some times re-runs are just GD'd better
Ed Note:
Due to the fact that I am in court all day today, and am on a Judge's computer, I am limited in being able to tell you about last night, lets just say it involved midgets, two states and Pastor Bob.
On a side note, the only thing that sucks more than a Grand Jury is being fucking hung over in a Grand Jury. Look to 2-3-05 for your drink of the week, and boys & girls drink a few for me, or at least a toast to JQP the man the myth, or have un-safe-sex and name it after me.
JQP
Thought Of the Day:
In heaven all the interesting people are missing.
Friedrich NietzscheGerman philosopher (1844 - 1900)
Reposts by Req:
(This one is Everyones Fav)
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.
(Mrs. JQP's Fav. she knows the guy its about)
Out-Rage at Injustice, the stuff I get in the mail
For Sept. 27th 2004 A friend writes:
Just thought I would take a moment from my studies (the Indiana Drivers manual, my mother thinks I should learn to drive so I don’t depend on her anymore, she is in her late 70’s you know) ….anyway, I wanted to share something rather disturbing, that happened to me over the weekend.I was once again asked to leave our local Wal-Mart store, and this morning I was presented with a restraining order given to me right here at the front door of my trailer (can you just imagine the shame, I feel like I am on last weeks episode of COPS) .
It seems that only "Wal-Mart employees" can give old people carts and tell them to have a good day. I have been doing this off and on at least 4 hours a day for the past six-months, often between the hours to 2:38am and 5:14am, I feel that that is when their staffing patterns are at the lowest and my eagerness to be a good citizen is of most benefit.
I even had my mother make me a blue smock to help the employees feel I was a bit more of their team. (and isn’t that what we all are, a team, like team America, and what’s more American than Wal-Mart, I mean look at those prices, I have not seen things that cheap since my second tour in Asia, and it wasn’t TV trays I was looking for then, if you know what I mean).
Well, anyway it seems some of the “customers” were put off with my willingness to help make their shopping experience a memorable one. Now how many of you have ever watched old people shop? Its almost painful, I think most of them I have helped in the past few months have enjoyed the “flying-shopping-tour” of the store I give them, and so what if I insist on packing their groceries into the baskets of my three-wheeled-bike, I am like come on, have you ever seen the inside of some old peoples cars? Let alone the smell of some of them (both the old and the cars), I gladly then peddle the things to their home no matter how long it takes, unless of course my ankles have started hurting, in which case I may stop at my home for a few hours to elevate them and use my heating pad, but has soon has I am feeling better I once again jump right back on, and continue my mission (kind of like the Navy SEALS).
I like to consider it a full service service, I even insist on putting them (the groceries) away. I think that most people would welcome the helpful manner in which I provide not only my time but my limitless skill base just to ease the discomfort and/or pain of my fellow Wal-Mart shoppers, and most of all I do this as a volunteer, yes, a Wal-Mart volunteer, the only thing more American than Wal-Mart after all is being a volunteer.When I was at the center, I had many staff members, and not a few state employees say, “John, you know perhaps you should get out more, become involved in things and maybe even volunteer somewhere”.
Well, dear friends this is the thanks I get, I guess its ok to volunteer as long has its not at some fancy-pants Wal-Mart store, I have not had my feelings hurt this much since I tried to volunteer at the Tri-State gun club, the Shrine Temple (to be one ask one my butt), or the pre-school.Don’t worry about me, I will make out ok!
Anyway, my mother just called and said there is a Dollar Store opening in a few weeks downtown, and that would be much handier, I could go volunteer there, right after the city council meetings (I am after all a community watch-dog). Now I have to get back to my hobbies http://www.indianamilkbottles.com/ come join in the fun!
Quote of the Day:
When I woke up this morning my girlfriend asked me, 'Did you sleep good?' I said 'No, I made a few mistakes.'
Steven WrightUS comedian and actor (1955 - )
As always Dear reader, I remain;
John Q. Public esq.
Due to the fact that I am in court all day today, and am on a Judge's computer, I am limited in being able to tell you about last night, lets just say it involved midgets, two states and Pastor Bob.
On a side note, the only thing that sucks more than a Grand Jury is being fucking hung over in a Grand Jury. Look to 2-3-05 for your drink of the week, and boys & girls drink a few for me, or at least a toast to JQP the man the myth, or have un-safe-sex and name it after me.
JQP
Thought Of the Day:
In heaven all the interesting people are missing.
Friedrich NietzscheGerman philosopher (1844 - 1900)
Reposts by Req:
(This one is Everyones Fav)
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.
(Mrs. JQP's Fav. she knows the guy its about)
Out-Rage at Injustice, the stuff I get in the mail
For Sept. 27th 2004 A friend writes:
Just thought I would take a moment from my studies (the Indiana Drivers manual, my mother thinks I should learn to drive so I don’t depend on her anymore, she is in her late 70’s you know) ….anyway, I wanted to share something rather disturbing, that happened to me over the weekend.I was once again asked to leave our local Wal-Mart store, and this morning I was presented with a restraining order given to me right here at the front door of my trailer (can you just imagine the shame, I feel like I am on last weeks episode of COPS) .
It seems that only "Wal-Mart employees" can give old people carts and tell them to have a good day. I have been doing this off and on at least 4 hours a day for the past six-months, often between the hours to 2:38am and 5:14am, I feel that that is when their staffing patterns are at the lowest and my eagerness to be a good citizen is of most benefit.
I even had my mother make me a blue smock to help the employees feel I was a bit more of their team. (and isn’t that what we all are, a team, like team America, and what’s more American than Wal-Mart, I mean look at those prices, I have not seen things that cheap since my second tour in Asia, and it wasn’t TV trays I was looking for then, if you know what I mean).
Well, anyway it seems some of the “customers” were put off with my willingness to help make their shopping experience a memorable one. Now how many of you have ever watched old people shop? Its almost painful, I think most of them I have helped in the past few months have enjoyed the “flying-shopping-tour” of the store I give them, and so what if I insist on packing their groceries into the baskets of my three-wheeled-bike, I am like come on, have you ever seen the inside of some old peoples cars? Let alone the smell of some of them (both the old and the cars), I gladly then peddle the things to their home no matter how long it takes, unless of course my ankles have started hurting, in which case I may stop at my home for a few hours to elevate them and use my heating pad, but has soon has I am feeling better I once again jump right back on, and continue my mission (kind of like the Navy SEALS).
I like to consider it a full service service, I even insist on putting them (the groceries) away. I think that most people would welcome the helpful manner in which I provide not only my time but my limitless skill base just to ease the discomfort and/or pain of my fellow Wal-Mart shoppers, and most of all I do this as a volunteer, yes, a Wal-Mart volunteer, the only thing more American than Wal-Mart after all is being a volunteer.When I was at the center, I had many staff members, and not a few state employees say, “John, you know perhaps you should get out more, become involved in things and maybe even volunteer somewhere”.
Well, dear friends this is the thanks I get, I guess its ok to volunteer as long has its not at some fancy-pants Wal-Mart store, I have not had my feelings hurt this much since I tried to volunteer at the Tri-State gun club, the Shrine Temple (to be one ask one my butt), or the pre-school.Don’t worry about me, I will make out ok!
Anyway, my mother just called and said there is a Dollar Store opening in a few weeks downtown, and that would be much handier, I could go volunteer there, right after the city council meetings (I am after all a community watch-dog). Now I have to get back to my hobbies http://www.indianamilkbottles.com/ come join in the fun!
Quote of the Day:
When I woke up this morning my girlfriend asked me, 'Did you sleep good?' I said 'No, I made a few mistakes.'
Steven WrightUS comedian and actor (1955 - )
As always Dear reader, I remain;
John Q. Public esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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