Friday, October 29, 2004

Notes from the trenchs

Brief Re-Cap of No-Love Thursday:
True to form, there was no love being shared on Thursday. Pastor Bob even forgot his wife’s dialysis appointment and she had to walk home. I found myself once again leaving my bar in search of another more suitable place, some place to fit my mood, some place that until recently was closed, you know the kind of bar that often has Crime Scene tape all around it. Yes, dear reader, I went to the seeder unfashionable tap-houses. …and boy what a night, at my seventh stop of the evening, I ended up having a large group of Peruvian day-labors make fun of me while I was trying to eat some hot peppers they brought in to the bar with them. Sadly, I have been remembering that particular part of the evening a little to well this morning.

My Weekend Plans:
My house guests are due in today, and will not be leaving until Sunday. I have to go to the airport and pick them up, I am however not looking forward to it for three reasons, I am hung-over, I cant seem to get very far from my down-stairs bath (finding myself wishing that home improvement project was done) and it is very hard to park a school bus at an airport, oh and also I am always worried about face reconnection soft-ware and surveillance programs now in place at all major airport so once again I will have to dress up like a clown.

I will try to keep you up-dated as the story un-folds. Sorry I have to get back to the campaign trail (I love my role as Republican Heckler, it is vital, and hell it just makes for good clean fun).

Quote from last night:

"They all look cute with a ball-gag in their mouth."
Fast Eddie


Thursday, October 28, 2004

No-Love Thursday

World of Sports:

Wow, the Socks. Good job, you bunch of rabble, you loveable bums, you long haired hippy freaks, you team of spirited individuals, a nation takes time to reflect on your accomplishments, as do I. For after all, those of you who know me know the baseball in my life.


Jasper County, Indiana:
Since 1996, Sunnycrest True Love Baptist Church, 289 W. Chapel Road, has been hosting House of Judgment - an alternative to those who don't typically celebrate Halloween.
"There are so many bad connotations that happen with Halloween we're trying to give something positive," said Associate Pastor Jeff Timmons.

The house takes groups on several scenes of a tragedy. One includes parents identifying the body of their children after being killed in an accident. A friend of those who died is taken to heaven and hell by an angel and is given the opportunity to choose.

"This is reality of what's going to happen in each and every person's life," Timmons said.
The first group of about 30 pre-schoolers watched intently scene after scene to see the fate of the young characters they straddles heaven and hell. While being judged for sins such as: masturbation, abortion, piercing of the navel, drug use, dancing, and mixing of the races.
Timmons said that about 619 people have converted to Christianity after going through the house and the church tries to keep in touch with them.

"It's not just about Sunnycrest, it's about building the Kingdom," he said. Sister Rose reported; "We're trying to teach the kids Halloween could be fun," but noted they needed to learn early about religion. "We want them to know what they're headed for and that life is not without consequences, which is something their parents should learn, particularly if they vote for that papist who is trying to take the Presidency from God’s chosen leader, who directed by His Devine wisdom is leading our great land to the end times and Rapture".

Goshen Indiana:
Larry Story, of 1911 Old Jail Road, was seen Tuesday feeding a mute swan that lives at the Goshen dam pond at the south edge of the city. The mayors office reported that he (Story) has been feeding the birds for months, watching a pair of birds raise a family of seven babies this summer. They are so tame that they eat bread out of Story's hand. Many days he feeds the swans more than once, giving them a loaf of "cheap" bread that now costs about 50 cents each, he said. The birds are quiet, since they are of course mute, he said, and only hiss once in a while. Story is former Goshen weather watcher and retired maintence employee at nearby nightclub. He retired in 1998.

Warsaw, Indiana:
An error on some ballots in Warsaw School Board District 13R is confusing some voters with absentee ballots and creating headaches for the county clerk’s office.

A glitch in the ballot printing for voters in Wayne Township precinct 915-Section G, which is in Warsaw school board District 31R, has erroneously put the candidates for District 17-B-36 Charles Sowman and Sterling P. Gravy – on the ballots for District 52-C-N, Region 3. The District 3 candidates are Jim Folker and Mrs. Dan Robinson. The printer who was the third one contacted for the bid, stated that he had complained on several occasions to county officials about his difficulty in understanding exactly what it was he was suppose to print.

According to Sharon Christ, Kosciusko County clerk, the error came to her attention Tuesday afternoon. “I just found out about it,” she said. “We’re going to be changing the ballot so that it does reflect the right way.” Christ said 17,391 absentee ballots were sent out for Wayne 5, but not all have been returned. The ballots will be corrected before Election Day, she said.

On aside candidates Jim Folker and Mrs. Dan Robinson, expressed surprise that they were on the ballot, stating that both had made visits to the county courthouse, in recent months, but those visits were to check on land titles and in the case of Mrs. Robinson to pick up pamphlets on canning at the county extension agents office, they both said however they are honored.

Kendallville, Indiana — A Kendallville man was arrested early this morning after he allegedly battered another man and stole his beer. Rex A. Danforth, 23, of the 1900 block of Deer Lane, was arrested at about 6:18 a.m. in front of 102 S. Main St. A witness identified Danforth as the person who allegedly battered an area man while shouting that he wanted the left sock and beer of the 26-year-old man in front of 102 S. Main St. Dandorth was taken to the Noble County Jail on charges of battery and theft, with his bond set at $4,000. The victim was able to recover 5 of the six beers and officers report at no point did he lose his sock.

JQP’s Voting Guide:

Now let me give you JQP’s guide in informed voting. This way when someone asks you, you can say that you have consulted one of, if not the only web-based provider of current, truthful, well reasoned, thoughtful, outright instructions on casting your vote in the up-coming elections.

The Republicans:

No, no, no, no, oh and no, dumb ass, dick head and a bit of a know it all prick. Military service? Well, on W’s watch not one Viet Cong commando was able to successfully infiltrate any of the country and western road houses in Texas or Alabama he frequented.

Steal/Steel Dick:
No, Really runs the country, draft dodger, fat ass, and grumpy old prick.

Indiana Republicans

Mitch Daniels:
No, What the fuck, rich white guy, from Washington comes “home” to run, fuck no, and that prick can shove that RV up-his ass double parking ass. Military service? Who are you kidding, thats for the poor kids and people who don’t go to his country club.

Mark Souder:
No, Slimy prick, most likely cheats a cards, has no chin, war hawk but was a hiding behind his religion during Nam, because of the peace church he belonged to. He was the guy who always told on everyone in elm. school. Fuck him.

Man, I remember being thought in school that separation of church and state was a good thing. Its time we send this bunch of picks back to their mountain compounds and back-yard bunkers. Yes, you heard me say it, no more Republican Taliban. Or, rich fuckers getting richer.


Yes, even thought I don’t like him. At least he went to war, got shot at and did some shooting back. That, and I just fucking can’t stand the bunch of pricks running things.

Yes, he is a southerner, he is from the Carolinas, and Mrs. JQP believes him to be much better looking than the late Strom Thurman (with whom she had a brief affair).

Other Reasons, well both of their first names are John. They both have good hair. They both are Democrats. They both might think before they act. If you don’t see you candidate listed use the following method is highly recommended when voting, it is the Democrat Straight Ticket Method.

Thought for the day:

Underlying the whole scheme of civilization is the confidence men have in each other, confidence in their integrity, confidence in their honesty, confidence in their future.
Bourke Cockran

Yours always,

JQP Maj. (Ret.)

From Pastor Bob

Sent via Flaming arrow this morning.

Apocalypse now and then
by David Batstone
As the 2004 election campaign winds down, it's time to select my favorite bumper sticker of the season:

Bush/Cheney '04: Because you don't change horsemen mid-apocalypse.

Though I appreciate the humor, on a deeper level the message signals how troubled many Democrats (and other anti-Bush voters) would be if George W. Bush were to win a second term. They commonly paint the consequences in near-apocalyptic hues. Left-leaning author Norman Lear suggests (surely somewhat tongue-in-cheek) that the price of real estate in New Zealand is due to rise dramatically if Bush were to win.

Many of my Republican friends likewise threaten to flee the country if John Kerry wins. Consider the e-mail I received last week from a worried friend: "It now looks like Kerry has a good chance to take over the White House. If that happens, good riddance to this country. I don't plan to stay around and watch him drag our nation into a cesspool."

This election is being pitted as a winner-takes-all-the-spoils contest. In reality, however, whoever wins the presidential election next week will govern a bitterly divided body politic. Close to half of the voters will have cast their ballot to keep the winner out of the White House, and in most cases they will have done so with strong conviction.

Does it really need to be said that this scenario bodes ill for the democratic process in the United States? In such a divisive climate, political policy ceases to be evaluated on the basis of merit; rather, it becomes a litmus test for ideological purity.

We do not know if a President Kerry would cross partisan lines to build a broad consensus on critical matters of foreign policy, health care, and judicial appointments. Promises "to unite" the nation flow with ease in a stump speech. The fact that Kerry most likely would face a Republican majority in Congress means that he would be woefully ineffective if he failed to build bipartisan compromise.

We can predict, however, how a second Bush term would unfold. Four years ago, following a controversial intervention of the Supreme Court to decide an election in favor of the candidate who lost the popular vote, George W. Bush took office as if he had a mandate. Bush's first treasury secretary, Paul O'Neill, provides a revealing snapshot of this attitude of political entitlement in The Price of Loyalty (written with Ron Suskind). O'Neill, an ardent Republican, could not find one strong argument to support a massive income tax cut that would make the federal deficit balloon. Finally, exasperated with O'Neill's repeated queries for justification during a high-level meeting reviewing economic policy, Vice President Cheney turned to O'Neill and told him bluntly, "We deserve it." Why? Because we won the election.

Last month President Bush spoke off the record to more than 100 of his most generous financial supporters - known as the Republican National Party Regents - at the White House. In his remarks (leaked by those in attendance), Bush announced his plans during the first two years of his second term to jam his agenda - for privatizing Social Security, continued tax cuts, drilling for oil in Alaska, and completing the mission in Iraq regardless of the costs - into being. In short, he will interpret an election victory as a mandate to finish what he started during his first term.

The political opposition, of course, would mobilize in fervent resistance to these initiatives, and the polarization will deepen. At least half the country will believe that the country is moving in the wrong direction, and animosity will prevail over cooperation.

Truth is, the pressing challenges facing the U.S. and the globe sorely call out for cooperation. Speaking with my business hat on, I am terribly concerned about the precarious heights to which the federal deficit has grown. Its resolution goes beyond left-right rhetoric, as does a needed re-structuring of Social Security. Facilitating an end to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, enabling a transition to sovereignty in Iraq, stemming the proliferation of nuclear weapons, and reversing the greenhouse effect all cry out for reasoned, bipartisan initiatives as well. And it is likely that the next president will select up to three, or maybe even four, new Supreme Court justices. If the Supreme Court is to maintain the respect of the entire nation, the judges must be chosen on the basis of their proven discernment and experience, not their judicial rating from the Christian Coalition or the ACLU.

Enough fighting already. To risk exhausting a tired political slogan, we have met the enemy, and it is us. A nation deeply divided will falter, for it cannot exert the strength of moral will that our times require. Without a vision that can transcend the flames of parochial interest, the people will perish.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Chance of drinking after work, 100%

The Epic story of last Weekend:

Ok, 47 e-mails and a few positive comments later, I will continue the story. But alas, at a some later date. It is so good your children’s children will be taught it in school. Hey, it’s possible, I mean like a lots of things are going to change after the revolution.

On shoddy Workmanship:

I have had a few things to get in order in my own personal life. You see I have dived into the world of the building trades, yes dear reader; I got one of those belts you put stuff in and a pair of Carhart work pants. The sweet and observant Mrs. John Q. Public says that yes, my ass-crack does show very well when bent over, involved in my labors.

I am re-modeling, you know there is just so much HGTV you can watch before you have to get off of the couch and try it out, in my case about three years of watching, if there wasn’t a football game on (and speaking of football, did you see the ND/BC game last Saturday, yes it was yet another example of God trying to tell me to quit talking shit).

So, I have started on the up-stairs bath (you might remember it from an earlier post, in which while very over-served at a local watering-hole upon my return to the manor house, I passed out in, at which point the thoughtful and persistent Mrs. John Q. Public, informed me that we don’t have an up-stairs bath.) Well dear friend we are in the process of getting one, and what a bath this will be, oh, yes what a bath it will be.

Now this project has not been without a few bumps in the road, not to mention we will be entertaining, this weekend, hosting my dear friend from my Juilliard days, J Thom (with the big Sax) he and his wife Sweet-pea, and their new child (Ed. Note, It is the policy of this blog to not release the names of anyone who at the time of posting is under the age of 18).

They will be in town for their childs Episcopalian baptism (about as close to RC has you can get). The end result is that there will be a large population of people from Chicago, upper-michigan, and the Mid & Deep South who will descend upon the compound. It was my goal to have this project completed before they started pouring in (a recent survey done by the Mitch Daniels Campaign, showed that nation-wide Indiana remains one of the top 3 vacation destinations, and the fall colors are simply wonderful).

You may know, while being and accomplished surgeon, artist, practitioner of the Law, scholar and humanitarian, I have found that there is a deficit (much like the national deficit which has grown since my dear friend and mentor former President Bill Clinton left office) in my home repair and re-modeling skill level. The old adage, the clothes make the man, does not hold true when you are trying to learn on the fly, the physics behind waste water removal systems. While a quick study and a strong supporter of life long learning, I found myself at an impasse around 3:32 am. (It was stroke of luck I was able to pull the bilge pumps from my yacht so as to help with the flooding)

I contacted a colleague, who owed me a favor for making some charges disappear when I was working at the State Dept. He soon came over, and complemented my skill enhancement to-date, saying the work so far, could best be described as reminiscent of the Green-Line in Beirut during his last visit there in the mid-seventies.

Need less to say, I am now subcontracting the job out. Good thing I sold plasma this week. I shall be like the old TV series, Kung-Fu learning at the feet of a great master, “oh you see grasshopper, the poop is flushed away.” Such is life.

Public Service Announcement:

Now on a more serious note, when you get a chance to go to those damn CPR classes go. No fucking shit; you never know when it can come in handy. For instance, say… this morning.

I do have to give big time props to everyone in the administration section, they all did well under a fucked up situation. Our prayers and thoughts go out to our colleague and her family. That and I hope that people will now listen to me when I say that if you combine highly trained human service professionals and cubicles only heartache and trouble will be reaped. Odd, once again I find myself Shaken, not stirred.

Local News:

Motorist accused of shooting vehicle:
A Fort Wayne man accused of shooting at an occupied pickup truck was charged Tuesday.
Anthony L. McBride, 19, of the 4800 block of Spatz Avenue, was charged with criminal recklessness and carrying a handgun without a license. He was being held at the Allen County Lockup in lieu of $7,500 bail.

McBride threw a food bowl into the yard of another man in the 4400 block of South Park Avenue on Sept. 18, court documents said. When the man, driving a pickup truck, caught up with McBride, McBride began threatening him. The man drove off, and McBride pulled out a gun and fired at him. The man found a bullet hole in the tailgate and a bullet was recovered, court documents said.

Ok, I don’t know about you, but if a guy with a hand gun and a “food bowl" starts threatening me, I am most likely going to un-ass the situation and not follow him and try to pick a fight.

Well, unless of course I have been drinking, then I might pick that fight, oh hell, I might be the fucking nut-job with the handgun and “food bowl”, there have been nights dear friends, there have been nights.

Drug charge filed:
Allen County Police confiscated 738 pounds of marijuana from a Blue Cliff Place home Friday. Officers were serving a warrant for bad checks when they found the marijuana. They arrested Toby Daniels Jr., 37, of the 200 block of Blue Cliff, on a charge of dealing more than 10 pounds of marijuana.

Lets, see… dude man, what the fuck are you doing writing bad checks when you’re sitting on that much chronic? Hello, if you’re going to sell drugs out of your parents converted garage (where you have been living since you graduated high-school back in 1985) keep a low fucking profile, if you need cash, sell some of your dope, dont steal your grandmothers checks, it’s not like you have glaucoma or something.

Bar Status:

The bar re-opened on Monday, it smells like a smoke-house, but fuck it. Its my bar. It was sweet they called to thank me for the flowers and to make sure I was there when they un-locked the doors. Yes, dear reader… I was home, once again at “my” bar stool, drinking Miller and Rumplemintz . Let this be proof to you that there is an order in the universe. However in writing this, I do see a possible correlation in the bar re-opening and my reduced fine-motor skills and its possible effect on my current remodeling project. You know, I dont think I could ever work anywhere again if there wasnt a bar within 100 feet of my office doors.

Thought for the day:

Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better than we deserve. & Democracy substitutes election by the incompetent many for appointment by the corrupt few.
George Bernard Shaw Irish dramatist & socialist (1856 - 1950)

Once Again, yours very Truly!

John Q. Public, DDS PsyD

Tuesday, October 26, 2004


Criticism comes easier than craftsmanship.
ZeuxisGreek painter (~400 BC)

your loss on the seven part story on my weekend.
piss on you.
back to my roots you say?
I have to many teeth, for that
and I have never done hard time
roots, piss on roots
piss on you.

and to everyone else, good morning!


Monday, October 25, 2004

It begins

It was a weekend like any other, with a few minor exceptions. I decided to brush off my investigative skills and work with a old friend as a Bounty Hunter, so after asking Sister Mary Margaret to cover my ESL class, I was off on the investigation beat, to coin a popular expression oft heard these days; I was go’en get me some of the’m evil-doers.

Dear friends, little did I know that a that the undertaking I was entering would take me to the highest levels of power, and the lowest levels of depravities, in what can only be said is a story that would make the epic-documentary director Roger Moore blanch.

I developed what I assumed would be an effective cover-story and wardrobe change (I was glad I saved all those clothes from my days in Seattle with the grunge-band, nods to Pastor Bob who had recently returned my Red Army over-coat, and East German ruck-sack.

My cover story was quite simple (given my belief that in covert-ops the simplest plan is often the most appropriate). My name was to be “Spike” and I had jumped ship from a North-Korean Iron-Ore freighter that at that time was docked in my sleepy port town. With those preparations made dear reader I dove into the steamy-under-belly of the “City of Churches”.

My friend and I, (who for the sake of this story will be known by the cover-name I knew him best as (when we were mercenaries in the killing fields of Principality of Monaco) “Lolly-Pop”, a name that is still both blessed a cursed in some parts of Europe.

We soon found ourselves at the water front of our port city, replete with; seedy bars, tattoo parlors, happy-ending massage establishments, Buy-Here Pay-Here car lots, Pay-Day Loans, and the local republican headquarters. All places the “low-people” are known frequent, yes, our path into the darkness would begin here.

We were on the trail of close knit gang of thugs and bail jumpers, whose last offence was strong arming the patents at the local VA hospital, into keeping their mouths shut about a proposed plan to close the hospital leaving them without the sub-standard health care they had grown accustom to, in their wake they left broken hips and shattered the dreams of these proud veterans, everyone a hero. Oh, yes dear reader it was personal now, “Lolly-Pop” and I were going to make someone pay.

We picked up our trail at a bar known as the Boom-Boom Saloon. For those readers who have never been to this particular tap-house, let me paint a mental picture for you. There are three things that Boom-Boom's is know for they are:

The quality of the exotic female dancers (dear reader, if ever the word exotic was appropriately used, it is here now). Your typical dancer often is a sweet lass, between the ages of 18 and 61, track marks plainly visible, replete with tattoos, piercings (fish-hooks, were most often seen on this visit, given its water-front local) knife and/or gunshot scars or wounds in various stages of healing, and advanced cases of gastro-intestinal disease. (How would one tip these ladies? I use the dollar per tooth method, I love attention to detail, and it always insures I leave with money).

The building itself, while offering an extensive lunch and dinner menu (hats off to the chef) it is still best known for its beer-drinking cockroach population, (it is often best to drink quickly and cover any remaining beverage with the fine wire mesh the wait-staff provides). I tend to stay away from beers brewed in St. Louis due to the notable fact that the roaches seem to prefer them to all other domestic and imported beers. Also, I must inform the reader that shootings and stablings occur with such a frequency among the customers that after a brief adjustment period, they take on an almost surreal effect, that is most easily compared to current Swiss post-modern film(my most recent viewing was Schlorkbabies an der Raststätte, two thumbs up).

And last, the thing that has allowed this place of respite for the wicked, such renown, is the fact that they (the owners, who it might be added are also big funders of the Mitch Daniels campaign for governor, of our fare land, our great state, Indiana) ..always pride themselves on having at least one midget dancer (or little person, as I was informed they prefer to be called, at the point of a knife, while looking in her mouth in an earnest effort to gage the amount of my tip).

It was soon after finishing a ninth pitcher of beer, and a wonderful petite roasted Capon in garlic and walnuts with a cream sage butter sauce, polished off with Cream Brule, that “Lolly-Pop” gave me the heads up, a C.I. (confidential informant, to those of you not familiar with trade-speak) had some information that could help our investigation, and we should meet him in the ally between the gun-store and the rescue mission. His C.I was only known as “green-teeth”.

I am sorry, dear reader, but the nurse is here now to give me my sponge bath, and drop off the flowers just sent to me by the Truthful and Compassionate Mrs. John Q. Public, who has I type this is on the road with the Boy-Band, filming a interview with Kansas Public Television, in preparation for their show Wednesday night, (my understanding is that they are opening for a Monster-Truck Show & Pull, at the 4-H fair-grounds). I will continue later, if my injures allow it.



A joke for a Monday, or is it?

Sent via e-mail, this morning

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is Politics?" Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I am the head of the family, so call me The President. Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her The Government. We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you The People. The nanny, we will consider her The Working Class. And your baby brother, we will call him The Future. Now think about that and see if it makes sense. So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now," The father says, "Great son! Tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "The President is screwing The Working Class while The Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and The Future is in deep shit."

Friday, October 22, 2004

Ok, now I am shitty

I just went to get in my bus and drive home, I have been in surgry for hours already today, I am beat, and I just wanted a little nap. So, I go to leave and I am parked in by a god-damn RV covered in graffiti, so, I like anyone else I:

A) keyed it
B) put sugar in the gas tank (at least I think it was the gas tank)
C) called to police (they owe me one, for doing the gig at the ball again this year) to have it towed.

So, after it was hooked up and being pulled to the impound lot to be crushed or used as emergency housing for immigrant buck-eyes (you can fit 39 of them in an average RV, and they seem to like it) a little rich white guy came running up started screaming at me, something along the lines of “your rotten bastards, you fuck- stick, you mother…” at which time, my attack dog Pay-Pay lunged at him, I never go to work at the hospital without him (I got Pay-Pay at a government surplus auction, seems he is retired prisoner attack dog, and well regarded groin-biter). Good dog, g-o-o-d d-o-g…

Well, lets just say MITCH, you aren’t my man!

Power to the People, Right-On!


We all have bad dreams

Last night the astute and thoughtful Mrs. John Q. Public woke me in the middle of the night saying “…dear sweet man, arise form your slumber, hear me” to which I said, “for-gods-sake its 2:15, what the fuck are you doing home from the bars already” she said “…sweet, silly man, I never left, we went to bed together” I replied, “well, what is it then, you have me awake and now I have to pee, and if it’s about your prescription you can go a night without those god-damn pills and get a script filled in the morning” She then replied, “no dear husband, sweet and loving, I just woke from a bad dream… I dreamt that the election came down to one swing state, it was so very horrifying, hold me I am still shaking” as I held her trembling 6’1 frame, with 38dd breasts and size 2 feet, she sobbed, “my god, John…the state was Ohio!”

yes, dear reader I know I need not say more, it was a restless night at the manor house.

Shaken not stirred,


Thursday, October 21, 2004

the others

This I enjoyed:

is from I got it at his soap-box on the cyber-square,
that and I found this when going through Murphy's drawer
while house sitting last week.

Hugs and Kisses


Baseball, it is my life

If the Socks can make it to the series,
then all things are possible, what exciting times we live in dear friends.

Last night I enjoyed the company of my friend and mentor Tattoo John. However this morning I found myself laying on the floor of the upstairs bath, can you imagine my shame when the Always sweet and Loving Mrs. John Q. Public, arrived on the scene and informed me that we don’t have an upstairs bath? Alas dear souls, it is never a good way to wake-up. After a fortifying meal of Corned Beef Hash (canned) and a double latte, I still find my head cloudy and my wallet noticeably lighter. The indulging and forgiving Mrs. John Q. Public took me to my panel van (it’s an organ-donation day, and I don’t drink and drive, you know my motto: “stay smart-stay alive”.

A brief over-view of the evening and its many merits, we meet at a little neighborhood bar on the northwest side of our happy community, called the “Black-Beatle” (*Ed. Note: names have been changed to protect the reputations of sites of fine dinning). And we began catching up, well I began catching up, you see Tattoo John arrived at the establishment several hours before me. He told me of his travels and the many wonders he had seen, of earthworms the size of your leg, of the finer points of flat-chested tribal women, of travel by bus from the mountainous land of Bolivia to the sun-drenched city of gold that is Milwaukee. What an adventures he had, the wanderlust, the soul of the gypsy. In short order we were informed by our barman, they we had drunken the last of the Rumplemist. Now I can’t speak for you, but there is something about Rumplemist that makes fermented hops go down easy. That and it does loosen ones tongue (mine is healing up nicely by the way).

At this point those of you who try to emulate me in every possible way might be asking yourselves, what kind of beer does John Q. Public drink? Well, dear reader a bit of insight, into the man…

I drink Miller, no not Miller Lite, not Miller Genuine Draft, but Miller, it is after all the Champagne of beers, and it is Union made, I first developed the taste, while working as a labor organizer for the AFL-CIO, in the salt mines of Utah.

Tattoo John was sampling PBR, which to this day, turns a very special place in my stomach. Upon the unfortunate reality that yes in fact the bottle had run dry; we made the next most logical decision. We went to the local Rugby Bar, it was their weekly Indian food and Cricket night, but after some persuasion and a heavy tip, the bartender/owner turned the television to the game, and yes dear reader what a game it was (please note: I am still a Yankee’ fan, I even have a hat and everything).

Oh, how the Rumplemist and beer flowed. I could see joy on the flushed face, of my comrade and drinking companion. Well there might be a need for some back ground. Nothing good ever happens to me at said Rugby Bar…nothing good, as a matter of fact my last 15 failed relationships were a result of large quantity’s of alcohol and the lovely lady’s of said establishment. That and I seem to get into a fight every time (no, I am not the only one) I am there. Well, after I reached the point where due to my failing eye-sight and acute alcohol poisoning I begged off our reunion and called the Attentive and Protective Mrs. John Q. Public to gather me from what would surely be another famous Tattoo John & John Q. Public Tri-State drinking extravaganza.

Which she dutifully did. However on leaving I did have a chance to get into a brief discussion of the merits of Chaucer and to a lesser extent how Bush is a pussy with a rather large cocaine dealer. During the discussion he was heard to utter something about kicking my ass, (yes, silly isn’t he, what a card) and preceded to flash a pistol, (it was a nickel plated S&W 44 magnum, suitable for dropping say a Cape Buffalo, I however still prefer to trust my 9 mm Browning Hi-Power).

Now, being as I was in the process of leaving and my ride said something to the effect of “I am not bailing you out again this week nor do I have time for a funeral, the boy band I promote is going back on the road” I left. Yes, dear reader, I acted like a grown up (I blame it on the drink and my over all pleasant mood).

But, my point: This is the 4th time in three months that someone has threatened me with bodily injury over a political discussion. What the fuck, why cant right wing pricks even listen to someone else’s point of view, and they want to run the fucking country? So much for America land of the free. Hey, but then again he could of not liked my views on Chaucer. That’s all for now dear reader. I have to go pick up a heart and some eye-balls in Goshen.

Yours truly,


Wednesday, October 20, 2004

ok, I made it

7 seven, yeap seven days w/out cussing....
I am now out of the habbit....
lets try it out: eh umm, f-f-fuck, ssshshit, gooooddamn
getting better... fuck, Fuck, F-u-c-k,
(lol) that made ppl stick their heads up... should of closed my office door...
well, be warned kids, Daddy is back,
oh, yes...and there shall be no mercy.....

Your Cast

A cast of characters (to-date):

The Hero:
John Q. Public

The clergy/philosophers:
Pastor Bob
Father Phil
Joel the Barman/Engineer

The Warrior-Sages:
Tattoo John
Johnny Vanilla
Pete the Fireman
Matt the Cop
Lil’ K, my trusty boy Capon

The Masters of the Arts:
J. Thom. With the big Sax
Fast Eddie

The Ladies:
Mrs. John Q. Public
My fat girlfriend
Neeh-Neeh (Mrs. JQP’s ex-girlfriend)
Rose (my current white trash meth head girlfriend)

The Weird Guy who hangs out in the lobby
Vic & Ralph (prison lovers)
Mr. McFeely
GW Bush (as himself)

To this we give thanks

A few words of thanks:
I wanted to take a moment from my work here at the clinic fitting prosthetics to the legs of poor children (have you ever fitted prosthetics to a child who has fully functional limbs and then made them run, my god, but its good for a belly laugh, and people wonder why I volunteer) to make a comment of thanks to the countless people world-wide who have offered their condolences via e-mail, blog-comments, in-person, telephone, and in one very special case by carrier pigeon. It was very heart-warming, to you dear readers, I say thank-you.

Thought for the Day:
In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning. A. E. Housman English classical scholar, poet, & satirist (1859 - 1936)

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

On Catholic Education and Chiropractic Arts:

Helping a Friend:
Last night, Father Phil called me, and asked for a meeting. I could tell by his tone it was not going to be a meeting I would enjoy.

It seems while the church has been rather indulgent in some of my activities (the “Come has your favorite Saint and/or Sinner” dinner and dance for the senior citizens and of course my driving of the Greater Grace New Tabernacle Faith Church and Show Choir church bus), but they have taken a rather less enlightened view on a few (very few, rest assured) of my other actions.

First some back-ground. A dear friend of mine from my days in the regiment, upon discharge from duty, came across one of those problems we all face, ergo: which career path to chose? When faced with the decision he chose the profession of chiropractics rather than his first dream of a profession in the world of dance. Some may say he sold-out, I however believe he bought in (that and I have seen him dance on several occasions, clogging is not for the faint of heart).

After completing his studies at the well regarded: “Inst. For Chiropractic Studies and Diesel Mechanics” located just off Exit 5 in beautiful Richmond, Indiana, a community known for its roses and RV sales.(its should be noted however that I am not an un-biased observer of said school, if you were to read the current catalog it lists myself has adjunct facility).

My friend (who for legal reasons will be know as “Doctor J”) started his practice in a spare room above his father’s Butcher Shop (perhaps you have seen their bumper stickers “ J######” Bros. Butcher Shop: No one, but no one beats our Meat”. Now for sake of story I must also tell you dear reader that their establishment is located right across the street from “Our Lady, Chicken of the Sea Catholic Church and Primary School” my home parish.

Sadly, “Doctor J’s” practice did not take off, he was even forced to help out in his father’s shop making their well know and highly regarded sausages (now available with “Super Secret Cougar Sausage Slaw” **trademark pending). Which was my opion at the time a waste of one of the great minds in modern chiropractic medicine.

“Doctor J”, had the presence of mind to seek out my council, and as a dear friend and comrade from our day’s in uniform (he still walks with a limp from a particularly nasty bite he received when out with me on a search and destroy mission in the red-light districts of the Philippine Islands, and I still carry a saber scar of that same event, my hat goes off to those brave ladies, the members of the elite Donkey-Dance Brigade, our gallant foes, our sworn enemies, but alas, perhaps a story for another time).

I came upon a solution, to his woes. As it happens I was recently asked if I could take over the teaching of the natural family planning class required of all good catholic couples if they wish to be married in the eyes of our great religion (how great you may ask? Well, dear reader, if you were buying Jesus, for 2,000 years we had the only store on the corner, yes…that great). I of course agreed, and also offered my skill as a cosmetic surgeon for a discounted rate as well; both Father and the Parish Council felt they would just have me do the class. Oh, well it was not only their loss, but a loss for many of us who are forced to sit through the weddings of the ugly.

I soon put my plan into action. Starting with the first class, I threw away the curriculum, much like those scenes made famous by the great dramatic actor Robin Williams in the movie “Dead Poets Society”. I proceeded for two hours every Wednesday night over 6 weeks, in the basement of the CYO, to educate my young charges. Oh, the joy of eager minds, and couples in love.

My instruction was focused on two areas I feel of great importance, the self-gratifier, and in-depth study of the Karma Sutra, while this may seem unconventional to some, I believe it was Buddha who said: “there are many paths to the mountain, but only one mountain”.

I found my focus relating to the time of conception and positioning being the most enlightened part of the whole series. I stressed that sexual activity between a loving couples should occur at least 3 times a day, 6 days a week (why did you think the good book calls Sunday a day of rest?). Also a strong point was the following (now I do realize that many readers of this posting will already be familiar with these activities, so, please for the sake of the less well rounded individuals bare with me) that the very best way to have a baby every time is the missionary position, however there is no chance of orgasms for either party, however the less well known position that will guarantee incredible orgasms for both parties with zero chance of conception is the secret Flying-S position, this is one favored by advanced practitioners of yoga, and some sects of Amish, examples of both were provided with thanks to the Beautiful and Loving Mrs. John Q. Public and when she was un-available my fat girl friend.

At the completion of the class, I handed them the business card of my good friend and comrade from our days in the calvary “Doctor J”. Whose practice picked up quite noticeably, to the point he like all other providers of medical services fled our inter-city neighborhood and got very tastefully decorated office over by the truck terminal, about a ½ mile past the airport.

Of course this brings me to the meeting with Father Phil. While still in a state of shock over the loss of “my bar”, I went to our appointment. It seems last Sunday, the parish council had a meeting, and acting on the directions of the diocese’s investigative office (yet, another reason to never trust a Jesuit, with their pierced ears and silk shirts, they are truly the Waffen SS of the Vatican).

It seems that a large number of young married couples started experiencing strange maladies, they include but are not limited to the following: hyper-extended necks, multiple hip dislocations, yellow discharge, and sprained wrists. While these injurys may be common among the yoga and Amish communities, here they were greeted with no un-due concern. Many of these injury’s resulted in the individuals and/or couples seeking chiropractic (enter my friend and colleague “Doctor J”) and in extreme cases orthopedic attention.

Dear reader, it did not take as long as I thought for them to track it back to me and my class on natural family planning. I have heard from sources close to the investigation that at one point both the Dept. of Homeland Defense and the CDC were consulted.

So, effective immediately I am not longer allowed to teach said class. Now some might look at this as a slap in the face, but I don’t, I was, after all only doing it to help a friend get his struggling practice up and running, and the way I see it, I will have even more time to devote to my latest project, life size statues of both Elvis and Bobby Knight (believe it or not, chain-saw art is a lot more difficult than is seems, and once again sorry! to my neighbor Ray who was helping me with the project last week, I am glad they were able to reattach it, the wonders of modern medicine never cease to amuse and entertain me).

I leave you now dear reader, as I am due in court (I moon-light as a public defender, it takes me back to my days with the Southern Law and Poverty Center). Still no cussing...!

Quote for the Day:
Pain (any pain--emotional, physical, and mental) has a message. The information it has about our life can be remarkably specific, but it usually falls into one of two categories: "We would be more alive if we did more of this," and, "Life would be lovelier if we did less of that." Once we get the pain's message, and follow its advice, the pain goes away.
Peter McWilliams, Life 101

This posting is dedicated to Fast Eddie, a prince among men and leader in the art communities on both coasts, who when he lost everything, left me with this word of wisdom: “whatever”…. Soldier on, Fast Eddie, Soldier on dear man.


JQP Lt. Col. Ret.

The aftermath

Up-date: According to the local news and sources close to the event. The bar will be re-opened in 10 to 14 days, I must admit, there were construction crews there has the fire dept. was pulling out. There in fact was a much quicker response than say if the children’s hospital burned down, to this I tip my hat to those involved in the building trades. However, I must also bow to the Irish and German communities in our fair burg, who at once realized the importance of this historic watering hole for the cultural elite. Thanks to the hard work ethic of the Germans, and the constant thirst of the Irish, I do believe this ambitious undertaking to be both laudable and achievable. Yes, dear reader, I can once again enjoy my smoked fish and capers with Rumplemist chasers by month’s end, Lord willing. JQP M Div

Monday, October 18, 2004

It is with a heavy heart

...I write this, my bar, yes my bar, just burned down. For those of you who have a "bar of your own" where you meet all your friends, where everyone knows you, where the events of not only your life but countless others were Celebrated or Mourned you know my pain, the pain of friends, of a neighborhood, of a community. Yes, dear reader, I have lost some of my roots today. JQP

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Readers speak out

I thought I would post some of the comments of a select group of great Americans.

Anonymous said...
is Pastor Bob the cross-dresser from the show?

I said...Pastor Bob aka Mona? I like it, might have to run with that one

Melinda said...
Ah, the "Wet Pussy" always gets me.

Going to the John said...well Madam, I must agree with you... I happen to be fond of that drink as well

Anonymous said...Pastor Bob is not a cross dresser! Pastor Bob just is.

John, you seem to be missing the point that God is responsible for your inability to hold your drink. Why? We are all God's creatures, created by him, flaws and all. Thus God became responsible when, in his infinite wisdom, he decided to remove the gene from your race that causes the rest of us to still retain some semblance of common sense even after copious amounts of various fruity fermented beverages have passed our lips.

you ignorant sod, the motto of the Seebees is "we build - we fight." You can find proof here - .

Now on to coupon (pronounced: k p n , ky -), you are correct. I must admit that this admission disturbs me on many levels, not the least of which is how you came upon an innate ability to pronounce French like a Frenchman. The history of this word is quite unique and a Roman might have had difficulty predicting what would become of the Latin word colaphus, which meant “a blow with the fist.” In Old French, a language that developed from Latin, the Late Latin word colpus, derived from colaphus, became colp, or modern French coup, with the same sense. Coup has had a rich development in French, gaining numerous senses, participating in numerous phrases, such as coup d'état,) and giving rise to many derivatives, including couper, “to divide with a blow or stroke, to cut.”

Couper yielded the word coupon, “a portion that is cut off,” which came to refer to a certificate that was detachable from a principal certificate. The detachable certificate could be exchanged for interest or dividend payments by the holder of the principal certificate. Coupon is first recorded in English in 1822 with this sense and then came to apply to forms or tickets, detachable or otherwise, that could be exchanged for various benefits or used to request information. (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition)

Going to the John said...Dear reader,There was a certain je ne sais quoi to your comments, so I thought I would take a moment from my work here at the orphanage to reply.

Unlike big ticket think tanks and news organizations, I do not have a large group of highly skilled “fact-checkers” as a result, there are times when distracted (such as while being involved in life saving acts, under enemy fire, while trying to seduce women, or humanitarian missions), I might offer some incorrect information, and/or un-sound judgments, while this is rare, it is also unavoidable, to this end I do issue apologies for misquoting the motto of those fine men and women of the US Navy’s Construction Battalions. While “Can Do” or Construimus, Batuimus, is the motto of the Sea Bees I believe my error was in saying it was “Anytime, Anywhere, Anyhow” ( a close unit motto would be that of the Mobile Inshore Undersea Warfare Unit MIUWU 105 whose motto is “Anywhere, Anytime, Any Task, Nothing but Excellence”, however it is my understanding the statement Anytime, Anywhere, Anyhow was used by John Wayne in the 1943 movie “Fighting Seabees”) but my comments were more so a statement about the use of the word Anyhow in most sentence structures favored by residents of the north-eastern border counties of Indiana, and my hypothesizing about the influence of large populations of Anti-Baptists in said counties, and the use of spoken English. There I have done my noblesse oblige. Warmest Regards JQP

Emily said...
Hi, You should Check This Out. Get a Free Flatscreen TV or LCD Monitor. Just click on link to find out more.

Going to the John said...
well gee Emily, I will get right on that, perhaps you could give me, your home address and phone number so I could get ahold of you if I come across any great savings on flat screen TVs, lap-tops, I-PODs, blenders, duct tape, meat clevers, and plastic sheeting.

AnonymousJohn, eat lotsa bananas, drink milk and lotsa water...that always helps me when I'm hungover!

Going to the John said...Thanks for the info! does it work better than curds and whey? or pickled cabage?

Oct. 17th 2004 (a day of rest)

Well, dear reader... it was a night,
...a night that for some reason I must not of wanted to end, due to the fact that I have not yet slept. A talent I attribute to my aggressive personality and an inherited ability to consume large amounts of alcohol. (another thing that we of Irish decent are less well know for is our poetry, perhaps in a future post I will include some of my free verse).

After driving the church bus I was able to make it to Mass, where Father Phil greeted me with open arms and only a few un-wanted gropes. While standing outside the church after Mass sharing a smoke with a few of the altar boys I heard the following joke, I found it most humorous (perhaps do to the fact that I was still partially inebriated, I was told that I should of stopped drinking when everyone else did at 4:00 am, I however was raised with the axiom: No one likes a quitter, and I, John Q. Public, while being many things, am no quitter) ah so the joke…

A 727t is just making its final approach to Fort Wayne International Airport.The pilot comes on the intercom, "This is your Captain. We're on our final descent into Fort Wayne. I want to thank you for flying with us today and I hope you enjoy your stay here in Ft. Wayne."

He forgets to switch off the intercom. Now the whole plane can hear his conversation from the cockpit. The copilot says to the pilot, "Well, skipper, we have a layover... whatcha gonna do in cultural Mecca that is Indiana?"

Well," says the skipper, "first I'm gonna check into the hotel and take a big crap.... then I'm gonna take that new stewardess with the huge tits out for dinner. Then I'm gonna wine and dine her, take her back to my room and make love to her big time all night."Everyone on the plane hears this and immediately begins looking up and down the aisle trying to get a look at the new stewardess.

Meanwhile the new stewardess is at the very back of the plane. She's so embarrassed that she starts to run to try and get to the cockpit to turn the intercom off. Halfway down the aisle, she trips over an old nuns hand bag, and down she goes. At this point wise old Sister Mary leans over and says: "No need to hurry, dear. He's gotta take a shit first."

As for the evening, well dear reader how can you go wrong with Macedonian roast pork, Ouzo, good friends and the abuse of prescription drugs, yes it was an action packed night, but sadly I can not got into details about my activities or the activities of others, until the statute of limitations as expired, or the Patriot Act is revoked.

This just in:
My good friend and colleague from my days at Cambridge, Tattoo John just returned from his travels with the dung eating primitive tribes of the Amazon, (he was working on a documentary for the Discovery Channel) It seems he and the former girlfriend of Mrs. John Q. Public (yes, I know, it’s a long story, but one my dear wife tells best, most often while other women from the village chant and beat drums in the women’s tent during the monthly celebration of their menses) will be in repose at a local Rugby bar. I believe that I might join them; I always love catching up with other great minds.

God, go with you.
I remain as always, your humble servant,


Saturday, October 16, 2004

My Plans for Oct. 16th. (Perfect Day)

Plans for a Saturday:

Well, the beautiful and kind Mrs. John Q. Public and I were going to go skiing on the slopes of beautiful Mt. Etna. I truly think those slopes to be better than ones close to my childhood home of Mt. Zion. Indiana has so many natural wonders to behold, so many things to do, that it really is difficult to decide what to do with your free time on weekends. However, I was on-call today at the hospital yet again, (it’s like no one else there can do brain surgery, I mean, come on, didn’t we all go to med school, that and do you know how hard it is to park a school bus in a hospital parking garage).

Mrs. Public was displeased, but these things happen when your married to a humanitarian, and it was either that or going with a group from church (my real one, you know that catholic one, the one with the steeple and all the lawn statues) that is currently involved in building a clinic and a school in a small village across the border.

I, like many other Hoosiers, feel some degree of guilt about the high quality of life we enjoy, when those poor Buckeye children go without, oh well perhaps I will join them next weekend, it is my understanding they will be heading up to Michigan to build a bridge that will cut 10 miles off the trip of the local indigenous population as they drive their chicken herds to market. Hoosiers are a very giving people, and there is something about the joy you feel in your heart when you give a Buckeye child his first pair of shoes.

Now that I am off duty, in a manner of speaking (because are we ever really off duty?), I have made my plans for the evening: I will be attending a Macedonian anniversary party and hog-roast, since I have recouped my bearings from my evening of excess, I plan to enjoy the company of a select group of friends (yes, dear reader, I have taken great lengths to ensure that Pastor Bob doesn’t find out about this evening of fun and festivities). I can barely wait for the fresh roasted pork, pickled farm products and large amounts of eastern European and Mediterranean liquors. I might even dance like Zorba the Greek again this year, however there will be no repeat of the “kiss the goat contest” I understand that it is still discussed in some circles, behind closed doors. Wishing you and yours all the best, JQP esq.

Line of the Day:

“You came into my life like vermouth to gin, quickly and a little to smooth.”

Friday, October 15, 2004

its Friday morning

and I am hung-over, yes.... hung-over
over-served, to a point where all that is human left my body
(in many ways, dear reader, in many ways)
Gladly, I am only scheduled to be in court for 12 hours today.

When am I going to learn, to:

A) Stop ordering drinks, with "fun" names
B) That at my advanced age, 3 hours is not enough sleep
C) That I should stop drinking with Pastor Bob, however that stage-show was good at the "Meet-Market" last night, (golf-clap to Mona A-More, her Billy Hoilday was wonderful).

Thank goodness I found the curative powers of this little treat. Talk about something that will set you right, after a long night of hard drinking.

"...and I still laugh out loud when walking thru the underwear section at Wal Mart "

Quote of the day:

And malt does more than Milton canTo justify God's ways to man.
A. E. HousmanEnglish classical scholar, poet, & satirist (1859 - 1936)

Back to the Slave Trade.....

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Oct 14th, and I am John Q. Public

Cause and Effect:

Soon after my return from the hospital this morning, I realized that this no-cussing thing could have some serious health consequences, many that I had not foreseen, which given my amazing powers of perception is in and of its self, odd.

Allow me to start my story, it started as one of a typical fall afternoon in Indiana, sun peeking over the mountain sides, the last of the summer’s flowers in bloom, and the ever present gentle breeze blowing down from the high meadows. It was five, after working in the salt mines all day; I thought to myself that for a bit of recumbence, some distilled sprits were in order. I then proceeded to a little place I know in our friendly harbor town, and placed my order with the tavern keeper who knows me by name.

Ok, who am I kidding…? I was in East Chicago, and ended up enjoying the Blade-Runner like scenery that is Gary, Indiana. After several hours of driving I was close to my home (I was volunteering with the local Lions Club Organ Donation program, northwest Indiana is a great source for free organs. But please! keep that in mind if you ever ask me to drive, my panel van has taken on what at times can best be described as the odor of a meat truck, that and there isn’t any beer in my coolers).

When, suddenly my cell-phone rang. It was Pastor Bob, calling to remind me that I had volunteered to drive the church bus and that the youth group outing to the Roller-Ram-A, was ready. (I know what you think, John Q., Didn’t you say you were a catholic? My answer, why, yes I am, and if you think I am a bad catholic, you should see what kind of Pentecostal I am, I mean, I don’t even like snakes, however…I am fond of Aramaic, and large women in polyester.

My former therapist thinks it goes back to a traumatic experience I had in the all boys elementary school I attended, involving a large lunch lady, but hey, come-on aren’t all lunch ladies large when your 8 years old, thus the second reason I quit seeing my therapist, the first having something to do with an involuntary commitment for 72 hours last month, and further more I don’t care what you or my probation officer say, I am not going back to her, skinny girls, they are all the same, even when they have PhD after their name.

So, after a long day on the road… I find myself behind the wheel of a 48 passenger Blue-Bird school bus circa 1968. with “Solomon’s Tribe” lead by Brother Tim and Sister Ruby (I can tell them apart because Ruby always wears these protestant girl culottes and no make-up, and Tim, has always struck me as one of Madonna’s dancers, or perhaps more like that guy they had dancing over at the “Meet-Market” last Wednesday, and you know what, they were right, his 10 o’clock show was all different from the 8 o’clock show, but that’s an aside. My point is the both give me the creeps). After about 25 minutes of weird kids asking me to help fit their stinky yellow sock covered feet into rented roller-skates all while the hits from the 80’s and today were blaring out of the sound system, only to be punctuated with shouts of, “girls only”, “boys only”, “all-skate”, I truly thought I was going to lose my mind, and there dear reader, is where my evening took an odd turn.

I left, and yes I took the school bus with me, it was a matter of my own good luck that the roller-skating rink (and why do they call it a rink anyway? how about something more accurate like flat enclosed concrete area to skate on, oh! after typing that, I can see why rink is a better term) is located on the by-pass, and luck of all luck, so are several strip-clubs and a few Asian heath spas. And, you know how I feel about the location of the viewing of political debates being tantamount to understanding the existential strife we Americans face every day. There was no way I was going to miss the last debate.

So, out of those clubs available, I picked, the Boob-Hill, a country western themed establishment, now I know what your thinking; huh? John Q, what are you doing in a country and western themed establishment? …and you would be right in doing so, dear reader; I am even un-comfortable with Ponderosa Steak houses, but please keep in mind, my mode of transportation, the bill board outside said; semi parking welcome ( do you know how long a school bus is?), thus with that key bit of information my decision was made, the die cast in a matter of speaking.

That, and I lied to Pastor Bob, I don’t have a CDL license, matter of fact I don’t have an Indiana drivers license, why do you think I volunteer at these places, well I will tell you why! What cop is going to pull over a panel van with the sign Lions Club International Organ Donation Response Vehicle, or an old bus with Greater Grace New Tabernacle Faith Church and Show Choir painted on the side? …and best of all they let me take them home! So needless to say I am less than skilled at parking that big thing, but fortuitously, there was a spot right in front.

I must have appeared visibility shaken, because the bartender and the bouncer both approached me upon my arrival, here is where I must admit, I was a little embarrassed. It seems that in my haste to flee, I had forgotten that I myself was wearing a pair of roller-skates, understanding why they though it odd, that a man would park a church bus in front of their bar, and get out wearing a pair of skates, I skated over to the bar, sitting down I proceeded to tell them about how I came to be in such a situation, including natural beauty of Gary, the Lions Club, the Church outing, my skates, the vow of not cussing for a week, and why I believe strip clubs to be ideal places to watch presidential debates.

Kindly, they agreed to let me stay, with the proviso that I don’t cause any trouble, at this point I could see the bouncer fingering his tooth necklace, I assured them, that I would be no trouble, none what-so-ever. The one draw-back to my plan so far had been that I would have to watch the event on closed captioning, however the ever present dollar dance eased my mind. I find that when driving church buses a combination of Absolute vodka on the rocks with double shots of Rumplemist go a long way to claming ones nerves, (and I would welcome any comments from my fellow church bus divers, on their self-medication of choice).

Needless to say, I enjoyed the debate, and was able to re-turn to the skating rink after only 7 attempts to call me, (it was loud in there, to the point that I still have the line “save a horse, ride a cowboy” going through my head) At my return, I apologized for my tardiness, explaining the long wait at the school bus oil change place. While driving back to the church, it first became evident, even to me…the un-mistakable scent of vomit in the stale air of that old bus.

Now I don’t know about you, but all I have to do is smell up-chuck and I am gagging, so try this on a belly full of top-shelf liquors and free miniature corn-dogs. It seems some of the Christian kids and at least one of the adults suffers from the same affliction. Here, is where I came close to cussing, after dropping everyone off at the church and making a suggestion to Pastor Bob and anyone else who could hear that perhaps, just perhaps, the snack of cold meat sandwiches and Jello -Surprise (what is it with Prots. and Jello anyway, you never see that stuff in a catholic home) followed by Sams Club sodas, pop rocks and physical activity was not a good idea. I left.

Driving up the long winding road to my estate, I had to turn up the radio (AM 1380) so not to hear the swishing sound emanating from the back of the bus. Now, I have to ask, have you ever tried to get off of a 1968 Blue Bird school bus, after consuming 6 vodkas on the rocks and at least 8 double shots of Rumplemist, while wearing a pair of roller skates, keeping in mind there is about a ½ inch of emesis on the floor of said bus? Dear reader, no easy task.

At which point, I come to the nearly tragic accident, I went into my humble home, changed out of my skates and showered, climbing the stairs and heading to bed. At, which point the beautiful Mrs. John Q, Public enters the story. It seems the Boy-Band she has been promoting tirelessly was taking a break from the county fair and National Guard Amory circuit, and she was in town, I however had forgotten to pick her up at the bus station, I told her that much like the Cubs and Notre Dame's football program, I can not be depended on to come through every time.

She asked me about my day, I quite truthfully I told her that there was no way I could tell her about my day with out cussing, so, she suggested I act it out, much like the game of charades, now I like any other mid-westerner am always up for a game charades or euchre, even after as trying a day as mine. So, I proceeded to jump up on the bed and act out my day, all with out saying a word, much I imagine like a mime on acid (and you know how I feel about mimes, like clowns, they freak me out) and Mrs. John Q. did good… up until, the getting off the bus part of my story, at which time, in my effort to act it out, I fell off the bed, in the process biting of the tip of my tongue, (for the sixth time in my life, however this was the first time I myself had done it).

Now, have you ever had your tongue bitten off? Let me tell you about the first thing they will ask you, when you walk in to ER bleeding like a stuck pig, holding one of those nice hand towels your mother-in-law made for your wedding gift to your tongue, attempting to hold it on. They will ask, and I quote. “What seems to be the problem?” I at that time I took the opportunity to reply: “Whaaff taouufk theniik havened tu me, I beeit mey fugggen tong off” Yes, dear reader… I broke, not even a full 24 hours into it, and I cussed, however… I will take some degree of privilege here, and say it doesn’t count because A) neither the ER nurse nor the attending physician, Dr. Ram Av-dual-I, an old chum from my med-school days back in the Bahamas, could understand what I was saying, and B) because they both quite honestly were idiots, this is were Mrs. John Q. made the suggestion to me, "well honey…why don’t you act it out for them" (of course she thought this most amusing). Thank-Goodness, I was able to use and indelible ink marker and a bed sheet to write my story down, I almost lost them around the part about the putting skates on kids feet, but they got the over all story. And, thankfully due to insurance, I was able to get treatment before passing out from loss of blood.

Which of course brings to me the debate, Kerry, Kerry, Kerry, oh, wait lets try this on, Pres. Kerry… kind make you giggle doesn’t it, ha! Ha! Ha! We are going to win! Now of course it would be different if it was say McCain/Powel, wow… what a world that would be… But you know what I say: Vote Kerry/Edwards, Vote Early, and Vote Often!

To-days Legal Fact:
Did you know that’s its illegal to transport a human body across state lines unless you are licensed to do so? It is in fact a federal offence, a violation of the Inter-State Commerce Act. Just thought you might like to know, I found out the hard way.

Quote of the day:
and yes, its the same guy, but he is so gosh-darn-friggen-good,

A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.

Sir Winston ChurchillBritish politician (1874 - 1965)

I want to give props to my favorite buckeye party girl, and say yes sweet-pea, it is hard, but I am a man of my word, granted for a week I have cut my functional vocabulary in half and my ability to form audible sentences.
Check the sweet thing out at~

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

As requested on Oct. 13, 2004

On Self-Examination:
No, I am not talking about checking for breast cancer or lumps on my testies. A comment that was made about my recent postings by an avid fan, who agrees with my every view (He will just crap when he reads that), the subject of my increased use of foul language was addressed, and after some thought on the matter, I have decided to take his words under advisement. Perhaps it is easier to just cuss about the many things that cross my path each day, rather than search for the right combination of words.

As a result, for the next seven days, starting at 12:00am Oct. 13, I will not use any cuss-words, nope on foul language. Truth be know, I didn’t realize how many parents out there print this off and read it to their children before bed. I feel it is my duty to those families to further explore the English language in an effort to express my well reasoned views, on many of the things that effect us as citizens of this global village (and after all, isn’t that what we all are, a global village, and doesn’t it take a village to raise a child, and a republican to cut taxes to the rich, thus maintaining the un-equal playing field we all know and love, between the haves and the have nots?). …and yes, dear reader, I know there is a presidential debate tonight, I didn’t say this was going to be easy.

On Religion:
What’s more, I will make an honest effort to go to Mass this Sunday. Mass yes, Confession no, (yes, I am one of those smorgasbord Catholics, picking and choosing). That and the last time I went it took four hours and involved foot-rubs and a lot of hugging. I miss the days when we were afraid of our priests, but for very different reasons.

On what am I reading:
Well, I am finished with the Crimean War history. So, I have started a book on Russia from 1900 to 1917, its done by Lincoln, who I have not read since the cold war. Now that communism is mostly dead, I thought it was an unfashionable enough undertaking, it was either that or Mao (hey they were in the book a buck bin, and I am tight). And for bathroom reading I am still on Bill Clinton’s auto-biography, (why do ex-presidents feel compelled to write, dry, dry, dry). I am however still actively engaged in my hobby of the translation of comic books (DC Comics mostly) into Laotian.

On what I am listening to:
Well, here is a odd twist, my most recent selections in a heavy play rotation include: Warren Zevon’s works from the 70’s, Frank Zappa’s works from the 60’s (exp: Hot Rats, you got to love the Capt. Beefheart vocals on “Willie the Pimp”), John Coletrain (Blue Notes), and a Gregorian Chant CD, someone gave me. Don’t worry, Canned Heat, is never far from my mind.

However, at the seedy bars and roadhouses that I frequent (where the low-people are), I still enjoy hearing anything from the song books of the following: AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynyrd (Ronny was a poet-sage), Johnny Cash (yes, like many of you, I still morn) and Dean Martin.

I trust I have addressed the comments that were made to myself both in person (and if you are reading this, yes, it did leave a bruise) and via electronic mail. Many thanks to you my loyal fans, Oh! and congrats to the Sugar-Plum-Fairy on the new piercing, it showed up nicely in the photo you sent!

This posting is dedicated to Acid Dan, and the summer we all spent surviving on saltine crackers and LSD, where are you now, when we as a nation need your vision to lead us in this time of darkness.

And todays Quote:

Men stumble over the truth from time to time, but most pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing happened.

Sir Winston ChurchillBritish politician (1874 - 1965)

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

News and Views for Oct. 12, 2004:

In Iraq:

FALLUJA, Iraq (Reuters) –Last night American warplanes flattened Falluja's most popular restaurant, killing two security guards, in what the military said was a "precision strike" aimed at its top enemy in Iraq. So, no more late night falafel take-out for the Holy Warriors. And isn’t part of a precision strike, hitting the target ie: our top enemy in Iraq, not the security guards, (man, being a security guard in Iraq is about like being one of the security guys on Star Trek, short life span, dig it?).

I don’t know about you, but I for one am about ready to dust off all that energy research stuff they were talking about in the 70’s when I was a kid, you know the 500 miles to a gallon car, solar cells for your house etc… I would love for us to produce all of our own energy needs.

Let those fundamentalists in the Middle East; go back to herding goats and living in camel skin tents. Sure would be better than some kids mom getting handed a folded flag. Now don’t get me wrong, I did my time in boots, and am by no means a pacifist, ask anyone, but god-damn, lets kick the right fuckers ass and do it for the right reasons, and just be done with it. But, then we would still have to come up with something to do with the home-grown fundamentalists.

God-damn but I love Texas Politics:

DALLAS - The gloves have come off in the tight election race between two Texas congressmen — and every other article of clothing appears to be fair game as well. Democrats on Monday circulated old newspaper clippings of a 1974 college streaking stunt staged by hundreds of students — including then-18-year-old Pete Sessions — at Southwest Texas State University.

The conservative Republican congressman — who wrote a column condemning Janet Jackson's nude display during her 2004 Super Bowl halftime performance — apparently bared his bottom with about 300 others in a stunt that ended with arrests and a clash with police. Newspapers were filled with nude photos and headlines like: "Dudes, Broads, Bare Bods." Southwest Texas students were apparently trying to break a streaking record set by another university amid a nationwide college streaking craze.

The campaign of Democrat Rep. Martin Frost (news, bio, voting record) is holding his rival's bare body to the fire. "Pete Sessions exposed himself to children and strangers," said Frost spokesman Justin Kitsch. "He's exposed himself as a hypocrite as well."

I really can’t add to that other than to say: Don’t you love when these right-wing fucks get caught up in their own shit?

You know, on the subject of politics and fuckers, VP Steal/Steel Dick said last week that he had not ever met lil’ John before, as proof that his voting record sucks (and if your wondering, it does, but, hell he’s my boy, so I will live with it) well anyway a hour after that aired, the Edwards folks put out no less than four pictures of John-Boy with old Steal Dick. Take that you prick!

Health Beat:
MIAMI (Reuters) - Police in Belize have arrested a Florida fugitive described by detectives as a fake doctor who drugged his cosmetic surgery patients with an animal anesthetic and left a male bodybuilder with female breast implants.

Reinaldo Silvestre, 63, was arrested in Belize City, where he was teaching and practicing medicine, the State Department said on Friday.

Here is a clue, don’t ever get cosmetic surgery from a doctor who doubles coupons.

And on an aside, last night at the bar, we got on the discussion of coupons. As you know I am a famous cost cutter, and a well regarded tight ass. But here is one thing that really pisses me off. It’s called a fucking coupon you dumb-asses, its not a q-pon, come on sound it out with me: c-o-u-p-o-n, try it.

Why I am poor:

WASHINGTON (AFP) - More than a quarter of US working families -- or nearly 39 million people -- have trouble making ends meet and can be qualified as poor due to a fast shrinking pool of well-paying jobs, according to a new report. To be considered low-income by government standards, a family of four had to earn less than 36,784 dollars in 2002. The median income for a family that size was 62,732 dollars that year. Contrary to popular perception, most poor working families, or 53 percent, are now headed by a married couple. Such families included 20 million children under the age on 18, six million of whom lived officially below the poverty line, according to the study. Economists blame the plight of the working poor on a steady decline in relatively high-paying industrial jobs that require relatively little education.

You know, I have always been proud of my hands, (I use Dawn, it keeps my hands looking moist and fresh) There are not any calluses on them, nope not a one, I even wear gloves when I prune my award winning Paw Paw brushes.

The reason you ask? Well dear friends it is because I have the hands of skilled labor, yep… college education at its finest. No sweat, no sore back, no union dues, and boy oh boy hasn’t it paid off for me. Not even! Wow, You know I wish I had an America to go to, like my friend Juan, you know someplace where I could make 100,000 a year to flip-burgers, and the beautiful and stunning Mrs. John Q. Public could change the sheets at a cheap motel along the interstate for 80,000. Think of the bank we could be sending back home to Indiana. Man, we could feed a village, if not a small trailer park. …I can dream can't I?

Music News:

NEW YORK - Michael Jackson (news) is reportedly angered by the way he is portrayed in rapper Eminem (news - web sites)'s recently released video "Just Lose It."

The pop singer is said to be so upset that he has asked networks to remove the video from their rotations. "Michael Jackson is very angry. He feels that Eminem has crossed the line," Jackson representative Ramone Bain told the Daily News in Tuesday editions. "Michael is calling on all networks to pull the video." In the video, Eminem appears dressed mockingly as Jackson with a group of boys in the background, jumping. Then he sings the lyric in reference to Jackson's child molestation allegations: "Come here little kiddie, on my lap. Guess who's back with a brand new rap..."

Fuck, I cant make this shit up. God-damn, he is upset that another dick-head no talent fuck is making a funny of his hobby of buggering young boys. Now if Michael (not Mike, as if that should of been our first clue he was a pillow-biter) likes getting the brown-eye tickle snake out and playing with it, its his own business as long as it is done with other adult members of the Rump-Rangers club, now when you go fucking kids, you have to expect some negative feedback from the public at large.

However on another point; when are they going to charge the parents of those little kids of child prostitution, come on, are you going to let your kids go on a over-nighter with a multimillionaire adult male part-albino pop star, those pieces of dog shit sold their kids as sex slaves in happy land, in hope of big cash settlements. What the fuck people.

...and in case you didnt notice, two members of the Jackson family were sited/ref. to in this posting, a new record. What do you bet I dont get a Christmas card again this year.

The High Moral Ground (I like the view from up here)

I stumbled on this a bit ago, and it made me stop and think, he is say'en a few things here isnt he?

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.

John Stuart MillEnglish economist & philosopher (1806 - 1873)

ok, lets balance it out a bit....

Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what it loves.

Blaise PascalFrench mathematician, physicist (1623 - 1662)

...when is the last time you got a chance to quote Pascal and Mill in the same post, life is so cool

Thats all kids, nite nite and dont forget to brush your teeth! (tooth if your from KY or WV)

Monday, October 11, 2004

hey, it was an idea

it was keeping the door closed that did the trick

taking the cure....

Enough of the wallowing in the depths of self-pity and doubt, wasn’t it Jim Morrison who sang “…lost in a Roman wilderness of pain, and all the children are insane” hey, it’s my lot in life, to carry the heavy burden, with the broad shoulders of my ditch-digging Irish forbearers. Don’t we all have days when we feel like Prometheus with the eagles tearing out our livers? It seems my shitty days seem to land on Mondays, but I think I found a cure, go to lunch, no don’t eat at your desk, or work through lunch, go out, man there is just something about that Roast Beef and Swiss with a cup of tomato-basil soup that will just set you right. But, then again who knows, might be the fact that my door is shut and no one knows I am here. anyway, I know Jesus Loves Me (for the Bible told me so)....

Hey its a Monday, what did I expect?

You know one of the more endearing things my dear step-father used to say to me when I was a child growing up, on our family farm in the gently rolling hills at the foot of Mt. Zion, was "...well Jesus H. Keeeerrist, you could fuck up a steel marble with a god-damn marshmellow" which was often followed by a blow to the head, or at the minimum, a wrench thrown at me. (at the age of six, I had gotten pretty good a dodging the wrenches, it was his left-hook you had to watch out for). I bring that up, because, today I hear his gentle words of wisdom in my mind. Yep, so far everything I have touched has turned to shit, and its not even noon. Perhaps; I should rush over to the Rep. HQ downtown, and see if I can help out with the Bush camp! after all why should I let all this good-carma go to waste?

Sunday, October 10, 2004

A room with a View

You know after watching both the presidential debates and the one vice presidential debate I have come to the following revelation. The place you view the debate has a great deal to do with how you processed the event. After watching, in a Greek neighborhood bar, a Mexican bar, and a nursing home, I think I have come up with the perfect site to view those who would be King.

Titty bars, yep, that’s right, strip clubs, they are a wonderful metaphor for our nations political parties. They charge you when you get in, the tits are fake, you pay way to much for your drinks, you get all worked up, with no chance for a payoff, and you hand your hard earned dollars, one at a time, to a girl who if she isn’t bored out of her mind, would most likely view you as some piece of shit. That and there is always some high school drop-out bouncer who sells meth on the side who is just waiting for you to get out of hand, so he can add a few more teeth to is frat boy tooth necklace.

Not to mention if your wife finds lipstick on you, and you reek of the god-damn cheap body spray, or glitter, try telling her you spent the night out with the guys at the Elks Lodge (in case your wondering, she didn’t buy it, that and I forgot that I am not a member of an Elks Lodge, so, the moral here is do you homework before you lie to your wife) You see, basically your fucked, from start to finish, no money, no respect, and blue balls, a perfect metaphor.

On baking bread on a Sunday

Huddled in the darkened corner of my one room walk-up flat,
Holding the 12” butcher knife, so that it reflects light from the signs of the all night Laundromat on to my camouflaged naked body that is glistening with a fine layer of sweat.

And my thoughts turn to you….

Our long walks down the wooded lanes of my childhood
The day we went swimming, down in the old mill pond
How we ran through the fields of flowers, till we could run no more.

Those quiet summer nights, your body warm next to mine.
The sound of your breath in my ear
Your tongue on my neck
Your sighs has I touched your belly

Buford, I miss you….
My best friend, my loyal and loving dog.

But enough about me… and what I have lost
Let’s talk politics, a dead heat, even Steven
And I really don’t know which way it’s going to go
Now, don’t get me wrong, I have two operating views with this election
First, anyone but Bush, second, vote early vote often.

I mean, W has created such a cluster fuck who in the fuck could get us out?
It’s a big old shit bomb, that all of us are going to get splated by.

Now let’s start talking about this Skull and Cross Bones society,
Ok, now what the fuck….. they are both members of the same secret society
Now can’t you see the annual meeting a few years ago… Some freak wearing bulls horns makes all of the brothers drink their own urine while a man dressed like Zorro spanks them with a wooden paddle. After which, they assign one of the brothers to run against W, by using the time honored tradition of find the lucky bean in the pudding.

All of this is done of course with the understanding that after the election all direction will be given by the Council on Foreign affairs, the Tri-Lateral Commission and the Elders of Zion.

So much for one man one vote, we don’t have elections we have appointments.
And don’t get me started on the god-damn Electoral College. After the revolution one thing that I want to enact would be that anyone who wanted to run for political office should be immediately disqualified. Our leaders should be drafted. That and mandatory sterilization based on IQ testing. Just an idea. Back to baking bread

Glad I was a math major in college

From a strictly mathematical viewpoint it goes like this:-

What makes 100%?
What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?
Ever wonder about these people who say they are giving more than 100%?
We have all been to these meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%
How about achieving 103%?
What makes up 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these question.
If:A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
is represented as:1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then: H A R D W O R K8+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%
K N O W L E D G E 11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%
But:A T T I T U D E1+20+20++9+20+21+4+5 = 100%
And:B U L L S H I T2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 =103%
AND, Look how far ass kissing will take you.
A S S K I S S I N G1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 =118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that whilst hard work and knowledge will get you close, and attitude will get you there, it's the bullshit and ass kissing that will put you over the top.

Friday, October 08, 2004

Quote of the Week

" ever have a dream where you wake up just before you bite the head off and sow your seeds down its throat?" and yes, I really heard this over dinner this week.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

for my fans, and those who hate that I walk the earth

Now, anyone... yes even you! Can post a comment, agree, take me on, or just let me know what a pile o' shit this little corner of webspace is.... and best of all, you dont have to leave your name, (and NO you dont have to have an account, look below that, dumb-ass), god knows I would not

and ok, it was a tie... but Dick still strikes me as that old guy who lived down the street who would run all the kids away from his sidewalk sceaming something like " little bastards, stay outa' my yard or I will burn your house down"

John-Boy takes it like a man

Ok, ok and ok.... I was at work 3 min. before someone who should know better came to my door and said "well, it looks like Dick won" ok, now how in the fuck did you get that idea? Come on, Johnny tore Steal/Steel Dick a new asshole, not that the one he seems to pull his ideas from isnt good enough. Nailed him, nailed him and then nailed him again

So, you ask? being the vice pres is not big deal? Well, wake up dear reader, Old Steel Dick has been running this country since the git-go, and he got his ass kicked by a pretty boy.

'nough said, we win

oh, someone just sent me this... cute

There is always more misery among the lower classes than there is humanity in the higher.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, 1862French dramatist, novelist, & poet (1802 - 1885)

The only thing more sexy than underarm hair

Ok, I dont have to blog about politics and food all the time, I can also share a good joke or two...that and I love the Scots....

The Englishman's wife steps up to the tee and, as she bends over to place her ball, a gust of wind blows her skirt up and reveals her lack of underwear. "Good God, woman! Why aren't you wearing any knickers?" her husband demanded. "Well, you don't give me enough housekeeping money to afford any." The Englishman immediately reaches into his pocket and says, "For the sake of decency, here's £50. Go and buy yourself some underwear."

Next, the Irishman's wife bends over to set her ball on the tee. Her skirt also blows up to show that she is wearing no undies. "Blessed Virgin Mary, woman! You've no knickers. Why not?" She replies, "I can't afford any on the money you give me." He reaches into his pocket and says, "For the sake of decency, here's £20. Go and buy yourself some underwear!"

Lastly, the Scotsman's wife bends over. The wind also takes her skirt over her head to reveal that she, too, is naked under it. "Sweet mudder of Jesus, Aggie! Where the frig are yer drawers?" She too explains, "You dinna give me enough money ta be able ta affarrd any." The Scotsman reaches into his pocket and says, "Well, fer the love 'o Jasus, 'n the sake of decency, here's a comb. Tidy yerself up a bit."

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

keep sending your stuff

Let get ready to Rummmmmmble

Bambi vs. Steel Dick,

A cage match where the winner takes all, I have my bar stool all picked out. My predictions: John Edwards will win it, in a dramatic ending reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s final scenes in “A few good Men”. Something along the lines of “…You pussy, Hell yes we lied, We planed this before the last election, you and the American people cant handle the truth…” but fuck, what do I know. That, and Johnny-boy is a Southerner to, he’ll show old Dickey what a good old Carolina Ass Whopper he is.

And today’s thought:

You cannot have a proud and chivalrous spirit if your conduct is mean and paltry; for whatever a man's actions are, such must be his spirit.
Demosthenes, Third OlynthiacGreek orator & politician in Athens (384 BC - 322 BC)