I'm of two minds on this one. If Obama wins, and Doug were offered, and took President Obama's Director of Urban Policy appointment, he would be out of our hair, and we could possibly start to move in the right direction as a city. But after years in the corporate world, I never quite understood how people fall (and fail) upward all the time. It just isn't right.
I don't think he should continue to be Mayor of Trenton, and I don't think it's fair to not to warn the rest of the world that Doug is pretty much all hot air and ego and bluster and all the shit that people don't really need.
My wife hates my analogies but I love them and this is my blog so I win. Sorry Chrissy: more analogies for you to hate.
My analogy on this one is, if Dougless H(elp yourself) Palmer was a contractor and he did really shit work and you knew that he was placing a bid to do his shitty work on an even greater scale of shitasticness for an even more important client that you would still have to deal with, wouldn't you make a quick phone call?
It's not about destroying somebody's ambitions because you simply don't like them; it's about shutting down the Shit Factory before it floods the nation with more faulty ideas and half-assed shitacular plans.
Recently Senator Obama stated that after he is elected, he intends to appoint the first White House director of urban policy, and since Doug mentioned it in his oh-so-important press release about his gushy farewell message to the US Conference of Mayors, after which, he had an oh-so-intimate meeting with the presidential hopeful, Doug must think he's in the running for the appointment (download the press release here). “I want you to be able to call up somebody in the White House who knows something about cities,” Obama said, "to help navigate bureaucracy and get things done."
I think the key question you have to ask yourself, Senator Obama, is did you really investigate the man you're considering appointing? Mayor Doug Palmer is a master at creating bureaucracy. You need only to look at the recent ongoing debacle concerning Trenton's (former) police director's residency to get an understanding of the bureaucratic shitticane Dougie Not-So-Fresh is able to create, costing his constituents a shitload of money in legal fees. "Fuck the Citizens." That's Doug's urban policy for you, Senator.
I think the person for this position would be one that welcomed the thoughts of others and did not look to gather a collection of yes men/women to rubber stamp his ideas, which is certainly not Mayor Palmer, who on a regular basis calls out his own City Council when they dare question him or any of his cronies.
Do yourself a favor Senator Obama, if you become president, and if you create this position, please give it to someone who deserves it. That wouldn't be Doug.
G SPOT OUT
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Trenton Mayor Doug Palmer says
"FUCK THE CHILDREN"
I was reading the local newspaper the other day. Can't remember which one, since they both pretty much suck. There was an article talking about how this would be the last year the people of Trenton would have free access to pools.
I would rather have read how the public officials of Trenton City Government have been told they will no longer get free cars, free gas, and free insurance to drive all around the land. And I'd like to see an end to their ability to occasionally smack them up and write them off in the middle of a work day while they are shopping nowhere near the city, as Irv Bradley did recently. At least he admitted he wasn't working; I'm sure the city's insurance company liked that.
They said running of the six pools in Trenton cost the city about $300,000.00 per year and, so, the city is thinking of charging per season, per family, or 2 dollars per day. In other, rich municipalities, this is no big deal, but in a city with a government with fucked-up financial priorities, and a gang problem among the young population, the pools should remain free-of-charge. Many families in Trenton are hard-pressed to pay their bills, much less shell out more money for their children to go swimming. What if it is a really hot summer (and they all seem hot to this Canadian), and you can't afford the price of a seasonal family pass. And, what is a family anymore, besides? I'm not judging, since it takes all types, but it is no longer just a mom and dad and kids. It is Grandma, Mom, maybe a dad and a few grandkids and cousins. Do they all qualify for the family pass? Who decides?
Okay, so back to my original point. 2 bones per day per kid. So, figure your family has 5 kids and it gets really stinkin hot for a couple of weeks. 2x5x14= $140.00. That is some serious coinage. So, more than likely these kids are just going to stay home and turn on the fire hydrants (which is cheaper.) And, who is going to ask for the money at the pool, anyway? The city pools, I believe, fall under the jurisdiction of Parks and Recreation, and Cadwalader Park, the city's crown jewel, is falling into disrepair. So, who's manning the front gate, and what will s/he do if the kids refuse to pay? My bet: nothing, that's what. No one gets paid enough to deal with that sort of shit. If the police cannot protect a witness in a gang trial, methinks the pool attendant will look the other way.
That means, of course, that the tougher kids will get in free, and the nicer, law-abiding kids will not go, unless they can afford it. And either way, we'll probably end up with Thug Pool! Eventually, they will just all be filled in or let to decay like everything else in the city of Trenton.
So why has it come to this? Mismanagement, for starters. Our fearless mayor, Dougless Palmer, prefers to fight our council and citizens in court over our ordinances — ordinances he once defended — for his unconscionable buddies. Also, like a benevolent game show host, he likes to give away free cars — but only to his cronies!
But wait! There's more! Let's just put aside the recent $40,000.00 that was paid to the lawyers who represented Joe Guido Santiago, and concentrate on vehicles. Let's say there are 10 vehicles that have been donated by Dougless to the highly-paid city officials (and I think it could be triple that or more, in reality.) It costs roughly $55,000 to own one Crown Victoria for five years (click here for reference). But we can multiply that by AT LEAST 10 (and likely more), that the city is pissing away so Palmer cronies can drive to and from the city, for free, while the rest of us pay upward of $4.00 a gallon, and must maintain our own vehicles.
So here's some simple math: If 10 high paid city officials could do without their cars, since most other workers in the real world have to supply their own, anyway, then we could have free swimming for about 2 years. And if there really are at least 30 of these puppies getting used and abused and driven and blinged-up all over Stirling and Rahway and the Jersey Shore (actors, even great ones that perform in awesome Zombie films need transpo too!), then we could be swimming for up to 5 years for free!
Dougless H. ? I thought the H stood for Hunterdon, but now I think the H stands for "Help YOURSELF" (as long as you're his friend). Mayor Help Yourself! Nice middle name. "Hey," says Doug, "Come work for me! As my friend, Help Yourself to the taxpayers' dough!"
How about it Dougless, what's the deal? Are you going to park the cars and let the children swim? Not likely. Not likely at all, based on your past, unforgivable actions. Soon you will have more places to park your free cars as the swimming pools get paved over, like everything else decent about Trenton!
This Johnny-Come-Lately is going to do his best to make sure you move permanently to your mansion in Hunteron County. When and if Obama calls, someone else will be picking up that phone.
Over and out on the DownHigh!
G SPOT!
I would rather have read how the public officials of Trenton City Government have been told they will no longer get free cars, free gas, and free insurance to drive all around the land. And I'd like to see an end to their ability to occasionally smack them up and write them off in the middle of a work day while they are shopping nowhere near the city, as Irv Bradley did recently. At least he admitted he wasn't working; I'm sure the city's insurance company liked that.
They said running of the six pools in Trenton cost the city about $300,000.00 per year and, so, the city is thinking of charging per season, per family, or 2 dollars per day. In other, rich municipalities, this is no big deal, but in a city with a government with fucked-up financial priorities, and a gang problem among the young population, the pools should remain free-of-charge. Many families in Trenton are hard-pressed to pay their bills, much less shell out more money for their children to go swimming. What if it is a really hot summer (and they all seem hot to this Canadian), and you can't afford the price of a seasonal family pass. And, what is a family anymore, besides? I'm not judging, since it takes all types, but it is no longer just a mom and dad and kids. It is Grandma, Mom, maybe a dad and a few grandkids and cousins. Do they all qualify for the family pass? Who decides?
Okay, so back to my original point. 2 bones per day per kid. So, figure your family has 5 kids and it gets really stinkin hot for a couple of weeks. 2x5x14= $140.00. That is some serious coinage. So, more than likely these kids are just going to stay home and turn on the fire hydrants (which is cheaper.) And, who is going to ask for the money at the pool, anyway? The city pools, I believe, fall under the jurisdiction of Parks and Recreation, and Cadwalader Park, the city's crown jewel, is falling into disrepair. So, who's manning the front gate, and what will s/he do if the kids refuse to pay? My bet: nothing, that's what. No one gets paid enough to deal with that sort of shit. If the police cannot protect a witness in a gang trial, methinks the pool attendant will look the other way.
That means, of course, that the tougher kids will get in free, and the nicer, law-abiding kids will not go, unless they can afford it. And either way, we'll probably end up with Thug Pool! Eventually, they will just all be filled in or let to decay like everything else in the city of Trenton.
So why has it come to this? Mismanagement, for starters. Our fearless mayor, Dougless Palmer, prefers to fight our council and citizens in court over our ordinances — ordinances he once defended — for his unconscionable buddies. Also, like a benevolent game show host, he likes to give away free cars — but only to his cronies!
But wait! There's more! Let's just put aside the recent $40,000.00 that was paid to the lawyers who represented Joe Guido Santiago, and concentrate on vehicles. Let's say there are 10 vehicles that have been donated by Dougless to the highly-paid city officials (and I think it could be triple that or more, in reality.) It costs roughly $55,000 to own one Crown Victoria for five years (click here for reference). But we can multiply that by AT LEAST 10 (and likely more), that the city is pissing away so Palmer cronies can drive to and from the city, for free, while the rest of us pay upward of $4.00 a gallon, and must maintain our own vehicles.
So here's some simple math: If 10 high paid city officials could do without their cars, since most other workers in the real world have to supply their own, anyway, then we could have free swimming for about 2 years. And if there really are at least 30 of these puppies getting used and abused and driven and blinged-up all over Stirling and Rahway and the Jersey Shore (actors, even great ones that perform in awesome Zombie films need transpo too!), then we could be swimming for up to 5 years for free!
Dougless H. ? I thought the H stood for Hunterdon, but now I think the H stands for "Help YOURSELF" (as long as you're his friend). Mayor Help Yourself! Nice middle name. "Hey," says Doug, "Come work for me! As my friend, Help Yourself to the taxpayers' dough!"
How about it Dougless, what's the deal? Are you going to park the cars and let the children swim? Not likely. Not likely at all, based on your past, unforgivable actions. Soon you will have more places to park your free cars as the swimming pools get paved over, like everything else decent about Trenton!
This Johnny-Come-Lately is going to do his best to make sure you move permanently to your mansion in Hunteron County. When and if Obama calls, someone else will be picking up that phone.
Over and out on the DownHigh!
G SPOT!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
President Bush's IQ
I was at a party a couple of years ago. Met this young fellow, around 23 years old. An artist, draws his own comic strip. Kind of strange stuff, shadowing on the face, but he definitely has talent.
Well there were a number of us chatting in the living room, and President Bush's name came up. Some like him some don't. Then the young artist spoke up and said,
"They recently tested his IQ and it was 69."
"What," I said. "How could that be. I think mongoloids score higher."
He said, "No it's true. He is borderline mongoloid. He scored 69."
The guy argued with all of us and left in a huff. Does anybody know what President Bush's IQ is?
It can't be too high. I would think it is higher than the average daytime temperature of most of the USA. It just can't be 69.
Although his recent massage of the German Chancellor could bring it down a smidgen.
I wonder if he would take an IQ test just for me. To prove that he is not borderline mongoloid?
I wonder.
Well there were a number of us chatting in the living room, and President Bush's name came up. Some like him some don't. Then the young artist spoke up and said,
"They recently tested his IQ and it was 69."
"What," I said. "How could that be. I think mongoloids score higher."
He said, "No it's true. He is borderline mongoloid. He scored 69."
The guy argued with all of us and left in a huff. Does anybody know what President Bush's IQ is?
It can't be too high. I would think it is higher than the average daytime temperature of most of the USA. It just can't be 69.
Although his recent massage of the German Chancellor could bring it down a smidgen.
I wonder if he would take an IQ test just for me. To prove that he is not borderline mongoloid?
I wonder.
How do you Make an Egg Black?
Well, it is pretty easy for the dimwitted dirtbags at the cafeteria where I work.
Our work cafeteria has grill/griddle area, where you can line up to get lunch or breakfast. The nice thing about the line is it never really moves and you are never really sure who has placed his/her order and who has not.
It is pretty much a shell game, and the shellmaster/grillmaster/dickwadster is not going to let you know, either. They have the customer's view of the grill and griddle blocked by this tall steel fence. You can look behind it if you walk right up close and obviously lean in, kind of when you look over a bridge to the highway below. What usually greets you is something cooking on a 5 inch square of the grill area. This never changes, whether 5 or 10 or 20 people are waiting for their food.
When that area of the grill is cleared, the chef — I mean Chef Dickmiester Wankfuck — will then look up. His eyes are saying, "I have killed before and I will again," but his mouth will ask, "What do you want?" He usually only hears the first part of your order, which doesn't really matter because that is all he is going to make you anyway. So a sausage, egg and cheese bagel will become either an egg on a bagel, sausage and an egg, or an egg with cheese. Not all three, because you had him at Egg and Cheese. If you ask for particular type of bread that is not on display in front of him, he will go away for a spell while his adoring and growing crowd languishes. The cool thing is that after that few minutes or ten, or more, he usually comes back with nothing in his hands and he'll start to cook whatever he wants.
When you really think about it, this is a pretty good system. It is called, "I'm here til 3:30 pm. I can make a bunch of things quickly or I can make a few things very slowly and I still get paid the same."
Most of the time I avoid the grill/griddle, as I don't have a half hour to wait in the morning. But one morning I took a chance and ordered an egg, while he told me the guy before me who ordered was an asshole. I thought yeah maybe he was. The next time I guess I became the asshole. I ordered an egg and cheese and let me tell you, I never thought I would live to see a black egg, but I have and I am not richer for it.
So the dickweed on the grill hands me my sandwich that kind of resembles the leftovers of a liposuction. I open the sandwich and the egg is covered in black soot. It is kind of black and kind of green and not white at all. I tell the woman at the cash register, since I was afraid of the cook, because he has access to sharp cooking utensils, and is quite possibly on some type of prison release program. She looked at it and said, "He is a nice guy." I didn't ask her if he was a nice guy. So I said, "No he's not. He's not a nice guy. This is garbage. Unbelievable garbage." She took it from me and threw it in the trash. I paid for my coffee and left.
The next day I was back and the cashier, an older woman, was firing daggers of hate at me. I am now boycotting the shitfest my workplace calls a cafeteria. I know I can be a dick sometimes, and I can be kind of grumpy whenever I'm hunrgy or tired or am uncomfortable (like an infant). But, like taking your first dump of the day, my breakfast is supposed to be a quiet time between my stomach and my mouth. It is best that I walked away from Mr. Grillfuck, as I get very upset when people FUCK WITH MY BREAKFAST! My work cafeteria gets one middle finger and two poopy pinkies. Tartboy out!
ps. Years ago a guy I know, who was a bit of a mouthbreather was sitting across from me with his girlfriend, who was also a mouthbreather, who decided she was going to just reach over and take a bite of my pancake. I pitchforked her fork and looked into her eyes, and shook my head no, "not today you retarded freeloader."
Our work cafeteria has grill/griddle area, where you can line up to get lunch or breakfast. The nice thing about the line is it never really moves and you are never really sure who has placed his/her order and who has not.
It is pretty much a shell game, and the shellmaster/grillmaster/dickwadster is not going to let you know, either. They have the customer's view of the grill and griddle blocked by this tall steel fence. You can look behind it if you walk right up close and obviously lean in, kind of when you look over a bridge to the highway below. What usually greets you is something cooking on a 5 inch square of the grill area. This never changes, whether 5 or 10 or 20 people are waiting for their food.
When that area of the grill is cleared, the chef — I mean Chef Dickmiester Wankfuck — will then look up. His eyes are saying, "I have killed before and I will again," but his mouth will ask, "What do you want?" He usually only hears the first part of your order, which doesn't really matter because that is all he is going to make you anyway. So a sausage, egg and cheese bagel will become either an egg on a bagel, sausage and an egg, or an egg with cheese. Not all three, because you had him at Egg and Cheese. If you ask for particular type of bread that is not on display in front of him, he will go away for a spell while his adoring and growing crowd languishes. The cool thing is that after that few minutes or ten, or more, he usually comes back with nothing in his hands and he'll start to cook whatever he wants.
When you really think about it, this is a pretty good system. It is called, "I'm here til 3:30 pm. I can make a bunch of things quickly or I can make a few things very slowly and I still get paid the same."
Most of the time I avoid the grill/griddle, as I don't have a half hour to wait in the morning. But one morning I took a chance and ordered an egg, while he told me the guy before me who ordered was an asshole. I thought yeah maybe he was. The next time I guess I became the asshole. I ordered an egg and cheese and let me tell you, I never thought I would live to see a black egg, but I have and I am not richer for it.
So the dickweed on the grill hands me my sandwich that kind of resembles the leftovers of a liposuction. I open the sandwich and the egg is covered in black soot. It is kind of black and kind of green and not white at all. I tell the woman at the cash register, since I was afraid of the cook, because he has access to sharp cooking utensils, and is quite possibly on some type of prison release program. She looked at it and said, "He is a nice guy." I didn't ask her if he was a nice guy. So I said, "No he's not. He's not a nice guy. This is garbage. Unbelievable garbage." She took it from me and threw it in the trash. I paid for my coffee and left.
The next day I was back and the cashier, an older woman, was firing daggers of hate at me. I am now boycotting the shitfest my workplace calls a cafeteria. I know I can be a dick sometimes, and I can be kind of grumpy whenever I'm hunrgy or tired or am uncomfortable (like an infant). But, like taking your first dump of the day, my breakfast is supposed to be a quiet time between my stomach and my mouth. It is best that I walked away from Mr. Grillfuck, as I get very upset when people FUCK WITH MY BREAKFAST! My work cafeteria gets one middle finger and two poopy pinkies. Tartboy out!
ps. Years ago a guy I know, who was a bit of a mouthbreather was sitting across from me with his girlfriend, who was also a mouthbreather, who decided she was going to just reach over and take a bite of my pancake. I pitchforked her fork and looked into her eyes, and shook my head no, "not today you retarded freeloader."
Class Reunions: Me no get invited do me cry?
I have never been invited to any class reunions. Possibly that makes me bitter. I find that class reunions, especially the ones that are organized by classmates, pretty much echo the sentiments that were experienced in high school. I was not really a loner, or a stoner, I just didn't like to be part of any group. Well any acceptable group. I liked living on the outside, and loosely associated with other malcontents. I really did not ever like school. Until grade 9, I did very well, then I thought, "Really, what the fuck does it matter?" Not a mature thought, I know, and one I sometimes regret. I just kind of figured I would end up working in a factory like my dad did, getting married at 20, and hating all my kids by the time I was 30. Mature again, no, that is for sure.
I realized I needed to have some type of education in order not be relatively unemployable. Can I tell you what the best class, the most useful class I ever took? Can you guess? Typing. I learned how to type in Grade 10, for 4 months before I was suspended from that particular high school. 4 months, I was fast, 63 words a minute on a manual typewriter. These days, age, and drinking have hobbled me. I can only do 50 wpm on average, maybe 65 if pressed for short bursts.
Typing ability is huge in today's workplace. You are always on a computer, and if you can type fast it enables you to dick around and still get stuff done. Everyone knows that dicking around is pretty much a large part of any work day. You have to be good at it. It's not about looking busy. People — unless they are nuts — leave you alone as long as you get your work done and you don't embarrass them. Unless they are complete control freak assholes. But more on that another time.
So I do a lot of typing and I'm quick. I can sometimes type as quick as I think, not that I'm a fast thinker. But I was talking about reunions. Reunions pretty much suck. It's nice to see the good looking guy from school that got all the girls now has a big gut, and no hair, but I already didn't care. Most school reunions are not to see how you are doing, it is to show everyone how you are doing.
While I am occasionally curious to see how some of my high school or elementary school chums are doing, most of the time I don't even think about it. If I had, or they had wanted to keep in touch it would have happened.
Recently I was invited to a "Gala" at my old high school. When talking to the person who told me I should come, I was told that there had already been two prior reunions (that I wasn't invited to), and that everyone was doing great. One guy is a billionaire, another guy sells homes to Hollywood stars, some girls are still really hot. Two reunions, two without me. Kind of hurt my feelings. Two! My parents have always lived in my hometown. I'm as easy to get a hold of as anyone. Why wasn't I invited? I think it simply was because I was not part of the crowd in high school. Well, in either high schools I attended (I was suspended from one.)
I was the class clown, I provided entertainment. I have fond memories of that. Fond memories. Yeah that's what I like. I will hold onto those memories. I never really liked school. I'm glad I learned how to type and I met lots of weirdos and did my own thing. Which I continue to do. Have fun at the Gala, old schoolmates. Hopefully you create some new memories. I have what I need. Hope you are all doing well.
Love,Tart Boy
PS: I did work in a factory for a few months, and I hated it. I didn't have any kids by the time I was 30, I still don't have any at 46. All that is about to change soon and I will emote more love on that little freak, than all the hate I was going to emote on all those little ungrateful bastards by the time I was 30!
I realized I needed to have some type of education in order not be relatively unemployable. Can I tell you what the best class, the most useful class I ever took? Can you guess? Typing. I learned how to type in Grade 10, for 4 months before I was suspended from that particular high school. 4 months, I was fast, 63 words a minute on a manual typewriter. These days, age, and drinking have hobbled me. I can only do 50 wpm on average, maybe 65 if pressed for short bursts.
Typing ability is huge in today's workplace. You are always on a computer, and if you can type fast it enables you to dick around and still get stuff done. Everyone knows that dicking around is pretty much a large part of any work day. You have to be good at it. It's not about looking busy. People — unless they are nuts — leave you alone as long as you get your work done and you don't embarrass them. Unless they are complete control freak assholes. But more on that another time.
So I do a lot of typing and I'm quick. I can sometimes type as quick as I think, not that I'm a fast thinker. But I was talking about reunions. Reunions pretty much suck. It's nice to see the good looking guy from school that got all the girls now has a big gut, and no hair, but I already didn't care. Most school reunions are not to see how you are doing, it is to show everyone how you are doing.
While I am occasionally curious to see how some of my high school or elementary school chums are doing, most of the time I don't even think about it. If I had, or they had wanted to keep in touch it would have happened.
Recently I was invited to a "Gala" at my old high school. When talking to the person who told me I should come, I was told that there had already been two prior reunions (that I wasn't invited to), and that everyone was doing great. One guy is a billionaire, another guy sells homes to Hollywood stars, some girls are still really hot. Two reunions, two without me. Kind of hurt my feelings. Two! My parents have always lived in my hometown. I'm as easy to get a hold of as anyone. Why wasn't I invited? I think it simply was because I was not part of the crowd in high school. Well, in either high schools I attended (I was suspended from one.)
I was the class clown, I provided entertainment. I have fond memories of that. Fond memories. Yeah that's what I like. I will hold onto those memories. I never really liked school. I'm glad I learned how to type and I met lots of weirdos and did my own thing. Which I continue to do. Have fun at the Gala, old schoolmates. Hopefully you create some new memories. I have what I need. Hope you are all doing well.
Love,Tart Boy
PS: I did work in a factory for a few months, and I hated it. I didn't have any kids by the time I was 30, I still don't have any at 46. All that is about to change soon and I will emote more love on that little freak, than all the hate I was going to emote on all those little ungrateful bastards by the time I was 30!
Some People are Irritating!
I was visiting my wife's sister and her family the other day. We had food fest and a few beers. My wife's other sister who is recently divorced from a mongo has a new boyfriend. While not a mongo. He is very opinionated, and likes to argue. But only by yelling the same point over and over and over again. Which is fine with a bunch of drunk guys in a dressing room after a game, or in someone's backyard after about 24 beers each. But to yell the same thing over and over and over again in someone else's house that doesn't agree with you. Well that is not really funny, or helpful. It is just stupid.
What was he yelling? Well, "George Bush is a Moron. Clinton was the best." Times 20 or 30. While I think most people these days would be hard-pressed not to agree that George Bush is a moron, and as one of my previous blogs states, a possible mongoloid. Many people do not like Clinton, and that is their opinion. Screaming his name over and over again, does not make them agree with you.
The same person, we will call him Mr. Wheelbarrow for reasons only known to few. Although I think his wheelbarrow is fairly full of some fine gardening supplies, Mr. WB, told me that the reason the US dollar is down is because of the interest rates. They just need to lower them and voila! The dollar comes right back up. Now I think lower interest rates might help. There are certainly many more things at play here. Possibly, the world hates the US, there is a costly war in IRAQ, China is now a huge economic force, the housing market is over-valued etc...
Saying that the dollar will rise, if the interest rates go lower, is like saying we are short on water because the sun is too bright. A part of me, says, wow how do these screamers really feel about what they are saying.
It reminds me of a guy I used to share an apartment with, well there was three of us. Gregg, and I would be watching TV, and Slacker would come into the room. Yes Slacker, that was his nickname, and he was a real moron. Slacker would stand in front of the TV to get our attention and tell us a funny story. Well the story was never funny, but what he would do, is talk louder at the parts we were supposed to find funny. One day Gregg said, "Slacker, the less funny your story is, the louder you talk, have you ever noticed that?"
Slacker yelled, "No." And never told us another story.
Which reminds me I hate yelling comedians. HERE IS THE PUNCHLINE.....OR HERE...HEY I"M STILL YELLING> FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY>
I like to yell as much as the next guy, in fact sometimes even more. But there is a time for yelling and a time to just shut the fuck up.
Love G
What was he yelling? Well, "George Bush is a Moron. Clinton was the best." Times 20 or 30. While I think most people these days would be hard-pressed not to agree that George Bush is a moron, and as one of my previous blogs states, a possible mongoloid. Many people do not like Clinton, and that is their opinion. Screaming his name over and over again, does not make them agree with you.
The same person, we will call him Mr. Wheelbarrow for reasons only known to few. Although I think his wheelbarrow is fairly full of some fine gardening supplies, Mr. WB, told me that the reason the US dollar is down is because of the interest rates. They just need to lower them and voila! The dollar comes right back up. Now I think lower interest rates might help. There are certainly many more things at play here. Possibly, the world hates the US, there is a costly war in IRAQ, China is now a huge economic force, the housing market is over-valued etc...
Saying that the dollar will rise, if the interest rates go lower, is like saying we are short on water because the sun is too bright. A part of me, says, wow how do these screamers really feel about what they are saying.
It reminds me of a guy I used to share an apartment with, well there was three of us. Gregg, and I would be watching TV, and Slacker would come into the room. Yes Slacker, that was his nickname, and he was a real moron. Slacker would stand in front of the TV to get our attention and tell us a funny story. Well the story was never funny, but what he would do, is talk louder at the parts we were supposed to find funny. One day Gregg said, "Slacker, the less funny your story is, the louder you talk, have you ever noticed that?"
Slacker yelled, "No." And never told us another story.
Which reminds me I hate yelling comedians. HERE IS THE PUNCHLINE.....OR HERE...HEY I"M STILL YELLING> FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY>
I like to yell as much as the next guy, in fact sometimes even more. But there is a time for yelling and a time to just shut the fuck up.
Love G
Monday, June 9, 2008
Too much Brown can slow a man down!
I was watching TV the other night and I fell asleep. When I awoke there was this very professional looking infomercial playing. Two seemingly intelligent men bantering back and forth about how great it was to have a cleansed colon.
The guy who was most into it, looked like he had died, been sprayed with bronzing cream and was barely hanging on. The other guy really quizzed him about why the clean colon is so good.
I certainly don't remember all of it, in fact I remember very little, but two statements that the near dead guy made are forever emblazoned on my brain.
He said with much certainty, "Some very famous people had experienced great pain from having a large amount of feces backed up in their system."
He now had my attention, famous people with backed up dirtholes! Is there anything more exciting.
He proceeded to say, "Yes when John Wayne died he had 40 lbs of feces in his intestines, and remember Elvis Presley, well when they did his autopsy they found that he ad 60 lbs of feces backed up in his system."
That is a lot of feces. Is there any way this could be true. My weight pretty much stays the same, and I have been known to drop some monsters. Nothing like my Friend Len, who used to keep a set of shears next to the toilet so he could cut it in half on the way out. But some gargantuan droppings.
I have had days where I dropped many friends off at the pool, and never has my weight drastically changed. Possibly some people have found a way to drop a John Wayne off at the pool, and a few among us possibly cannonball an Elvis Presley. They might be able to jump higher than the rest of us with our impacted colons.
The website related to the show is: http://www.greenteaoffer.com/default.aspx. The man looks kind of like he might have been shit out of someone's ass after a very greasy breakfast. Like an old hairy sausage with eyes.
From the Throne of G SPot a brown out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
