Hope this makes up for the Rosie pic

I don't blame you for complaining about having to look at that hideous picture of Rosie so I added this one. Now that's sexy! I don't know why I want an AR-15 so bad but I do. Maybe it's because Obama doesn't want me to have one. I can't afford it nor could I really justify one especially like the one pictured. But that grenade launcher would be alot of fun! Hey, I have an idea...a few well-placed grenades...Rosie...OFF THE AIR! Bless her heart.

Something to be thankful for

This Thanksgiving, if nothing else, you can always be thankful that Rosie bombed on her new TV special last night so hopefully we won't have to see her obese face on the screen much more. I didn't see the show as I would rather be scissor-kicked in the adam's apple than have to endure that but critics were not kind. When will Rosie realize that she has no talent and did she really think a variety show would work for her? Has a variety show ever worked for anybody? The answer is no! Oh, I know Dolly Parton did so well with it as did Donny and Marie but even they were at least interesting to look at. Why did a fat, bitter, untalented, unfunny, fat, lesbian wanna-be has-been think she could pull it off? Let's hope she stays gone from our airwaves forever. Bless her heart.

Redneck Rockwell

Land-croc

Knock Knock

"Candygram!"

Shocking foto

I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere. Just remember it's a family blog.

Allah must be proud!

"Achmed?"

"Yes, Abdul?"

"Hey, uh, this isn't really how I thought Heaven would be, you know?"

"I know. It's even hotter than Baghdad! And where are all those virgins?"

"I dunno, but, Allah be praised, we are successful martyrs after that ambush."

"Uh, hey, Abdul, I'm not sure it counts as martyrdom if an American Marine shoots you in a firefight."

"Oh...dang."

Old enough

My wife and I were sitting at a nice restaurant a few nights ago when an older man came in with his family. They were all wearing nice clothes but the old man was wearing a hat. Not a cool, Tom Landry-style fedora or a suave Humphry Bogart-style reporter's hat but he was sporting a light blue fishing hat. I was fascinated! How is it that old men get to wear whatever in the world they want to? Nice slacks, starched shirt and his favorite lucky fishing hat! Then it dawned on me. I am, or at least I feel, old enough that I can start wearing goofy stuff.

So, I asked my wife, "Honey, what do you think I ought to start wearing first? The hat, suspenders and a belt or black socks with short pants?" Because nothing says, "I'm too old to care about impressing anybody" like those! Surprisingly, she didn't answer me. I think something on the ceiling must have distracted her about that time because she rolled her eyes upward although I didn't see anything up there. Anyhow, what do I care about what she thinks? I'm an old man and that's one of the perks of growing old. In fact, even as I sit here writing this I just noticed that I'm wearing sweat pants with brown dress socks, a Tommy Hilfiger dress shirt and slippers. Ah, life's good growing old! Now where's my hat?

My weekend

Just another weekend for me. How about you?

Storytime

A "Storytime" submission from an unnamed reader:

To appreciate this story you must first understand that I really like mustard. I like hot dogs or hamburgers with mustard, and deli sandwiches with dark stone-ground mustard, horseradish mustard, or Dijon mustard, the spicier the better.

Several years ago I was at a Church pool picnic with my wife and baby son. I held the baby on my left arm while I made a ham sandwich with lots of dark mustard. Then I conversed with some friends as I ate the sandwich. Half way through, I noticed that some of the mustard had dripped out of the sandwich onto my arm, and was dangerously close to getting onto the baby’s clothes. I didn’t have a napkin handy, or a free hand to use it, so I simply licked the mustard off my arm.

It was not mustard.

I had the presence of mind to hold on to the baby, but the sandwich was not so fortunate. It hit the dirt, and I quickly passed the baby to an unsuspecting bystander. I grabbed the closest glass of lemonade I could find, gulped some into my mouth, and spewed it into the grass. Then I grabbed my towel and did the shoe-shine buff on my tongue.

I made another sandwich and put mayonnaise on it.

Now that's a funny story! Classic! Just classic!

Gun talk

I went to the gun show yesterday with a few thousand of my closest friends and the main topic of conversation amongst us was "buy 'em now before Obama takes 'em away"! I thought it was a bit extreme and a bit early to be so worried and made no further purchases besides some ammo that I needed. Now I read this and I can't wait until the next show. I just have to decide which one (or two) I want.

Thank you, orbit again.

I am standing here beside myself with joy that Martians finally have a Kwik-E-Mart!

Olan Mills

"Hey, Neal, you wear the rainbow shirt", says Bob, "and I'll wear the one that has the 'Neal is my BFF' crest on it".

He's obviously compensating for something.

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev had to admit that the camo paint was a bit unnecessary.

And I thought my church was exciting!

You wanna know how I know they're gay? They have a Myspace page.

Thank you!

Storytime

--You just have to know how to handle it.--

My request was eagerly granted and my friend handed me the key. I went around to the left side and threw my leg over. Without me realizing it my heart pounded a little faster. My breathing quickened and sweat appeared on my un-helmited head. Smiling, I turned the key and the engine growled to life louder than I expected. I blipped the throttle a couple of times and tried to act cool but this was a strange feeling. I was almost parallel to the ground and it felt like all my weight was on my hands and wrists but there was no backing down now.

I gave it a respectable amount of gas and my head jerked back coming out of the driveway. As fast as I could shift I rocketed through the gears and down the street and jammed on the brakes just in time to keep from blowing through the intersection a couple of hundred yards from my house. I have no idea how fast I had gone. My mind barely had time to process that I had done it but I had somehow blown well past highway speeds and back to zero in just seconds. I put the bike in neutral at the stop sign and sat there. My brain is on fire. I'm laughing like a mad scientist and realize it but I can't stop. I want more! I'm a junkie with the need for speed and I have the needle pressed up against my arm and I'm about to hit the throttle and inject the adrenaline but my age and wisdom are telling me to stop. This is crazy! This thing should come with a matching casket and I know it but the need inside screams for more. It'll be ok! I want this. I need this! I deserve this! Just a little more...

Mark it down and tell my Mama that I did the right thing for once. Sweating but smiling, I eased the beast around the block very slowly and carefully and nosed it into my driveway. It was six hundred cc's of carbon fiber-wrapped crack without lights, mirrors, warning labels or anything else that would do anything but make it go fast and I grudgingly gave it back to the eighteen year old owner. I felt old for not airing it out and indulging my craving but at least I was still alive. I felt older when I heard myself say something about "too fast" to the rocket's owner. He said, "You just have to know how to handle it" and then commenced to show me what that meant.

Sixty seconds later when I was helping my young friend out of my neighbor's demolished bushes, my age and wisdom were not enough from keeping me from asking him about that statement.

Two Things

1) Things could be worse, I guess. At least it wasn't Hillary.

2) Is it too early to start campaining for Sarah Palin 2012?