Kein Feugo Last Night

It was too cold for me to efficiently work in the yard, so I spent most of yesterday deciding if I was going to stop watching HBO long enough to make some raisin-black walnut cookies. Around 5PM I decided I would. Then, I realized I had no eggs. Not because I'm male, but because I up and forgot to get the mother fuckers while I was at the store getting everything else.
Instead of plopping my ass back in the chair, I decided to cut most of the wood I had in the basement, which is an excellent way to have firewood and listen to Bryson.
After several hours, I thought I'd catch the last episode of "Boardwalk Empire," as I rarely catch shows when they're first on due to people being over and having a fire.
I look at my watch, and it's 10:30. Boardwalk came on at ten. Well, shit. Back downstairs it is. I cut enough to make it pretty damn warm tonight.

In a separate note: This would be the best fishing boat ever. I want it.

Fuck Indiana. I mean it. And while I'm at it, fuck east enders too.

One of the bridges going from the Ville to Indiana is closed for repairs, which means that an extra 40 thousand cars get directed over the two. I65 (the best thing to come out of Indiana that didn't have Hefner staples across her midsection)is always backed up now, and so local traffic generally goes over the 2nd street bridge.
My co-worker and I decided to eat lunch at Famous Dave's Barbecue in Indiana instead of driving all the way out to Hurstborne Lane (remember that fun drive, Ted?) because it would take too long.
Long story short, on the way back, the traffic to even the 2nd street bridge was way backed up. Figuring that is was only temporary, I stayed in the lane I was in instead of getting back on to the slow ass 65.
We stayed in the same lane.
10 minutes went by.
20 minutes went by.
30 minutes went by.
Co-worker check his traffic app. Fatality wreck on the 2nd street bridge. Shit (yes I am selfish. Sorry for the departed's luck, but at this point it has been over thirty minutes since I ate. Trouble is soon to brew in the Kaiser's south end).
The bridge was closed, but expected to be open by three PM. Not bad, that's only an hour.
3PM rolls around, and an update on the bridge. Now hoping to have it open by four. Shit.
We got to an area where I could turn off the street, and then drove to a drug store where I was able to say goodbye to breakfast and what seemed like a gallon of urine.
I spent the next half-hour sitting in the parking lot having some water, eating goldfish crackers and staring at the non-moving traffic.

We returned to the office around five. Longest lunch break I've taken.

Found out today that the driver of a truck had a seizure, crossed the double yellow and plowed head-on into a car. Everyone had to be cut from their vehicles, and the driver of the car was pronounced dead at the scene.

If the fucking east ender's hadn't fought for the last ten years a road plan that was in place in 19 fucking 65, we would've had another bridge and much of the traffic wouldn't even need to go through downtown. That's what big money does; it purchases other peoples' lives.

It's alive! (unlike most of Ted's patients)

So, these last two days have had the coldest two evenings so far for which I have had a fire.
As the stove warms up, you can tell how hot the stove is getting do its voice. While warming, the stove tink-tink-tinks rather quickly. As it cools, the tinks are a slightly lower pitch, and occur less quickly. This is how I determine when to load in more wood, even if the outdoor heater is full of flame, because I don't want to have to react to the fire, I want it to do my bidding.
Last night I was drinking some beer, watching the first season of Northern Exposure, and generally trying to heat the outside when the urge hit. No, not to masturbate, but to drop the kids off at the pool. From the pain that struck, it was going to be less of a gentle wave good-bye than it was going to be an evacuation of everything from my neck to my belly button.
Due to the fact that there are some things even I won't do from my back porch, inside I went to begin my calisthenic movement (didn't Brahms compose that?). Twenty minutes later, I returned to the porch to find the fire almost out. I threw a couple of smaller pieces of ash in to get the flame up and prepare the stove for serious flamage. One piece rolled off to the right side and caught fire almost immediately. I went to the fridge to re-beer, and from inside the kitchen I heard a loud TUNK, followed a couple seconds later by TUNK-TUNK. Holy shit, what the fuck?
It turns out that the stove, while heating on one side, was still cooling on the other, and the temperature change had caused the stove to expand on one side, but contract on the other, and the stove shifted, or "walked" to the right.
"Oh shit! I have to move it back or it will separate from the flue!"

I knelt down and grabbed the legs of the stove in order to drag it back to the original spot. Did you know that even the legs of the stove get pretty hot?
You do now, and so do my missing fingerprints.

Hmm...

nothing of any importance happened yesterday. Today doesn't look too different.

Had a guffaw

This Amish guy sees a man in a tie drinking from his farm pond. He walks up to the guy and says in German, "Don't drink from the pond; horses and cattle shit in it."

The man wearing the tie stands up and says,"Buddy, I'm a Tea-partier and an American. I speak english. Now what did you say?"

The Amish man clears his throat and says in broken english, "Use both hands; you'll drink faster."

The reports of my demise have been greatly intoxicated

My seasonal passtime of splitting wood for the republic is now a second job, so I haven't had much time to do anything other than work and beat up on the Seawolf at the bowling alley.
Speaking of which, Wolf's son turned 21 last week, so we have an extra drunk at the PBR. We will need to change his title, as he hasn't cut my grass in a while, and is no longer a DD. You know what else he hasn't done? Bowl well. Like father, like son I guess.

In other news: I have to report to the courthouse on Thursday for jury duty for the federal 9th circuit court. Hopefully they don't dig too deep into my past, or I'll find myself on the other side of the railing in the courtroom.
I knew I held onto my "Cop Killer" t-shirt for a reason.

fucking jackass

This has been eating at me more and more.
There were plenty of open spots.

and the hits just keep on coming

From Reddit. Fucking so funny it's not really

150th Anniversary

Today, one hundred and fifty years ago, the Union army got its Manassas kicked by the confederates.

let the bloodbath begin...

Dear world; I fucking hate him too

Mitch Mcconnell has always been a right wing idealogue. He got Goldwater to come and campaign in Louisville when Mitchy was in college for Christ's sake.
I have been voting against him since I got my voter card.
Please don't blame me for my state's least favourite son.

An oldie but a real goodie

Several years ago the owner of the company wanted me to draft a letter to UPS since I was, as he put it, "A lot better at showing anger than I am."
I found this on a jump drive I was cleaning out. I believe he actually signed it and mailed it.
Enjoy.

Dear Mr. DooDoo head,

A couple of months ago I shipped over 200 boxes of college texts from Nashville to Louisville using your company. Upon receipt of the shipment, the count was 31 boxes short. We waited an extra day, thinking that maybe they would show, seeing that you guys are a bit busy. The boxes didn’t come in, and we started the claims process.
After jumping through all the hoops that entailed, I waited for the check that would make amends for the situation. What I received was startlingly appalling. I received $158.13 for 31 boxes of books.
Not only is that pathetic, but do you expect me to believe that you think college books are cheap? Try to stay with me here as I do some math for you, as I’m sure this can be used as educational materials for your claims department. 158.13 divided (that’s the minus sign with a dot above and below it) by 31 equals 5.10. $5.10 cents a box of college textbooks? Seriously now. A FIVER AND A DIME PER BOX? That’s not only an idiotic notion, it’s criminally negligent. You can barely buy two college texts for $158.13. The people that work for you went to college, didn’t they, or do you try to fill your diversity quota with numerically challenged dolts right out of kindergarten?
Now, I know that you’re going to cower behind the “you didn’t get the insurance” clause of the bill of lading, which, by the way, is in so small a print that I wouldn’t be able to read if I were carrying the Hubble telescope, but $158.13 for 31 boxes?
I’m not asking for the world here (which you seem to offer in the commercials), but I’m also not looking to take it in the pooper. It would cost me almost cost me $158.13 to ship 31 boxes. Is that what you’re refunding me?
If you look at the number of 31 boxes, it seems to me that they would constitute one pallet. Are you guys in the habit of losing pallets of books? Aren’t they kind of easy to spot, being on top of those wooden things? If the books were damaged, I’d like to see pictures of the monkeys you hired trying to read those big words inside. At least then I could laugh instead of practice my sailor’s vocabulary every time I think of your company.
As UPS is a large company, I would appreciate it if you would send me some dice. If the planets align and they make it to me, I could at least roll the official UPS dice every time I ship something, seeing as it’s a gamble anyway.
I realize that your company had an earnings dip this last quarter, but do you think that stealing from honest customers is the way to boost your numbers? I’d hate to think that a company that can ship a killer whale would have to resort to selling books on-line in order to stay in the black.
You might want to change your ads to read, “What can brown do TO you,” seeing that if you don’t get the “buy up” option on shipping, you’re screwed if something goes wrong. All I wanted was my books, but instead you gave me the shaft.


Sincerely,
Lick My Balls Motherfucker

Me thinks that someone isn't

The other day I went to the local Kroger on an empty stomach, which is the worst no-no to do next to asking a jewish settler if he can make the fire bigger. I came for five items, but while strolling through the deli, I saw packages of the different sliced meats, with packages of sliced cheese above them. Seeing these I decided that a reuben was in my future. Snag a loaf of pumpernickel and I'm on my way.
I get the package home, tear into the mother fucker, and make a sandwich. Not a true reuben as I did not cook it, but my belly didn't know the difference.
As I was putting the lid back on the container, I noticed that there were instructions on the underside of the lable that was stuck to the lid. There was an ingredient list, and below that there were instructions. Fucking instructioins on how to make a fucking sandwich. I shit you not.
So, this jolts two questions immediately:
1) Why the fuck aren't the ingredients on the outside of the package somewhere? I'm sure there are people out there who haven't had a reuben that, if offered, may try one if they knew what the fuck was on it.
2) Who the fuck needs instructions on how to make a fucking sandwich? Aren't all sandwiches pretty much the fucking same? Some form of meat- check. All the other shit that makes this sandwich unique- check. Cheese on top- check.

What is a person supposed to do? open every package to see what kind of sandwich to make? Are the instructions there in case someone buys a package of sliced corn beef gets it home, and while making their usual corned beef and banana sandwich they see them and decide to go back to the store for pumpernickel and kraut?

Fucking jackasses.

Riots in Vancouver?

That's just Canadians acting like, well, canadians.

Since we're on 70's TV shows...

Barney, divorce is like a horse with a broken leg. You can shoot the horse, but that don't fix the leg.

Where'd I put my rubber chicken?

...but know this. You can cut me off from the civlised world. You can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates. You can torture me with your thrice daily swill, but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester. My voice shall be heard from this wilderness and I shall be delivered from this fetid an festering sewer.

Just because I like the picture

Well, OK then

This morning right after I came into the office the phone rang.
"Shinkledick Publishing, Andy speaking."
"Do you all do music publishing?"
"No sir, we don't."
"Do you know anyone who does, other than the music union?(whatever the fuck that is)"
"No I don't. This is only the second request I've had for that"
"Hmpf. YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"
"No sir. If I were kidding, I would say something like, 'what would you do with an elephant with three balls? You walk him and pitch to the rhino.' "
"HMPF *pause* FUCK YOU. GOD DAMNIT. FUCK YOU." He hung up the phone

This, um, gentleman has two obvious problems:
1)He's suffering from HIAS.
2)He has no sense of humor.

Whoever it was, I have to thank him for a good morning laugh.

Thomas, you Mother Fucker

All good things must come to an end

I took the "Jerry Abramson Sucks" sticker off the back of my car. David Williams is now the official Redumblican candidate for governor, and I don't want to even seem like I support that fucking jackass in the least, the fucking hypocrite.
The mother fucker is against expanded gambling, but yet won $10,000 dollars on a race when he was at Churchill Downs on Derby weekend. He then collected everyone's losing tickets to go agains his winnings for tax purposes. Then, and this is mui fucked up, tipped the girl that was working his suite $20. For the entire weekend that she worked serving drinks and food to the 15 people in his suite.
I'd'a ripped that fucking bill in half and shoved it up his asshole.

I read a comment on a news story, and the guy called him "Blackjack" Williams.

I LIKE CHOCOLATE MILK!!!

We have a downs syndrome guy that comes in and works every Tuesday for a few hours. He's graduating from his work program tonight and a bunch of us are going. I try to be caring and understanding, but what can I say? It's just not me.
I like the guy, but I'm sure my urge to make jokes will take over.

Well, back to sensitivity training.

Yes, beer shit is the official smell of the PBR

beer shit The Beer Shit is a phenomenon that occurs the day after a particularly heavy drinking session. Students are particularly vulnerable.

The 'victim' awakens and spends the first few minutes in a daze, trying desperately to remember where they were last night, when they came back, who they came back with and how they managed to take their jeans off and climb into bed the wrong way round without taking their shoes off. The 'victim' then becomes aware of the irresistable urge to empty their bowels. This process is known as the 'Beer Shit'.

It is not unusual for the Beer Shit to be stubborn and to insist that the 'victim' empties their bowels at least three times during that day in order to complete the job. The amount of toilet paper required to clean up after each 'mini-Beer Shit' is substantial, as is the stench that fills the house afterwards.

However, once a particularly nasty Beer Shit has been despensed with, the 'victim' feels infinitely better immediately and is ready to commence alcoholic consumption straight away to start the process again.
Derek's drinking exploits last night lead to a particularly nasty Beer Shit emerging from his rectal passage this morning.
by Jon Fox Jan 15, 2005

Hold on there hypocrite

This morning I was running up and down the dial of the radio trying to find a station that wasn't playing gaudy country music, crappy R&B (the good days of R&B are over), or talking about Ofuckme Bin Killedhim. I was never successful long term, so I kept pressing the up button on the seeker. That's when I hit it: Creationism Radio.
How quaint. People still believe that the Earth is 6,000 years old, and that God created everything in 7 days. No 4billion year old earth, no evolution, no extinction, no errors in the bible (small b on purpose here).

Well, I have several questions for these people that can only be answered outside of the paradigm of knowledge through religion.

The Jewish people as a culture are in something like year 6100 by their calendar, and they admit they weren't the first people on the planet. There goes your young Earth argument.

Next up, please explain to me how antibiotics that worked a mere forty years ago are no longer effective against infection. This is on a microbiological scale. Just imagine how more complex organisms could adapt and change over time to become, well, human beings as we know them. Damn, you can hear their argument start to auger in.

Go find me a live dinosaur. Can't? then agree about extinction, or, for that case, just stop using gasoline. It's bad enough you guys are sucking on my oxygen. Holy shit- it's like I'm the Red Barron.

And finally, humans are fallible, and languages don't translate word for word, so we started from an oral tradition, where we know that exaggerations never happen (As a fisherman, I know for a fact that I have never embellished a story), to a written one, albeit in an ancient language. After that we had translation after translation, until we got what we have now. Whatever you do, don't quote the King James version, which was translated specifically under the direction of and for the fancies of a British monarch.

I tell you what: turn in your voter registration, stop driving, and perhaps hold your breath a bit longer than doctors recommend.

Saw this on the interwebs...funny

Latest News from The Middle East:-

نور اگر رفت سا پا ست نقش دار و چشم خه ما نقش سا دگر نمدان نور اگر رفت سا. ر رفت سا پا نست نقش دار و چشم خه ما نقش سا دگر نمدان نور اگر رفت سا پا نت نقش دار و چشم خه ما

If we hear anything else, we will let you know.

I think it's only right

I repaired the container that holds all my sewing supplies. So I fixed the thing that helps me fix things. Ah, opposable thumbs and a brain. Take that, Hoosiers!

thank you for helping

I cleaned out the beer boxes emptied at the PBR so far this burn season, and here's the tally:
24 six packs of premium beer
2 four packs of Guiness
4 thirty packs
33 twelve packs
2 twelve packs of Abita (thanks Ted)
AND
56 eighteen packs.
This is a total of 1700 beers drank on the porch this winter.

This is 159.37 gallons, or for our minister of silly units, 5.31 bathtubs full of beer.

Of course, this doesn't count the numerous boxes that went into the stove.

My liver thanks you all.

Katy Perry's pussy probably looks like the tee box on the 18th hole of the Down Syndrome Invitational

Some guys at work were talking about KP, and I mentioned Russel Brand and the fact that she's from up north.
I was told to stop ruining their fantasies. Fair enough.

Don't do that! Oh, wait...never mind.

A couple of the ladies next door were home when I pulled up in my driveway yesterday evening. I heard some commotion out back, and upon investigation I saw that they were putting together a gas grill.
As comical as it is to watch women try to use tools with which they are in no way familiar, they eventually finished. As one of them was wiping down the lid (can't have finger prints on it, that make the burgers taste bad), I was thinking, "Jesus, putting a grill on the porch? That's asking for a, ah, um, yeah. Enjoy your burgers.

Damn, now I want a beer

Another crockpot and cornhole Friday is a success. Get you some.

Best team in America

I don't fucking think so, Kimba. Congratulations; Ucon won the worst played game ever.
88 missed shots? Seriously?

Oh, 'Doba, why do you do this to me?

Tuesday is double points day at Q doba, and every Tuesday I eat until I have to move my belt out a notch. I do this knowing full well that I will experience a burrito-induced coma.
Well, I kind of mixed it up today by ordering off the craft-two menu. Mexican gumbo and two tacos. Oh, holy shit that stuff was good. It was "Shit I wish I had two stomachs" good.
I believe I have a new Tuesday regular lunch get. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my pillow...

OOH! Maybe I'll go out tonight

Fireplug was over last night, and so was Camper Dan. Since nothing is set for tonight, I might go see the Fauxgues at the Nachbar. Yes, a Pogues tribute band. Nothing bad could ever happen from this...

Now I have to carve another sign

http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html

Seeing as Sept 19th is talk like a pirate day, I've decided to carve a new sign to hang at the Busted Rudder for one day a year only. On that day the Rudder will come down and be replaced by the beak of a parrot. The bar for the Pot Belly Republic will be known as the "Parrot's Pecker."

Damn...I should make some of those out of painted plywood. I bet I could sell million of those things. Well, maybe two.

A pox on the people that passed the strip club ordinance

I've been in the mood to look at some titties. I don't want to own them, I just want to rent them.

Yo, ho, blow the man down

My co-workers are out, so I'm fartin' all up in this bitch!

Is it wrong to mess with the retarded guy?

We have a mentally handicap guy come in every Tuesday and work a bit(yes, there are many jokes to be made here at my or my co-workers' expenses).
Anywho, like many handicap people, he has his own particular way things should be, and be done. One of his hang-ups is that he hates it when doors are left open. I feel obligated to fuck with him a little bit over this and purposefully leave doors open in his presence just to watch him stop what he's doing and say (what I think he's saying), "You should shut the door. The doors need to be closed" at which point he will walk to wherever the door is and shut it.
I'm not trying to make fun of him, as he's a good fella and clean better than any of the yahoos that work here. It's just that I'm a button pusher.

Hmmm...quandry

Well, except that the rest of the region wants them dead...

There were some protesters on campus today with signs and a banner. The people were walking around campus yelling that the U.S. should stop giving military aid to Israel. They also had people with them handing out pamphlets with info about the "atrocities" that Israel has done to the Palestinians, and one of these guys happened to run into me.
Him: Do you want some info about what the Israelis are doing to the Palestinians?
Me: Don't you mean keeping them in their place?
H: The Palestinians were there before the creation of Israel.
M: Yeah, well Europe pretty well told the Jews they didn't want 'em, so we had to put them somewhere.
H: I don't think you're getting the point, this is about human rights.
M: I don't think you guys are getting the point. If the United States stops giving military aid to Israel, then every country around there will take the opportunity to kill every Jew they can find. How about those human rights? I tell you what- you can wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first. It ain't gonna happen. Good day.

Please welcome the new Mrs. Kaisers

I was Obamaized

Next up- Universal bull shit.

I think I've been playing with my smart phone too much

I put in a dvd earlier, and went into the kitchen while the anti-copying stuff was on. When I returned to the livingroom, the menu options had come up. I pressed the area on the TV screen that read "play." Yeesh.

We need a new name

Since the seargent no longer is one, we need to get him a new name and title.
I'm calling him the Skipper right now, as he is the captain, wears a blue shirt and calls everyone Little Buddy. The difficulty is that the head of our Eskimo Sales Division fits the role much better.

Just to Show that Character has Nothing to Do with It

Our Seargent at Arms got his railroad tracks. That's right- Jeremy's now actually going to be in charge of a fire scene. Thankfully he's in a different district than the Republic, so I don't have to worry about acting like I don't know him if anything happens at the house.