The Only Good Thing About North Carolina is The Word North!

North Carolina? What would the percentage be if THIS baby went before Cledus and Lurlene in that there polling booth?

North Carolina sucks.

Would You Like French Fries With That?

France has gone socialist! The French 1% have all driven their Ferrari's to the Swiss border so they can be where all their money is anyway. Oh my Gawd! All of Western Europe will fall now that the French 99% have elected, what I presume to be, some Kenyan Marxist socialist foreigner who has been Manchurian Candidated by George Soros since he was born on Elba in 1962 and his birth announcement was faked and he was raised by a single Mom in Indonesia and ate dog and now the evil commie plan has taken over. Voila!

I used to hate France. Back before hating France was cool. You know, back before the Republicans started hating France and changing the name of French Fries and Bill O'Reilly would quote the "Paris Business Review" on how because fat Americans wouldn't go there anymore the entire republic was teetering on the brink of doom. Yeah, then I started liking the French. Their arrogance became endearing to me. And hey, If Tea Party Joe and O'Reilly had no intention of ever going there, that made it that much better for me. If, I could ever afford to go there and hang with Mittens Romney, the only Republican who still likes vacationing in France. My friends.

So before the socialist , Francois Hollande, begins beheading the right wingers, let's all see what happens when a socialist takes over a government in Europe. Well, the 1% pays more in taxes. Check. Wall Street gets clogged arteries worrying about that. Check. Ok, that's about it. That's hardly Hitler walking down the Champs D' Elysee.

So the new President of France will be some guy named Hollande, which will make Sarah Palin's head explode as she has already been so confused how you can call Holland The Netherlands and now the whole country has taken over France with their shootin' and ringin' bells and tellin' the British they can't take their gun.

Anyway, congratulations to the cheese eating surrender monkeys of France. It gives me hope that the Eiffel Tower will not become the AT&T Tower or the Louvre will not be sold to the estate of Thomas Kincaid or that L'Oreal and Renault won't be be shut down by Bain Capital.

Let the French be French. As they say to the rest of the world anyway, "vas te faire foutre".

The Running Man?

Running my first half marathon in Lincoln this morning. 13.1 miles. Am I nuts? Well, beside that point, here's the story.

The start of this thing is so chaotic, what with 10,000 nuts practicing insanity, it takes slow, fat old guys like me about a half hour to get to the goddamned starting line. I mean I thought about standing up front with the 5 foot 6 120 pound jockeys who usually win these things and sprinting like a crazed cheetah for about 15 seconds so I could claim at one point in my life I actually was in the Top 10 of a marathon. But I went back with the slow turtle like pacers who just hoped to finish and stood around waiting for the Mayor of Lincoln to blow off a cannon, hopefully in the direction of Attorney General and overall douchebag Jon Bruning's house.

Boom!........walking walking walking... 32 minutes of walking until finally reaching the starting point by which time I had half a mind to just take off and running to the finish line where I could at least finish in the Top 100 or so. But like the rule follower I am I turned left and took off on the 13.1 mile journey.

Past the phallic like State Capitol and down 16th street toward South Street. The streets lined with cheering kids and sedentary adults in lawn chairs. Gee, I wish I was partying with them. No seriously, I do. To South Street and I'm still moving along at a sundial timed pace, but moving. Turning left onto South for a 12 block run and some group of teens are giving out "free high 5's". Who can resist high fiving a 14 year old girl? Certainly not me. If Attorney General and overall douchenozzle Jon Bruning is reading this, it was only a high five. You see, Bruning likes to throw folks in jail for not only having contact with teenaged girls, even though you went to Kansas to marry them (he once threw a 19 year old guy in jail for marrying his 15 year old girlfriend in Kansas which is legal and then moving back to Nebraska where it's not legal), he also likes to throw people in jail for attempting to marry their chairs (he once compared gay marriage to some guy trying to marry his chair). In other words, this guy is a joke, and possibly the next United State Senator from Nebraska.

Up South Street to 27th and a right turn. Wearing my "hip" running gear, a black Beatles t shirt and ratty old gym shorts, I get numerous shout outs from old people and young kids about the Beatles. Go Beatles! Yeah Beatles! Paul is Dead! At about the 4 mile mark (yeah I'm still moving), a good Samaritan has dragged his hose to the edge of his lawn and is spraying people. Now he's either doing it as a favor to people who are in danger of overheating or he's John McCain making sure you stay off his lawn. I don't care so I stagger over towards his lawn and he lets me have it good. Wow! That'll wake you up.

Down to 48th and Calvert or about 6 miles and I haven't stopped "running" yet. Now it gets tough. You turn onto a bike path where you have to make room as only three or so people can run across the paved trail at once. It's like a Law & Order beginning where a line of people are walking at you. Being claustrophobic I have a hard time navigating this portion of the race as I don't like tight quarters and I'm not all that fond of people in general either. But hey, this is where I saw the guy in the nun's outfit laughing and high fiving us all. Ok you, my friend, I am fond of.

A GIANT hill awaits at mile 8. Ok, That's it. I stop moving at this point and walk. Hills? Sorry, but no thanks. It's at this point I give up my dream of winning this thing, even though about 500 or so have already finished. It's a dream! Reality is me walking up a fucking hill.

The hill ends and it's downhill now. Down down down. Woo hoo! This is easy! And then the most annoying sight I may have ever seen in my entire life. Some guy goes past me and he's WALKING. And I cannot catch him. How goddamned slow am I "running"? He's just ahead of me doing that stupid fast walking where you look like a fool and he's beating me! That is where my second dream ends. That this is "easy". No matter what, I can't get by this fast walking doofus. So I start walking again. Get the fuck away from me. You're killing my spirit.

The last 4 miles or so was a nightmare. Run,walk, run, walk, walk walk.....you get the idea. I didn't start running until I came into view of the finish. Wouldn't want people to think I hadn't run the entire 13.1 miles now would I? Past Max and Max's mom and into Memorial Stadium where I finally crossed the finish line at the 50 yard line in a record time of 2 hours 40 minutes and change. It's a record because I never did it before and probably never will again. I do know of another "record" I probably set. The slowest movement ever on the football field from the 1 yard line to the 50. Some guy was yelling to get the piano off my back.

The half marathon I "trained" for, dreaded and worried about is over. Now I can go back to watching other people move and hollering how much they suck. I'm looking at you, Joe Mauer!

Compare And Contrast!

I don't even need to say a word.

Mike, Do You Take Ike?

Fruity? Ah hahhhhhhh! Chewy? Ah hahhhhhhhhh. Tony Perkins, not the one with mother issues, but the Family Research Council one,you know the OTHER one with mother issues, has caught you, Mike and Ike. All that time I was chomping down the Mike and Ikes, I was being gayed with some sort of chemical or subliminal suggestion that Mike and Ike were more than just a bit fruity, but full blown, parade waving, drag wearing, mustachioed homos! How could I not have seen that? Thanks, Tony, now I know why I love the gays and hate you. Sorry, too late. Now pass the Tropical Fruit Mike and Ikes. I love feeling like I'm in Key West without actually having to put up with the Jimmy Buffett gays.


Hey Mitt, now that you've paid for your coronation as the next Bob Dole, I have the perfect running mate for you. Marco Rubio? No, too dishonest even for you. Chris Christie? That blue collar beast? No chance, Mitt. He thinks a dressage horse is Secretariat in a dress. That no name Senator from Ohio? Jesus, Mitt, why not just pick the corpse of Woody Hayes to pander to Ohioans? No no, I have the guy for you, Mitt. Even though there may be constitutional problems with my pick (but hey it didnt stop that Kenyan Muslim socialist, did it Mitt?), go for him, Mitt. That pick is....taaa daaa, Anders B. Breivik, the Norwegian Ted Nugent. Hey , Mitt, he's whiter than you, he's gunnier than you, he isn't some sort of NRA wimp like you who only hunts "varmints", this guy blows away liberal kids. And he can tell who they are just by sight! Think of it, Mitt. Breivik is a tea party icon. He hates Pete Seeger, he hates non Christians, he hates Christians who actually practice Christianity, and did I mention, he's whiter than you? Think about it.


I am so sick of Anne Romney I could just about stop watching reruns of Gilligan's Island and snickering at her Mom, Lovie Howell. Anne Romney really never ever did work a day in her life. Sorry, Moms. While she was "raising five boys" I seriously doubt if she ever missed a lunch with the girls, a riding lesson at the stables, a fund raiser for the local orchestra, or simply staying in her room with a migraine. She had maids, nannies and who knows what else cleaning the snot off Tagg's runny nose while she was "volunteering". Now Anne Romney has done other things that may be admired. Such as surviving breast cancer, and multiple schlerosis. Thanks to Mitt's fortune who could pay cash for the best treatments. Sorry, Anne, I'm glad you're well, but stop with the fucking victim bullshit. You were living the high life, while you're robotic husband was out making other people's lives, many with cancer and MS themselves, even more miserable. Stop.


Ted Nugent? Way back before Ted even sang his own songs (remember Derek St Holmes?), I was covering concerts for the local college rag. I had to endure a Ted Nugent concert once from backstage. Ted was a nut in 1976, running around with a loin cloth, playing loud pointless guitar jams, screeching at the roadies, and telling his manager what row some chick he wanted to bang was sitting (there were at least 10 backstage by the end of it all). Nugent was a bit off that night. He wasn't yet shooting flaming arrows or ranting about Democrats onstage. He was a complete heathen. A self absorbed narcissist without a sense of decency to others. It amazed me then and it even amazes me more now that anybody keeps this asshole's career alive. Go away you fucking psycho.





And last, I have been training to run a half marathon in Lincoln, Nebraska on 5/6. I am so tired I'm not sure what it will be like. It scares me to be honest. But I will trek onward. And sometime before midnight, I hope to waddle across the finish line on the 50 yard line at the football stadium. What have I signed up for?

Helter Skelter?

Oh this guy is something isn't he? Oh I know he portrays himself as an "entertainer" everytime he spews out some anti-(fill in the blank as long as it's not white male Republicans) that gets some all up in arms. But really! Hasn't this windbag run his course yet?

I saw that during this week's "shows" that Limbaugh had only 7 paid ads run during his daily three hour vomit-fest and 48 or so PSA's run, presumably for the utter pain of being down to your last million or so. Rush has been around for 25 or so years, repeating himself over and over, just plugging in different names for his daily rant. But his listeners, all 20 zillion or so, keep coming back for more. Day after day. Week after week. Year after year. My question is why? For fucks sake, I love to listen to Tony Kornheiser, or Stephanie Miller, or anybody else who isn't doing a Limbaugh imitation on their local 50 watt blowtorch. And even those people inevitably begin repeating themselves. Thus I tune out for a couple of weeks or so. Then I come back and it's all new again. Podcasting is wonderful, because when the host begins repeating themselves, yeah Stephanie Miller, I mean how many more fucking times do I have to hear that Sexy Liberal tour plug, I can fast forward to another great example of right wing hypocrisy. But when Rushbo repeats himself, which usually happens about 5 seconds after he blasphemes Chrissie Hynde's Ohio, the 20 gazillion dittoheads begin to froth at the mouth and prepare to get to knee slappin' at the racist, sexist and homophobic comedy that poses as "talk".

Hey, I used to listen to that clown way back when. I didn't agree with anything the Cape Girardeau High School dropout and pilondial cyst sufferer said, but he got me to think. Yeah, think. Think about how many times I could call some moron a moron everytime he repeated a Limbaugh-ism and portrayed it as his own crazy thought. Oh how I would howl at someone tell me how big Hillary's hips were (sound familiar?) or his always hilarious take on Bill Clinton's lecherous ways. Or wait wait, how about dittoheads and their always belly laughing take on the "Reeee-verend Jack--sonnnnnnnn" (sound familiar?).

Oh Rush, what it must be like to have those adoring 20 bazillion gillion fans every day (Ha). Oh, what it must be like to be that popular with normal everyday Americans. You must just lap it up.

Yeah, that's why Rush has been married four times, lives in a palatial mansion surrounded by walls, broadcasts his daily marching orders from a bunker underneath his mansion, converses with an invisible "friend" named Snerdly, bought his own private plane so he wouldn't have to fly with, you know, THEM, pops pain pills like candy and doesn't even get it that pain pills don't work on mental pain, travels to Carribean countries with off brand boner pills, and is admired by virtually nobody of any prominence. Rush, you don't really think those Republican boot lickers would ever let you into the club? They don't like you, they hate you. They're just afraid of your Manson like followers who tend to write nasty letters and emails with lots of f words whenever their fearless cult leader is slighted.

Rush, you know what? Of course you know what. You live in virtual hiding 24/7. You're 20 billion zillion gajillion listeners are stupid. And to you, dangerous. How much longer is $40 zillion a year going to make you happy? Apparently, from the way you hide, insult people less powerful than you, bully Republican spineless weasels, and hate hate hate as much as you must, you aren't very happy, because, Rush, deep down you know it, you're always going to be the fat kid from Cape Girardeau who wasn't very bright, was the ne'er do well of the Limbaugh family and was made fun of. Once you get over that, Rush, welcome to the human race. Hanging out by yourself and having scary dimwits worship you cannot be what you dreamed of?

On the other hand, maybe being about 2 IQ points over even your smartest listeners is enough for you. Sorry, Rush. Somewhere I think Daddy still doesn't approve.

Limpblob!

Well the fat fuck is just another cowardly whore after all.