues...but I have a plan for that too (see below). And besides...I was paying for this dumb slut's food and room and board anyway...so I'll still pay for it...just on my terms. >:P

...and finally...

C) We change the way Food Stamps work. There's this thing called W.I.C. (Women Infant Children). It says you get the bare essentials for your kids. Milk. Eggs. Plain Cereal. Formula. Peanut Butter. THAT IS HOW FOOD STAMPS SHOULD BE IN GENERAL. No more steak. No more Lobster. No more of ANY FOOD that contains a certain level of sugar....because I am not paying for your fucking Diabetes either asshole. You want cereal great....you have a choice. Cheerios...King Vitamin...and Ka motherfuckin' BOOM. Get it? Problem solved! You make Welfare no fun to be on...then the leeches will leave! HELLO!

# 5 - Big Brother - The U.S. always has to save the world from itself. Why do we keep overstepping our bounds?

Abortion - Ask yourself this. How many people in politics are women? Like...5%? Secondly, do you have a uterus? If not then why is it that you feel like it is your job to decide what a woman does with it? I am pro-choice for no other reason than because I don't have a uterus. (well...not since I fell off my bike when I was 7......no wait that was my appendix nevermind) I don't think I would ever want to tell someone that I think they need an abortion....but it is their body...their choice. And if you feel like debating this...well don't. If a girl wants to have an abortion, and you stop her....she will find a way to do it. Be it throw herself down a flight of stairs, smoking/drinking/drugs, or abandoning it in a train station trashcan. As disgusting as that sounds...it happens people.

The Stimulus Plan - Why am I bailing out greedy mortgage companies who are just going to thank me by FORECLOSING ON MY FUCKING HOUSE. Fannie Mae goes under....well who's going to be there to foreclose on John Q. Public's house now? Fuck it. He gets a free house, right? Who am I to argue? Now...no one bothered to bail out the poor folks who were stupid enough to think that they could handle the strain of a $1,000 a month mortgage on a stockboy's salary. Nooooo. He still gets screwed. Let's bail out the greedy fucks with the Golden Parachutes! Makes sense to me! Hey...next let's go bail out the auto industry for kicks too. Mark my words...the colleges will be next because the kids can't keep up with the ridiculous student loans they are allowed to take out. Never mind the fact that I could wipe my ass with half the degrees out there. No lie. I have seen and worked with college graduates who can't spell half the words they type. Forget about punctuation too. Yet they probably make more money than me because they have a "degree" in French.

Iraq - We're there for the oil! No! The people need democracy! Nononononono! It's those damnable weapons of mass destruction! Let's see...we didn't find WMD's...the people over there hate our guts and are still fractured into what....5 different groups? And as far as oil goes...The price doubled under the Bush administration, and remains elevated today. Brilliant.

Afghanistan - Oh noooo! The Taliban are oppressing us. waaaaah. Hey assholes. I remember a time when we were oppressed....it was by a whole country by the name of "England". You may have heard of it. By the way...we whupped their asses. We used these things we got called "GUNS" and got the courage to use them because we had these things called "TESTICLES".

But since you are having trouble in that department...I am going to help you. Not because you idiots deserve it...but because I am selfish. We have this problem in the U.S. We have too many people in need of an attitude adjustment. Yes, I am talking about our over populated prison system. So here it is...

Two Birds. One Stone.

Nooooooo, not the sequel to the world's most popular web sensation (google it if you dare).....but a viable solution!

First thing we do is take all the especially bad prisoners....IE : the killers, the wanna-be "gangsta" killers, the child molesters, and for the sheer enjoyment of it...Bernie Madoff. We round them all up and load them into planes. Strap in knuckleheads...it's going to be a long trip! When the prisoners arrive and step off the plane they are gonna notice three things. First is all the damn sand. It's pretty much everywhere. The second thing they will notice is a bag with a map and instructions inside it which will show what they need to find....what they need to do, and one global cellular phone to use for when the job is done. The last thing they will find is
crates of guns and crates of ammo with instructions on how they are loaded.

WELCOME TO AFGHANISTAN.

Yes folks, it's time to put your skills to good use for once. Your objective is one thing. Killin' Nazis! I.....wait...that was the plot to Inglourious Basterds.....uh....wait I know what it was. Your objective is to remove every terrorist, shoe bomber, and suicide bomber in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and any surrounding Muslim territory, including burning down their training camps, and putting Osama Bin Laden in a room with all the aforementioned child molesters, preferably dressed in a diaper.

When you have completed your mission, feel free to call for your pick up.
Until then, we'll be watching from a safe distance....like say......Canada. Think about it. Win win. If the murderers and pedophiles do their job, natural selection will do ours. If they run away....they'll be Afghanistan's problem....Iran's if we're lucky. Sure some of the smarter ones will make their way back to U.S. Soil....but by the time they get back...man they won't ever wanna go back into the system again. A win all around.

Now do me a favor....if you are still with me that is....Please don't bother me with your rhetoric about how I know nothing about politics and have an IQ of 12. I don't have an IQ of 12...it's 47. So there. :P You wanna shut me up....re-read my post here and go do something about it. Peace.

Open Letter To The Trix Rabbitt :

Dear Mister Rabbit,

I regret to inform you that all my attempts at reaching you have failed and that it has now come to this. I tried being nice but you just won't get it through your thick skull. Trix.....the confectionary treat loved by billions of adolescent offspring world wide.....is for kids. Yes.

KIDS. CHILDREN. YOUNGSTERS. BOYS. GIRLS. TEENAGERS.

I can assure you dear sir...that it is

NOT FOR SILLY RABBITS.

Ya know what...I don't even find you silly any more. I find you quite annoying. Matter of fact, I cannot find any redeeming qualities when your name comes to mind. You never bring me chocolate like the Easter Bunny....You aren't funny like Bugs Bunny....You don't bounce around like Ricochet Rabbit....You aren't lovable like Roger Rabbit...and you don 't shit golden Cadbury Eggs like that rabbit on the TV commercial. You are useless. Actually...speaking of shit....Trix cereal looks like something a rabbit poops out. So why the hell are you so obsessed with them? Sure, dogs eat other dogs poop...But there is no reference point for Rabbits eating rabbit poop. It's true. I Googled it.

Now it's time for the reality check. The first few times you jumped out of the bushes or dressed like a security guard to fool my child into giving up the delicious nutritious part of a complete breakfast. That's the most important meal of the day motherfucker! How dare you!

Upon doing some research on my enemy (this means YOU)...I uncovered an unsettling item from your old yearbook.

Yeah that's right you sick sunnuvabitch. I know all about your proclivities for violence and that you have been profiled by the FBI as a Cereal Killer. I know all about you. I am in your head. So listen. Let's let cooler heads prevail here. I asked you nicely to fuck off, and now I must insist...nay... demand it. I wasn't looking for trouble, but if you want me to bring the pain I will. I'll have you know that I had a sit down with Cap'n Crunch and King Vitamin and they have given me the go ahead to take you down. So I would advise you to change your address as soon as possible....because one night....and I am not saying when...it could be tomorrow or next week....you'll never know for sure....but one night....when you least expect it....the last sounds you are going to hear are.....SNAP! CRACKLE! POP!

That's right. You better sleep with your Lucky Charms every night. Cuz it's comin' you Silly wabbit. Don't let these goons fool you with their effeminate clothing or name tags. They are like Ninjas on Red Bull. Ya know what....You ain't even gonna hear the crackle or the pop bitch. And if that ain't enough....I got Diggum just waitin' in the wings to give you some Sugar SMACKS..... Bitch. :P


*ahem* So yeah uh....in summary.....please just....just knock it off ok?

Yours Truly,

Count Chocula

P.S. - If you come around my house again....this is the scene that will greet you.... >:P

WOODY'S GUIDE TO SURVIVING NEW YORK CITY

There are Three Simple Rules For Surviving A Trip To New York City....As opposed to 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter....

Rule # 1 - The Local Cabbies - While riding as a passenger in a taxicab, do not try and engage the driver in any way shape or form. These men have no sense of humor what-so-ever. Offering to stick your arm out the window and wave your fist at the other moron drivers who routinely cut you off will not get you a discount. The guy may stab you in fact. If forced to sit in the front seat, it is also frowned upon if you look at your friends behind the plexiglass and pretend that you are the Viet Cong yelling at POWS : "SHH! notalkingnotalking!"

Rule #2 - The Working Class - If it looks like a prostitute, walks like a prostitute....it is probably not a prostitute. Commenting to your friend "How Much?" when two ladies walk by you as you are waiting for an elevator at a local hotel...not such a good idea. In my defense, the two ladies walked by looking like they had just raided Paris Hilton's wardrobe closet.

And finally Rule #3 - THESE GUYS -

You do NOT want to piss these guys off. They are not in your way. You are in their way. Try kicking one of these guys if he gets in your way and not only will he make you his bitch, but he will likely poop on you when you least expect it....and probably sleep with your wife. I am not kidding. Do every one a favor and don't rock the boat...just toss him some bread crumbs and then slowly back away. If we are lucky we can avoid this fate....

And there you have it. It's as easy as 1-2-3.

Rick Springfield Hates Everyone

So we, that is to say my sister and I, go to the New York State Fairgrounds to take in the local color and to see The Man....nay....The Legend perform in concert. Yes. Rick "Don't call me Bruce" Springfield. We got there an hour early, cuz let's face it...we knew we would be fighting a throng of horny housewives and lonely people who couldn't get a date on a calendar. We settle for some seats towards the back and as I sit down and settle in, that is when I notice (DEAR GOD!) that the heavyset 55+ year old woman sitting in front of me has...perhaps the worst case of dandruff I have ever seen. I mean her shoulders looked like the snowy caps of the Himalayan Mountains. ::shudder:: To distract myself from the dry heave inducing scene in front of me....I scanned the stage for any signs of life. I wanted to know if they were close to coming being ready to get the show going so I could get out of there and delouse myself.
The tech was on stage testing guitars and that is when it occurred to me. How far down the music business ladder do you have to be to work as Rick Springfield's guitar tech. Seriously. Does this guy have to fight back an urge to nibble on the barrel of a gun every night at around 7:30pm? Sheesh. If I were him I would be tuning the guitar behind the drum stand! "Matt? Is that YOU tuning Rick Springfield's guitar?" "Uh no...noooooo. My name's Arjun. I uh...just moved here from the Punjab Province...." The tech gets done with the guitars and then it's time for the show! Not really! Some guy comes out and wants to talk about some insurance company....I think they must have been sponsors or some crap. The guy practically blows his load on these people and wants us to know that the workers are ALL LOCAL. All the money comes in and is paid out in New York! woo hoo. First off...the claim of everyone living in New York would mean more if, say, we lived on the border of the tri-state area...but we're smack dab in the middle of the state....what....Like someone is going to commute from Minnesota? Then the guy calls out one of our senators. Yes! Finally some star power! He of course verbally masturbates over all the different foods available at the Fair and then he says something about how New York has the best cheese....or something....I don't know...he was trying for a rallying cry from the crowd..so i shouted back "And the highest taxes! YYYYEEEAAHHHHH!!! WHOOOOOO!!!" to which I instantly became the idol o' millions (Sam Millions....he delivers my mail). And then the other douche tool comes back out and introduces the woman to one side of the stage whom is responsible for the sign language tonight. I...what? Sign... language?

Is it me? Am I taking crazy pills or something? Why the fuck would anyone with a hearing disability take in a concert? It's not like you'll get a cool visual show like at a Pink Floyd show or anything....But I digress. So anyway....the douche tool leaves the stage and then the tech comes out and places some wrapped up bouquets of flowers on the stage off to one side. Groan. Don't tell me he is going to give them to the ladies...LAMEST MOVE EVER. ....or so I thought until the screen turned on and there is a camera shot of someone waking up Rick Springfield in a hotel room bed. Um....did someone forget to tell Rick he had a show tonight? Oh. Wait. *PHEW* It's just a commercial......for the Rick Springfield and Friends cruise. I only wish I could make up something that funny. By popular demand, last year's musical guest is coming back....Richard Marx! ...At this point the question begging to be asked during the advertised Q&A Session that comes with the cruise is...."Mister Marx, after we get off the boat are you going to be looking for another agent?". Heh. Nooooo. The cruise is not that bad. I mean Richard Marx is not the only star power on the boat...hell no....there's also some guy from like....Guiding Light! Yeah...not even the soap Rick was on....a different one. Like why the fuck would a fan of music give a shit? Ok, I will say there is also a guy from General Hospital too...so there. That cements it. We'll throw Mark Goodman in the mix too.....How this guy can host the shows based on music from one time period for almost 30 years without stepping in front of a moving bus I'll never know. The icing on the cake....Rick is going to perform in concert the entire Working Class Dog album IN IT'S ENTIRETY...FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. Ok I would like to see that. >:) But on a Rick Springfield cruise...uh no. I suddenly have an image of there being a back door to fame and that Rick is one cruise or free state fair show away from having one foot out that door and the other on a banana peel....

Anyway, the commercial is over and then they start showing camera shots from the crowd. One pudgy woman was wearing a Rick Springfield silk screen shirt with Rick's face on it...which made me comment "SOMEbody's sleeping alone tonight". Then they started zooming in on hands in the crowd...hands holding up Rick Springfield memorabilia....which of course there isn't any so they instead held up old albums and 8 track tapes. "Finally!" said the lonely guy in the audience...."A use for this Rick Springfield 8-Track tape that I can't play but held onto all these years for nostalgic reasons! I'm not a total loser after all!" (News flash son...YOU ARE) (and you probably live with your parents still)

Anyway....that is my review.

Oh shit! I forgot to talk about the show! Well...at about 8:30pm I commented to the crowd, who at this time are hanging on my every comedic gem, that someone should tell Rick Springfield that he is not famous enough to keep me waiting. Well apparently he heard me because out he comes...looking pretty good for his age...and just TEARS UP THE STAGE with the classics we all came to hear him play!!!! Ok in reality he came tearing out and ripped through two songs that I have never heard before off his new-ish album from a couple months ago. Now the music sounded good. I will say that. His guitarist, drummer and keyboardist all sang along...so the chorus and such sounded really good...and I will also say that he wasn't ever out of breath like alot of the idiots make themselves while performing (I'm talking to you lead singer of Danzig!)....but I really expected him to come out of the gate with something I knew and I was disappointed. The third song in, he played something off of an old album...I forget which...and that is when I noticed something. Rick is strumming the strings of his guitar and yet....I am not hearing anything that remotely sounds like what he was playing coming out of the speakers....like chords and such. (heh...Rick Springfield hates his guitar) I asked the deaf people in the audience what they thought....but they were no help. It really cracked me up that he was doing this...As each song goes by I tune out (no pun intended....well....maybe a little one) everything else and focus on the air guitar he is playing...until finally he takes a break and during the latest switch out of his guitar....which he does after each song...which makes it even FUNNIER....he starts tuning his own guitar..... TING TING TING (turns down volume) ting ting ting (turns up volume) Finally he tosses the guitar back to the tech who brings him another (to which he apologizes for the guitar not working) (Rick Springfield hates his roadie). I'm cracking up and yell "There's something wrong with this guitar Joe! It's plugged in!". Once he got a guitar he liked (one with strings this time)....he actually started playing. I was blown away. The sumbitch can actually play pretty damn good and ripped a solo for a minute or two before launching into, I believe, Crossroads by Clapton. When he does new music or covers...he is serious and spot-on....which I think is nice. When he plays "Jessie's Girl" he goofs off alot because my sis and I think it's because he has played that song in concert literally millions of times and he is sooooo f'ing tired of playing it straight. (Rick Springfield hates his music catalog) He did a nice job on Crossroads though...and later on with Jet by Wings. I silently sent a prayer to God for not letting him play Broken Wings by Mister Mister, as I still haven't forgiven him for recording that.... At one point he has to change his sweat soaked shirt and he asks the ladies to look away. I think he was trying to be funny but it just seemed desperate for attention. I will say that he has aged well. I can give him that much.

He then does some new songs (one, Venus In Overdrive sounded pretty good) and that was when we finally find out what his intentions are for those damnable roses. I thought he was going to do a song about his father (his death and Rick's mourning has been documented in song a few times) and when he does one of those songs, he gives out roses and stuff (so I have heard anyway)....but no. Rick instead picks up a bundle of roses every once in awhile and does the Pete Townsend half-a-windmill move with the roses as his pick. (Rick Springfield hates flowers) It is the saddest thing I have seen thus far....and he does it three or four times. I can just envision the ladies in the front row thinking they are going to get these roses and STRUMMMMMMMMM he makes those roses his bitch and creates a unique sound which probably sounded WAY COOL...or would have had the sound been turned up on his guitar....At one point during a song (an oldie he probably didn't care about f'ing around during)...he asks the lady hand signing his lyrics some question...forget what it was...but then he makes a goofy comment about how they (the deaf presumably) are watching her and not him....Real class act that Rick Springfield. (Rick Springfield hates the disabled)

Annnnnnyway...Towards the end he does Don't Talk To Strangers and it turned into the most God awful mess. This is the point in the concert where he does the most dreaded move in any concert going experience.....yes....it's time for the sing-along. *gag* He starts with singing "Don't talk to strangers...baby don'tcha...." and then sticks the microphone into the audience for them to sing back. LAME LAME LAME. But he took it, much to his credit, to a whole 'nuther level of suckitude to which I had to break out my old school Butthead voice and yell "Stop in the name of all that does not suck!". He first yammers on and on with a state trooper about how this week alone, all the people in the audience have a get out of jail free card because....well frick I have no idea why we would have one...but that's just WACKY RICK!! (Rick Springfield hates crime) He then gets a couple girls...and then their grandmother to sing the line...annnnd then goes into the audience to do it again for what seems like 20 minutes...annnnd then he is finally back onstage...........so why not bring some of today's youth up there! YEAH! He assembles about 15 kids....all under age ten or eleven (Rick Springfield hates teenagers) and then someone hands him a mini pink acoustic guitar. Rick, knowing right when to deadpan a line says (after attempting to play it while holding three microphones), "Does this make me look gay?" to which the crowd laughed hysterically......I am like...am I the only one who finds the fact that he is cracking gay jokes in front of 15 KIDS alittle odd? (Rick Springfield hates queers) So he gives them all a hug after they sing for him and boots them off stage (Rick Springfield hates kids) and finishes the song. After that he is gone...only to reappear to do Jessie's Girl (as if we actually believed he wouldn't come back to play his biggest hit). When he left after the encore, we left too....even though the synthesizer was still making a humming noise, which as you know is the international sign that they will be back for a second encore...but enough was enough. That Don't Talk To Strangers But Make Them Sing For A Half Hour song really took the joy out of watching him perform to the point that I just couldn't stick around for another song or two...which makes me end this review with just one more thing. (Rick Springfield hates ME)

ADVENTURES IN MAZELAND

So there I was at the St. Lawrence River for the weekend. My wife wanted to go check out some antique store about 10 miles outside Clayton that we always pass when we run up to the river. So I tell her that I will take my son to either the Aqua Zoo or to Mazeland. I ask him and he says Mazeland. Hokay. No problemo. So I take him there and I start into the maze. The front section is all canvas and when you make your way out of that, then you get to the hedge section...which surrounds the canvas area and is shaped in a square....they have a picture of the layout and it is reminiscent of the maze in the Shining....cept it's alot more friggin' smaller in path size...which I soon discovered. No sooner do I get into the hedge part of the maze when I find that the friggin' hedges are grown together up high...and since it is up high, my son has no problem running ahead of me, while I run through invisible spiderwebs and, my favorite part, the water-logged tree branches. It had been sprinkling and raining on and off the past day or so....and so after about 30 seconds, I was soaked through from the waist up while my son was nice and dry down below.

So we are running around like (wet) idiots, trying to find special letters posted inside the maze. It was something you can do while you are in there and I had to have a ten minute lecture from the retired guy manning the place so I figured we would try and find them. Basically you are looking for 5 green letters and 4 yellow letters. Get 'em all...or enough to figure out the word of the week...and you get a chance to win a whole $100 prize at the end of the season! No way! I have no idea how anyone found these frickin' things...cuz there was only 3 sure thing places they would be in...and that is 2 circular area and one square area in the maze. The letters are pinned to the trees...so you have to look INTO the trees to see them. Lame. We found TWO the entire time in there. But I digress. This is not a story about stupid letters....no. This is a story about one man's quest for the exit. A search which went horribly wrong when his son utters the four words no parent ever wants to hear while trapped in a hedge maze with no exit in sight.....









I HAVE TO POOP.



There it was. I HAVE TO POOP. No you don't says I, the all-knowing wise father figure who KNOWS his son likes to say stuff like this when he is in movie theaters and has gotten bored and wants to get out of his seat every five minutes....So I tell him so and he shuts up....for about a minute....and then he says the seven words no parent really doesn't want to hear....

I have to poop REALLY REALLY BAD. *sigh* So I say ok. Do what you have to do, and hopefully a family of four doesn't walk around the corner laughing and giggling....but thankfully I think we're alone now. There doesn't seem to be any one aroooound. (hee hee...a Tiffany reference in the middle of a poo story!) So he drops his drawers and I am like....WOOOAHHHHH NELLY....You need to squat and lean back so you don't poop on yourself. So there we are....#1 son squatting...#1 Daddy holding on to him so he doesn't fall into the hedge and land in the soft serve mess that is his doodie. Yes. Soft serve. Not a nice log cabin. Noooo. That would be slightly less disturbing to watch when I am holding onto my son and being a captive audience to my son's latest bowel movement. Also more helpful when it comes to wiping my son's ass with......with what? Oh. That's right. I'm in a FUCKING HEDGE MAZE. I don't know how many hedge mazes they have in North Carolina, but I can assure you that they have the same genetic make-up that does not lend itself to having LEAVES!!!! So I scramble, looking around for something...ANYTHING to get this nightmare over with and make it a painful yet humorous memory. So I do the best I can, and as I leave him there momentarily to go look for makeshift Charmin, my son asks if I am leaving him behind. What. Did he really think I was going to leave him alone, half naked, covered in shit and confused in the middle of as maze while I head out to the road to ask for TP?!?!?!?!? Uh, no buddy...Daddy just needs to look around for something to clean you up with. Finally, I opt for some one inch leafy weeds I found as I silently send a prayer up to God to ensure that this stuff doesn't turn out to be poison ivy. How trippy would that be? My son's ass and my hand are both itchy? hmmm....Mr. Inman would you mind answering a few questions in the back of this squad car? Aigh! So I do the deed as best I can and then the nightmare is over.....oh wait...except for the fact that I am STILL IN A FUCKING HEDGE MAZE.....and my hand probably smells funny (you try wiping a child's ass while leaning face first into a hedge with a couple one inch leaves as opposed to the catchers mitt of TP I usually envelop my hand with!). We then start making our way through the maze again once I cover the evidence of my son's trailblazing with a plastic bag I find nearby. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have covered it, as now when the owners go through, they might see the bag and decide to pick it up to dispose of it (people leave water bottles and such in there as well, so I imagine they have to make trash runs). I shudder to think what will happen when someone reaches down to grab that bag. Ok maybe not. It will likely make for one of the funniest things you will ever see. Unfortunately this was not the last time I saw the bag, as, if didn't mention this...I am frickin' LOST in a MAZE. So, like a modern day Hansel and Grettel, we keep running across the trail of "breadcrumbs" he left behind. Yes, like a gift that keeps on giving....every 5 minutes it would be like "Son! Look! There's your poop again!" which of course told me that we were running in circles.

I finally made it out after what seemed like forever. Freedom! Then, to top it off, the old man tells me that we can come back for half price next time.......for what? VISITING HOURS? Like I am going to want to step foot in there after what I just went through? (of course you know I say this and next year it will be like "Daddy I want to go to Mazeland!")

The moral of this story : What happens in Mazeland...STAYS IN MAZELAND.....and sometimes gets covered up with a convenience store bag.

Amusing follow-up anecdote to the story....I relate the story to my co-workers this morning and as soon as I say "I took my son to Mazeland", My co-worker says "ooh. I was thinking about taking the kids there next weekend.". Uh....probably not after you hear this story... >:)