Saturday, July 13, 2002

Hello, sports fans. It's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. I hate it when that happens.

So, I have a favor to ask anyone who reads this post. I sent my whorish e-mail to THE BEAR to get my site placed on the Blogosphere Ecosystem and I wanna see my GUT RUMBLES up in lights. Last week, I found LYNN and THE GODDESS strutting their stuff there, and I wanna strut alongside them.

The only way I'll make it is if charitable, good-hearted people such as yourself put A LINK on your site to mine. Hey--- you'd do it to feed a starving child, wouldn't you? You'd do it for World Peace, wouldn't you? You'd do it to Save The Planet, wouldn't you?

Well, that's the added benefit of putting a link to me on the next blog you write. I register on the Blogosphere Ecosystem, and all those other wonderful things happen, too. So remember, find some justification (or just do it as a personal favor to me) to link to my site in the very next blog you write. The Bear updates on Monday mornings, so act now.

You'll be glad you did.







I'll bet they voted Democrat, too. If they could make it to the polls in between smoking marijuana and KILLING A CHILD.

Where do these people come from? How can ANYBODY do that?

I read this thanks to ANDY but I'm not sure anybody needs thanks for it.
CONFESSIONAL

An old man walks into a confessional. The following conversation ensues:

Man: I am 92 years old, have a wonderful wife of 70 years, many children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Yesterday, I picked up two college girls, hitchhiking. We went to a motel, where I had sex with each of them three times.

Priest: Are you sorry for your sins?

Man: What sins?

Priest: What kind of a Catholic are you?

Man: I'm Jewish

Priest: Why are you telling me all this?

Man: I'm telling everybody.

Thanks to Ed, the ex-linebacker
BWHAHAHAHA! I made my summer peanut connection today! I'm getting a bushel and a half of fresh green peanuts next Friday (that's about 75 pounds) for $45 from Jesse and Lelia, who farm about 50 acres in Springfield, just up Highway 21 from me. Now you see why I said peanuts for $1.80 a pound at the Super Wal-Mart was ridiculous, even though I bought them at that price. I like my boiled peanuts. I'll cook them all next weekend and load my freezer with goody-bags that will last me at least until Super Bowl Sunday. I bought two bushels last year and I have three bags left today, but I still had a family back then. A bushel and a half ought to be just about right for me.

I also picked the last of my corn this morning, along with two lonely tomatoes. I reaped a large paper grocery bag full of corn, but pickings will be slim from now on unless I plant greens in the fall. The okra and two bell pepper plants are the only things still producing in my garden. Jesse and Lelia also sell corn, but I don't need any this year. My crop turned out well. I finally found the corn worms today, which amazed me because I had picked so many ears without finding worms in them. If I had left those ears on the stalks another two days, the worms would have eaten them all. I shucked what I picked on my back patio and threw the worms in the dirt. A pair of mockingbirds are having a feast outside right now, enjoying the buffet I provided for them.

I bought a 50-pound bag of Diazinon last weekend (on sale because fuckwit environmentalists want to ban ALL insecticides since chemicals are baaaad), I spread it around my house, and I no longer have ants crawling all over my patio and my garage. The cricket assault appears to be over, too. God bless good chemicals.

If Jenny reads this, I want her to know one thing. I probably spend more time outdoors, growing things and watching nature at its best and its worst, than any "environmentalist" you know. I grow my own food. I love to shoot guns, but I don't hunt, not because I love the precious animals but because I think freezing my ass off in a deer stand is boring. I would rather shoot a beer can at my convenience. I backpack and camp regularly (well, I USED TO... I haven't done much of anything for the past year) and I can build a fire in the pouring rain, then cook exquisite meals using nothing more than rice, salt-cured ham and powdered soup mix. I can sleep peacefully in a hammock on the side of a mountain where I have ground two feet under me on one side and 20 feet below me on the other. I can put 40 pounds of stuff in a sack, strap it to my back, and live well for four days in the wilderness. If I pack it in, I pack it out. I don't litter and I plant flowers. I work in a toxic chemical plant and I believe that I am more of a TRUE environmentalist than any of those hockwads making all the noise out there.

Nature doesn't need protection. People need to know how to protect themselves from nature.

I know how to make my own beer, wine and whiskey, too. If the environmental Armaggedon finally comes, you tree-huggers are gonna need somebody like me around to teach you how to survive in your "natural" world.
As a public service to my feminine readers, I offer THIS TIP on the proper care and maintenance of your breasts, through vigorous exercise.

"the exercises will strengthen the chest muscles up top of the breasts providing an added lift and perkiness to the entire area."

I'm all for breasts, and the more lift and perkiness, the better. So, try the exercises.

Then show me the results.
I really don't know why anybody wants to be a police officer. The job requires that you deal with the absolute scum of the earth every day. You may be shot or stabbed by some raving maniac any time you respond to a call, and you risk lawsuits and jail sentences if any aggrieved armchair quarterback or bottom-feeding lawyer sues because you didn't play by the Marquis de Queensbury rules in what amounts to Urban Combat. Even ordinary citizens lie to you all the time ("No, officer, I didn't realize that I was driving 55 in a 25 MPH school zone").

I don't know what to think about THIS BIZARRE CASE, but my gut puts me on the side of the cops while some quiet inner voice asks, "Did they really have to shoot the guy 14 times?"

Of course, the family called the cops in the first place, the guy was certifiably nutzo and he was armed with a screwdriver. He didn't listen to the warnings he received, even after the police fired bean-bags from a shotgun at him. He charged the cops with his pathetic screwdriver.

It's easy to say now that they should have tackled him and wrestled him into submission. It's easy to say now that they should have run for cover, kept the guy hemmed up and called for a tranquilizer dart to subdue him. But if I were there in a blue uniform and I saw the nutball with the screwdriver charging at me, or at one of my partners, I would plug the crazy sumbitch.

I want to go home at the end of my shift the way normal workers do. I want to sit on my couch or blog on my computer and have a glass of white zin when I come home from work. But mainly, I want to come home. I don't want to be lying dead in a stranger's back yard with a screwdriver through my heart.

Cops have to make these choices all the time, and they're almost always second-guessed. I don't know why they do it.
Outraged Democrats in the US Senate called a time-out from their ceaseless bashing of President Bush over his dealings with greedy corporations to CUT THEIR OWN DEALS with greedy corporations by riding corporate jets to Nantucket, where they will peddle influence, solicit campaign contributions and suck up like the political whores they are.

Asked about the propriety of Democrats -- many of whom have criticized President Bush and congressional Republicans for their ties to corporations accused of accounting abuses -- voting to close debate on corporate-accountability legislation and then flying to a resort in corporate jets, Ravitz-Meehan said: "I don't think there is any tie between the vote and their mode of travel." Getting to Nantucket, she said, is "logistically difficult, and expensive to reach commercially."

Yep, you know how those frugal Democrats are, worrying constantly over logistics and pinching every penny until Lincoln grunts.

The Democratic senators attending the Nantucket retreat are DSCC chairman Patty Murray (Wash.), Senate Majority Leader Thomas A. Daschle (S.D.), Bill Nelson (Fla.), Daniel K. Akaka (Hawaii), Evan Bayh (Ind.), Joseph R. Biden Jr. (Del.), Hillary Rodham Clinton (N.Y.), Jon S. Corzine (N.J.), Byron L. Dorgan (N.D.), Richard J. Durbin (Ill.), Edward M. Kennedy (Mass.), John F. Kerry (Mass.), Blanche Lincoln (Ark.), Ben Nelson (Neb.), Charles E. Schumer (N.Y.) and Ron Wyden (Ore.).

Pauper citizen-legislators, every one, far too poor to afford the $303 commercial airline ticket to the party. There are no official events or presentations planned, she said, although some senators up for reelection this fall might discuss their campaigns with the donors.

Do you really think so? These people should be pumping Port-O-Lets for a living. They suck harder than a vacuum truck.




Friday, July 12, 2002

I told you THIS GUY WAS A DORK.

Now that the eight year-old girl who allegedly started the ruckus over the "under God" suit turns out to be a church-going Christian in the custody of her mother, Michael Newdow shows his true colors at last.

"This is MY issue. I have a right to send my child to a public school without the government inculcating any religious beliefs. I'm saying I'M injured," he said.

Newdow never married the girl's mother, although now he is, of course, representing himself again in court in an attempt to seize custody of his daughter. This guy is some piece of work. Do people such as this absolute waste of DNA get up every morning and say, "I'm gonna be the BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN THE WORLD today!" or do they simply lack that mental divining rod most people are born with that quivers violently to provide an asshole alert when behavior crosses certain lines?

I think the asshole DECIDED to be an asshole a long time ago, and he DOES get up every morning determined to be THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN THE WORLD every day. And if you dare to question his asshole behavior, he turns up his assholery rheostat another notch and calls YOU an asshole for daring to call HIM an asshole. That's what kind of ASSHOLE this guy is.

Fucking asshole.
I fixed my permalink to THE FINE ART OF BITCHING, so you need to click it over there on the left frequently. The Supreme Bitch who posts that stuff is a lot more nasty, ill-willed and altogether vicious to the fuckwits of society than I am, and I thought I was a contender. I cannot compete in her league. She spews acidic venom like a Rainbow lawn sprinkler on 360-degree full-twirl. I admire that sort of vulcan-forged, vitriolic spleen.

Even SWEET, MUSICAL LYNN was impressed. She identifies with the "inner bitch" concept.

"Look girls, we all have an inner bitch. And we all know that most of the time it's not a good idea to let her have her way but trying to deny her existance and covering her up with excessive sweetness just makes us disgusting. Get rid of the sickly sweet frosting. A light sprinkling of cinnamon sugar will suffice."

The Supreme One doesn't even bother with sugar. She's Tabasco all the way.
This hot hassle of a hell-week finally ended at work today, and have the weekend off to rest and prepare for my trip to Hamilton, Mississippi next week. I have my itinerary all set. I leave Savannah at 3:00 PM Monday, fly to Atlanta on an actual jet aircraft, spend two hours in the smoking fishbowl there, then climb in the back seat of a crop-duster plane for the rest of the trip. I believe I land in Hiram Jackson's cow pasture in Longbegone County, Mississippi, around 6:00 PM central time. (Hiram offered to let me sleep in his hayloft, as long as I promised not to make love with his nymphomaniac daughter, but that sounded too much like a travelling salesman joke, so I booked a room at the Best Western in the nearby metroplex of Columbus.) I think I get to the motel by mule train, and I am supposed to hitch-hike to the plant the next day. I am ready.

I sat down with all the industrial bag filter experts at work today and picked every last morsel of information I could glean from them. That process took about 35 minutes. I am scheduled to meet for THREE FRICKING DAYS to discuss standardizing industrial bag filters across the four pigment plants my company owns. If the other people invited to this dog-and-pony show can talk for THREE FRICKING DAYS about bag filters, I don't want to be in the same room with them. I'll just have to choke somebody midway through day two.

Of course, I never would have been chosen for this trip or allowed an expense account if the bosses really wanted me to wax philosophical about bag filters for three days. My boss, abetted by HIS boss, who was following orders from HIS boss, said. "Talk about bag filters. Then blow their asses off and go check out Hamilton's finishing end. Find out about the new disc-flow pumps they're using and whether production likes them or not. Talk to the maintainers to learn what it takes to keep them running. Check the design on their rotary filter repulper shafts. See if you can get some drawings of the weld patterns on the paddles. Hang around the packaging areas and watch how their equipment operates. Talk to the operators. Talk to the supervisors. Find out if what they have is any good.

In other words, I am off on an INDUSTRIAL ESPIONAGE mission, camouflaged by that twitty bag filter excuse.

I don't know how I can be called a spy, since the reason for the trip is "Site Sharing." That's the unbelievably avante-garde notion that what works well in one plant should be passed along to the other plants so that nobody wastes time re-inventing the wheel. Unfortunately, we only share information that Corporate Headquarters has thoroughly vetted, screened, filtered and blessed, such as bag filters. Only then can we officially engage in "Site Sharing."

Well, I going to do some unofficial site sharing, and I speak the language of pigmenteers. Those guys (or maybe gals) will talk to me, because we all live, breathe and fart that white pigment dust. It's like wearing a Mason's ring. Fellow travellers recognize it and accept you as a brother. I'm looking forward to meeting those people. I may actually bring back some useful information.

But it won''t be about bag filters.

Thursday, July 11, 2002

I love it when a plan comes together. Or turns into a total "oh, SHIT!"

If you don't do ANYTHING else today, check THIS LINK.

Dammit, BLOGGER still has the "Copy Shortcut" stuff dysfunctional, so you'll have to scroll down to the "Priceless" post on Lionel ManDrake's page to see it, but it's worth the trip. GO LOOK!

I just did, again. BWHAHAHAHAHA!
Gawd! Just read this headline and see if you can keep a straight face: Former President Clinton offers advice on politics of tackling AIDS.

How about YOU start by keeping your wandering pecker in your pants, Mr. know-it-all?
I have always said that the "War On Drugs" was doomed to fail because I read history and I know people. From the dawn of recorded time, people have done three things, no matter how strict the laws were against them.

They: 1) Gamble. 2) Have Sex. 3) Get Stoned. And anybody foolish enough to think that laws can STOP people from doing these things must be SNIFFING COW PIES.

"The cow dung emits gases like sulfur, and addicts sniff on these gases to get high," the official at the agency said on condition of anonymity.

Despite harsh anti-narcotics laws that call for death by hanging for drug traffickers, Malaysia does not have legislation to cover such acts as cow dung sniffing, the official said.


I like the Holy Trinity of Sin as much as anyone, but if you take away my White Zin and give me a cow turd, I just may have to straighten up for a while.



When O.J. Simpson offered the million-dollar reward for finding the "real killer" of his ex-wife and a restaurant employee who was attempting to return a pair of forgotten sunglasses, I sent O.J. an e-mail. I said: "YOU DID IT, FUCKWAD! NOW WHERE'S MY MONEY!" I never got a response. Evidently, O.J. is delusional and has managed to convince himself that he DIDN'T do it, after twelve of the dumbest shits ever dropped on this planet found him not guilty in court. So, O.J. continues his ceaseless search for himself, as long as it's somebody else he finds.

At first, he did a lot of searching on golf courses, which is where I would look for a cold-blooded murderer, if I were looking for O.J. He left no divot unturned and no sand trap unraked in his search for clues. He found none.

So in total desperation, O.J. is hoping to lure the real killer out into the open by making a PORNO MOVIE with two white women. That ought to do the trick.

Yeah, it'll have Nichole Brown and Ron Goldman spinning in their graves. YOU DA MAN, O.J.!



Yeah, I'll pick this one for my Quote of the Day

"Democrats have no credibility or standing to attack on this issue. The corporate corruptions being discussed today all began in the 1990s and were shaped by a culture of dishonesty and situational ethics that flowed directly from the White House".

-National Republican Congressional Committee Chairman Rep. Tom Davis of Virginia (via LUCIANNE)
Here's some more FUEL FOR THE FIRE in my burning hatred for self-righteous, shit-witted "environmentalists."

To the list of reasons for this year's surge in Western wildfires the Forest Service wants to add another: environmental activists.

The report, slated for release today, found that 155 of the agency's 326 plans to log overgrown, high-risk national forests were stymied by appeals. In Arizona and New Mexico, sites of some of this summer's worst wildfires, that figure rose to 73 percent, and climbed to 100 percent in the Pacific Northwest.


Environmental activists responded by hurling insults and attacking the credibility of the US Forest Service: "This study is about as solid as an Arthur Andersen financial statement," said Ted Zukoski, staff attorney for the Land and Water Fund of the Rockies in Boulder, Colo.(and a scathing stand-up comic in his own right, thinking up that slapdown Arthur Andersen thing--ed)

Yeah, and reports of those wildfires also were as solid as an Arthur Andersen financial report, weren't they, wiseass?

Bejus. Whatta buncha maroons.





Wednesday, July 10, 2002

When I watched the Congressional hearings over the Enron scandal last February, my gag-reflex went into hyper-mode at the sight of a bunch of political thieves excoriating a bunch of corporate thieves for doing less lying and book-cooking than the political thieves do every day. It was black comedy and pure hypocracy. Very few people noticed at the time.

The political dipshits are at it again, posturing before the camera and manufacturing outrage at CEOs who lie about chicken feed compared to Congress. But at least THIS TIME somebody notices the pomposity and assholery displayed in this circus.

Tom Schatz, president of Citizens Against Government Waste, said that over the past five years Congress has spent a total of $142 billion beyond the amounts it had budgeted.

"That's more than 12 times the misstated figures from Enron, Xerox and WorldCom combined," Mr. Schatz said.

The government's financial books are in such poor shape that officials cannot account for $17.3 billion of taxpayers' money from fiscal year 2001. Rep. Walter B. Jones Jr., North Carolina Republican, recently wrote to Treasury Secretary Paul H. O'Neill to demand an explanation of what the government calls "unreconciled transactions."


"Unreconciled transactions" is a government euphemism for "we lost the farking money and don't have a clue where it went." $17.3 BILLION lost, without a clue where it went. And THESE CHEESEHEADS have the nerve to sit in judgment of ANYBODY about unethical accounting practices? Yes, Enron, World-Com, Xerox and others deluded their stockholders and played fast and loose with their money.

Congress deludes the American taxpayer on a far grander scale and plays as fast and loose with the money as a drunken sailor in a cheap whorehouse. Compared to Congress, the crooked CEOs are the Pope. If President Bush wants to lock those cheating, lying executives in jail, lets build a BIG prison and put about 3/4 of Congress in there with them, where they belong.

I keep wondering... why do we put up with this shit from pure gasbags in expensive suits who squat in that corrupt cesspool of Washington DC, and claim to be "leading" this country? Only catfish and turd-wrestlers thrive in such an environment. Congress may be the only place in the world where the best of the bottom-feeders rise to the top.

We have nobody to blame but ourselves. We elect those rotten bastards, over and over again.


This guy HAS A PROBLEM.

After being stopped Sunday night and failing sobriety tests, Sherman told a state trooper that he would agree to the year in jail but wouldn't quit drinking or get treatment, court records show. Sherman said he wasn't concerned because drunken driving was not yet a felony. He added that he probably would have fled from the trooper if he weren't pulling a boat with his car when he was stopped.

The records show that Sherman had four drunken-driving and related convictions in Colorado in 1993 and '94 and 17 in Minnesota from 1982 until July 2000. His driver's license was revoked in 1984 and suspended in 1993.


Why is this guy still on the road when MADD-induced DUI laws in Georgia treat somebody with a perfect driving record as a common criminal if they're stopped for no traffic violation at a scratch-and-sniff roadblock and have a .08 reading on a breathalyzer? The war on "drunk drivers" is a vedetta by MADD abetted by revenue-hungry government officials. It doesn't "save lives." It makes a lot of money. Many people perfectly capable of operating a motor vehicle go to jail for DUI and pay a heavy price where I live, while this fuckwit does it 22 times? THERE's your drunk driver these draconian laws are supposed to keep off the roads. He's still there and unrepentant to boot.

Something's not right with this picture.
I was going to write a semi-apology to JOAN because I was not properly sympathetic to her downer-type mood yesterday with a post I wrote on the GROUP BLOG a bunch of us contribute to. I wrote my post of contrition on the group blog, but it won't publish, because BLOGGER's "server went boom." Again.

BLOGGER PRO still works.

So far, the step up has been worth the money. You don't suppose BLOGGER is going mercenary and DELIBERATELY screwing up, just to generate more paying customers, do you? ("If you're in the know, you'll swap to PRO") In this era of corporate malfeasance and comic-bookkeeping, nothing nefarious and dirty surprises me.

Anyway:
To: Goddess Joan
From: Acidman
Subj: Heartfelt Apology
Ref: Blog of Yesterday

I sit down. I shut up. I sympathize. I hope you feel better. I am sorry for being an asshole. Please forgive me.

Love, Acidman.

This was one of those really long, tiring days at work. A scheduled power outage plus major maintenance throughout my area kept me on the move in the heat and the dark from 6:00 this morning until 6:30 this evening. I am whipped. My feet hurt, I smell like an old mule and I've had nothing to eat all day except a boiled egg this morning.

I won't blog much. Hot shower, sizzling steak and cold white zin for me, then it's bedtime.

Tuesday, July 09, 2002

BLOGGER PRO is better than regular BLOGSPOT, but it still has its own share of brain-farts. They don't seem to be as frequent as BLOGSPOT, but they pop up unexpectedly just like the stray crickets in my house. I see all kinds of bell-and-whistle attachments to this program, but I don't know how to use them yet. The new, ad-free GUT RUMBLES is a work in progress, so if this page goes all nutted-up, it's just me stirring the fire with a short stick and setting my face ablaze because I don't have a clue about what I'm doing. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right?

I believe George A. Custer said the same thing just before he rode into the Little Big Horn.
I won't get my new fix-a-flat elixer until tomorrow. The pharmacy didn't have it in stock and had to order it from some certified root-doctor (that's supposed to be a PUN) at Corporate Headquarters, or some such crap, and it wasn't ready today.

I forgot to tell the story of what happened when I dropped that prescription off at the local CVS yesterday. I handed the prescription, along with my bazillion-refill bottle of Viagra, to a young lady behind the counter and told her to fill them both and that I would come back after work the next day to pick them up. She looked at the terrible doctor's scrawl on the script and asked me if I knew what it was. I told her that I had no idea because I had never tried it before. She called another young lady over and together they tried to decipher what the doctor had written.

"Mr. Smith, I can't read what the doctor wrote. Do you know what this is for?" the second one asked.

"Yes," I replied, smiling as politely as I could. "I'm supposed to put that stuff in a hypodermic needle and inject it into my penis. It's supposed to give me an erection. Do YOU know what that is?" I thought about what I had said for a moment while both women looked at me with a somewhat stunned expression. "I don't mean 'do you know what an erection is.' I figure both of you know what THAT is," I explained. "I meant do you know what is the stuff that goes in the needle? That's what the prescription is for."

The second woman recovered quickly. "Oh! You probably want some whatevershesaid." She went to the computer, punched some keys, and informed me that they didn't carry whatevershesaid at that particular CVS outlet, but they would order some for me ASAP. There was one other problem with the prescription. The elixer comes in 10, 15 and 20 something-or-anothers and the doctor seemed to have written "5" on the script.

"He meant the strongest one you've got," I explained helpfully. "Call him and ask. Tell him I told you that. Straight up, no mixers. And don't forget about the Viagra, either." I left the store.

I don't know if I was a topic of conversation after that, nor do I care. When I say I left shame and embarrassment in my rear-view mirror a long time ago, I'm not kidding. Those women work in a pharmacy and they're supposed to be trained professionals. Other people have the same problem I do after prostate surgery. That's why some root doctor invented that drug in the first place. I am authorized to receive some, and I want it. And I want more Viagra, too. Maybe both together will give me something even better than what I once had, except for the goddam shot.

But I am NOT going to quit smoking.
Uh, oh. I believe LONG HAIRED COUNTRY BOY is suffering from Blog Burnout and needs to convalesce for a while. I realize that there's a lot of really stupid stuff in the news today, and it'll give you serious GUT RUMBLES if you read it and let it get to you, but a serious blogger has to hang in there despite the overwhelming disgust he sometimes feels and the overpowering urge that he feels daily to choke somebody as brainless as, say, Tom Daschel. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it, kinda like the guy who drives his truck around in the hot sun pumping out Port-O-Lets all day. Talk to Old Blue and he'll tell you about it.

If you can't run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.
I wish this country could show a spark of sanity and stop locking people in jail for violating marijunana laws. GREAT BRITAIN just did, and we're usually way ahead of them in the "great idea!" department.

Pressure from police, medical experts and politicians for Britain to take a less punitive approach has swayed Home Secretary David Blunkett, who is expected Wednesday to downgrade it to a low risk category C drug.

The downgrade -- making cannabis a Class C rather than Class B drug -- will put the drug in the same category as anabolic steroids and growth hormones and make possessing small amounts of it or smoking it in private a non-arrestable offense.


I don't smoke the stuff anymore, but that's not just because I am subject to random piss-tests at work. Pot makes me stupid, then I get really hungry and eat everything I can get my hands on. Then, I go to sleep.

I don't like what pot does to me. But I know a lot of people who DO like it (I'm a MUSICIAN, for crying out loud) and I don't believe any of them belong in jail for smoking a weed that Mother Nature produced all by herself long ago. We all would be better off if the government stopped wasting time, manpower and money arresting people in medical marijuana clinics and busting young people with a few joints in their pockets and concentrated their efforts on real menaces to society. Like maybe ... TERRORISTS.

Researchers said in March that relaxing cannabis laws could save Britain around 50 million pounds ($77.1 million) a year and free up the equivalent of 500 police officers. Makes sense to me.



But the fuckwits in charge in the US are running a "war on drugs" and they don't have time to stop and think about the silly, ineffective and downright criminal things THEY do. So hide the bong. Keep your stash out of sight. Pull the curtains when you light up at home.

The police may knock down my door and shoot ME in their courageous battle against the likes of YOU.

I believe I have the same talent as this BLIND PSYCHIC. I, too, have magic fingers that can predict the future if you allow me to fondle your ass.

Although he claims to have spent many years training his fingers, with his index and middle fingers the most sensitive, Buck says even amateur buttock readers can make a broad-brush assessment of people's personalities.

"An apple-shaped, muscular bottom indicates someone who is charismatic, dynamic, very confident and often creative. A person who enjoys life," he said. "A pear-shaped bottom suggests someone very steadfast, patient and down-to-earth."

He is quick to shoot down any suggestion that his buttock groping might be motivated by anything other than a genuine desire to probe people's futures.

"I do not need to feel bottoms for my own pleasure. My wife is quite beautiful enough for me," he said.


Hell, I'm better than this blind guy. I can SEE WHAT I'M DOING.

And I'm best at reading the pear-shaped behinds of pretty women.

Monday, July 08, 2002

Here are some totally disgusting, racist, ethnophobic, politically-incorrect jokes. Sent to me by Catfish:

1. What's the Cuban national anthem?
"Row, Row, Row your boat"

2. Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A different bar.

3. Did you hear about the Chinese couple that had a retarded baby?
They named him "Sum Ting Wong."

4. What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the
other?
A speech impediment.

5. Why aren't there any Puerto Ricans on Star Trek?
Because they're not going to work in the future either.

6. What do you call an Arkansas farmer with a sheep under each arm?
A pimp.

7. Why do drivers' education classes in Redneck schools use the car only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?
Because on Tuesday and Thursday, the Sex Ed class uses it.

8. What does it mean when the flag at the Post Office is flying at half-mast?
They're hiring.

9. What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage, along with a recipe.

10. How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to say a dirty word?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell BINGO!

11. What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern
fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time..."
A southern fairytale begins "AAHHHHH...Y'all ain't gonna believe this
shit...."

12. My, my, how time have changed. Years ago, when 100 white men chased 1 black man, we called it the Ku Klux Klan.
Today, they call it the PGA TOUR.

13. Why is there no Disneyland in China?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides.
BWHAHAHAHAHA!

Villains fear me.
Heroes envy me.

Acidman is...
The Hungry Tsunami


What's your SUPERHERO NAME?
JENNY disagrees with my screed below about the pinheads behind environmental-scaremongering. In her comment, she says we should find a "happy medium" between freezing to death in the dark and "full-scale waste of resources." I'm all for that meet in the middle concept, but it can never happen when dealing with rabid environmentalists. There is no middle ground for them.

I don't see human progress and improved standards of living as a waste of natural resources. I see them as proper UTILIZATION of natural resources, which generates wealth and gives people the means and the opportunity to utilize those resources wisely. Careful environmental stewardship comes only when people stop having to struggle for food and shelter. The enviro-whacks don't accept that fact. And what really pisses me off about the greenie-weenies is that they want to save the planet through increased regulation, ursupation of individual rights and ham-fisted government intrusion into ever more aspects of my life.

Jenny says the only agenda environmental nutbars have is "the survival of the human race and the enjoyment of the natural world." No, the true agenda of outfits such as Greenpeace and the Sierra Club is the destruction of capitalist economies and the increase of their own power and enrichment.

I agree with NO WATERMELONS:

Green activists love to point out that the "true costs" of coal burning and other "non-renewable" power sources are not recognized on our utility bills, and they say that if those costs were recognized that windpower would be cost-competitive.

OK, suppose they're right. Then let them talk the public into paying more for electricity so these costs can be paid. Why don't the greens do this?

Because they're watermelons - they're green on the outside and red on the inside. They're more interested in big govt programs, more regulation, more taxes, and demonization of opponents than they are in real practical solutions to their alleged concerns. And they can't raise money without raising issues, so the bitching will never stop.


Eco-idiots bear a lot of responsibility for the recent terrible forest fires in Colorado and Arizona. Their mindless opposition to any kind of forest managment stopped logging and clearing in those woods and created the perfect pyre when it was ignited. The cretins "saved" the forest by causing it to burn up.

The problem is, all you have to do is mention the words "commercial" and "forest" in the same breath and the local pseudo-environmentalist will file a lawsuit before you can finish your sentence.

The uncertainty caused by such lawsuits has decimated the logging industry in Arizona, and that has contributed heavily to the situation we find ourselves in today. It has been estimated that nearly 40 percent of our Forest Service's budget is swallowed up just fighting lawsuits filed by "environmentalists."


That's some weird way to protect natural resources. But the environmental movement is full of weird people.

They're... UNNATURALLY weird.

Update Okay, Jenny, check THIS POST BY TOM on the subject.
Today, I received some good news, and some bad news.

The good news is, my PSA results were ZERO, which means I still appear to be fully cured of prostate cancer. That's nice to know, but I would feel better if I knew that my pump was coming soon. That's the bad news. The urologist said that a mere nine months is too soon to rule out recovery of the nerves that control erection. He seemed insulted that I was was giving up on his surgical skill so soon. It didn't seem "soon" to me, especially after not a single glimmer of even minor improvement the entire time, and I told him so. He said to wait 18 months. If nothing stirred by then, he would talk implant with me. For the meantime, he gave me a prescription for a different fix-a-flat elixer to try by hypodermic injection. And he told me to stop smoking.

I dropped the prescription off at the drug store on the way home. Hell, I'll pick it up tomorrow and give it a try. Maybe it works without the painful side-effects of the other stuff. Maybe I'll like it.

Yeah, and maybe nine months from now I'll get my pump.

Sunday, July 07, 2002

I hate Sunday evenings. My son just left and I feel as empty as... empty can be. As empty as his bloodless cunt mother's stone heart. As empty as Cynthia McKinney's brain. As empty as the Social Security Trust Fund. As empty as this house when he's gone.

I hurt. I want to scream, I want to cry and I want to break something. I want to "act out."

But I won't. I'll get a little misty, then put some John Prine on the stereo and iron a week's worth of shirts. I'll put some boiled peanuts in a zip-lock bag for work tomorrow. I'll rinse the dirty dishes and put them in the washer. I'll have a glass of white zin.

I'll go to bed early tonight and hope that I can sleep. Then, I'll get up and start this shit all over again tomorrow.
The headline on THIS STORY would be hilarious if it weren't such an accurate picture of how screwed up our government is today.

JACKSON LEE EYES CORPORATE REFORM

We're in good hands now, folks.
If only a few more tall, air-headed blonde women had come to Pamplona and gotten nekkid in the street, THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED.

The tall blonde women are welcome to practice getting nekkid in my yard, so that they can do a better job next year.
I wonder if THE BOSS cheated his way around the golf course the way the Big Creep used to do? If President Bush played the round in just over two hours, he didn't have time for the famous Clinton multiple mulligans. But he may have taken some "gimme" putts. I just hope they weren't from fifteen feet on a downhill, sidehill lie the way Clinton did.
OH, MY ACHING ASS!

Yeah, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE yet again, this time because Planet Earth will EXPIRE BY 2050 unless we drastically alter the way we abuse this fragile ecosphere, this tender blue ball, this delicate chunk of 4 billion year-old, volcanic-forged, meteor-strike-surviving, iron-ore based, endlessly patient orbiting rock we exist upon.

Bejus on a bicycle and Christ on a crutch! How does this continuous stream of absolute bullshit continue to find its way into print? This puke-generating bilge is enough to make me reach for the Profanisaurus just so I can find EXACTLY the right words to describe my feelings about the dire predictions and the dickheaded pisspots who make them. Just read some of this silly shit:

A study by the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), to be released on Tuesday, warns that the human race is plundering the planet at a pace that outstrips its capacity to support life.

In a damning condemnation of Western society's high consumption levels, it adds that the extra planets (the equivalent size of Earth) will be required by the year 2050 as existing resources are exhausted.


Weren't these same assholes saying exactly the same thing in 1970? None of their certain starvation, impending plague, dawn of the New Ice Age, inevitable resource-depletion and unavoidable excruciating death to us all happened after that first time these cretins discovered their heads up their rectums and mistook the round object for a crystal ball, and it isn't going to happen now.

What is this "damning condemnation" anyway? It's a bunch of hogswallop issued by an agenda-driven pack of anti-civilization loogey-heads who wouldn't know science from voodoo even if their favorite witch doctor tried to explain it. These aren't brilliant minds spreading these scare-stories. They are idiots. I have a better head on my PECKER, for crying out loud.

The report, based on scientific data from across the world, reveals that more than a third of the natural world has been destroyed by humans over the past three decades.

Yes, and I see the steaming, smoking, devastated ruins everywhere I go. Utter ruination. Complete destruction. Not one living thing able to survive on 1/3 of the planet. I've seen it for myself!

Okay, I lied about that. I haven't seen evidence of utter destruction anywhere except that hole in the ground that once was the World Trade Center in New York City. Most of the rest of the planet looks pretty healthy to me. I suppose that I have my misguided ideas because I am not privy to the "scientific data from across the world" that the WWF (Worrying Wangheaded Fartbrains) has. Otherwise, I would have reached this conclusion along with them:

Experts say that seas will become emptied of fish while forests - which absorb carbon dioxide emissions - are completely destroyed and freshwater supplies become scarce and polluted.

The report offers a vivid warning that either people curb their extravagant lifestyles or risk leaving the onus on scientists to locate another planet that can sustain human life. Since this is unlikely to happen, the only option is to cut consumption now.


Yes! Sign the Koyoto Treaty! Freeze to death in the dark! Return to the bliss of the simple life of the 15th Century!

Martin Jenkins, senior adviser for the World Conservation Monitoring Centre in Cambridge, which helped compile the report, said: 'It seems things are getting worse faster than possibly ever before. Never has one single species had such an overwhelming influence. We are entering uncharted territory.'

Martin, your brain is in uncharted territory. You should be dragged outside and shot before you reproduce. The world has all the pud-pulling nimrods it needs already.

Matthew Spencer, a spokesman for Greenpeace, said: 'There will have to be concessions from the richer nations to the poorer ones or there will be fireworks.'

Okay, as an American, I'll concede that you are a blithering moron. Is that good enough, or do you still feel the need to light a kiddie sparkler and provide fireworks by running around screaming "The Sky Is Falling!" while training a tiny, childish trail in you wake? Never mind; I know the answer.

The WWF report shames the US for placing the greatest pressure on the environment. It found the average US resident consumes almost double the resources as that of a UK citizen and more than 24 times that of some Africans.

I am definitely ashamed of that. To alleviate the pain in my conscience, I'll donate an Eveready flashlight with two new batteries to one of those Africans, so he can hang it from the ass of his water buffalo as he plows his subsistence farm with prehistoric tools. Then, I'll go to the Super Wal-Mart and buy another flashlight. You know how we consumin' Americans are.

A spokesman for WWF UK, said: 'If all the people consumed natural resources at the same rate as the average US and UK citizen we would require at least two extra planets like Earth.'

Find them. Move there, and take all your idiot minions with you. Name your new home "Bizarro World," then freeze to death in the dark on your very own planet.

Just butt out of my life on mine.






Sunday Stumpers (Via THE GODDESS)


1) Are rules made to be followed?

That depends on the rule. We still have antiquated "Sodomy Laws" in Georgia, which NOBODY obeys, except for some needle-necked religious freaks who don't enjoy sex anyway and wouldn't need the laws to make them keep their pants on, even when they sleep. I've never paid attention to those rules and go out of my way to violate them every chance I get. Very few people who drive Highway 21 pay attention to the speed limit, and if you DO, you're asking for a spot in the middle of a seven-car, two tractor-trailer pileup, so I drive as fast as everybody else. I carry prescription medicines (Clariton and some antibiotics) along with my motrin, tylenol and aspirin in one pill bottle in my lunch box at work. I rip the "DO NOT REMOVE" tags off matresses. I also scoff at "No Smoking" rules whenever I can get away with it, and I cross the street against the light. I am guilty of Contempt of Congress, too.

But, by Bejus, I NEVER get in the "10 items or less" checkout line in the grocery store unless I have 10 items or less, and I believe that anyone who violates this rule should be dragged outside and shot immediately. I also do not litter. I believe slower traffic should keep to the right lane on the Interstate, and any road-hogging idiot violating this rule should be dragged from his vehicle, shot immediately, then staked to a red-ant hill.

Like I said. It depends on the rule.

2) Do you have an unrealized dream? What is it?

I want to travel into outer space before I die. Some people say I went there long ago, but I mean the REAL THING. I want to leave earth's atmosphere, feel zero-gravity and see the stars the way I've never seen them before. If there's ever a sign-up list for people willing to help colonize Mars, my name will be on it.

3) Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, or Lewis and Martin?

Abbott and Costello. Dean Martin is dead, and Jerry Lewis should be dragged outside and shot. In France.

4) You find a shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot at the grocery store. It has a case of soda, some chips, and the latest issue of TV Guide. Do you take the stuff back to the store and let the manager know that someone left this in the parking lot? Or, do you simply load the goods into your car?

First of all, we don't have "soda" down South, except for Club Soda and Baking Soda. Soft drinks are "Cokes" no matter what the hell they show on the label. And I take the stuff back to the store and tell the manager about it. I have a great many bad habits, but thievery is not one of them. Except for some very minor exaggerations I sometimes accidentally allow to spring up undetected on this page, I am a scrupulously honest man. I don't steal. That's a GOOD RULE.

5) What super power would you like to have?

I wish I could fly. I dream about being able to do that sometimes, and those are the best dreams I've ever had. Except for the ones that violate Georgia's sodomy laws.


My vocabulary of foul language is extensive, so I don't really need a PROFANISAURUS. If you don't cuss well or simply want to improve your existing skills, the Profanisaurus is excellent study material.

cable laying euph. To excrete solid stools. As opposed to crop spraying (qv).

lab kebab abbr. Labia kebab; fish mitten (qv); vertical bacon sandwich etc.

mumblers n. Tight women's bicycle shorts through which you can 'see the lips moving but can't understand a word. See also Twix lips, camel's foot, hungry arse.

There's more...