new orleans, kiss my shiny white hiney. i am appalled that after all the chaos, all the lost lives, the utter destruction of one of this country's most unique cities, you new orleans' voters gave the most votes to the most incompetent incumbent ever to run for any office.
now i know mister ray "chocolate" nagin scared ya'll by saying that voting in a new mayor this close to hurricane season was dangerous business, but holy smokes!! you bought that line of crap?
i move that we take action to completely cut off new orleans from ANY future federal aid if they so much as keep ray nagin on as janitor. surely nawlinites deserve the freedom all americans enjoy to elect their local leadership, but if they are trying to posture with this election than there should be massive consequence. talk about your hostile gestures, it seems similar enough to hamas leading palestine to little ole me. we should let you elect your own personal terrorist, but we should also put a tourniquet on that gushing limb formerly known as new orleans.
course nagin has not done this country the favor of exploding himself YET. however, metaphorically speaking, he certainly sucked all the compassion for katrina victims away from the gulf coast with each ridiculous media appearance. didn't he? am i alone here?
sorry to be such a cold calculating capitalist, but the rest of the country doesn't owe you shit. we who didn't live in new orleans could hardly comprehend the problems until they were at devastating proportions. it wasn't racism that caused all that suffering, it was your local government, first and foremost, that was supposed to be the frontline in protecting the local citizens.
we live in a representative democracy. if you choose to have imbeciles lead your local politics, be warned: you are digging your own watery grave. the stench of the backwash of that devastated city is still reeking in texas. can't ya'll smell it in the big easy?
i saw jesse jackson on fox news last night talking about the duke rape case and why he has offered to pay the stripper's tuition to get an education.
he actually said, "all we're saying is do not strip, scholarship"
i'm calling this the classic quote of the current civil rights movement. cheese and rice, let's reward sensationalist bullshit with 40 grand or more, great idea jesse.
you all get a stinking F for not playing with my musical meme in the post prior.
so all these people are anti dirty hippie and against going to the eeyore's festival in austin. i'm catching so much flack about it you'd think i was a freaking liberal or something. I'M NOT, dear ones. it's simply tough to find a place where 30 or so people can gather and not be crowded or in the way. plus it's technically a children's party, the hippies just crash the party every year.
zonker, bless his blown-eyed soul, said he was just worried about all the dirty hippies having a run in with the armed blodger contingent. a fair concern, i'd say. a lot of us drunken blodgers are uncomfortable with the mixture of liquor and sidearms.
so i said to him, "don't worry, that's when the shooting will occur." no sooner had the words left my mouth than i realized i had irreparably butchered another thought process. zonker was terrified.
i simply meant that eeyore's party and the firing range outing were scheduled at the same time. so the rootin tootin gun play blodgers would be there, while the goofy stumbling blown-eyeds would be safely singing kumbaya with the hippie dippies. problem solved, no?
but then over at leslie's i saw this:
Your Famous Last Words Will Be:
holy frijoles!! did i make a prophetic statement? am i going to get it at the blodgemeet? protect me, blown-eyeds, i am very ascared.
on the first day of the blodge meet
my lurker gave to me,
knowing zonker has not only improved my life, i'm certain it's going to fatten my wallet. the man is an entrepeneur, people.
last night we were discussing our new puppy, ranger. ranger is a golden retriever and an absolutely perfect pup. he's cute, he's small, he's a lovebug to pet and play with.
now the downside is, he's not our dog. my uncle's dog had babies, so ranger is one of eight. we thought we were doing my uncle a favor by driving him to his owner who lives in our neck of the woods, but along the way we fell in love. the owner is due to collect ranger on friday.
so i'm telling zonker how idyllic this situation has been. the boys had a premium puppy in the prime of his life, and now he's going back. no shots, no baths, no responsibility outside keeping the puppy alive til friday. what a life! zonker, who's honing his entrepeneurial skills, thought i should start a business brokering puppies to families like mine.
EUREKA, buddy!! i think i smell my fortune. net puppies, like net flicks, what an idea!! borrow one for a while, and when he starts stinking just put em in the postage paid box and ship em off! voila! your next favorite breed should arrive in a couple of weeks.
major pros and cons with this deal. on the positive side, no more death for dogs, no putting them to sleep. families will simply "upgrade" the older pups and little johnny will be none the wiser.
of course on the downside, we will be creating a population of dogs who feel entitled to a vacation lifestyle. can you imagine the doggy long term care facilities that will be needed to care for the older ones once their puppy cuteness wears off? ah well, drawbacks are a natural part of any business plan. we will cross that bridge when we come to it.
and hey if it works, i'm thinking baby broking is not out of the realm of possibility. humans are often cute when they are little as well. so place your orders, peeps, and don't tarry. there are 5 perfect golden retriever pups needing a good home, let me send you one today!!
puppylender.com, creating solutions for a growing indifference in our population.
hey, how bout a tagline contest?? i like, "puppylenders.com, puppies in the prime of their lives, for the lull in yours." anybody that can top that??
well, i can't leave town on a sour note. i'd like to, but leaving my blog under the funk of small penis issues just seems wrong.
i submit a story for your reading pleasure, authored by true:
The Unforgettable Cowboy
Once there was a cowboy. His heart was as tough as cactus. Once he went on a big adventure. He found a mustang that was just for him. He rode on it like fire. They caught some crooks with guns. They brought those crooks to the police men. The crooks turned out in jail. The cowboy's name was a mystery.
i love that boy. the unforgettable cowboy, well no one knew his name. and i dig the spurs.
Happy Easter ya'll, and happy trails if you're hitting the road like us.
work is an honest to goodness bitch right now.
april 17th deadline breathing down our necks, at least there's good friday between now and then. amazing that the crucifixion of christ and the annual economic crucifixion of the taxpayer would come some close this year. destiny or mere happenstance? i know not.
but i think denny said it best "CHRIST!! the economic ignorance in this country is appalling." it certainly is, mon frer. the reason i'm so busy this time of the year is because it is the only time a huge percentage of the population looks at the bottom line. we just began a period of time wherein americans have a negative savings rate. shame on us. we suck dinosaur eggs.
back to work being a bitch. remember my post about kryptic kumhos? well, i've been inundated with dumbfuck men lately~men that exhibit the same defensive bitchy mechanisms that i described women having in an auto shop in that post. thurston howell the third types who want to go on and on about how much they know about money. i find myself offering advice and being smacked with, "i know, this ain't my first rodeo," or "this isn't my first time around the block." over and over, it's like a disease. i love analogies as much as the next guy, but you can keep your age old cliches, i've heard them all.
tell ya what. this ain't my fucking first rodeo either. you can take the arrogant pompous stereotypical man out of the investment office, but you may not be able to take the pompous arrogance out of the man. jeez, you testosterone junky, it's not like YOU are the first freaking full-of-himself MAN i've ever encountered before either. i understand your deep-seated need to compensate for whatever personal issues you have, but that isn't my job. you pay me to talk about money, so leave your tiny penis issues at the door.
thanks, the management
the setting is cracker barrel, sunday evening...packed to the hilt with little old ladies.
waitress bending over to fill alleycat's water, "Let me fill up your drink, there, darlin."
me (red and paralyzed with discomfort)
waitress, "excuse me?"
alleycat, "BOW-CHICKA-BOW-WOW," in a more twangy guitar tone.
trueblue, "our mom HATES it when we sing that"
waitress (staring directly into my eyeballs) "well, uh, i guess so"
ugh, "bow-chicka-bow-wow" was the opening line to an article about love accidently read aloud within earshod of the boys months ago. like anything, seemingly harmless at the time, it caught on like wildfire and now i am repeatedly being serenaded porn music by my two very young boys.
bless me for i'm not the preverted white trash that i do appear to be. i know how it looks, but the boys know not what they sing. forgive us all. and be careful what you say in front of kids, except my kids. anything would beat them singing this. hug your gardener today! BOW-CHICKA-BOW-WOW!
that's the story of my life lately, very windy. i'm reclaiming the title as i left it as a comment somewhere, perhaps here? i don't remember. but even before i left it, i had stolen it from here where i found my daily chinese proverb. thanks, confabulator!
anyhow, wind. lot's of wind lately. pretty much on all sides. got the quagmire at work thing going on STILL, the ex has become super dad since he almost killed my baby two weeks ago, and then i broke my pinky toe literally in the process of going running. oweeeeee. it looks like a black vienna sausage stapled to the side of my foot, very unnatural. very unfeminine. very painful. LOOK AT MY GIANT PURPLE TOE it seems to scream as it fights the uniform of my way of life. you ain't no cavegirl, shoe, squeeze in those heels.
afterall, it's no time to frump. irs d-day is on the horizon and then work will slow down to a manageable pace. right now, it's all just wind. a whirlwind, to be sure.
i'm ready for the waves. i'm ready for the sand and the surf and no more thinking about all this. the money and the taxes and the fruitcake lady and the freaking never ending fiasco and Lord Dumbass the disney dad...
see you at the end of april. wish you were there.