Weekend ponderings

  • If a guy knows that a girl has a severe allergy to nuts, yet he tea-bags her anyway, can he be charged with attempted murder?
  • Here's a free tip: If you eat enough Fruity Pebbles you'll eventually crap out a Fruity Boulder.
  • I read a history book referring to “German-Jews.” Isn't that an oxymoron?
  • Republican and Democratic voters should stop arguing with each other. Whichever you are, remember: no Republican is so conservative that he won't tax your money away from you, and no Democrat is so liberal that the plight of the downtrodden is more important than his own political career.
  • A man who tries and fails 100 times was a fool for not quitting long ago. The man who tries 101 times and finally succeeds was, in retrospect, a genius the entire time he was failing. That's the problem. You don't get to redeem your idiocy for genius until and unless success comes. If success evades you, as it so often does, you just keep becoming a bigger idiot. Also, only the biggest idiots in life become successful. Hello, George Bush.


Am I weird or what

I eat things off the floor. I've made peace with my habit. Just the other night I ate some tempura shrimp off my own welcome mat. I grilled the shrimp outdoors. As I was bringing the bounty inside, a shrimp scalded my hand. I dropped a few of those bitches on my welcome mat -- the dirtiest surface in my home, other than my hard drive. Anyway, I ate the shrimp. They cost me 10 bucks. I don't care if I accidentally fried them in transmission fluid. I was eating them!

But last night I literally ate pizza out of the garbage. Here's how it happened:

About nine years ago I discovered a phenomenal pizza parlor, Rosati's, and ever since I've been putting the owner's kids through college. The pizzas are sublime. I shouldn't even call them “pizza,” because they're so much more than what the reader understands as “pizza.” It's pizza in the academic sense: it's flat, round, dough bottom, cheese top, tomato sauce in the middle. But it eats more like Ambrosia or some other delicacy of the Gods. I'm not kidding, folks. This pizza is divine. It's the stuff of miracles. If I had one of these pizzas delivered to Heaven, Mother Theresa herself would roll around naked in it, moaning in sensual delight. Still not catching my drift? Alright: If pizza were pussy, this pizza is a Paris Hilton.

I had one delivered the other night. The wife and kid were at the movies so I had the pizza all to myself. It arrived. I ate all I could while touching myself inappropriately and then prepared myself for a trip to my gymnasium. I don't know if I was in a gluttony induced trance or what, but I threw the pizza box into my trash receptacle without removing the remainder of pizza. About 45 minutes into my workout at the gym, I remembered that I hadn't removed the precious contents of the box, which now rested atop several bags of garbage in a trash receptacle on the driveway (it was trash night). Damn!

I cut my workout short and raced home. I opened the trash receptacle, retrieved the pizza (which thankfully remained safely within the box) and sealed it in Tupperware. The pizza showed no signs of contamination. No foreign bodies, no particulate matter, no insect larvae. Check, check and check. However, I could not rule out airborne contamination between the neighboring refuse and the pizza. I'd have to take that chance. The next day, I ate every piece without flinching. It tasted great. I didn't get sick. I don't believe any neighbors saw me remove the pizza from the trash. I prevented a disaster and salvaged one heck of a tasty breakfast.

So am I weird or what?



  • I have a unique brand of discipline for my daughter. I don't ever strike her. When she misbehaves, I don't deny her the things she loves or zap privileges. I just remind her that every time she upsets me, somewhere a unicorn dies.
  • Sexy isn't cute. But cute is sexy. This is why sexy people are usually single and miserable and why cute people always have dozens of admirers vying for their affections.
  • Gay men have a great taste in music and a great taste in clothing. Lesbians haven't inherited these qualities. But they sure do know a good motorcycle when they see one.
  • More than anything I detest toil. But I have a nagging suspicion that the lack of toil saps the value out of life.
  • I love America. But America needs to learn a lesson from the Swiss. Somebody's always threatening our way of life and clamoring for our destruction. Consequently, every decade or so we have to go to war with somebody. But nobody ever targets the Swiss. How does Switzerland pull that stunt off decade after decade? Switzerland is the Tom Hanks of countries. Everybody likes them. People send us dive-bombing planes, shrapnel and anthrax. They toast wieners over our burning flag. When they're done kicking the crap of an effigy of George Bush, they send all their money to Switzerland. Switzerland has all that beautiful land, all those beautiful people and all that money! Yet nobody kicks their doors in and loots it. We need to be more like the Swiss, only not so queer.
  • If I were a psychologist, I'd buy all my depressed patients a McDonald's Happy Meal. I figure it's worth a shot. And if it didn't cure them, I'd ridicule them: “What, daddy didn't show you enough affection so now you're too good to eat a hamburger? Freak! I give you happiness in a box and you're so self-centered and neurotic that you can't reach in and grab it? I don't know what more I can do for you. Your hour is up. That'll be $225.”
  • Most people agree that Burger King has better food than McDonald's. But Burger King lacks that first-rate marketing department that McD's has. Think about movie tie-ins. McDonald's gets movies like Indiana Jones, Star Wars, ET, etc. Burger King jumped onboard with King fuckin' Ralph, with John Goodman. Might as well advertise that your restaurants have radon gas leaks in the lobbies. King Ralph? What's next for Burger King? Are they going to tie in with Alexander? “Come back for another Whoppertunity -- to see Colin Farrell show his ballsack and kiss that guy from Queer Eye.”
  • Remember the “population bomb?" It was bullshit. Then came “global cooling.” More bullshit. Then we were making a hole in the ozone -- right up until the hole disappeared. Alas, more bullshit. Now we have “global warming.” Yeah. It's not hot out because it's the middle of fucking July. It's hot out because Americans are evil and George Bush is stupid. How's that for hard science? When we discover that “global warming” is bullshit, too, I predict the next pending disaster -- whatever they dream up -- will require more taxation, less industry and a sacrifice of the American way of life, that is until it reveals itself as another steaming pile of misanthropistic bullshit.
  • Some couples are so attracted to each other that they accelerate into one another, collide and disintegrate. With others, the attractive force is too weak; their paths curve toward each other but then drift apart. But with some couples, the attractive forces, the trajectories and the distance between the bodies are perfect, so that they fall into an everlasting orbit. Then they meet on Brokeback Mountain and butt-slam each other in a tent.
  • Yeah, yeah. I know "misanthropistic" is not a real word. But it should be.


Random acts of blogness and sensless acts of musings

  • If plant life had to reproduce via sexual intercourse, I submit the first order of plants to go extinct would be the cactus.
  • I'd never wish to be deaf. But I often wish I was near-dear, or far-deaf, whichever would be the analog to farsightedness, where one can see things from far away perfectly, but cannot see things near the eyes. I would like this same affliction except on my ears instead of my eyes. I would like to be deaf to all things near, yet be able to hear those sounds reporting from in the distance.
  • I take a relaxed attitude at my job because I figure before I got there, the position was vacant. Nobody was doing anything. The joint didn't burn down. Right?
  • Show me an environmentalist and I'll show you a misanthrope. Let's assume we ARE leaving footprints on the planet. Why do they assume that's a BAD thing? Maybe we're good for the planet. Beavers build damns. They change the routes of water and impact the ecosystem. Should we protest beavers (Eat more dam beaver)? Dung beetles move crap into big, steaming piles. Let's protest dung beetles (Stay out of our shit, dung beetle!). Mosquitos spread malaria. Cows fart (Eat a burger; preempt a fart; save the ozone). Yet the earth survives and even thrives with all these irresponsible animals trifling with the planet.
  • Since they put those big, robotic arms on garbage trucks I figure being a garbage man is a good career. It's like going through the drive-thru 190 times a day. Easy money. Worried about telling others you're a garbage man? Tell them you're a "municipal robotic arm operator.” You'll be the toast of your high school reunion.
  • I read a marine-style t-shirt that read “Pain is only weakness, leaving the body.” (And maybe a little brains, too!)
  • How come the odds of a stone finding its way into your shoe are pretty good, but the odds of it working its way out are zero? I've had stones in sandals that can't find their way out!
  • Charcoal does to meat what a Wonderbra does to boobs.
  • “Hey boss. I have a proposal for me to work from home. Have the guys in Networking install a video cam on your office PC. Then, every hour or so, you can moon the camera and I can kiss my monitor at home. Same effect. No commute.
  • Given the dismal failure of public school systems, I propose we make school buildings out of log cabins. No broadband Internet. No microscopes or Bunsen burners. Just candlelight and a Franklin stove. Think about it. Those kids from Little House on the Prairie and The Waltons read like gangbusters. And look how well Abraham Lincoln turned out!
  • Some employers give shift differentials for working off-hours. I think you should get differential premiums when you work with douchebags.
  • Marketing idea: peace protesters often burn candles. So make a candle in one of those Jesus-type glasses, but instead of Jesus, put a picture of a sophisticated and dignified black fella on the glass. The name of the product: Nelson Candella. Kum-by-ah, beyotch!


Four cynical musings

One of my favorite alcoholic drinks is the orgasm. It's equal parts Irish cream, coffee liquor and amaretto. But you can make it a screaming orgasm” by adding vodka, and for a multiple screaming orgasm” you add Frangelico. See how the name changes as you add more liquor? I want to invent a similar drink called the “fender bender.” If you add more liquor, it becomes an “airbag discharger.” If you float some rum on the top, it becomes the “vehicular homicide,” or perhaps just a “rollover.”

Speaking of liquor, I've often contemplated the pleasure of drunkenness so that I might through sheer will and cognition conjure its effects without drinking the toxic spirits. As far I can tell, alcohol imparts the following conviction on the organ of emotion: “Everything is all right. Things are perfect as they are. And everything that is to come will be just fine.” That's a tough sell for even the most optimistic mind, which is why drinking is such a popular pastime.

Here's a tip for married guys for when your wife is spending too much money. As you know, you can't crack her. Nowadays, you can't yell at her, nag her or even snarl at her -- they call that “domestic violence,” unless a woman does it, in which case they call it “finding your inner-goddess.” Anyway, they haven't yet written a law against being a bum. So next time the credit card bill shocks you, don't get angry. Quit your job. Be a bum. They don't have debtor's prisons in this country. Stay at home and watch cable TV until they shut it off. Let her stew over the bills for once.

I will never purchase bottled water. I've been a fervent critic of bottled water since its surge in popularity in the 80s and 90s. I used to work at a drug store and I remember stocking bottled water when my boss, Ramon, approached me. I asked Ramon, “Ray, why are people paying good money for the same shit they can get from the faucet for free?” Ramon replied, “I don't know [LBB]. Only in America.” Those were the wisest words Ramon ever spoke. What breaks my heart is, back then I wasn't the only one ridiculing the bottled water craze. Many others saw the folly. But with time, even the deriders started drinking it! Now I'm the only one. I feel like those old Japanese soldiers who hid in caves for decades after the conclusion of World War II. They refused to surrender. They refused to exchange their dignity for the return to normalcy. They held vigil in their caves until they could see the round-eyes in their gun sights. Then they'd charge out of their caves, all old and bony and whatnot, with their tattered uniforms, rusty bayonets fixed and phlegmy war cries. “You die now, round-eye scumbag!” That's how I feel. I'm not going to pig-stick anybody, but I will never surrender. I will continue my crusade against bottled water, Glade Plug-ins and other nonsense. The bottled water industry will forever reap my contemptuous mirth.


More from the cutting room floor

This is a second installment of stuff that didn't make the cut. Like the first installment, this stuff is pretty crappy and/or offensive, but I don't have the heart to throw it away. Plus, the stuff I tried writing today is pretty crappy, too. So this is a good time to post all the crappy stuff at once and get it over with. Here you go:

Ten unsafe ways to stay fit

1) Drunken, unspervised swimming
2) Bench-pressing with Steven Hawking as your spotter
3) Kickboxing with Tyra Banks
4) Barbed wire limbo
5) Campfire hurdles
6) Busy-parking-lot-dodgeball
7) Rooftop calisthenics
8) Shadowboxing in a McDonald's funhouse with those goofy mirrors
9) Marble-track triple jump
10) San Franciscan roller blading

Your car has nothing to do with the weather

Have you ever heard guys who claim the reason it rained is because they just washed their cars?

How self-centered can you be? Not only does the world revolve around you, but when you're too busy, it revolves around your car!

It rains because of clouds. Mother nature doesn't care if you just waxed your faggy, low-rider rice burner with the ground effects. Jeez! Guys like this are to blame for movies like The Fast and the Furious.

Look dudes, the car doesn't make the man. The car just gets you to your job at Burger King. And you're going to have to flip a lot of burgers to pay for those rims you threw on a '96 Nissan Sentra 4-door.

The next time it rains, I hope the puddles slide these Fast and the Furious twits into the nearest telephone pole.

Detoxify your system

Did the human race suddenly fall into a landfill or drink from an outhouse spigot? I have to ask. Because every proudct we eat, drink or use promises to "detoxify" us.

The grocery store has entire aisles of drinks and food suppliments that supposedly purify your system. The local spa will cleanse and detoxify you through the pores. Oxygen bars and hi-colonics will flush out the accumulating poisons. The latest exercise gizmo promises to rid your body of toxins. Everything we buy purifies, cleanses, cleans, rejuvinates and detoxifies.

When did we become so goddamn filthy?

When I'm in the sauna, I don't see chunks of garbage shoot out my pores, just sweat. When I eat or drink some all-natural healthfood stuff, I still eject the same turd. And when I give myself an enema, it's for recreational purposes only -- not cleansing. Like my oven, my colon is self-cleaning.

Think about this: people are volunteering -- paying somebody -- to get hi-colonics. Before the national craze of "detoxification" we called it an "enema." And you didn't get one unless you really needed it.

People are paying for -- get this -- oxygen bars. Fuckin' oxygen. AIR. Let me save you some money. You need more oxygen? BREATH MORE! The air is free. These are the same nitwits who insist on bottled water. Where do you think bottled water companies get the water? A rain dance? No. They turn on the spigot and then laugh their asses off all the way to the bank.

Back to hi-colonics: If you're volunteering to put a tube up your ass and shoot veggie juice through your colon, may I suggest that it's not your body that needs cleansing. It's your brain. Cram the tube into one ear and open up the valve. Cleanse all that New-Age Hollywood bullshit out of your head and let it drain out the other ear. If you really want to power-wash your colon, may I recommend the #5 combo at Filiberto's? It'll get the job done and set you back only $4.50.

This detoxification bullshit is a by-product of environmentalism. Seventeen assholes camping in a Californian Redwood want the rest of us to believe our industrialized lifestyle is poisoning us. Have these dirtbags considered how we lived before the Industrual Revolution? We sustained on insects, raw meat, decomposing vegitable matter and pond water. We huddled in caves, wizzed in the local stream and wrapped our naugty parts in dead animal skin. If anybody needed detoxification, it was our all-natural ancestry. Their lifestyle seems pretty damn toxic to me.

Thanks to modern living, we're the cleanest people on earth. So put the organic veggie cocktail back on the shelf and grab a milkshake at McD's.


The hardest substance on the planet is a dog's skull. On several occasions I've seen a dog run full-steam, head-first into a solid barrier, collide, and live to tell about it. It's like they're showing off. My dog took out my patio door and it cost me $80. That's $560 in doggy-dollars. Dog skulls will bruise a human shinbone with no problem. They ought to make bullet-prove vests out of old dog skulls.

You can't win for losing the lottery

Everybody's heard that your chances of being struck by lightning are greater than winning the lottery. If that's the case, why aren't all the lottery winners already dead? Who knows? Maybe if you can predict 6 numbers out of a lottery bucket, than you can predict where the lightning will strike and avoid it. Catch-22.

If I ever win the lottery, I'm going to be one nervous fellow, because lightning will be looking for me so it can even the score. And while the idea of dying doesn't scare me, per se, the notion of dying with a bunch of money in my pocket scares me to death!

Fat people just have more for me to hate

Why do fat people always walk in the middle of the aisle? The skinny people always pick a side and stay on it. But fat people locate the geometric center of the aisle and then waddle down an imaginary line bisecting it. And they waddle from side to side so that if you attempt to pass them, you collide with their sweaty arms. Not wanting to bump into them and risk knocking the jelly doughnut from their hand, I have to pull off a double-flip summersault with a half-twist just to get the checkout line before the next ice age.

Maybe they walk down the center to remain equidistant to the food on either side. I don't know. But I do know they should pick a side and stay on it. And if you have a fat friend with you, and you, yourself are fat, for Christ's sake, walk SINGLE FILE -- just like the line at the Krispy Kreme. When you walk side-by-side, you're violating several fire codes.

Incidentally, if a couple fat people are ever blocking the way down the aisle during a fire, I'm gonna throw a box of Milk Duds over their shoulder so they'll stampede out of my damn way. Jot down that tip. It may save your life.

Rappers' names

Rappers' names aren't what they used to be. The first generation of rappers had some kick-ass names: DJ Master Jeff, LL Cool J, Salt 'n' Peppa, Darrel Mac, Twist.

But cool names for rappers have slowed to a trickle. And the stupid ones are reproducing like a case of the clap at a Kid Rock fan club convention. Examples:

Snoop Dog? SNOOP Dog? If you want to name yourself after one of the Peanuts, at least go for Linus. Even Pig Pen would be better than Snoop Doggy Dogg.

Eminem? I know when I think of a bad-ass street hood, I think about candy-coated chocolate tablets.

50-cent? You have to wonder about this guy's self-esteem. He's discounted himself like a pair of shower shoes at a K-Mart Blue Light Special. Fifty cents -- that's about what one of his albums is worth.

Dirty Ole Bastard? This guy's trying to sell himself as a gangsta and he describes the old white guy I see next door who fetches his newspaper in his bathrobe and dark socks.

Then you've got all the "ice" guys: Ice-T, Ice Cube, Vanilla Ice. These guys dreamed up their names while looking for something to eat in the fridge. Get ready for DJ Dill Pickle and Jam Master Baking Soda.


Have you seen those trailers for horses? You see them once in a while, towing a couple horses down the highway. If you look closely, you can see a big horse eye looking out one of the air vents. Hello, horsey.

One time I came to a red light along the side of a horse trailer. A horse peeked at me with its big eye. Then, the eye disappeared and a horse mouth protruded through the air vent.

"Hey. Hey you. You, in the car," beckonedthe horse.

I could only look in amazement, too shocked to reply. Finally, I mustered a faint "Hello?"

"Nice car you're driving there. How much people-power does it have?"

I wonder why a horse ever bothers running again after he rides in a trailer. I would think an experience like that would forever change his attitude. When you climb on his back and coax him to run, you'd think he'd look back and ask whether you could just take the truck, instead.

Horses must really need the exercise.

Thinking on Drinking

Sometimes the shapes and designs of the glass aren't only cosmetic. They're functional, too.

Do you know why martini glasses are shaped like little, upside-down cones? To give the martini drinker an easier target for his drunk, numb lips. Martini glasses have a relatively large rim circumference. So drunks have a better chance of hitting the rim with their lips.

The same goes for margaritas. If you're drinking margaritas, the chances are you're drunk. You might believe the huge rim is for the salt, but that's coincidental. The primary reason for the rim is so you can find it with your drunk-ass lips. Incidentally, this is why drunk people should not attempt oral sex. Unfortunately, drunks are the most likely to try oral sex. Sometimes in public.

Think about it. Have you ever been so wasted your mouth can't find the rim of the glass? Of course you have. That's why you should stick to martinis and margaritas. You're bound to find the rim eventually.

By the way, notice how they pour weak, girlie drinks in those tall, thin glasses, because you'll never get drunk enough to need more rim! Plus they’re a phallic symbol. Whores!



  • It's ironic how “hygienic” means being toxic to most other visiting life forms -- like parasites and microorganisms and such.
  • Adolf Hitler named his autobiography Mein Kampf, or "My Struggle." His struggle? I think it was the rest of the world who struggled against that douchebag. He should have named his book My Chutzpah.
  • Michael Jordan once told a reporter that he laces up a brand new pair of Nike shoes every day. Every day he treats himself to a new (free!) pair of Nikes. I think Bill Gates should do that with his computers. Every day he boots up a brand new PC and uses it until Windows freezes. Then, he tosses the box down a flight of stairs or out a window and fires up a new one.
  • I'm taking delight in recent news that Starbucks is the latest target of the Fattening Food Police. Those coffee house dorks will now feel wrath of the monster they helped create.
  • In the workplace, bagels are hoarded and accountability is squandered with equal zeal.
  • I prefer a double entendre to an equivocality, but my favorite is a nice innuendo.
  • I've found a new mantra to help calm me while driving in traffic: “I've got comprehensive insurance and an air bag, so bring it on, mother fucker.”
  • If there's really a sucker born every minute, why are blow jobs so hard to find?
  • I don't know whether to kick my diet soda habit or to be thankful I have such an inexpensive vice.
  • My boss was complaining that I'm an incurious worker who never asks questions in our meetings. So in our meeting the other day I asked management a question: “What's a six-letter word for subatomic particle?” Those People crosswords are tough!
  • The enduring themes of rap music are, 1) one's sexual prowess, 2) one's propensity to trifle with firearms and 3) one's contempt for Anglo-European culture. Does this mean that every rapper deep down inside is writing about David Hasselhoff?