February 28, 2012
February 27, 2012
Seldom do I hold a President accountable for a campaign promise, simply because, “they promise you what it is that you want to hear, and they never fulfill the promise or provide the answer or the solution in the end.” In other words, “a politician will say anything” in order to get elected.
Our President promised for example “to bring the troops home.”
And he now considers that policy in place and happening. At first glance it would appear he is doing just that, but it is smoke and mirrors. Mr. Obama is reducing the size of the army in Afghanistan down from 100,000 to 30,000. That is not bringing them home, that is still leaving a sizable portion of them there to bolster the Afghan Army which is a joke, a rag-tag assemble of soldiers, who had some 24,000 deserters just last year.
Recently I talked to a vet who had been there, he said the country was a rat hole, a sewer, a festering pockmark on the face of humanity. It all started under Bush as a narrow, modest war of necessity. Most of the goals of that administration were accomplished quickly. Then as it is with all American Wars, it was expanded.
We set out with determined measure to transform this tribal nation into a stable democracy. Ten years later, the goal remains out of our grasp, despite the loss of 1,800 American lives and a cost of over $400 billion dollars. Now ask yourself this question, “What would $400 billion dollars buy in the way of computers for kids, how far would it go towards a poverty program for those who are hungry? In what way could this money have been spent better for a cause that was worthy?” We spend all of our money building roads and bridges in countries that most people ride a donkey to town.
The democracy aspect of all this is just about as ludicrous.
Afghanistan is arguably the most primitive nation on earth with rampant malnutrition, widespread illiteracy, and a 15th century standard of living. The government of President Hamid Karzai is totally corrupt, and is despised by the ordinary Afghans. Their army is a shamble and certainly no match for the Taliban just next door in Pakistan.
Everything that has been accomplished in this country in the past ten years, is certainly very fragile and reversible. If our President pushes ahead with his plan to withdraw U.S. troops by 2014, the Taliban will pour back into Afghanistan from their sanctuaries in Pakistan. The country will once again become a terrorist haven, with disastrous consequences for the United States and for world security.
The Russians found this to be true in their brief history with the country and we are soon to find out the same end result. After ten years of being mired in this cesspool we face the very same depressing out look.
We will in the end, give it all back. Only one question remains.
At what cost?
February 25, 2012
Here we go again, another week of why I hate the world, eleven hundred twenty-three words on why can’t I have it MY way even tho’ there is a Burger King right down the street. Another installment in the Creative Endeavors Get It Right America Series, soon to be a ABC Mini-Reality Adventure this November, check your local listings.
What is the deal?
Everyone in this country, seemingly overnight, is now a “Special Interest”group?
Whatever happened to the things we were taught at an early age … Do onto others … Live and Let Live … Walk a Mile in my shoes? When did we become a nation of labelers, enablers, whiners, complainers … A nation of what is in this for me and screw everyone else?
What is all this crap about the Gay Agenda, I am personally getting a little sick of it.
If homosexuals/Lesbians/Gay … Whatever they are calling themselves this week, want to get married.
Like the bible says, “Go forth, multiply and produce good fruit.” Well, they might move forward, but they sure aint gonna multiply or produce any fruit. If they were allowed to marry and all that, well, it seems to me that within 50 years, there would not be a lot of them around (do the math – Think about it).
All these Special People want the same rights as everyone else? Well hell, welcome to the club, I suppose I have another block of un-used time, maybe five minutes I can give you … What makes you feel so unloved and neglected?
Newsflash! I want the same health care as everyone in Congress , I want the same tax breaks that are afforded to the rich, I want the same treatment and fairness in the court system that the crooks seem to get and I am denied. Drop the Lone Ranger Syndrome, you are not the only game in town. And believe it or not, I am not alone in my thinking.
There seems to be no end to it, television, news media, it is slowly slinking into every nook and cranny of our lives. Now I read we have a judge who is refusing to marry “Straight Couples?”
I mean, I hate to sound redundant here but give me a break. It is time to UN-elect another stupid “I will rule my opinion and NOT the law” judge in Texas. We have lawmakers who are refusing to sign bills for the Girl Scouts of America because he says they “promote homosexuality?”
Open your eyes, look around. Consider what you have learned in just a few short paragraphs in this limited space in time:
Your straight friends are not going to be able to marry, thus no new children will be legally introduced into the system and now you will have no one to fund your retirement dreams. Which is really kind of moot issue anyway, as your electorate is busy at work right now, doing their best to water it down or just flat out abolish it as we speak.
You are not going to be able to get your hair cut any longer by gay barbers, soon you will resemble Howard Hughes in his last days on the flight back from Panama (and remember, gay people, they do finger nails too). Being as I am follically (sp) impaired, this isn’t a big deal for me, I don’t know what the rest of you are going to do?
On top of this, we have G.I.’s reportedly burning the Quran instead of barbecuing the Taliban. Our blessed president, prophet, overseer, or not so quite revered King, Mr. Obama, is now apologizing for offending their culture?
Man, you are right Mr. President, this is serious, you think the price of gasoline is bad and it is a problem. Adam & Steve cannot get married. You will no longer be able to get a box of Pecan Sandies and a smile? What will happen when all the Seven Eleven clerks hear of this travesty of their culture and decide to go home. Where will I get my $6 pack of Marlboro’s — Big Gulp — or my twinkies?
Wake up America.
Stop apologizing and posturing on agenda’s that are not all that important.
It is time to come together on a lot of this and recognize and label our main enemy.
Which seems to be everyone but us.
It is time to get ugly when you vote, send a lot of these bozo’s home, gay or straight, makes no difference, in the end, the results will always be the same. I never thought I would live long enough to actually feel ashamed I was an American, but each day it becomes a little bit more of a reality. More so now, than just an occasional thought. Here is the bottom line: United we stand … Divided we fall. Stop apologizing to everyone else and lying to us.
Now this morning I am watching Wake Up America on CBS and all the political wanna-be-door-stops that can talk are on there telling me what it is that I need to do, in order to make all of this work. All I have to do is turn to religion, I will soon be able to come to terms with the whole thing.
It so simple a back-alley sandal maker in Dearborn Mich. could see it. If I convert to Islam, and my wife hacks me off, we can take care of it poste haste. (Don’t worry Newt, we’re stoning her in the morning!) On top of all this … The Red Cross just called me on my cellphone and asked if I could contribute towards the floods in Pakistan. I said I’d love to, but our garden hose only reaches to the driveway.
There you go, something else all you Washington political gasbags can apologize for.
Now I am headed out to find me a non-gay-I don’t want to marry my buddy-barbershop to get my eyebrows trimmed. I sure hope and pray I don’t get stopped and have to appear in court somewhere … I will be a goner for sure.
you have had your fifteen minutes of fame,
now it is time for you to shut up.
(Comments section as usual is open, have at it)
“Never forget the hand that helps you up … Or the boot that shows you to the door.”
Get It Right America — Something Is Not Right
February 23, 2012
Carrie Underwood is playing on my radio this morning, “Your Sexy Eyes” and my mind is wandering. Carrie Underwood, an Oklahoma girl by the way, is yummy. I look upon her and I see Margo, but there will be more of that later, I digress. Today’s offering is a little long in the tooth, but I am sure you will find it engaging or at least I hope you do.
Occasionally, in the early morning shank of the day, I will allow my mind to drift off to more favorable times in my life. A period of my life for the most part (as I remember it) was carefree and pleasurable. (Taking into consideration that the mind will trick you, those old days, that we perceive now, that were so good, weren’t actually all that great)
A time now long gone but fondly remembered.
Checking most of my cares and concerns at the door, I sometimes allow a part of me to run casually thru the start of my day and a good warm cup of coffee. At times I will make a trip thru the Rockies on my old Harley, the wind in my face, and the pipes wracking off the walls of the deep cuts in the rock alongside the highway. I will sit on a mountain pass in Wyoming and watch a UP Coal Train or Freight wind down thru the valley on its way to Nebraska.
From time to time I will think of that girl. There is always that one girl in every-man’s life.
For most intents and purposes, I am the hopeless romantic, a dreamer of unprecedented scope and depth. Sometimes a little bit socially dysfunctional. But being blessed at an early age with an overactive imagination, has also proven to been helpful. I am quite adept at remembering those times when everything seemed so bountiful and it was there for the taking. The days where the fruit of life, was ripe and ready, within my reach on the first limbs of the tree.
On some mornings I can swing the pendulum of my emotions in either direction. This morning it is romance. Those times when your heart leaned towards issues of affection instead of conservative worry and concern for the upside down stress filled world we all live in.
Thinking of those mornings when you looked at Margo with a longing in your heart, even though you knew that she was poisoned fruit on the tree. Margo was the girl at the operations desk, a treat I often yearned for, but often I thought clearly was out of my reach. Margo was a prize, she was in all respects, worthy of attention.
When you looked at her and your heart seemed to stop as if for a brief moment in time or actually skipped a beat. Which today, much later in time would be of great concern to many of us. Remembering that period that was a little of the good and a little of the bad. Working day in and out, to make a living and not seeing much of a rainbow at the end.
That is about the way it was.
Each day, after receiving our assignments, we would trot out the door and go about our day. We had to walk by Margo on the way out, she would be sitting there at the operations desk, all prim and proper, looking as if she were a fresh picked hot-house flower. On some mornings, the fragrance that was her, would permeate the room, a refreshing pleasant change of pace.
She would sit there at the operations desk, in just a plain chiffon sort of summer dress, no bra, her nipples straining against the sheer fabric. Occasionally, now and then, a loose buttoned shirt and some well worn Levi’s. Hand picked (all by design) I am sure, to drive a man crazy or slowly out of his mind.
Looking back on it, in a way it was kind of comical in some respects.
Watching each working hand approach the desk, some nodding their head on the way out in recognition of her presence. From time to time a few, here and there, would stop to linger and “work their magic on her” try their line, put their hook in the water.
Married or single, it made no difference, the male of the species much like a honey worker bee, would hover around her desk and she would hold court. I often wondered if she appreciated or scorned the unwanted advances, and I guess I will never know?
So each day, she would watch, listen and observe the practice or ritual. In a way a for the most part, losing proposition for the average working hand. Giving it their best, their all … Only to find that all they got in the end, was a nod of her head, or a gentle sort of smile or giggle and not much more than that.
In those days, now long past, and a long way down the proverbial path, I have to admit, “I did not have much of a line for Margo.” Just was not all that smooth, a player as the younger generation would describe it, was not to be found in my make up in any shape form or manner. The best I could muster up as I remember was “How you doin?” and a brief smile.
Pretty lame, certainly not sexy.
On some days, I would stop and watch the testosterone circus unfold, and I would arrange my orders over at the small desk in the corner, sip on a small white styrofoam cup of coffee, stirred with a plastic spoon and loaded with way too much sugar. And Margo would catch me, snatching a quick glance her way, checking her out and she would smile. Those were the times when I would think about some day, maybe, just maybe, she would lean over, give me a brief peek down her loosely buttoned blouse and then gently place one a salty kiss on my lips.
(Yeah I know, kind of sad, but please remember this is MY story)
Then one day, for no apparent reason that I can now remember, I found myself standing at the order desk, end of the day, arranging my orders and fixing to turn in the paperwork and preparing to call it quits. Quite by surprise, all of a sudden, really don’t know how it transpired or came into being, I found myself in a position to make a move.
Now please remember Dear Reader, “I don’t have a LOT of moves” maybe one or two, and they are rusty and archaic by today’s standards.
Strangely I found myself diving in, like a monkey with a football, I was clumsily working MY magic on her. Taking in the expanse of her big green eyes and leaning over a little bit, hoping to catch her scent. I found myself fishing in unfamiliar waters. So mustering up a little courage from somewhere deep inside, I said, “You hungry girl?” At the same time thinking to myself “she is way out of your league chump, she won’t give you the time of day.”
And low and behold, she smiled back and said, “Why? What do you have in mind?”
This is the part we were talking about, the part where you feel your heart skip a little bit, you feel your knees weaken, all of a sudden, it is a lot hotter in the room. The door to her world opens just a little bit, so I take the shot. “Oh, I was just thinking. Maybe the Steakhouse, baked potato, glass of wine, a little conversation?” which I was hoping would sound interesting and still non-threatening.
She mulls it over in her mind a little bit and then says, “No strings, just dinner and some talk?” and I nod my head and say, “Sure.” She replies, “How about 4:30PM-5:00PM, that okay with you?”
“Sure” and we quickly iron out the details. I beat a quick retreat to my digs, a ratty little apartment some two miles away as the crow flies, jump in the shower, do my thing … y’know, wash the stinky parts, throw on some foo-foo water, fresh shirt and head on down to the restaurant.
Dinner was nice, nothing extraordinary or rare, just a good sumptuous meal, Rib-Eye, glass of red wine and some talk. Afterwards, I inquire as to desert, would she like some? Which she graciously declines. Paying the tab and dropping the tip on the table I escort her out of the restaurant. In the dim light of the day, sunset, I walk her to her car, squeeze her hand and say, “That was nice. Let’s do it again.”
Opening the car door, I smile and bid her good-night.
A few weeks pass, another page on the calendar falls. Back to work, she is there as always, I smile, she nods her head, out the door and it is time to make a living. This goes on for a week or two, the routine of the morning, the ritual, the process with which we all have to endure, in order to make our mark in this world.
Then one afternoon, I am walking by her desk, end of the day.
She calls out my name, “Hey Don, what are you up to?” and I reply, “Paying the rent girl, paying the rent.” She laughs and then throws her head back and allows her hair do that thing that she makes it do. I think to myself …. “That is nice.”
Then she smiles and starts to work HER magic on ME. “You hungry sport?” and I say, “You bet, same thing, same place, as before?” She nods her head in agreement. I start to walk away and I again hear the soft voice call out my name, “Hey Don?” Slowly turning around I turn back and look at her.
She leans over the counter, her beauty and scent fill my universe, ever so slowly she checks the room, insuring that it is just the two of us, and then she says …. “This time, after dinner … if you want to … We can go somewhere private like the Ramada on the South-side and I will be your desert.” That day, my eyes were opened a little bit and in the gentle haze I found: “Life is often good and you don’t need a lot of moves to make it all work.”
Have a great weekend, find that special someone in your life and show them your magic.
The dog got me up again last night. You see, I live in the country, and in the country especially during the night time hours, we have different critters roaming about. There is a large population of coyotes in our area, and they going about howling and making all kinds of noises late at night and often until the wee hours of the morning.
Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho … hour after hour …. Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho (Why don’t you go chase a rabbit!)Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho-barkie-barkie (Well yo mama was Lassie!)
They will bay loudly at the moon and then go “Howwwwwwwie … which in coyote language means … All Dogs suck!” And then you have on the other hand, a similar population of non-roving dogs who respond with ….. Ooooooooooooooooo-Ahrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooo-Howwwwwwwwwie … which in dog language means …. Coyote’s are stupid and they suck!”
Bark-bark.ARRRWHoooooooooooo ….. (why don’t you get a real job, like fetching your masters’ paper!) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho (It’s cold out here, when is it gonna be summertime?) …
Hour after hour … back n forth.
In the meantime, I walk around the house, like some kind of underworld sleep deprived zombie, bouncing off walls and mumbling incoherently about …. where is my shotgun? Asking myself … Why are all these people posting pictures of their cats with bread on their head? Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho (Why don’t you find a sick cow and sit underneath it) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho-barkie-barkie (You are so stupid you would eat cat food!)
I suppose the coyotes just like rubbing it in, they get to come and go as they please, but the dogs, they are tied to their dog houses and the little kibble-N-bits dishes and water-bowls. All dressed out in their flea and tick collars and shiny ID tags around their necks. Dogs who sit in a pile of old rubber chew toys, with the squeakers removed, are far more secure and do not howl all that much. It is these lousy flea-bags who lie around all day long sleeping, giving all the rest of the respectable house-dogs a bad name.
So each night, I am not all that sure, which side starts it first, the symphony of the prairie begins anew. Around the time the local news ends, our sonata of the plains’ country begins, usually around 10:30PM or about the time non-roving country living humans go to bed.
Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho … (Why don’t you go dig up a bone!) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho (Why don’t you go coon a creek!) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho-barkie-barkie (Well you would even fetch a green ribbon at a decent dog show!)
The bright-yellow Harvest moon breaks the eastern horizon, and quickly heads for the night time zenith in the sky ….
Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho … (Why don’t you go chase a car!) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooobie-who (A much younger bark I note and it sez … What is a car?)
And my all time favorite, Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho … (Why don’t you go chase the mailman!) Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho (Yo are so stoooopid you cannot catch a Road Runner.)
So much for moving from the city to enjoy the peace and quiet of country living. Now if you watched the video provided and heard the painful mornful sound, you can possibly relate to a similar experience in your life.
Now go back up, to the video, replay it … Listen carefully to the intense mournful sound of the wolf and close your eyes and think back, see if you can realte to the sound that feeling …. move slowly backwards in time, ah, there it is, April 15th last year ….. Ahroooooooooooo, bark-bark, Aroooooooooowho
(And yes, Jon, you are right, I need to get out more)
February 22, 2012
In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
“Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.”
The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: “Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.” So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell…
The devil smiles at him and says, “Yesterday we were campaigning,
Today, you voted..”
I started out to write about “being happy” and where it is that one would want to live, to be truly content in this world? Not an easy subject by any means. All my good intentions on this subject seemingly have evaporated into thin air, and I again find myself regrouping and asking myself the same old question. “Is it me or has this world we live in, gone totally ##@#$!#F** insane?” This having to prove you are a solid citizen crap before you can get something, hell anything done, is getting pretty old.
Just yesterday, I thought I was happy, having recently been sick and recovering somewhat, I ventured out to get a prescription refilled. It was good to be on the move for a change, it was good to get out and about the masses, it was time to refill my prescription.
It was sort of like that old song, “I fought the law, and The Law won.” Remember that one? So here is the background, to get everyone on the same page, to set our sail and to chart our course … get us up to speed. I get sick. I go to the doctor and I tell him I am sick, he prescribes for me medicines that I take home and use. The doctor, who is not currently living inside my pain-filled body and does not know how I am responding to the virus that has me down, makes an educated guess on just how much medicine and what type of treatment, that I need to use, in order to combat this enemy of my good health.
I understand that.
At home however, it is apparent to me, sitting on the throne pushing it out one end, and bringing it up and depositing it in to hand held trash can on the other end, that is is clearly not working. (Yeah I know TMI = Too Much Information) It seems to me that the dosage (one teaspoon per day, is NOT going to cut it) and is far too low, so being as I am my best health care advocate in the end, I increase this to “two doses” per day which seems to work.
This apparently, was my first mistake. I do not call the doctor, I just try and take care of business. Everything seems to be working just swell and my situation improves. Increasing the dosage works for me, it does however I discover later on, does not work for the law.
Here lies the problem.
The prescription runs out, prematurely because I have “increased the dosage” and unknown to me, it presents a new hurdle to my recovery efforts and my journey back to healthy living. I go to refill it and they will not do this, even tho’ the label clearly states “one refill.”
Somewhat irritated (which isn’t anything new when you are sick), I ask the pharmacist bluntly, “What is the problem?” The druggist says to me “that he is required by law to call it in” and after calling it in, that it cannot be refilled because it was written as a 20 day prescription” (at the very best I have to wait until the 28th of the month according to the law) and being that I am early on this, he cannot refill it.
Which to me just doesn’t make sense, and I will try and tell you why.
#1: The doctor writes his “best guess” on the dosage and the prescription.
#2 As long as you can prove that you are this person (on the prescription) and it says one refill … then damn the time limit, damn the law, refill the damn thing. The last thing a sick person needs, when they are genuinely sick, is a quick case study on pharmaceutical law.
#3 The name of the game is getting better it is not playing games with “the law.”
It makes no difference to me what the law says, “I have fulfilled the requirements of the law. I presented a valid prescription, I had proof of who I was, the doctor agreed that it was written on his pad. He noted that it could be refilled one time (nothing about time limits on the label by the way) in my way of thinking, this is no big deal.” In other words, “it appeared to me a do-able no big thing type of endeavor.”
The LAW says it cannot be done, so therefore, even tho every requirement is there (which to me is the frustrating part of all this) it cannot be refilled. The only thing that I did not have was the patience to deal with this apparent ignorance. I mean, smack my butt and call me Judy, I see NO CRIME being committed here anywhere. Why do we give all this power to people to deal with us on simple matters which seem to be impossible to solve in the end?
Pretty simple, because it is the LAW.
It doesn’t have to make sense, it doesn’t have to have a valid reason, it just has to be complied with … Why? Because somehow, someway, we now live in a nation of laws, not common sense, we are told what to do, when to do it, why we can, why we cannot … and I suppose like lot of other Americans, I am getting tired of it.
I see laws in this country each and every day circumvented by the rich or the quick on their feet crowd, they do it all the time. Often with impunity and careless disregard for anyone and everyone who instituted them in the first place. But as a citizen I am often required to “toe the line, cross every T and dot every I” when it comes to the law.
And frankly … I am just tiring of all this BS (Bad Situations) being thrust on me to deal with.
So here is the take away, “if you have a bad experience with your doctor or health care provider, you have an option of changing that” which is good. (For the record: I am satisfied with my doctor, he is great guy, does a swell job, and I appreciate him most assuredly) Now as for my government? Unfortunately, I am stuck with that, if it runs amuck (somewhat akin to a chicken with its head cut off), sadly there isn’t much you can do for that. Voting in new representation only creates MORE of them. I don’t need MORE government, MORE LAW, I just need these moron’s that write it … to leave me alone.
When I need Sudafed for a stopped up Sinus issue, don’t lecture me on Tweakers and Methamphetamine’s, give me what I need. I am not hoping to score sixty packs of sinus relief or 400 Coffee Filters, I am looking for help. Run that header on the front page of your rag.
As for the happiest place in the world to live? “I don’t have clue, but I can tell you this, today it is NOT in El Reno, Oklahoma … It aint even in the top five.”
February 21, 2012
Six year old Lucy Magnum emerged from a terrible shark attack with a message of grace. The little girl was boogie-boarding in shallow water off the North Carolina coast when a shark sank its teeth in her leg. Her parents quickly applied pressure to the wound until emergency workers arrived, saving her leg.
After the incident she said “I hate sharks. I like dolphins way better.”
But once her parents explained to her that the shark didn’t know that she was a human and had made a mistake, she changed her mind. “I don’t care that the shark bit me” Lucy said to her mother, “I forgive him.” We can always learn something new from a kid.
Ah the joys of youth. I remember when I used to swim before wet suits, across frozen water, I had to wrap or cover myself with bacon grease, which was really scary, because I never knew if when I did reach the other shore, if there would be wolves waiting there for me.
By the way, “Do you know why a shark will not bite a Lawyer or Politician?”
A new gold standard, after a Taiwanese city offered dog owners who clean up after their pets a new incentive … a ticket to a lottery drawing for every bag of dog poop they turned in. The top three prizes are gold ingots worth up to $2,100.
Which got me to thinking. How about a National Debt Free Lottery?
Here is the deal, you purchase a ticket for say, $5 with the “chance of living in America for one year TAX FREE.” If you win (monthly drawing, 12 winners per year or 24, 36, the possibilities are endless) you receive the right to NOT pay any type of tax” for one year. A game such as this would hold huge appeal to just about every other American and could retire the national debt in short order (perhaps in just a few short years providing we do not wish to enter the Where Is The Next War Sweepstakes our elected leader’s choose to join every now and then).
The return of the American Dream, remember you read it here first. This is do-able a distinct possibility.
Not like recent comments of our President who said, “”Soon the sun will break through the cloud of uncertainty that hangs over our economy.” This guy is so far out of it, they need to pump sunshine into him wherever it is that he is currently residing.
I just love these …. Bad Cop … No do-nut.
British police smashed the windows of a car to save a baby left alone inside. The baby was actually an extremely realistic doll. First time I ever heard about this sort of thing was at a family reunion in the mid sixties, when I was a small lad. My uncle Harvey had one of those, but I don’t think it is was baby model? Anyway my mother said to “not talk about it” that aunt Bernice would take care of it and not to hang around uncle Harvey … Period.
No good huh.
How about this? A fugitive Victor Burgos taunted police on his Facebook page, posting “catch me if you can. I’m in Brooklyn.” Cops quickly tracked down Burgos to an apartment in Brooklyn, where he was sitting a computer with his Facebook page wide open.
Might want to adjust your privacy settings first next time.
Now here is the other end of the gene-pool not so smart file. While at the beach, Daniel Jones, 21, dug an 8 foot hole for protection from the wind and had been sitting in a beach chair at the bottom, when it collapsed, burying him beneath 5 feet of sand. People on the beach used their hands and shovels trying to get him out but could not reach him. It took rescue workers using heavy equipment almost an hour to free him. Jones was pronounced dead at a hospital.
Santiago Alvarado, 24, was killed as he fell through the ceiling of a bicycle shop he was burglarizing. Death was caused when the long flashlight he had placed in his mouth to keep his hands free rammed into the base of his skull as he hit the floor.
We routinely report on folk working two jobs just to get by in these hard times. Recently in Rockaway N.J. A Dunkin’ Donuts sex sting was launched by local authorities. One “working girl” (nice tag huh) was arrested after she was caught selling sex along with Munchkins and coffee. The cops were tuned into it by an anon tip where a person said they could find her offering off the menu items on the night shift.
The cops even gave it a super secret code name operation, they called it “extra sugar.” No wait! Don’t give up, it gets even worse.
During the six week operation (taking their time to bust the offender eh?) police sat and watched “extra sugar” proposition customers via the drive thru feature, and then later on, meet the johns in the parking lot for some curb service. She was finally busted when she provided an undercover cop a with a list of discounted sexual services.”
No report on how many car jacking, robberies, home invasions, assaults, burglaries, or bank robberies in the SIX WEEKS it took to arrest the obviously dangerous felon.
I am going back to the plain do-nut or the Crueler, maybe a few sprinkles, but no more of the creme filled delights for me.
If you are in Germany, it might pay you to watch the words you use to insult someone. If you for instance call someone in traffic a dumb cow, you could face a fine of up to 300 Euros. A stupid pig will cost you up to 500 Euros. Now there are rules for this type of misbehavior.
You stupid pig … is for instance, not allowed when conversing with law enforcement.
You cannot say this or any other unorthodox non-polite thing to a cop, if you do, it could cost you up to 2,000 Euros. Unless you use the the more polite, formal form of “you,” in which case you only pay 200 Euros. There are more, “bull, the stink finger (middle finger, either hand this is still optional), and the use of standard curse words also apply.”
I know that sounds ridiculous, but it true.
Now here in America, we are more civilized and everyone knows we are broke, so things are a little different, well, they are a LOT different. You take my case for instance. I was siting in this little mom and pop joint deep in the heart of Texas and these two guys were talking about Washington D.C. and George Bush, in a most unfavorable way and even tho I have a Constitutional Right to remain silent I felt I had to say something… So I offered up …. “Bush is a horse’s ass!”
About that time, the more larger of the two cowboys got up, and slapped the crap out of me. I quickly apologized and said, “I am sorry. From the gist of the conversation I thought you were not too fond of Bush.”
He then looked at me and said, “Ah shucks. It isn’t that, but this here is horse country pard.”
Now … that … Is priceless.
February 20, 2012
I am back, don’t know if I will post on a regular daily basis as before, or just shoot it from the hip for awhile. I have been sick and I have been healed, and let me tell you, “healed is much, much better.” I caught some kind of nasty particularly gnarly kind of thing, that really sucked.
My doctor told me that he had some good news and of course, some bad news,” so I asked him, “What is the good news?” and he replied, “You don’t have stripped throat.” So then I said, “What is the bad news, and he shook his head and said, “Hell, I don’t know what it is that you have, but you seem to have a lot of it.” So I have been chewing on Anti-biotics and sliding cough syrup down my neck for about eight days now, this is on top of what I normally do.
The next time some Nimrod smiles and tells you “that life begins at Forty” look ‘em right back in the eye and say, “Yeah? Maintenance begins at Forty.”
Having been down and out for awhile also means that I have not been spending a lot of time on the computer or the net for obvious reasons. Here is about the best thing I found in the mailbox when I returned.
“First off, I would like to thanks within the outstanding as well as informative access. I will have to admit which often, I have not noticed relating to this information. We now have noticed quite a few brand new information for reason. Many thanks a lot with regard to providing this efficient and interesting information. We’re waiting regarding additional exciting posts due to you against the nearest long run.”
Thanks WordPress.com so very much for effective spam filters.
Here is another one, this will make you smile from the Nice Try But No Soap File:
My name is Mr. Jonah Jang, I work with the Hang Seng Bank. There is a sum of $24,500,000.00 in my bank Hang Seng Bank”, Hong Kong. There were no beneficiaries stated concerning these funds which means no one would ever come to claim it.
That is why I ask that we work together. I do solicit for your assistance in effecting this transaction. I intend to give 30% of the total funds as compensation for your assistance. I will notify you on the full transaction on receipt of your response if interested, and I shall send you the details and necessary procedures with which to make the transfer.
E-mail:(deleted in the name of public decency)
Should you be interested? Please send me your:
1. Full names
2. Private phone number
3. Current residential address
Mr. Andrew W
Yeah? All my full names? And … if … and … or but … were candy and nuts, boy wouldn’t we all have a swell Christmas?
On the same vein? My bank recently credited my account with a deposit of $550.00 which I could see from the very onset, was clearly not mine and an obvious mistake. But being as I just love bankers and they have always been so nice to me in the past, I sat on it and did not say anything.
It took them ten full working days to find it and then remove it, and they have also sent me three letters confirming the transaction. And you know what? I don’t feel the least bit concerned about their apparent misfortune.
Half Staff and All Wrong:
Whitney Houston is buried in New Jersey and all the flags fly at half-staff. I thought this honor was reserved for hero’s or persons of tremendous courage under fire or for untold years of public service.
I am going to reserve my respect and honor for the G.I. that does not make it home in one piece from some hard scrabble of piece of land that cannot grow anything but a rock or the fireman that did not make it out of the burning building but still managed to save the child.
Not for suicide victims … Diva Queens … and used up drug addicts.
A homeless woman robbed a bank in Reno, Nevada and then calmly walked across the street to sit down on a bus bench and await the arresting officers. She had done this before, she was previously convicted of the same crime, as a matter of fact, this is her fourth bank robbery since 1989. The judge not wanting “to reward this lady for the crime” said that she had to be punished. Beside’s the prison time, he fined her $2,000.00 She told the arresting officers that “she was just tired of living on the streets. And then she handed them the $12K.”
Three hots and a cot, can’t beat that.
I find it curious that a judge would convict and then fine a homeless person $2K, now that is justice. We have investment bankers bailed out for stealing over $800 trillion dollars and the government re-hires them all, and on top of that, they collect a bonus. But we send a desperate old lady to the slammer. Is this a great country or what?
Let us end today with a beautiful story …
One afternoon a rich man was riding in his limousine when he saw two men along the road-side eating grass. Disturbed, he ordered his driver to stop and got out to investigate. He asked one man, “Why are you eating grass?”
“We don’t have any money for food,” the poor man replied. “We have to eat grass.”
“Well, then, you can come with me to my house and I’ll feed you,” the man said. “But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are over there, under that tree.”
“Bring them along,” the man replied.
Turning to the other poor man he stated, “You may come with us, also.” The second man, in a pitiful voice, then said, “But sir, I also have a wife and SIX children with me!”
“Bring them all as well,” the man answered.
They all entered the car, which was no easy task, even for a car as large as the limousine was. Once under way, one of the poor fellows turned to the man and said, “Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us with you.”
The man replied, “Glad to do it. “You’ll really love my place. “The grass is almost a foot high.”
You wondering about the small bottle next to the Snapple? I just love Snapple, prefer it hands down to any type of soft drink. They cost about a buck a piece after taxes. The small bottle on the left, that is my prescription for my cough syrup, one teaspoon per day for about 18 days …. It cost $47.77. The reason it is so expensive they tell me is because one of the main ingredients in it is Codeine. A powerful narcotic and for some reason, awfully expensive.
Having said all that, I will now say this. Obama just gave Egypt $1.6 billion in foreign aid, remember the above story when you go to vote. And pray like all get out … that you do not have the misfortune to get sick.
My wife just came into the room, and inquired of me, “Why are you up at this hour?” and I said to her, “Neighbor’s dog, barking again.’ She said, “You working on your webpage?” and I said “Yeah.”
She said “read it to me.” So I did, she listened intently as I read it and then she smiled that all knowing smile and gave me “the” look and said, “You must be getting better … You are starting to bitch again.”
Like I have said … “They are going to just LOVE ME at the home.”