True Blood. Last Night. Plot Point Revealed.

So last night me and Wifey are watching one of our favorite shows.

Said show includes:

Vampires.

Vampires that recycle.

Vampires that shop at the mall.

Shape-Shifters.

Shape-Shifter's that own restaurants.

Vampires that get their hair tinted.

A Goddess of Love or gluttony or something.

Human on Vampire sex.

Vampire on human sex.

Homesexual vampires that just want to watch TV.

Drug use, voodoo priestess.

Nudity galore.

Drunken cops. Torture chambers.

Mass marketed 'tru-blood' for those vampires that don't want to kill.

...and on and on and on.

All of a sudden in last night's episode what appears to be a savage minotaur shows up and slashes one of the gals to shreads.

Here is what Wifey said:

"Now that's stupid!"

Jesse Jackson DEMANDS answers about the death of Billy Mays

For $19.95 (plus shipping and handling) I'll let you read this blog entry. In fact, I'll even let you read it twice!

We'll even throw in these replacement pads for free! (with S/H)

Fingers

WIFEY: "Look at your fingers!"

ME: "What about my fingers?"

WIFEY: "They look like blood sausages."

ME: "They don't look like blood sausages."

WIFEY: "They do."

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad Claims Michael Jackson Never Really Died.

Summing up Farrah Fawcett in Fourteen Words.

The poster, one season of a show, nice hair, anal cancer, and then death.

Eulogy for a Pedophile

Helping me tuck in my shirt tails...gentle. Caring.

Sleepovers. Helping with my jammies. OOPS!

TICKLE FIGHT!

"Let's wrestle!"

What boy wouldn't want to?

"Truck truck to Boston, truck truck to Lynn...better be careful or ya might fall IN!"

"Swordfights" in the shower.

Playing see how it grows...see how it grows...see how it grows.

"$100 bill...don't tell Mummy!"

Special friends keep special secrets.

Shhhhh...

Pillow fight, tickle fight, catch me if you can...

ZZ Top just named the new King of Pop

http://www.tmz.com/

The End of an Era

So about 12 years ago a few families in the neighborhood went camping.

And the next year they asked another family.

Then another.

Pretty soon there were eight or so families going every year.

Thirty or so of us. Forty plus if the kids brought their friends.

We had canoes and motor boats and tents and massive amounts of camping gear.

Fishing (I never caught anything even though I wore my lucky fishing shirt) and hiking.

Swimming and drinking and playing games.

Cribbage, rummy, chess.

S'mores. Burgers and dogs. Every conceivable food and snack and drink.

Thirty people sitting around a campfire singing songs while my youngest played her guitar.

Huge rain storms. Cars breaking down.

That noise of stuff falling on your tent all night.


Pancakes on the Coleman grill (I'll miss you!)

Just sitting around doing nothing. No computers. No TV (would have been better with TV)

That book.

The SLAMMING DOOR in the middle of the night when someone used the bathroom up the hill.

Stumbling through the woods at three in the morning finding a vomiting kid.

Bears! (there were no bears. But there could have been)

Kids sneaking beers. Dad getting angry.

Adults only cruises around the lake.

Kids only I DONT WANT TO KNOW!!

The packing up to go home.

The goodbyes even though we'd all see each other in the neighborhood in a hour or so.

Maybe McDonalds on the way home.

Well, sometime last night around 10:20 it ended. It became official.

The Camping Trip is no more.

The kids are grown up. This one can't go.

That neighbor had to cancel.

Someone has to work.

The Camping Trip is no more.

TinselTown Shocker!

http://marquee.blogs.cnn.com/2009/06/24/oscars-expanding-to-10-best-pic-nominees/

So now it appears that there will be TEN best picture mominees.

What does that mean to me?

Well, it means that there will now be TEN best picture nominees I haven't seen instead of the traditional five that I haven't seen.

I'm excited.

New Jersey now officially the dumbest state.

Yesterday there was a story in the news (I don't feel like finding the link...do it yourself)

The story was that the great 'garden state' of New Jersey wants to ban the use of GPS devices while driving.

Think about that.

Are you still thinking about that?

Think some more.

They want to ban GPS devices while driving.

New Jersey also wants to ban boiling water when making pasta. (unless I just made that bit up)

I was gonna make up a list of other things the great 'garden state' wants to ban, but I thought it would be easier if you did my job for me.

Winner gets nothing.

Who is back being my sidekick?

::blows open envelope::

QUEER! NIGGER! FAGGOT! COON!

Uh-oh...it's gonna be shocking!

Not really.

I've been giving Barack Obama some thought.

He's done more in 5 months than any President I remember.

Hold it right there, Sisters...I didn't say he's done more 'good' in 5 months than any President that I remember...I said he's done more. He never stops.

He does have a certain energy not seen in a while.

But he doesn't think things through.

(Stay with me on this)

Really.

Obama is probably the most liberal leader this country has ever had. We knew that when we elected him. I mean...when YOU elected him.

No surprises.

Or is there?

There isn't.

Just disgust.

Here is the most liberal President EVER and he's against gay marriage.

And he told us this BEFORE the election.

>>>Barack Obama: 'marriage is between a man and a woman'<<<

(but he tries to play both sides by giving some token benefits to 'civic unions')

YOU voted for him and he told you BEFORE the election that he would not support gay marriage.

Most dictionaries have 'marriage is between a man and a woman' as the definition. Or at least the first definition.

(Stay with me)

Well, if marriage is between a man and a woman then I guess two men can't marry each other...correct?

WRONG!

How can that be wrong if the definition says 'between a man and a woman'??

BECAUSE DEFINITIONS 'CHANGE' (we 'hope')

Gay used to mean happy.

Then gay meant homosexual.

Now gay means stupid or foolish (and sometimes homosexual)

And nigger used to mean black man can't use my water fountain or my bathroom or sit in my restaurant or or or...

So where are we?

We have a part African American President that wants to put down happy stupid homosexuals and treat them unfairly and not let them get married...because the dictionary says it's between a man and woman.

And that is against their CIVIL RIGHTS!

Make any excuse for him that you want.

"He's waiting for the right time"

"He wanted to get elected"

"It's a sin"

"It will be a financial strain on business"

"And blah blah blah."

Well, guess what?

Marriage is no longer 'between a man and a woman'

Marriage is between any two people that want to be married. For love...for tax reasons...for any reason that a man and woman can get married. because the DEFINITION of marriage has changed.


You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Obama. You're worse than the racists of the 1950s and 1960s.

You should know better.

So Mister Obama...go follow the arrow in the picture up above and have a seat.

We'll wait in the other room with the white folks until you get your mind right.

Gone fishin'...

...will return on Sunday Night June 21, 2009 fresh with new Wifey stories! Hoag antics! Buddy Nite Hijinx! Hitler! Obama Bashing! Word Play!

Or something!

Duke Pastrami

He was one of the henchmen in a Gary Cooper movie I watched yesterday.

If there is a better henchmen name than Duke Pastrami...I've never heard it.

CNN polls

CNN.com has a daily poll.

I think they've run out of things to poll.

Yesterday (I'm not making this up) the poll was:

Would you live in a home made from shipping containers?


Today's poll:

Would you skydive with a President?

SO TO SUM UP:
Last week some comics fell off my racks

Happy Riverfest!

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

So last night me and The Hoag decided to have a couple of cigars.

Monte Cristos.

ME: "Hey...this is pretty good."

HOAG: "Yeah."

ME: "A nice slow burn."

HOAG: "Smooth."

------

About 45 minutes later:

ME: "These burn nice and slow"

HOAG: "It's not lit."

SO TO SUM UP:
Earlier in the week comics fell off my racks.

Chastity Bono

There is a story out today about Chastity Bono having a sex change operation.

It raises the question....what sex is Chastity gonna change into?

And of course...how will it impact the upcoming U2 tour?

The Week's News In The Handy Picture Format.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/06/10/museum.shooting/index.html

President(or whatever they call themselves in Iran) Ahmadinejad of Iran doesn't believe the shooting today at The Holocaust Museum really took place.

The burglar.

I've been in business for three decades and have been broken into a few times.

What they call 'smash and grabs'. They just break a window, grab some stuff, and vamoose.

So this morning I get in the shop to set it up for New Comics Day and it's very quiet in here (as it should be)

And then I hear a noise.

Maybe it's my buddy Clinky playing a trick on me (he has keys to the store)

So I stay quiet and listen.

I hear some more noise.

It ain't Clinky. There is someone I don't know in here with me.

I think I should call out "Hey! Who is here." or something equally clever.

Or maybe I should stay quiet.

Maybe I could call the police...but he'll hear me.

Not sure what to do.

I hear some more noise from down back.

And some more.

Maybe it's just a rat or cat or bird or something.

Or a burglar with a blackjack.

I decide to man-up and head towards the back of the store. Alone. In the dark. With a stapler in my hand (why a stapler I have no idea)

As I walk back there I hear some more noise...some more. Some more.

My heart races a bit.

I get to the back and see the burglar face to face...

It was a stack of comics that fell off the rack.

And not just any kind of comics...but Spider-Man comics. And we all know how a burglar played into THAT mythos.

The above story is true. It happened just a little while ago.

Though I did lie about having a stapler in my hand.

SO TO SUM UP:
Comics fell off my racks.

Don't take it for granite

Every week on Buddy Nite me and The Hoag drive by this place that sells granite.

And every week there is this huge slab of granite just sitting outside unattended.

And every week one of us reverts back to being 14 years old and will say:

"HEY! Let's take that slab of granite...nobody is around!"

And then the other guy has to remind the other guy that we no longer steal stuff, we're pushing 50, and would probably go to jail.

And of course the most important part.

The slab of granite weighs upwards of two thousands pounds and it won't fit in my car.

SO TO SUM UP:

If we ever drive by a place with sponges outside... we're taking them.

Bongo Dead, Bongo liked Sheriff Bart.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/06/08/bongo.gabon/index.html

From the news reports it appears Bongo is dead.

Who is Bongo you ask?

Bongo was Africa's longest ruling leader.

Where did he rule you ask?

He ruled Gabon.

What is Gabon you ask?

Not a fucking clue.

But Bongo is dead.

("Candygram for Bongo, Candygram for Bongo...")

Where there is smoke, there is spiders.

So last night we're getting ready to go to bed when all of a sudden the smoke detectors go off.

ME: "What the heck is causing that!"

WIFEY: "Smoke or spiders."

I've heard that dust can sometimes set off smoke detectors...but spiders?

So anyhow...I check the house for smoke.

No smoke. Not really sure how to check a house for spiders.

We go to bed.

And I start thinking.

Maybe there is a fire in the dryer? Maybe an electrical thing?

Or something.

And then I start thinking about spiders.

Thinking about spiders does not put one to sleep fast.

Thinking about flaming spiders does not put one to sleep at all.

In a Kenworth, haulin' logs...

Rent-A-Crate

So this morning I'm toolin' down the Pike and I spot a RENT-A-CRATE truck also toolin' down the Pike.

On the back of the truck were the immortal words (or ad copy...or something)

'Tired of boxes? Rent a crate!'

And I thought.

And thought.

Am I tired of boxes?

Are you tired of boxes?

Is this whole courtroom tired of boxes?

Is anybody really tired of boxes?

I don't think so.

Though I might not be in love with boxes, I'm certainly not tired of them.

Not yet anyhow.

But if I was tired of boxes I suppose I'd rent a crate.

Or maybe a bag.

Or something.

My money maker.

Do we all agree that people with tattoos are cooler than those of us without tattoos?

Tattoos scream cool, correct?

And cool is cool, correct?

And the word correct is cool, correct?

Anyhow...

My surefire way of making huge dollars?

Tattoos.

But IANO you ask, tattoos have existed for centuries...how will YOU make money from such an ancient art?

I'll tell you.

What is the number one drawback of a tattoo?

(besides the ink being soaked into your skin and the pain?)

It's basically permanent (except for costly procedures that remove tattoos)

But YOUR tattoo is special. You'll never want to get rid of it.

Ever.

And then there are guys like me.

Oh...I want to be cool...but am I cool enough for a tattoo?

I think not.

This is where my money making scheme comes in.

Tattoos done with invisible ink!

No more long sleeves at the business meeting.

No more explaining what JENNIFER is doing on my arm to AMY.

No more color clashing.

No more explaining 'what my tattoo means' when clearly it's something private that I don't want to talk about.

Invisible Ink Tattoos. $50.00.

LOVE/HATE

MOM

US NAVY

::barbed wire::

Make sure you ask to see mine next time we meet...it's a tiger drinking some hooch!

Picture stolen from The Onion...witty captions written by YOU!

Plane gone a missing.

A couple of days ago an Air France plane 'went a missing' somewhere over the ocean near Brazil.

Reporters start interviewing family members of those on board said 'gone a missing plane'.

Here is what one grieving Brainiac said:

"We're holding out hope."

---

Hmmmm...holding out hope.

That the plane has a two day supply of gas?

That your grandmother can swim for two days in the shark infested waters off the coast of Brazil? (I have no idea if there are sharks off the coast of Brazil)

Holding out hope.

That they landed at another airport and didn't tell anyone?

They're dead.

Keep holding out hope that the funeral director doesn't rip you off.

Hooker Night

So Saturday night I'm at a party and I'm having a conversation with one of The Blueberry Blondes.

Talking about our kids, our jobs, spouses, etc...

All of a sudden The Blueberry Blonde suggests we have a neighborhood Hooker Night!

OH.

MY.

GOD.

A Hooker Night!

In the neighborhood.

A Hooker Night!

My mind starts racing.

What does one do to prepare for A Hooker Night?

My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives*

Do I arrive early? Or late (Ewwwww!)?

How much money do I bring?

Will there be male hookers for the broads?

A Hooker Night.

Somehow it's more interesting because a woman thought it up.

I spot Blueberry Blondes Hubby and he's beaming when told the news!

Hooker Night!

I'm nervous. I've never attended a Hooker Night. Boxers or Briefs? Commando?

Questions. Questions. Questions.

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

Turns out The Blueberry Blonde said 'Poker Night'

Do I arrive early? Or late?

How much money should I bring?

Boxers or Briefs? Commando?

Poker Night.

--------

*Hedley Lamarr