Jus The Facts ….

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.

(Hardly seems worth it.)

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.

(Now that’s more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.


A pig’s orgasm lasts 30 minutes.


A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death.


(I’m still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.

(Don’t try this at home; maybe at work.)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male’s head off.

(Honey, I’m home . What the…?)

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It’s like a human jumping the length of a football field.

(30 minutes. Lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.

(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.

(I still can’t believe that pig …quality over quantity.)

Butterflies taste with their feet.

(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.


Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.

(If you’re ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.

(Okay, so that would be a good thing.)

A cat’s urine glows under a black light.

(I wonder how much the government paid to figure that out.)

Starfish have no brains.

(I know some people like that, too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.

(If they switch, they’ll live a lot longer.)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.

(What about that pig? Do the dolphins know about the pig?)

No good huh?  I was in a pub on Saturday night. Had a few …. I noticed two large women by the bar.  They both had strong accents so I asked,  “Hey, are you two ladies from Scotland?”

One of them chirped:  “It’s WALES you idiot!”

So, I immediately apologized and said…,  “Sorry, are you two whales from Scotland?”

Then the lights went out….

Now that you’ve smiled at least once, it’s your turn to spread these crazy facts and send this to someone you want to bring a smile to, maybe even a chuckle.

I am outta here … It is the weekend!


Aint The Lotto Grand

Someone in the next couple of days is going to be richer to the tune of an estimated $600 Million Dollars.  At least that is what my electronic news service is telling me.  The “Big One” is happening again on the Lotto, Mega Millions to be specific and someone will basking in some new found prosperity this week.

As I am never all that lucky, I will never know what it feels like to win literally millions of dollars, but I can dream.  Which is basically what you are doing when you purchase a lottery ticket.  You are purchasing the right to dream about what it would be like to have ALL THAT MONEY in your hot little hands.

You win the Lotto and you either quit your job or you don’t?  Because now that you are rich, the only thing you have to do is sit around an count your money.  You no longer need a place to “hang around” all day long, so you pick up your phone and call your boss of 33 years and deftly tell him ….. “I won’t be in today, tomorrow, or for that matter, a week from never.”

Isn’t the Lotto grand?

Now you are able to fill out all your spare time playing golf and cards, laying out by the pool and buying lunch for all “your new found friends.”  After a short period of time, you notice that no one ever offers to buy your lunch, but you don’t care.  You begin to wonder if people like you or the free lunches? 

You go to the mall three times a week, but you shop only for essentials.  The little things in this world that will improve the quality of life.  An electric dog polisher, a pair of fur lined house slippers.  When you exit the room, you never turn off the light, what for?  You are rich, you don’t have to worry about little things anymore.

Life is good.  Aint the Lotto Grand?

You put on your best flowery-I-got-this-in-Maui-Shirt, load up in your jet black Lexus with the cellular phone and head out for the country club.  In a short while you resemble an ad for skin cancer and when someone says “Morning” the first word that comes to mind is “Lunch.”  You find yourself missing all those people you used to work with, those guys who wore socks with their shoes.

You soon find out that having money is neat and there are a lot of positive things that come with it.  All the negative things did not disappear; they just don’t seem so important now, almost trivial in most respects.

I have even heard stories of people who won millions, but did NOT quit their respective jobs.  Incredible.  If you did not quit your job, then it could possibly get worse.  Your co-workers after welcoming you back to the job (You are going to take an extended vacation with all that money aren’t you?) begin to slowly resent you.

Why work? 

Now that you have all that money, you notice that people change.  Your supervisor at work is especially “gnarly” now …. He is smarter than you (tells you all the time right?) that is why they’re your superiors, why should you have 1,000 times MORE money than them.  They begin to look at you somewhat differently each day.  The begin giving you all the lousy details, the curu7mmy jobs, your chances for promotion go right out the proverbial working window that you have been shooting for all these years.

In your dream, you begin to wonder why it is that you even bother to come in, and “on time” of top of all that?  When you do show up, for the fun of it, you drag your car keys down the side of your bosses car ….. while he is sitting in it.  No Big Deal.

If there is a slow down, then all your co-workers begin to get nasty.  What right has he/she to take up a good job with all that money?  They begin to shun you at the water cooler each day.  You begin to wonder to yourself, “Is it my deodorant?  Or that ugly rash under my right arm?”  But we all know it is the MONEY.  So, eventually, one way or another, you wind up at the Country Club in your best flowery-I-got-this-in-Maui-Shirt sitting by yourself, alone, in the corner.

So you get the first check, the “Big One” after taxes.  The money starts to trickle down to the rest of the family.  The kid’s start doing badly in school, what the point of being smart if they’re already rich?  If they have finished school, they quit their jobs.  Soon they lose all ambition and become bums, just like their parents.

Aint the Lotto Grand?

But because even tho’ you have all this money, you still have values, so you don’t give them any of it.  (I really like this part of the dream!)  They in turn begin to hate you, because you are cheap.  But they are sly about it, they hate you on the side, because in this background they are all jockeying to become executor of your estate.  A position that they can hardly wait to fill, unfortunately for you.

There are other added benefits too. 

You come home from your hard day at the Country Club and your answering machine is filled with messages from salesman, promoters, charity fund raisers, Save The Whales, Oregon Loggers Association, long lost relatives you have not see in twelve long years.  There is believe it or not, a message from High School Classmate Harold, who is suddenly ready to renew or rekindle old friendships.  This is the same guy who made your life miserable in the showers after Gym Class.  Who used to hang around your locker or the parking lot after to school, just to beat you up.

You get an unlisted phone ….. Aint the Lotto Grand?

You sit there by yourself, and you think of Buddy Post who won $16.2 million in the Lottery.  (Incidentally, if I had won $16.2 million and my name was Buddy Post, the first thing I would do with the money, is buy me a new name.)  He never had a mortgage or credit card debt before this. 

How sad.

Thousands of American’s have this particular problem, but not millions of dollars with which to ease the pain from month to month.  Can you relate to this, what I am speaking of here people?  Buddy says that he is depressed because his brother was charged with plotting to kill him to get what was left of the prize money.  Woe to me Maria!  I had no pressure.  I didn’t have the worries before this. If you have not won the lotto lately (which is the case for MOST of us SUCKERS) you think Buddy has the IQ of say ….. room temperature … and offer to take all of his problems off his hands, for a reasonable amount of money. 

Like “$16.2 Million dollars!”

But we are talking winners here, and we are winners in this dream.  You bought the ticket, it is your dream, don’t forget that.  So, on top of all your other problems, you move.  Hey?  You are a winner, you are not required to live in a dump like this, right?  So you move to a bigger house, in a fancier neighborhood, where those little lawn sprinklers pop out of the lawn, twice a day to do their thing.  A place where people actually tie little red ribbons on their dogs ears, and the brick mailboxes are roughly the size of a small to medium two bedroom house.  We are talking a NICE neighborhood here people, where neighbor’s do not bother to argue with each other when they disagree, they just let a live gopher out on the other guy’s lawn.

You are rich! 

You are not going outside to mow the lawn, or stand there in the cool of the evening with your best Sears & Roebucks (guaranteed for life) 5/8-no kink-garden house with the solid brass nozzle.  No one is going to see you there, in your bought a K-Mart shorts, cheap imitation knock off tennis shoes, watering the crab grass.  You can hire an undocumented worker to do that for you now.

So you don’t meet anyone, and of course, you are now living in a neighborhood where you don’t really know anyone.  You don’t meet anyone new, because you have become suspicious of strangers, you’re afraid the want something from you.  Mainly money.  You find yourself sitting in this big house, alone, where the phone no longer rings and no friends come by to see you, and you realize that your children hate you (you didn’t share the money remember?).  Now I ask you, “how long can a marriage survive under these circumstances?”  Not long.

Before you know it you’re paying a lawyer a fortune to keep your spouse from getting “half of the Lotto Money” when it was she/he who laughed at you for buying the winning ticket anyway.  Soon you see half of your fortune floating away, and you end up paying for BOTH lawyers.  Things start going downhill.

You start hiring people to have lunch with you.  You start looking for a little companionship in this cold, cruel world.  You put on your best Flowery-I-Got0This-In-Maui-shirt, and head out for Las Vegas, Nevada.  Bad Move.  This is like throwing a pork chop into the center of a weight watchers meeting on a Thursday night!  You come home from Vegas utterly dejected with a bad cash flow problem.

So there you sit.  Mr. Winner, in your rumpus room that is roughly the size of an aircraft carrier, eating “hot wangs” from Kentucky Fried Chicken  and picking out only the green M&M’s out of the bowl, because they taste better.  You think to yourself, “Gee, I sure am lucky to have won all that MONEY.  After all the odds of being hit by lightening were much better.”  It begins to rain, you walk across the room to shut the window and you get hit by lightning!

Naw, I don’t need no multi-million dollar payoff.  Bowl of Frito’s, some dip and cable TV is all I need.  $600 Million Dollars?  Wonder what kind of life that would bring?

Oh well, I have my total word count up for the day (1753) ….. I will see you later.


Email Of The Week – How to fight a war.

The objective of war is victory.

Obviously our politicians and military leaders have forgotten this simple theme since World War II.   

Okay, I have to say something about the Marine’s urinating on enemy dead.   Was it inappropriate? Yes. Would I have done it? Probably not.   Would I have done it when I was nineteen? Maybe.   Were there times that I may have done it in Viet Nam, if time permitted? There is a good case for “probably.”  I was twenty-two years old when I was there and was called ‘the old man’ and ‘pops’.   We send kids a year out of high school to the worst hell holes on earth and expect them to behave better than they did at their senior prom.  

So many Americans have lived for multiple generations with security at home that they can’t comprehend what goes on in other parts of the world. “War is Hell,” isn’t just something they say in the movies.  First of all, you are exhausted all the time because you never sleep deeply.  Your body is running on high idle, even when you try to rest.  The places we send these kids to stink from lack of sanitation.  There are bugs, mold, mildew, trash and human waste everywhere.  The very atmosphere is septic. You are in some level of fear all the time.

You have seen, smelled, heard, touched and done things no sane person would ever want to do.   There is no script for war.   It is improvisation at its best. Bad things happen, and they happen fast.  We have no idea what led up to this incident. Did these kids eat in the past twenty-four hours? Have they slept in the past thirty-six hours? What did the former (now dead and pissed-on) Taliban do?  

At its best, war is about killing people, and breaking their things. You can’t win people’s hearts while shooting their relatives.    We have forgotten how to fight. So, this is how we need to fight:  First; go in and kick ass on those who ticked us off.  Next, utterly destroy their infrastructure.  And last, go home only when we’re sure they won’t have the desire to mess with us again, for at least two generations.  

The Romans did precisely that.

They may not have been liked, but they sure as hell were respected.  And no one thought of messing with them, for many centuries.   Remember: I hate war. I’m glad my sons didn’t have to go to war.  And get this: we will never ‘win the hearts’ of Muslims. They don’t even like themselves; their religion tells them it’s OK to kill their own daughters; they kill their neighbors, so what chance do we stand?  

The course to follow is to convince them, as the Romans convinced their enemies, that the cost of messing with the West is far too high.  

Now: back to the urinating kids.

Slap their hands hard and tell them not to do it again.  Don’t try to make them understand how killing is OK, but urinating is bad.  Only someone who’s never missed a meal or heard a shot fired in anger can try to impose that kind of garbage on combat soldiers.   Sherman had it right: war is hell.  If you’ve never been in a war, don’t sit in your recliner watching CNN, passing judgment on these kids.   


Thanks to Joe in California.

Walking Wounded

This past weekend, I had some guys in uniform come up to me outside the local WalMart and ask me for a donation for “wounded war vets.”  I don’t know if this was on the up and up or not, but it is kind of sad, we spend all of this money on all of this other crap, but we evidently cannot take care of our veterans in this country.


The Boys Of Spring

The clock on the dresser is reading 10:15 a.m. and I am running late.  My buddies at the park are going to be displeased with me, I am not there, and even if I do make it now, I am going to be picked last.

Man, I hate it when they pick me last.  No one ever wants to be picked last, you want to go over to the other side first.  I am running late, and I just know, I have to get it in gear.

Mom has a regiment for me, clean your room on Saturday and you “do it right mister” or you are not going anywhere … period.  I have to dust it, change out the sheets, take the dirty clothes out to the garage and dump them in the hamper and then it is time for the dreaded inspection.

She will enter the room like a seasoned Marine drill instructor, sans white glove, and she will inspect the room for all the things a young lad misses when he is trying his level best to do a mediocre job and get the ____ outta there.

Five minutes later, I am passed with flyin colors and I grab a hastily made PBJ (Peanut Butter and Jelly) out of the kitchen, grab my bike and head for the park.

On Saturday we all meet and in the spring, we play baseball at the park, shaggin fly’s on the well manicured grass in the shade of huge Eucalyptus trees.  On some days, we skip lunch completely and play into the shank of the evening, as the sun slowly sets in the west, you can often hear the crack of the bat, and one more call of … “I got it!  I got it!”

A loose knit tribe who share a common bond and slap a little leather in the early months of spring.

A big part of my youth was consumed by baseball and often I think back on it all, and I feel a little remorse for it in my heart.  Those days when all of were lined up and told to sit with our backs to bleachers while the coaches went over our names and decided who was going to be a Tiger and who was not.

I always wanted to pitch but they made me a catcher because I was the only one who did not blink when the batter swung on the ball and I could catch it.  Story of my life, overqualified for the position but one more time.

Never could hit a curve or a slider, and I only hit one home run that I can remember, but they were still good days in my life.  Little League and having my own uniform was okay.  But I have to admit, the days I remember the most, were the days at Sorenson Park on Saturday knocking around with my buddies and no one was keeping score.

Those were the best.










All Pumped Up.

Our bill for gasoline came in Saturday, man, talk about taking the wind out of your sail?  $514 for the month, the high cost of gasoline is eroding what was left of the good life at a rapid pace these days.

The Center for American Progress has an analysis which finds that each penny rise in the average quarterly (three months) price of a gallon of gas corresponds to a $200 million increase in quarterly profits of the big five oil companies—BP, Chevron, ConocoPhillips, ExxonMobil, and Royal Dutch Shell.  Since the beginning of the year, the price for gasoline increased 29 cents per gallon. If that average increase holds true through the end of March, it will translate to $5.8 billion in additional profits for the big five.  You can read more about it here. 

Saturday was a good day, despite the bad news in the mailbox.

Mowing the backyard I came across a nest of baby rabbits in a corner of the yard (sorry no pictures).  It kind of got me to thinking about one thing in particular.  No matter how rotten the world gets, no matter how sorry the news each night on the TV, no matter what kind of crap that gets thrown into the mixer … Nature and life continue on.  We could learn a lot from nature, it feeds the strongest and the weak are left to die often an untimely death.

But in the end, nature survives and life as we know it, continues.

Perhaps all of our priorities are askew?  Could it be that we are looking at all this the wrong way and no longer have an inkling of what is right and what is wrong.

Guess I am just tired of a steady diet of crap sandwiches here lately … being spoon fed to me by my government.  Maybe it is time for us to stop “kissing everyone’ ass and start kicking some of them” and show them to the door.  We should develop a policy of payback and stop horsing around with all these two-bit dictators and religious malcontents.

Perhaps it is time to develop and nurture a totally new mindset in America.

Each week I scan the horizon for some kind of hope.  But sadly, we seem to be right where we have always been, on the losing end of the stick.  We are making the same old mistakes over and over, we never seem to learn.  All the tired old hippies that were going to uproot and revamp this country, stepped out to lunch a long time ago, and they never came back.

"I'll run over and pick up our welfare check. Then drop by the University to see what's holding up my Federal Education Grant, meanwhile you go to the free clinic to chedk on your scabies and pick up my new glasses, and then we will meet at the Federal Building at noon for the mass picketing of the stinking establishment.”

“I’ll run over and pick up our welfare check.  Then drop by the University to see what’s holding up my Federal Education Grant, meanwhile you go to the free clinic to check on your scabies and pick up my new glasses, and then we will meet at the Federal Building at noon for the mass picketing of the stinking establishment.”

Obama ran on a platform of “Change.”

So where is it?

We are still doling out this Democratic Welfare (Foreign Aid) and we have yet to cut off the freebies.  Throwing money at the problem never solves it, you cannot and will not win following a policy such as this.  People need a helping hand up, not a hand out.  Now they are saying it is undignified to ask a person on public assistance for a drug screening?  They didn’t have any problem screening me in my railroading career … but we cannot screen someone on the public dime?

I hope and pray, that some day, and be it soon, things will finally change in this country.

A day when an Arab enters a taxi …  Once he is seated he asks the cab driver to turn off the radio because he must not hear music as decreed by his religion and, in the time of the prophet, there was no music, especially Western music which is music of the infidel’s and certainly no radio.

So the cab driver politely switches off the radio, stops the cab and opens the back door.

The Arab asks him: “What are you doing man?”

The cabby answers: “In the time of the prophet there were no taxis.  So get out and wait for a camel.”

Yeah, that would be a good day for sure.

If hooking up one Islamic terrorist prisoner’s testicles to a car battery to get the truth out of the lying little camel shagger will save just one American life, then I have only three things to say:  “Red is positive, black is negative, and make sure he is watered down.”

You don’t like us, that is fine.  I will park my car and YOU can eat your oil.

You want public assistance?

Piss in the dixie cup like I did to keep my job and feed my family.  Seems only fair to me. Just for the record … I didn’t like it any more than you will, but I did it, what makes you so special?

Man-Man … A whole nest of baby rabbits, life is so good.  The way things have been going here lately, this could not have come at a better time, I may be forced to eat them all later on this summer.

Yeah, I know.  Don’t send me any letters.


Why Bother

On Friday I put up a questionnaire or a blog poll device to see what the average age of an Avatar Photo might be.  No big deal, was just curious is all.  On that day, a little over 174 read the post, on the second day it was 147.  Out of that total number, over the weekend, only five people bothered to initiate or complete the survey.

It makes me wonder, “Why do we even bother?” apparently most of the reader’s who read the piece, could care less.

Now you understand why it is that they say the “average American voter is apathetic” and why it is so hard to get anything done in this country.  When you experience voter fatigue on something so simple as clicking on a button to send some information, then it appears you have a problem.

Anyway, thanks to the five that bothered.  As for us, well, I don’t see us running any more polls in the future, that is for sure.