How bad punctuation ruins the theme to Gilligan's Island

"Just sit. "

"Right.... "

"Back?"

"And you'll hear a tale."

"A tale of?"

"A fateful trip."

"That started?"

"From this tropic port. "

"Aboard this tiny ship?"

(The mate was a mighty sailing man.)

"The skipper?"

"Brave and sure."

{Five passengers set sail.}

"That day?"
"For?"

"A three hour tour. "

"A three HOUR tour????" "The weather?"

{Started getting rough!}

"The tiny ship?"

"Was tossed!"

"If not for......??"

"The courage of the fearless crew, the minnow would be lost. "

"The minnow would be lost??"

{The ship set ground on the shore.}

"Of this uncharted desert isle?"

"With Gilligan?"

"The Skipper, too."

"The millionaire?"

"And his wife!"

"The movie star, the professor?"

"And Mary Ann!"

"Here on Gilligans Isle?"

"So this is the tale?"

"Of the castways."

"They're here?"

"For a long, long time! They'll have to make the best of things. It's an uphill climb. The first mate and the Skipper too, will do their very best."

"To make the others comfortable?"
"In the tropic island nest?"

"No phone?"
"No."

"Lights?"
"No."

"Motor cars?"

"Not a single luxury."

"Like Robinson Crusoe?"
"As primative as can be."

"So?"
"Join us!"

"Here?"

"Each week my friends! You're sure to get a smile."

"From seven stranded castways? Here?"

"On Gilligan's Isle."

That President of Iran is so gay

Early in the week he spoke at Columbia University and said some darn right crazy stuff.

Lots of crazy stuff. Him being crazy and all.

But the one that got in most folks craw was the one about Iran not having homosexuals.

Now is this just a fluke that homosexuals don't live in Iran? Or was CrazyPrez saying that Iranians in and of themselves can't be homosexuals because of something inside them?

Who the heck knows.

What I do know is that I must be Iranian. Because if I was Not Iranian I could be The Gay. And I aint The Gay.

Which actually brings me to the whole point of the blog.

Not Iranians have been called a lot of things over the years. In my lifetime we've called homosexuals: queers, fags, homos, and most recently, gay. None of them sound like good names.

But now we're calling them Not Iranians. What if they were born in the states? Do we call them American Not Iranians?

And what about Not Iranian slogans?

I'm Not Iranian...Get used to it!

Not Iranian Nation?

What about TV shows?

Not Iranian Eye For the Straight Guy?

And can we just go back to using gay as in meaning happy? No?

Gay means retard now, correct? And homo means milk and fag means cigarette and queer means Hoagy...and and and....

And in England we still bum fags (meaning ask for a free cigarette)? But in the States bumming a fag means you're Not Iranian?

I'm confused.

But not confused in the I might be Not Iranian way. Believe you me.....I'm Iranian. 100% Iranian.

Not that there's anything wrong with being Not Iranian. I just happen to be Iranian....by way of Armenia and Ireland.

PS
Sorry for today's blog. It was wicked gay.

25,000 people die of hunger EVERY day

I read that in the new National Geographic.

25,000. Every day. Mostly kids. Die of hunger. Starve.

And that's tragic.

But not as tragic as what me and Wifey are going through.

We've got too many TV shows to watch. It's killing us.

2nd season ROME, bunch of boxed sets of Six Feet Under, The Red Sox and upcoming playoffs, the new fall line-up, and the crap we have recorded, a week long slate of Ken Burns THE WAR, TCM movies, all the late shows, the morning shows. The Patriots. etc etc.

I'd trade one of those starving kids some of the glop I scrape off of a Big Mac if they'd watch some of my shows and just tell me what happened in a nice, short, concise manner (Sparkle need not apply)

And I've said it before and I'll say it again....why the heck don't those starving kids just get off their butts and get down to their local supermarket and get some food and stop starving?

This generation is just SO lazy.

What's that noise?

I heard it late last night.

It was kinda like a coughing sound. Almost like someone was gagging. Choking perhaps.

Reminded me a bit of when a cat hucks up a furball. "Klllllew....haluck, haluck...achkkkkkkechhheh."

Reports of the noise were first noticed in Florida but it was QUICKLY heard in the Northeast. And it was LOUD. Very very loud. Haunting. Scary loud.

Growing up I never heard that noise. But now it's the 21st century and I hear it a lot. Usually in the fall....though this year I heard it in April and May. But it went away for the summer.

And now it's back. And life is good.

It's almost musical.

For the last 7 years or so I wait for the noise. I wait. And I wait. And I wait. And it always comes. And it's always a bit louder (though I doubt it will ever be as loud it as was in 2004)

Sounds like an old man on his death bed. The old man used to be a bully, but now he's just an old tired wannabee. A coughing , hacking, choking wannabee that'll never be.

Magic number is 3. The Yankees suck.

It's trivial

The other day I see this guy crossing the street in front of my store. Dressed nice. Slicked back hair. And the biggest, meanest scowl you've ever seen on anyone ever.

He kinda looked like Ted Cassidy playing Injun Joe. But meaner. And scowlier.

His face was red. Snarled mouth. This guy was angry!

And then I noticed what was clutched in his arm.

It was a game of Trivial Pursuit.

I don't wanna play with this guy. Ever.

'It's freakin' Pete Best, A-hole!'

' It's mother-effin' Guam!'

'Calvin goddamn Coolidge!!'

' WHAT A STUPID QUESTION!!! IT'S SAM THE BUTCHER!!'

'The female kangaroo!! JERK!'

Actually....maybe I do wanna play with this guy. Could be fun.

PS

(the correct answer would be Wally Pipp )

R.I.P. Marcel Marceau

He died quietly.


As per his request, he'll be buried in an invisible box.

(Those were the two easiest jokes of all time to write)

What would you do for twenty dollars?

Last night I chunked Hoag into stopping a ceiling fan using only his head.

He did. It was quite awesome.

I didn't give him the twenty dollars. That was quite awesome also.

I've let you down.

Today was going to be a wonderfully clever post incorporating:

1. The 'Don't Taze Me, Bro!' guy

2. The 'Leave Britney Alone!' Guy/and or Gal

3. O.J.

4. And the back on track Boston Red Sox.

But someone (some team) screwed it all up....didn't they? DIDN'T THEY!!!????

Bunch of skirt wearing ballerinas! You call yourself men?? MEN?? MEN don't smell like flowers and puppies. Men don't use words like twinkle and savory.

MEN don't get swept by a bunch of Canadians!

Don't make me taze you, you bunch of Britneys. Cuz I will and I'll never leave you alone. I'll taze you till the cows come home (no idea what that means)....All I want is MORE MORE MORE!! You're not human beings! You are gentle little men that have forgotten how to win baseball games!

Motherfucker! You think you can steal my motherfucking season!!??

PS

Dearest Tito,

Get Manny back in the line-up, huh?

Love,
Britney

Dear Red Sox,

Snap the fuck out of it!

Love,
Steve

OJ

So OJ gets arrested and could go to jail for 30 years because he took back stuff that someone STOLE FROM HIM???? That really shouldn't be a crime. Sorry, but I'm once again on OJ's side.


MORE GOOD NEWS /BAD NEWS:

On the news this morning it was reported that shootings have gone DOWN in Boston. then they reported the bad news.....Stabbings have gone up.

Point of the story?

Cooch is pretty darn good word. Folks just like it.

Good News Bad News

So a friend of mine calls me the other day and tells me he has good news and bad news. He asks me what I'd like to hear first.

I think about it for maybe a second and say "The bad news."

So he tells me about a family member that is sick and in the hospital. We discuss recovery, treatment, long term outlook, etc etc.....we talk about it for about ten minutes.

I then say: "So what's the good news?"

He says: "Playboy is starting to show a lot more cooch."

Point of the story?

Cooch is a pretty darn good word. Not vulgar. Kinda friendly. Women like it. It's fun to say. It's scientific. Ryhmes with pooch, hooch, smooch.

Red Sox / Yankees

This weekend.

Predictions:

Some strikes. Some balls.

Players will spit, scratch, and spit some more.

Fans will cheer, will boo, will make wacky signs.

Remy and D-O will giggle.

Johnny Damon will laugh while standing in the batter's box.

Tito will rock back and forth and adjust his cap ad nauseum.

JD Drew will probably suck....or maybe not.

My wife will swear at Dice-K, comment on how ugly Youk is, drool over Teks thighs, make fun of Coco's hair, quietly appreciate the wonder that is Mike Lowell, and possibly pump her fist if Papi wins the game.

Birthday boy David J. will pace my neighborhood, curse out Francona, and shake his head when Tek grounds into an inning ending double play.

A-Rod will get drilled. Twice. Benches will clear.

Manny will make some kinda dramatic return. Or maybe have a new hair style. The Vegas line is 5 to 2 on the new hairstyle.

Sox will win only one of the three games. Yanks will win the first game with a dramatic late inning comeback. I will vomit in my mouth and still taste it in the morning. Sox should easily win the second game...they might even send Posada to the hospital after the game. You know, for tests. The third game the Sox will start to feel sorry for The Yankees and let them win (in a close one)...build up their confidence for the upcoming spanking by the Angels in the playoffs.

And that my friends is my weekend.

Two more reasons the media is stupid

Two stories got my attention this week.

The first was something about some vote in congress that passed 341-1. They mentioned the one lone Nay. But then there was a link that said: SEE HOW YOUR REP VOTED. I'm pretty sure we know. Assholes.

The other stupid story was something with the HEADLINE: 47% of the Iraqi people want the "war" to stop right now. But shouldn't the headline actually have said 53% of the Iraqi people DON'T want the "war" to stop right now.

And then there was something about The New England Patriots cheating, but my subject says there are TWO more reasons the media is stupid, not three. Oh well....

The two kinds of funny

There are only two kinds of funny.



Planned funny. And not planned funny.



I'm gonna give you a great example of planned funny.



The other night I needed something from Hoag and I asked if I could stop over to his place after work.



He said sure.



I told him I'd be there around 6:10.



Ever punctual, I show up around 6:10, knock on door and let myself in.



He ain't inside....but I notice thru the sliding glass doors that he's outside. So I saunter on out back.



And here is what I see:



Hoag is lounging in his robe on an anti-gravity chaise loungey thing.

He's smoking a cuban (cigar)

He has an ice bucket next to him filled with two bottles of champagne (one half empty) and a filled glass to his lips.

He's wearing some kinda funky Elvisey ray-ban sunglasses

There is some thin hose thingy spraying him down with a fine mist of water.

His wife is standing next to him, hand feeding him fresh strawberries.



That my friends is planned funny.



(Unplanned funny would be if one of you showed up at his house and I was the one feeding him the strawberries.)

Six years ago today.

It was around 9 in the morning when I first the heard the news.

I knew it was huge.

I knew it would transform us all.

I thought how I should be home with my family in a time like this. I called to see how they were doing. But I stayed at work and watched it unfold on the little black and white TV I keep here.

Finally it was 6:30 and time to go.

The drive was long and quiet and sad. I knew what I was coming home to. I knew our lives were changed.

I walked in and first saw my wife....we didn't say much, we just hugged. The kids were kinda quiet but not overly upset. It hadn't set in to them yet. But it would.

The TV was on. CNN. I clicked to NBC. Uh-Oh. CBS...Uh-Oh. and on and on...

It was the most horrible moment of my life...for I knew right then and there that all of my regular TV shows would be pre-empted. Probably all week. Because of some news thingy.

I looked at Wifey. She looked at me. A single tear ran down her cheek

This was gonna be one hell of a week to get through without our regular TV shows.

But then the Gods looked down on us all and we were saved! SAVED! I remembered a stash of videos we had recorded last week! Life was good again! Jim Belushi filled my screen! Ray Romano filled my screen! Laughter once again filled my living room!

May the horror of that day never repeat itself. Never forget no shows. America was built on shows. And they took 'em away.

Point of the story:

Always keep a recording or two of According To Jim around just in case some boring news thing interrupts your shows.

Party Planning For Your 9/11 Anniversary Bash

The sixth anniversary is coming up this week.

It seems enough time has passed that we can finally start throwing 9/11 parties! (In memory, of course.)

I thought I'd post a nice handy 9/11 party checklist in case you are planning a bash of your own!

• Large rectangular shaped cake (make it look like Manhattan!)
• Ash colored frosting for said cake.
• Scaled map of lower Manhattan to place on top of cake.
• Two popsicle sticks to represent the Towers would look cool....if unavailable just use two larger sized fast burning candles.
• Make sure cake is decorated with lots of plastic firemen and rescue workers (no dinosaurs)....it'll give it a nice realistic touch.
• Invitations could be made on mock-up Cantor-Fitzgerald stationary
• Party favors could include toy cell phones (pretend you're calling your loved ones!), bags of dust to throw on clothes, funny 'I'm Looking For So And So' flyers to attach to telephone poles, little 3 seconds audio clips of folks saying "Holy Fucking Shit", box cutters, bags of confetti to throw during 'the collapse' part of the party.
• Make sure you get a megaphone so someone can act out George Bush's inspiring speech at Ground Zero.
• Music should include all of those downer songs by Springsteen and pals. (No Dixie Chicks)
• Food should only be burgers, hot dogs, and apple pie.
• Beverages should only be Coca-Cola
• Transportaion should be provided by Chevrolet.
• Conversation topics should be limited to: "Kill the Towel-Heads" and "Kill the Sand-Niggaz"
• Party Games might include: Shock and Aweopoly, Pin the Bomb on the Martyr, Hide the WMDs, etc.

This is just a partial checklist. Just random ideas to get you thinking about your own party.

Be Creative! Be Unique!

But most of all....be solemn and reflective and sad.

It was unusual, Pussycat.

So all during this past week they've (some guys) been doing some construction next to my store. Digging. Jackhammering. Sweating. Paving. Piping. You know....construction stuff.

So anyhow, yesterday they're just about done and all of a sudden they put a Tom Jones cd on and start BLARING Tom for all within a city block to hear. 'What's New Pussycat' 'It's Not Unusual' 'and on and on.

And then the six or eight of them started singing. And half ass dancing. And clowning around.

And it was around 5:00 and folks were starting to come home from work and the street was filled with folks looking at these clowns and smiling. And laughing. And the workers were flirting with the gals and the gals were flirting back. And Tom Jones continued to fill the air with hit after hit.

And for one glorious half an hour there was joy in the world. Or at least one city block. It was almost like that opening scene in the first Austin Powers movie. Except with Tom Jones singing.

It was good.

Point of the story?

Tom Jones is still one cool dude. So cool, I even tossed my panties at the construction workers.

The Clever Church

So I'm coming to work this morning and see this sign on a church:

GET RID OF WORRY WRINKLES...GET A FAITH LIFT.


Just another in a long list of reasons I don't go to church.

The guy with the best sense of humor in the world.

He coined the word:

Phonics.

And he's still plaughing.

Possibly the best news EVER.

Everybody has a flaw.

Wifey has one that kinda drives me nuts.

She's a great cook but hates to bake. HATES. TO. BAKE.

To me baking sounds a lot like cooking. Not really sure what the difference is.

But I think I know what the difference is to Wifey. Wifey don't be liking the baked goods. Is she a retard? Probably not. But she aint a fan of the baked goods (she's gotta be a 'tard, correct?) and tends not to bake much.

So where is possibly the best news ever as the title of today's blog suggests?

It seems there is gonna be a bakery built about 100 yards from my house. A bakery. Filled with baked goods. For me. To eat. Whenever I want.

Good thing Wifey likes to walk, huh?

This may or may not have happened

As you know, my buddy Hoagy lives in a lean-to and pretty much just feeds the raccoons and bears all day. Lots of time to ponder cool.

His new 'thing' is cigars on buddy nite.

And I play along.

So anyhow....a few weeks ago we're having dinner out on this patio of a resturant and after we're all done Hoag asks the waitress if it's okay if we light up a couple of cigars. Here is how that conversation went.

HOAG: "S'okay if we light up a couple of stoogies?"

WAITRESS: "I'm sorry sir but you can't, it's against state law"

HOAG: "But we're outside..."

WAITRESS: "I'm sorry sir but it's still against state law to smoke on the premises of a restaurant."

HOAG: "What would happen if we lit 'em up anyhow?"

WAITRESS: "I'd have to get the manager."

HOAG: "What would he do if we kept smokin' 'em?"

WAITRESS: "He'll call the police."

HOAG: "What if we shoot and kill the policemen?"

WAITRESS: :::blinks:::

HOAG: "Listen Sister, why don't you just save the lives of two cops and let us smoke these puppies?"

WAITRESS: "Would you like some more wine or dessert or something....maybe an ashtray?"

-----------------------------------------

Like I said....this may or may not have happened.