More off of the LBB news wires...

LBB wires, 5/30/2005, 1700 hrs...

The ACLU has appealed to federal court and has entreated US Congress to repudiate the collective works of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., after discovering King was a deeply religious man whose philosophies derive from Judeo-Christian doctrine.

Wolfgang Lipshitz, an American history scholar who researched King for a dozen years and has recently published a comprehensive paper of his work, unearthed compelling evidence linking civil rights champion King to the Christian faith. Among the most shocking assertions Lipshitz makes is that King was a Reverend. Lipshitz details King’s proclivity for Christian teachings and his habit of daily prayer. The paper also postulates that King sought God for His guidance on matters of public policy.

Commenting on his findings, Lipshitz said, “I was shocked and appalled to learn such a revered civil rights leader would be so religious. I’d expect this from a dolt like George Bush, but the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King? What a shame we in academia must now denounce everything King stood for.”

Already college campuses across the nation are mourning the loss of the crux of their social science curriculums. A sophomore student at U.C. Berkeley expressed dismay for Lipshitz’s thesis:

“Martin Luther King was, like, and idol of mine. I’ve got, like, 9 songs in my I-Pod that celebrate the work of MLK. They’re pretty good tunes, too. Now I have to find them shuffled in 9 Gigs of Coldplay and Dave Mathews and delete those f***ers. This is an outrage. Hey man, is this, like, for real. Did Kurt Loder report this? Or is it just another Fox News scam?”

Several students are organizing protests. Picket signs reading, “Separation of Church and State,” and “Keep your Bible off of my body, MLK!” are popping up on Berkeley’s campus and several other forward-thinking colleges. On one such sign, a student drew a likeness of King with the formula “King + Bible = OPRESSION.”

The NAACP has declined comment, but anonymous inside sources have leaked a covert strategy to segregate MLK’s teachings from the organization’s agenda.

Meanwhile, the Muslim Anti-Defamation League has embraced Lipshitz’s work. Said its spokesperson, “We celebrate this discovery and look forward to the peace MLK’s religious teachings impart on public policy. Perhaps America will one day know the peace the Arab world enjoys thanks to its religious convictions.”


Where there's smoke, there's a Marlboro

I miss the days before political correctness started persecuting smokers. I don't smoke. I never have. But I love people who do smoke, beacause they entertain me.

For example, remember when you used to see a lady filling her car with gas while she had a Marlboro dangling from her lips? And if you watched her closely, like I did, you could see the gas fumes swirl around the hot coal at the end of the cigarette. This excited me. I always rooted for ignition. It would have made for a great story to tell my friends at school.

People used to do a lot of cool things while they smoked: eat out at restaurants, go to the theater, prepare and serve food, even perform surgery. True story -- back in 1969, right after Armstrong landed on the moon and gave that "one small step" speech, he grabbed a Winston from behind his ear and sparked up right in his space suit! I guess the oxygen supply gave it a "smooth, intergalactic burn." Winston converted Armstrong's quote into an ad campaign in the early 70s. But the PC police censored this bit of NASA history out of the books.

Anyway, I hope smoking becomes popular again. Maybe I'll see a gas pumper go up in flames yet.


Warfare and Real Estate

I'm no history buff. But I watch my share of the History Channel. I even CLEP'd two semesters of history in college (hint: just know who Rosa Parks was and how badly the White Man treated the Indians, and you'll pass the American History CLEPs).

I've observed something about warfare. We don't shop around for the best locations. Think about it. We usually wage war in one of three places: desert saunas, hell-hole jungles; or frozen tundra. Why?

War is a big enough pain-in-the-ass without staking out the shittiest places on the planet to host the battles. Who was our real estate agent during N. Korea? Satan?

If we have to kill each other, the least we should do is book a time-share in Boca Raton. Or maybe Belize. I hear it's wonderful year 'round and you can't beat the beaches. Let's stage the battles somewhere where you can fire an M-16 in a Speedo and flip-flops. If I'm going to die, I want my toes in the sand and some good reggae music in the background. You know what would sound really cool? Small-arms fire ricocheting off the steel drum band.

Anyway, Boca and Belize would make for marvelous naval battles, too. So what if the ship sinks? The water is clear and 82 degrees with light swells. Surf back to the beach and order a mai tai. Grab some appetizers and then go kill a few more bad guys. Screw the MREs. I'd rather dine on tropical fruit and coconuts (and the flesh of my fallen enemies, of course). And you could pop those coconuts open with the butt of your M-16.


Two lists that have nothing in common

Things you don't see very often...

1) A pregnant lady on a pogo stick.
2) The number 1 mile-marker on highways.
3) A red-headed guy with a really nice suntan.
4) A salesman who shows himself to the door
5) A restroom attendant at a Taco Bell restroom
6) A Volkswagen Bus with a "Nuke'em all" bumper sticker
7) A vegetarian who keeps it a secret.
8) A nice, clean-cut heavy metal band.
9) A Microsoft keyboard without the CNTL, ALT and DEL keys slightly worn.
10) An internet cache devoid of porn websites.

LBB's Dating Tips...

1) Women over 35 don't find toilet humor as funny as you do. Neither to women under 35.

2) Singing "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" only works in the movies, and then only if you're a fictional fighter pilot. In fact, avoid singing altogether.

3) It's quicker and easier to get a vasectomy than to put on a condom in the dark. Incidentally, why do they call it a "reservoir tip." Isn't reservoir an exaggeration? I don't know what kind of load other men are packing, but mine will fit inside a thimble.

4) Thong underwear is sexy... on women. Men, when you wear a thong, you look like the model in a medical textbook for the chapter on skin diseases.

5) When it comes to cologne, more isn’t better. In fact, don’t use it at all. Instead, take a bath.

6) Don’t talk about yourself incessantly. It’s a date, not a therapy session.

7) Here’s a good first-date idea: show her your blog. Those things are like liquid panty-remover.


Hot off the LBB Wires...

LBB Wires, Tucson, AZ 1653 hrs...

LBB reporters have learned of a pending lawsuit filed by Victoria Secret catalog models against the publishers of dozens of magazines and broadcast media. The models, estimated to be in the hundreds in the class-action suit, allege the defendants published pictures of the models wearing nothing but underwear, an act defying Geneva Conventions. The plaintiffs' legal team has enumerated several undergarments featured in various magazines and television commercials along with when and where the images were published. Pentagon officials have withheld comment.

Legal experts believe an unauthorized Saddam Hussein photo hitting newsstands around the world and Hussein’s lawsuit have given momentum to underwear-clad victims around the world. The question “Boxers or Briefs?” is no longer the stuff of speculation regarding the fallen Iraqi leader. Evidently, the mystique was a matter of the despot’s personal dignity. Damages are estimated to be in the “tens of millions.”

Also joining the Victoria Secret class-action lawsuit, Marky Mark (real name, Mark Wahlburg), who alleges pictures of him sporting fitted boxer brief underwear were plastered on billboards everywhere. According to legal documents, several of these images reveal parts of “the funky bunch.”

Legal experts expect the VS lawsuit to invoke Geneva Conventions prohibiting pictures of POWs in unflattering lighting or wardrobe.


Hodgepodge or hogwash? You decide.

  • I just saw a guy on a motorcycle. His tee shirt read, "Touching my motorcycle without my permission may result in serious injury or death." I just ordered a bumper sticker that reads, "threatening serious injury or death may prompt driver to run over you and your motorcycle."
  • If Truth is Beauty and Beauty is Truth, why do girls wear make-up? Why do guys get hair plugs?
  • Those acts too obscene to pin to humanity we attribute to "God."
  • If you hate odd numbers, it's got to be hell being single, or an only child.
  • The only time I envy the Amish is when I'm using Microsoft Windows.
  • It's ironic, but I when I was a kid I used to pray to God that my parents would accidentally sleep too late to take me to church on Sunday morning.
  • Did you ever notice that the price of golf clubs keep going up, but golf scores never go down?
  • When advertisers want to sell something to men, they put the word "sports" on the label: Sports gel. Sports bag. Sports car. Sports package. None of these things relates to sports, but because men and sports go together, we'll buy them! You could put the word "sports" on a box of tampons and we'd buy a case of them at Costco. Then we'd show them off to our friends. "Hey Joe. I just picked up the Stayfree Tampon Sports Maxipad with the Sports sent. It's 30% more absorbent than your model. And they've got the winged sports package for aerodynamics."
  • The bad thing about being a gynecologist is, you can never think outside the box.
  • Next, Congress should filibuster the voting on American Idol. Then the public might give a damn.


How to fix the American work ethic

I’ve figured out how to improve America’s failing work ethic: Samurais. We need more Samurais. Not those shitbox jeeps that college kids drove back in the 90’s. I mean the Asian warriors who take great pride in their work.

As you may know, when a Samurai dishonors himself with second-rate work, he commits suicide by falling on his sword. They’d rather die than disappoint you. That’s the kind of commitment I’m looking for! Wouldn’t it be nice if your congressman were a Samurai? “Hello. My name is Ashito Yamagushi and I’m running for US Congress in District 12. If I fail to balance the budget and promote hydrogen fuel technology by my first term, I’ll shish kebob myself on the House floor for your viewing pleasure. That‘s a promise.”

Now there’s a man worth voting for. Our current Congressmen’s idea of hard work is a filibuster and a 3-martini lunch on the taxpayers’ dime. Let’s send some Samurai to Washington.

I’ll tell you where I’d like to see Samurais. The McDonald’s drive-thru. I know when I drive 8 miles to my house, open up the bag and discover they forgot the fries, only a dead body is going to soothe my anger. Wouldn’t it be nice to make a phone call to the local burger joint when they screw you at the drive-thru and know that somebody’s going to pay with their life? “Hello. I came through the drive-thru about 15 minutes ago and ordered a #6 combo with a strawberry shake. Yashimoto forgot to put ketchup in the bag. Tell him he can make it quick and painless.”


A blog by any other name

Do you remember when you started your blog and you had to dream up a cool name for it? What fun! It had to be something clever and intriguing. It had to say something about you. And it had to give the reader an idea of your blog's style and subject matter.

I screwed the pooch when I named my blog after a bug's ass. But it's too late now. Here's a list of others I might have used had I the chance to do it all over again:
  • Pontificate or Perish (my first blog. Cool, huh?)
  • The Two-Martini Mambo
  • Crumbs from my Conscience
  • The Neutron Bomb of Bullshit
  • Shakespeare Smokin' Crack
  • Medusa Oblongata
  • Highballs and Hand Grenades
  • Fruity Pebbles Sugar Buzz
  • The Botched Vasectomy
  • Fireworks and Flowers
  • What's Shakin' in the Men's Room
  • The Whale's Blow Hole
  • Reckless Mouthpiece


Vanity is only skin-deep

Why does everybody else always looks the same every time I see them, but I have a thousand different gradations of appearence? When I look into a mirror, it's a total craps-shoot. There's a thousand different things that can go wrong. My hair alone can be fucked up in up to 32 ways at one time. My hair is a true-time multitasking embarassment machine. Once in a while it manages to look cool, but most of the time it looks like Michael J. Fox molded 100 eggs of brown Play-Doh onto my head.

My complexion frightens me. I'm developing patches of color that haven't made it into the Crayola-128 pack yet. In flourescent lighting, my face is reminscient of a relief map of the Painted Desert -- that part where all the wildlife goes to die. I used to feel lucky for being a man, largely because women had to bother with make-up. But I'm getting to the age where I'm jealous of women, because I could really use some of that shit!

Looking into the mirror is a gamble. But at least you're expecting potentially bad news. I hate when you catch a glimpse of your reflection unexpectedly, perhaps in a store-front window, and you don't have time to brace yourself for what a traffic accident your appearence has become. Of course, some days you look so good you can actually feel it and you almost feel sorry for that poor, fat bastard with the pasty skin, the goofy shorts, mismatching socks and the hair that looks like his parents were a baboon and Don King, until you realize that poor bastard was just your reflection passing by the Denny's front window. That's a piece of humble pie.

But I'm learning to deal with it. I stay positive. Most of the time it's just unflattering lighting, after all. Too much light reveals things that have no business being seen. So as a rule, I avoid well-lit rooms, fluorescent lighting, track lighting, computer monitors, electrical storms, cigarette lighters, heat lamps, sparklers, spot lights, penlights and disco balls. I don't mind direct sunlight, though. I can still look pretty good in the sun because everybody has to squint. You just have to watch out for people with sunglasses.


51 things about LBB you couldn't have gone your entire life without knowing

I consider my fellow bloggers my friends. None has sent me a death threat nor sought a restraining order against me, which is more than I can say for my flesh-friends.

I enjoy learning about my fellow bloggers. I especially like posts that tell about the author. In that spirit, I've posted 51 things about myself. Forty-eight of them are true. Three are lies. Can you spot the lies?

1) I drink over a gallon of diet soda per day
2) I urinate over a gallon per day
3) I broke my femur and tibia jumping from a truck on a collision course with a parked car.
4) I have physically assaulted two computer printers.
5) I've never driven drunk, but I've driven angry.
6) I started a brush fire and narrowly escaped arrest.
7) I rescued a drowning child back in 1979.
8) I've never been in a fistfight.
9) During the dot-com boom, I made 9k off of a 100 bucks. Suck on that, Warren Buffet.
10) Loud, sudden noises anger me.
11) I hate bars and beer, but I love liquor.
12) I believe a good working definition for "happiness" is "part-time work."
13) I collect quotations.
14) I eat fast food every day, often twice a day -- and yet I haven't been "super-sized" like that dipshit with the moustache suggests.
15) My favorite book is The Great Gatsby.
16) My favorite play is The Importance of Being Earnest.
17) I owned a MacIntosh for 5 hours. Then I demanded a refund.
18) I stepped on a scorpion with my bare foot and didn't get stung. The scorpion survived the incident, too. Then I killed him.
19) The word you can't see on my "I heart" sweater featured on my photo is "Arizona."
20) I'm 1/32 lightning bug from my mother's side.
21) My ass glows in the dark.
22) I watch Fox News constantly. (Address hate mail to: eightinches4real@yahoo.com)
23) I hate seafood. And you can keep that sushi crap!
24) I believe Steve Miller's album "Abracadabra" was underrated.
25) I don't wash my hands after using the restroom unless I'm at work.
26) I believe blogs will significantly reduce book sales because the crap they print isn't nearly as good as the stuff we write!
27) I drew a pair of shorts and taped it onto my poster of The Vitruvian Man because I love the sketch, but I hate his dong staring at me all day.
29) I distrust and despise the number 28.
30) I keep a compass in my glove box for when I get lost.
31) I wear Old Spice and use the stick deodorant and face gel. Suck on that, Aqua Velva!
32) I utter 87% of my profanity in front of my computer. The remainder is reserved for the DMV.
33) I have some grey hair and I still watch cartoons and eat taffy.
34) I actually did get my pecker caught in my zipper like you see in those cheesey movies. It was awful.
35) I've never asked "What Would Jesus Do?" I have asked "What Would Bill Clinton Do?"
36) Even though I don't believe in God, I still talk to Him sometimes.
37) In my youth, I used the early-withdrawl method with great success. Suck on that, Planned Parenthood!
38) My senior year in HS, I smuggled contraband across the Mexican border with the aid of a secret compartment in my gym shoe.
39) I've never shoplifted, but I did leverage a generous employee discount plan in my favor.
40) I had a brief conversation with Linda McCartney about a gift I was buying for my girlfriend.
41) I was 30 years old before I drove a car with working air conditioning.
42) I graduated HS with a 2.24 GPA. If not for SAT scores, I would have been ineligible for college.
43) I'm plotting the murder of a woodpecker who pecks at my chimney.
44) I almost have myself convinced that material possessions do not bring happiness.
45) The best money I ever spent was on RK surgery, or maybe my vasectomy. Eyes and balls -- two great places to have surgery.
46) My first blog was titled "Pontificate or Perish."
47) I still labor to perfect my salsa recipe. Do you have one?
48) I love heat.
49) My proudest moment in high school is when I successfully cheated on a Spanish test and earned a higher grade than the class nerd.
50) I've never regretted quitting anything. But I've regretted persevering several times.
51) I'm giving up the bad habit of blogging.

The Sopranos: A Critique

My thoughts on HBO's The Sopranos:

Let's discuss all the anger. I haven't seen more pissed off Italians since they strung up Mousolini. I can't figure why they're so angry. They drive nice cars and own huge homes. They have plenty of money. They eat all the time. I can't pronouce most of the stuff they eat, but it looks pretty good. What the heck is "gabagool?"

Plus, those mafia guys have hot-and-cold running women. You can't swing a pasta noodle without slapping some stipper's boobs. But what's weird is, the guys beat the women more than they have sex with them. I wonder if Ike Turner is a creative consultant. Seriously though, it's like an ass-bomb exploded on that show. Those girls are Jerry-Seinfeld's-girlfriends-hot. And for reasons escaping me, they all want to bed-down with guys who look like Frank Sinatra's retarded brother. Ma-don!

Every scene involves eating, nudity, sex, or an Italian stand-off between characters. It's a lot like MTV's Real World, except the actors aren't annoying, self-centered posers.

Oh, and I'm not sure, but I think I heard one of the Sopranos say the "f-word!"

Food, sex and stand-offs. That's why I like it so much. But I just don't understand all the anger.


Good manners, bad situations

Whenever you enter a cafe or a department store you first open the door and pass through, and then glance behind to see whether you should hold it open for the person right behind you. That person then grabs the door and holds it open for himself and as he passes through, glaces back, and so on. Outside the New York area, you may even hear a "thank-you." Civility triumphs. Life goes on.

But sometimes when you glance behind you, you spot somebody 50 feet back or so, and figure you might as well hold the door open for them. It's not their fault they're running a few seconds late. So you abruptly hault and stiff-arm the door open. But then you realize that the person for whom you're holding the door isn't moving very quickly. They're not double-timing it like they should. They're not showing hustle. In fact, they're taking their sweet-ass time. Apparently they've got all the time in the world. By your calculations you estimate you'll be holding the door for a long goddamn before they bother to show up. So you consider letting the door go and making a break for it. You don't have time for this inconsiderate prick to lollygag across the parking lot. But it's too late now. You've made eye-contact. You'd be in the clear if the person hadn't seen you holding the door. But if you abort mission after you've been seen, you'll be the incosiderate prick! Besides, a lifetime of etiquette has ingrained itself onto your brain and by sheer instinct you can't force yourself to run away. You're committed. By this time your arm is tiring. Passers-by are bumping and dodging you and probably thinking that you're some fool who can't take a hint and get out of their way. You start to feel like a real ass -- and all because you're a nice guy. The only thing left to do now is hope the inconsiderate prick you're waiting on gets runover by a an even bigger prick driving an SUV. That would get you out of the jam, because you're not obligated to render aid to a vehicular assault victim, just hold open doors for people behind you. No suck luck, though. Your guy makes it across the lot without a scratch. By now you want to let the door slam on him just as he attempts to pass, hopefully severing one of his appendages in the process. Or maybe just a sarcastic quip. "You're welcome. Shall I let the Cinnabuns know you're on your way and will be their sometime next year?" But you don't, because you're a nice guy. So you let the lame bastard roll his wheelchair right past you while you hold the door like a chump.

Fuckin' good manners! I hate having them.


Flashes from the Lightning Bug's Butt

  • Do you remember that song by the Pointer Sisters that went "When it comes to love, I want a slow hand...I want a lover with an easy touch?" Well, when it comes to love, I want a lover with a fast hand, and the touch doesn't have to be all that easy, either.
  • I hate that cliche that goes, "We'll have to agree to disagree." I disagree. We've already agreed to disagree, otherwise we wouldn't disagree in the first place. Don't you agree?
  • How come a store can get sued for a trip hazzard, but they can put up barbed-wire around the fences?
  • I'm tired of changing my car's oil. It gets dirty so quickly. I just drained all the oil out of my car so I don't have to deal with it.
  • Shaving your balding head is like ripping a bandage off: instead of a slow, torturous process, get it over with one quick motion.
  • How come the only two times the rain can't wash bird crap away is when it's on a monument or your car?
  • You want to know why they call those SUVs "Hummers?" Because that's what the wife needs to give before hubby will buy her one.
  • I don't care if the Middle East controls the oil supply just as long as they don't corner the market on diet soda.
  • You don't know the definition of "humiliation" until you've clogged the shitter at a cocktail party.
  • Guys really don't like to dance. Even in the movies, the bad guy has to repeatedly shoot bullets at the good guys feet to get him to dance, and even then, it's only an awkward jig (don't get any ideas, Latigo Flint!).
  • I think it would be cool to name your pet "euthanasia." It would take some trauma out of your decision to put your dog to sleep when he gets too old.
  • Before we made "bastard" a cuss word, we should have considered how many illegitimate children we'd have in the country by now. "I'm not a bastard. I'm paternally challenged."


Dashboard Lights Not Paradise

My car's dashboard is giving me too much information. I don't care about all that stuff. All I want to know is how fast I'm going and how much gas is in the tank.

RPM? Who cares? I have an automatic. I have 42k miles on my car and not once have I needed to know how many RPMs. It's like my engine is trying to impress me. "See how hard I'm working for you. This acceleration shit isn't easy."

Temperature? Not my problem. I'm going to drive no matter how hot things get. If it seizes one day, I'll just call AAA. It's under warranty, anyway.

Now that would be a good thing to put in the dashboard: an idiot light that indicates whether your car is still under warranty, or whether you're fucked. And that's just what it should read once you exceed the warranty, in flashing lights, "You're Fucked."

The seatbelt indicator light annoys the piss out of me for several reasons. First, I feel it's none of my car's business whether I want to risk my life. I can zip around town driving like a maniac and my car doesn't say squat. But if I'm not wearing my seatbelt, it starts nagging me like a drunk mother-in-law.

And it's ironic that the picture has a guy wearing a seatbelt. I think it should depict a guy not wearing a seatbelt. After all, isn't that the problem? Or better yet, how about a graphic of a guy crashing through the windshield and getting decapitated? Have a point.

I wish my car's dashboard would just shut up and leave me alone. I'm trying to drive.


Dear God

I hope that I'm one of those lucky people who realizes when he's dying and still has some time to take care of things. I'd like to get my house in order. And I'd like to pick up a gag gift for Jesus. Something along the lines of "I died for the sins of mankind and all I got was this lousy tee-shirt." I think He'd get a kick out of that. I don't know much about our Creator, but I'm positive He has a sense of humor.

And If I have time, I might pick up St. Peter one of those baseball caps that reads, "SECURITY."