Gonorrhea is nothing to clap about.
A Public Service Announcement by: Everyone is Entitled To My Opinion
Claptrap
September 2nd, 2010And They Don’t Expect Tips!
September 2nd, 2010
Why would anyone want strippers as a desktop or a screen saver? They’re only slightly more real than they are on stage. (“Oh God – being suspended like this on a cold, brass pole is really turning me on!”)
Roy – God Wants To Talk To You
September 2nd, 2010
Roy Sullivan showing the hat he wore one time when he was struck by lightning. Yep – that’s a big old hole in the middle of it. Roy thought it was his lucky hat. Roy thought a lot of strange things.
One of the occupational hazards of being a US Forest Ranger is lightning. Sometimes a bolt will strike a tall tree and rarely (RARELY) it will strike a person in the woods.
Roy C. Sullivan was an exception. Roy was a US Forest Ranger in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia and got struck by lightning – SEVEN TIMES!
The first time was in 1942 when Roy was in a fire lookout tower. LOOK OUT! (Damn!) The 2nd didn’t hit him until 1969 when he was in his truck. The third? The very next year in his front yard. Number four got him in the ranger tower again, 1972.
When did Roy decide this was no big deal? Did one of his kids ever yell, “Ma! Pop got hit by lightning again.”
“Don’t worry kids – he’ll get up soon. And dammit, Little Roy, stop pressing that light bulb on him. You know that doesn’t work!”
Bolt #5 with Roy’s name on it got him in his car in 1973 with #6 only a year later when he was at a campground. In 1977, Roy decided to chuck it all and went fishing. You guessed it. The 7th and final Roy C. Sullivan Lightning Bolt hit him with his line in the water. He survived.
Sometime between bolts three and five, Roy Sullivan got religion. I guess the man decided God was trying to tell him something. But first, God had to get his attention.
Soap is Cheap and Manners are Free
September 1st, 2010
My Grandma always believed – and taught my Mom – poor people were as good as rich people as long as they were clean and had manners. She always said, “Soap is cheap and manners are free. If you’ve got those things, you can walk with anyone.”
We hated that as kids. We were the only kids we knew who were expected to be at the dinner table at 5:00 pm sharp, hands washed with a conversation topic to discuss. We sat there and didn’t begin passing food until Grace was said. An elbow on the table was cured by a stern look from my Father and chewing with your mouth open produced a quizzical look from my Mom questioning how did you ever get to eat dinner with this family anyway? We never even thought about leaving the table until we were excused.
Fast forward – 1972. Because of some college speaking championships, I was taken to lunch at the world famous Sardi’s in Manhattan by a CBS Vice-President. I was 22-years old. After we were led to our reserved table, I looked down at my place setting. There were two damn forks on the left, an exotically rolled napkin in the middle, and two spoons and a knife on the right. My butter knife was resting comfortably on my bread plate.
I looked down and smiled. “Thank you, Nanny,” I said to myself as I sat down and nonchalantly placed the napkin on my lap. I earnestly looked at the Vice President and asked if he came there often.
A 3 Tone Nail Job
August 31st, 2010
With 3 Packs You Get An Eggroll
August 31st, 2010
New York’s astronomical taxes on cigarettes and attempts to make Indian reservations pay sales tax is having a strange effect on the market. A pack of legal, name-brand smokes in our state costs about $10. That’s roughly $4 for the product plus $6 in various taxes.
Supposedly this is to force you to quit smoking but New York State really doesn’t care about your health – they just want added tax revenue. And now the state is trying to discourage tax-free, cigarette sales on Indian reservations where the average price is a few bucks less per pack.
So what can poor smokers do? More and more of them are buying cigarettes – like Marlboro and Newport – from street vendors for about $5 a pack. On a recent 10-minute walk down a main Rochester street, I was approached by TWO furtive vendors whispering “Newports? Marlboro?” I don’t smoke cigarettes but I asked one if he had any weed (pot)? He gave me a disgusted look and quickly walked away. Obviously I was lower on the low-life scale than he.
These street cigarettes used to be smuggled by the truck full into New York from legitimate tobacco warehouses in the South. But today, with increased demand because of the ridiculous taxes, there are now huge shipments of COUNTERFEIT cigarettes coming from China! They look just like the real thing. Taste? Who knows? And if an extra yak hair or two is in the mix, what’s the FDA going to say anyway?
How can you tell if you get counterfeit smokes? Well if there’s a small fortune cookie in the bottom of the pack, chances are the R.J. Reynolds company didn’t make it.
Our Glorious Victory in Iraq
August 30th, 2010
(Oops! Wrong picture. DAMN! Folks, please pay no attention to the above picture and the men behind the curtain).
Uh, tomorrow is the official end of the US’s combat role in Iraq. We won! we’ve toppled that horrible despot, Saddam Hussein, set up a stable government in the country – and Iranians are now free. We eliminated all the weapons of mass destruction, sectarian violence has ceased, and Osama Bin Laden is now very close to being captured. Right.
Please let us explain the picture above. It was taken on December 20, 1983. The gentleman on the left is Donald Rumsfeld shaking hands with you know who. Rumsfeld was a special envoy for President Ronald Reagan in those days. Later he became Secretary of Defense under both Presidents Gerald Ford and George W. Bush.
In 1984, the United States supplied Iraq with helicopters and other “dual use” equipment and materials including chemical weapons. (“I KNOW he has chemical weapons – I have the receipts right here!”). We also provided intelligence and satellite data to assist Iraq’s bombing of Iran. Besides all the Iranians he killed, Suddam also killed over 500,000 of his own people.
You see, Saddam was our friend in those days – but then he became our evil enemy (although he had nothing to do with 911). Something like that. Sorry – I’d explain but Americans are too dumb to understand Mideast foreign policy. The Big O will explain it to you tomorrow.
No matter, just remember: these wars (Iraq and Afghanistan) have NO connection to the profits of the military-industrial complex (Eisenhower must have been senile) nor America’s arrogant, 1950’s self-image drowning in a puddle of cheap 21st century reality. And, at only $1-Trillion Dollars, they were quite a steal for the American taxpayer.
He Fixed Her Flat
August 30th, 2010
“Sure I’ll Take You Kids to Disneyland…heh, heh.”
August 30th, 2010
Nobody Watches Ronald Pee
August 28th, 2010
I discovered a lot about perception, reality, and life on a beautiful May afternoon in Hudson, New York. It was my first job as an Account Executive for an Upstate New York McDonalds’ advertising agency. I was 23. One of my duties was to manage Ronald McDonald appearances.
Now here’s a big secret up front. There’s more than one Ronald McDonald; actually, there are many Ronalds. Regional “Ronalds” looked alike, had various “talents” – like juggling Big Mac boxes - and their own unique personalities.
“My” Ronald was an old magician who was cranky and didn’t like kids very much. But for some odd reason, he liked me – and I liked him. And I loved the fact Ronald McDonald appearances were so bizarre, they were like LSD trips without drugs. Ronald was the world’s most famous clown – with a lousy attitude.
On that first appearance, I drove Ronald in full costume to McDonalds with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. When we arrived, he told me to pull up to the side entrance and guard the bathroom.
Seeing my puzzled look, he said, “Look, you go in first , clear everyone out, then go outside and guard the door. Shit, kids can’t see Ronald taking a leak!”
That made sense, so I did as I was told. Soon I saw two junior high punks walking towards me. The larger delinquent spoke first.
“We gotta use the bathroom.”
“You can’t use the bathroom right now. Ronald McDonald is using it,” I said with a straight face.
The punks looked at each other and burst out laughing. They obviously weren’t there for the appearance.
“Ronald McDonald is really in there pissing?” one sarcastically asked.
“Hey guys,” I said, “I don’t know what he’s doing in there. But you can’t go in until he comes out.” Of course this produced more loud laughter.
Suddenly the men’s room door burst open and there stood “Ronald” immediately taking in the situation. He put his hands on his hips.
“Oooh Ronald,”one laughed, “why can’t we see you pee?”
And then in a voice cracked by more than 60-years of cigarettes and alcohol, my Ronald growled, “Because, you little bastards, I’ve got a schlong that’s this long (here he put his hands about a foot apart) and it would just scare the shit out of ya!” With that he turned and started clumping towards the McDonald’s entrance in his size 22 clown shoes.
The punks and I stared at each other in silence. After a second or two, I rushed to catch up to the world’s most famous clown.