I got in a car accident last weekend. I'm OK. But I'm up to my whiplashed neck in bullcrap. Plus, I've been popping pills like Elvis on his birthday. My neck smarts something awful. One might think opiate drugs enhance blogging. But my blog is alcohol-fueled. And I don't mix booze and drugs. I'm not Amy Winehouse, for God's sake. Hey, speaking of her, wouldn't that be a great name for a drink? Bartender, make me an "Amy Winehouse." What's in that? First, make a sloe gin fizz and then add a shot of vodka and a couple Vicodin pills. Garnish with a No-Doze tablet.
What happened? I'm glad you asked. An unlicensed driver cut me off on the express way. I subsequently became a party in a 3-car pileup. My life didn't pass before my eyes and I didn't have a spiritual awakening as a result of my near-death experience. But I did get to see the business-end of an airbag. Get this. Milliseconds before my airbag deployed, a preliminary pop-up airbag discharged with an advertisement for the personal injury law firm, Goldberg and Osborne. Damn the commercialism.
The appraiser informed my my car was a total loss. So I've been shopping for a new, sweet-ass sweet 'Yota! The one I bought was even sweeter than the last 'Yota. Toyota's are the Macs of the automobile world. Not only do you enjoy owning a superior product, you get to look down your nose at everybody else. I rolled by a rube in a Ford Focus and rolled my eyes at him even as I rolled up my tinted, power window. How dare a commoner make eye contact with a royal?
Anyway, I haven't forgotten your topic suggestions. I'm working on them even now.
Here are a few things I've conceived under the influence of my medication:
***Here's a great name for a tattoo parlor: "At-Tattooed."
***The reason so many of our workmates are jerks is because of Human Resources. HR hires people with the comfort of knowing they'll never have work with the candidate again. Think about it. Have you ever seen HR personnel after your interview? I think they hire the biggest train-wrecks they can find -- just for the fun of it. I know I would.
***I think the Nobel Prize people should make a category for Military Science. The winner would be the guy who killed the most enemies that year, or maybe the soldier who made the most brutal killing, something in the way of a Rambo-knife gutting while under enemy fire. Wouldn't this be a nice balance to the Peace Prize?
***My Barack-Obometer reads high marks for presidential hopeful Barack Obama. Things don't look good for Hillary. Anyway you slice it, one of them has to lose. I personally can't wait to discover whether democrat voters are more racist than sexist, or vice versa.
***I read that Cuban President Fidel Castro is retiring. I wonder what the want ad reads for the vacant position.
Wanted: Ruthless, conniving dictator sought to administrate small, ass-backward, 3rd world country with remnant communist and anti-American sentiments. Spanish-speaker preferred. Camouflaged uniforms a must. We're looking for a multi-tasker with ability to dodge multiple assassination attempts. This position may require overtime.
Duties include oppressing millions of freedom-starved Cubans, sinking rafts and makeshift boats headed for Florida, hobnobbing with other Communist dictator assholes, and bamboozling Hollywood simpletons into thinking you're a swell guy. Will oversee the finest healthcare system in the world.
George Bush sympathizers need not apply.
***If you swallowed a 1.5-inch diameter jawbreaker whole, what size would the parcel be when it evacuated out as a candied, Willy Wonka turd? I've always had a scientific inquisitiveness about me.
***When I was kid, struggling with my multiplication tables, I entreated the teacher to allow us to use calculators instead of memorizing the tedious tables. Her rejoinder was that we won't always have a calculator when we need it. But this was back in the 1970s when a calculator cost $14,000. Nowadays, you do indeed always have a calculator handy either on your computer or in your cell phone. She was wrong! Up yours, Mrs. Daniels. In her defense, she also counseled me that I was a juvenile delinquent who wouldn't amount to anything when I grew up. Fifty-fifty.
***Why is it that the center of a sweet roll is the tastiest part of the pastry, but the center of a donut, namely, the donut hole, is lackluster?