Whoa, Hold on a Sec…..FREE CATHETERS?!?

So I was hefting a liter at the bocal lar…shocking, dear friends, I know…

The five flat screens perched perilously above blurted visual ephemera whilst AC/DC rocked the juke. When flat out of nowhere, I saw it there plainly on the screen:

CALL NOW FOR YOUR FREE CATHETER!

Artfully designed, medically necessary medical aid? Or sadistic sicknening schwanz reamer?

Artfully designed, medically necessary health aid? Or sadistic sicknening schwanz reamer?

Yes, dear friends, it said FREE CATHETER.  So many questions raced through my mind…

“You mean I’m not going to pay a dime, a penny or even a nickel to poke a GIANT needle up my tiny peehole with minimal training and virtually no instruction?”

No, fine sir, it’s free and easy to use.

“So I can just shove that sick ramrod unceremoniously right up into my vulnerable cockles and wiz?”

That’s what they’re there for.

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I Just Got My Personal Letter From Mitt Romney & Man, Am I Disappointed

I picked up the mail today and, what’s this, a personal letter from Republican presidential hopeful Mitt Romney?  I’m touched that a man of his pedigree would take time out of his busy day to write me.

So let’s have a look at this bad boy.

“Dear John,”

Okay, right there, off to a bad start.  There’s no ‘h,’ and I rarely shorten my name.  Really, I only allow it from close friends and family members. But this is Mitt Romney we’re talking about, so maybe I need to let this minor faux pas slide.  Moving on.

“I am running for President of the United States and because you are one of America’s most notable Republicans, I want to personally let you know why.” Continue reading

On the Pros & Cons of Knowing In Advance What Your Auto Glass Repairman Looks Like

As one of the millions of Americans ‘searching’ for work and finding the apparent pickings so slim as to even warrant a pick, I have, like my fellow millions, thus far failed to find much by way of constructive hobbies.  Of course I could lay down that six album rock opera I’ve always dreamed of recording, the one about the misunderstood teenage computer gamer who gets his revenge against some vague negative life influences; or I could finally take up woodcarving, exposing my lack of patience and artistic flair in equally quick and conclusive manner; or I could (continue) to amass the world’s (okay, local area’s) greatest collection of golden era pornography (early 2006 to mid-November 2008).  But none of these seemed anything less than a whole bunch of work.  So instead, like my millions, I decided to medicate my dying brain with a little TV. Continue reading

Political Miscourse

The Man’s been calling
Says he wants my vote
I got down to stalling
I wanted his throat

The Man says the solutions are simple
Raise, cut, redefine, redistribute
I suggested problems and a couple of wrinkles
Class warfare and war warfare & crony tributes

I wanted him gone but it got me to thinking
How far apart we were but how we’re both sinking
How we both thought we needed some major tinkering
And how the state of the world could drive a man to drinking Continue reading

Top Ten Sneaking Suspicions About The Tailgating Turd Of The North

WARNING: This post contains adult language and crude attempts at humor

I live on the northern fringe of a largish metropolitan area, just at the tipping point where urban civilization yields to rolling seas of forest and White people.  Lots of White people. And that’s okay—shoot, I’m one of ‘em—but when they buy comically large F-350s, festoon (I’m pretty sure they’d call it ‘makin’ her badass,’ but I like festoon) them with silly stickers, detailing, and adornments, and then drive them right up my asshole—well, that’s not okay.

Not TTN's actual "poon machine" but you get the point.

Today I found myself tooling along carelessly in my little toy Corolla when some asshat I now regard as the Tailgating Turd of the North (TTN) decided my bumper looked ripe for some good old-fashioned vehicular rape.  As his passive-aggressiveness morphed into pure rage, he got closer and closer, he and his shit-kickin’ buddy Cletus.  Now shame on me for trying to prove some kind of point by maintaining an even-keeled but still above-the-limit speed.  That was about the equivalent of trying to describe nuclear physics to a kitten or rocket scientry to George Bush.  But still…dude…f-off already. Continue reading

How to Tolerate & Maximize Shopping with Your Lady Partner

1)    Always check the sports listings before agreeing to anything.  When your team is on the tube, hold your ground.  When any other team is on, say “Well, honbuns, I was going to watch the big game, but what the heck.”  This earns critical bonus points.

This guy, what a douche bag. But a seemingly successful douche bag at that.

2)    Tell her that the most important thing is that she likes the new clothes she’s shopping for.  Let her pick out a hearty selection, hit the changing room, then plug in your earpiece and check the game.  Upon each exit, shrug the shoulders, pout a bit, and tell her alternately “hmm, I kind of like it,” “that one’s…interesting…” or even a gutsy “nope, not so much…” She’ll appreciate your ‘honesty’ on the way to buying whatever she wanted to buy anyway.  You can ‘appreciate’ it later the one time she wears it.

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Dear Mikeypoo2—I Hate to Tell You, but Cruising for Dudes on iPhone Scrabble Smacks of Total Desperation

The whole thing started off innocently enough.  I clicked the “Play Random Opponent” icon, and, enjoying the first turn, entered some awesome word.  I can’t recall exactly what it was—maybe “dariole” or “atelier”—you know, one of the obvious ones.  After picking up a quick 70, I took note the moniker of my new foe:  “Mikeypoo2.”  Instantly a feeling of unease overcame me. Continue reading