Mean Dirty Pirate

Lesbian Butch Dyke:

2012-01-30T08:47:00.000-06:00

Last Night:

2012-01-29T16:01:00.004-06:00

At the Waffle House.

Stragglers from a nearby underwear party.

Icky Gay Profile:

2012-01-27T17:06:00.017-06:00

This lanky walleyed stud from the “Tooth Pick” state is a goateed hairy bottom with no tattoos.

Would you pick him up?

He's a power bottom and witty too.

Is he,

Icky or Tricky?

(circle yes or no)

Big Fig:

2012-01-21T18:14:00.000-06:00

Pensacola Babylon:

2012-01-16T16:19:00.011-06:00

In 1916 following the death of her grandmother a nineteen year old Bessie Warfield traveled from Baltimore Maryland to Pensacola Florida to visit her relative Corinne Mustin, whose husband the Captain Henry C. Mustin had recently been appointed Commander of the newly established Pensacola Naval Air Station.

Soon Bessie was introduced to Lt. Earl Winfield Spencer Jr. known to his friends as Win. Spencer was short, thick, and paunchy with dark circles around his eyes. As he spoke she began to size him up and later wrote, “I felt here was a man you could rely on in a tight spot.”

Bessie and Win played golf together, walked the beaches picking up shells, they enjoyed holding hands in the dark during silent films at the local theater and dined on Saturday evenings at the San Carlos Hotel. Win would take her to dances at the Pensacola Country club and afterwards spent evenings on the veranda where they shared their first kiss.

A romance developed quickly with Bessie innocently believing that she would discover the man hidden beneath a reserved exterior and tame his rugged spirit. He seemed intent to return her affection but he had a desire to possess her and harbored a darker side prone to sudden outbursts of anger and jealousy coupled with brooding silence.

One evening Win took Bessie to the movies but as the lights faded he took her hand and led her out and drove in silence to the country club. Once there he guided her to the veranda where he proposed to her. She told him he would have to wait for his answer following approval from her mother after she returned home in a few weeks.

Once home Bessie’s mother argued the points that this was not the grand society match that she had envisioned for her daughter. The years spent making sure she attended the right schools, made the right friends and had a proper debut would have been wasted on a lieutenant who had no money. Bessie argued that she did not want to end up a dull Baltimore matron and that a nomadic life of travel with a navy husband would be an adventure. Bessie’s mother stated that this was yet another example of her daughter’s obstinate perseverance to obtain whatever she wanted.

The wedding took place on November 8th 1916. A honeymoon followed at a resort in West Virginia and upon arrival at the hotel Win noticed a sign declaring that no alcoholic beverages would be served as West Virginia was a dry state. Win remedied the situation by pulling a flask out of his suitcase and Bessie learned that he would seldom be separated from it.

Following the honeymoon the Spencer’s returned to Pensacola and set up house. On Saturday nights they would dine at the San Carlos hotel. Officers were not allowed to drink until after dinner on Saturday nights but Win found a way around this by having his martini out of a soup bowl. Eventually he began to drink more often and not socially but alone with his flask. Some nights he would come home drunk or lock himself in the bathroom with his flask emerging hours later intoxicated.

In April of 1917 the U.S. declared war on Germany and the Spencer’s left Pensacola and moved to Massachusetts where Win was stationed to oversee a new naval air station. From there they moved to San Diego where Win’s drinking continued and he began to verbally and physically abuse her. Following much relocation and several separations, Win was stationed in China where Bessie eventually followed and the abuse continued to the point where Bessie was so severely kicked in the stomach that it caused internal bleeding. She eventually divorced him in 1927.

Although it’s easy to feel pity for Bessie it’s noted that she carried on numerous affairs while separated from her abusive husband. On the voyage to China it was rumored that she had sex with the ship’s crewmen in front of children and their mother who were sharing the cabin with her. Later in China after she informed her husband that she intended to divorce him, Win became sadistic and publically abused Bessie. He dragged her to several Chinese brothels where he cavorted with whores while making her watch.

According to reports she not only visited the brothels but willingly participated in the activities and was trained in special sexual techniques including lesbian instruction, erotic massage for men suffering premature ejaculation, and most famously the “Chinese Grip.” This was an ability that taught her to control and contract the walls of her vagina to an extraordinary degree. One that it was said she quickly put to use on her husband and for that matter any other men who frequented the brothels where she allegedly worked as a prostitute.

Apparently all of this information was reported or rather compiled in a famous 1935 dossier at the request of the British Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin. It was Baldwin’s task to have Bessie investigated because at the time Bessie Wallis Warfield Spencer Simpson was having a very heated and public affair with Edward, Prince of Wales. It was an affair with a tootsie that eventually led to his abdication.

Supposedly Winston Churchill said, "Why shouldn't the King marry his tootsie?" to which Noel Coward replied, "Because the British public does not want a Queen tootsie". Especially to a twice divorced Queen Tootsie, and to think that the royal line of succession was interrupted by what started as an innocent romance with an abusive drunkard in Pensacola Babylon.

Booger Kang:

2012-01-14T14:45:00.003-06:00

Having grown up in 1970's Mississippi I can assure you this was exactly what it was like from the moment you walked in until you left. Starting off entertaining, rapidly becoming annoying then inciting burger rage.

"Could you ladies hold it down! I'm trying to eat over here."

Today's EBAY Treasure:

2012-01-09T13:40:00.005-06:00

UP FOR BID IS AN ORIGINAL OIL PAINTING. OF YOUR BUTT, DONE ON CANVAS 16 X 20 INCHES.HERE'S THE DEAL,YOU SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOUR BUTT, OR THE ASS OF YOUR CHOICE AND I WILL PAINT IT IN OILS ON A QUALITY 16 X 20 STRETCHED CANVAS. I WILL RENDER A LIKENESS THAT IS RECOGNIZABLE. MALE OR FEMALE I DON'T CARE ,I WILL CAPTURE IT ON CANVAS SO IN THE FUTURE , WHEN IT'S OLD AND SAGGY, YOU CAN REMEMBER IT IN ITS PRIME. FAMILY BUTT PORTRAITS ARE ALSO AVAILABLE. MY STAMP AND SIGNATURE ARE ON THE BACK.

LISTEN UP MJ!

New Years Day:

2012-01-02T18:49:00.004-06:00

Because it was completely sunny and 75 degrees outside I spent New Years day lounging on the beach watching the sun set, sipping champagne and eating cat litter cake.

Cat Litter Cake Recipe

1 box chocolate cake mix

1 box white cake mix

1 package white sandwich cookies

1 large package vanilla instant pudding mix

28 oz chunky peanut butter

green food coloring

12 or more tootsie rolls

1 new cat-litter box

1 new pooper scooper

1 new cat-litter box liner

Prepare and bake cake mixes, according to directions, in any size pan. Prepare pudding and chill. Crumble cookies in small batches in blender or food processor.

Add a few drops of food coloring to 1 cup of cookie crumbs. Mix with a fork or shake in a jar.

When cakes are at room temperature, crumble in a large bowl. Toss with half remaining cookie crumbs and enough pudding to make mixture moist but not soggy. Place liner in litter box and pour in half of mixture.

Melt peanut butter in microwave and pour over cake mix. Add remaining cake and pudding mix over peanut butter.

Unwrap tootsie rolls and heat in microwave. You can do as many as you like shaping them as you go. Bury some of the tootsie rolls and leave some on top hanging off side of litter box.

Sprinkle remaining cookie on top of cake. Place box on a sheet of newspaper and serve with scooper.

Happy New Year:

2012-01-01T10:37:00.004-06:00

Luke 2:21

After eight days passed and it was time for the child to be circumcised, he was given the name Jesus.

The Mod House:

2011-12-26T21:49:00.013-06:00

While riding a bike around the neighborhood you see various periods of architecture. The older section where I live has Victorian houses and turn of the century cottages and bungalows. We have a park just about every two blocks and one big park right smack in the middle, Central Park. Not really Central Park but a bayou, a water Central Park as it were and not a public park at that but more of a private central water park. The bayou bisects an entire part of town. It’s a small section of town but because of the central water park you have to travel all the way around. There’s no way through it or across it so it makes the whole thing feel huge.

Anyway, there is this one house that sits on the bayou and every time I pass it and look at the mitered glass with the wood cut inserts and the horizontal bands of brick and the flat roof line, I wonder who built this masterpiece? It looks to be the work of Frank Lloyd Wright but I know it’s not and is in essence an imposter, a really good imposter.

Guess what I found on the multiple listing services? That’s right the Wright knockoff. Turns out it was built by a totally important architect, John Randal McDonald. It lists for $850,000.00. Take the virtual tour here. Buy it for me here.

Shanda's Christmas Victory:

2011-12-24T02:50:00.013-06:00

So last year we had a rare viewing of my 1983 film, “These Christmas Decorations are Shocking”. A video made to entertain guests at a Christmas party. It was really about the Emerald City, a homo bar, whom the owner would over decorate his yard and make a holiday destination/spectacle for all the townsfolk to ride by and ooh and ahh about.

The next year the hosts asked me to do another one. My cohort in this crime Roy Magee had the brilliant idea to make more fun of the homo bar owner, Corky. That was fine by me since I was out of ideas anyway. My story stemmed from some of the jokes at the party the year before about the fact that if he added another strand of lights to his yard he would plunge the whole town into total darkness.

I decided to make Corky a villain. I renamed him Corkscrooge and invented the idea that he steals all the power to run his lights leaving the villagers without electricity. We needed a central character and owing to the fact that he hated women, calling them FISH, I created a heroine. So enter Shanda Leer.

Thrill to the action as Shanda saves the day all in the name of womanhood.

Enjoy and Merry Christmas to us all…especially women.

Christmas Present:

2011-12-23T00:55:00.003-06:00

Years ago my Mom would sit me down in front of the department store Christmas catalogues and say, “Circle what you like and I’ll make sure Santa knows what you want.” Then she’d hand me a,

And I would study the pages and pick out the things I wanted.

I was never disappointed when I unwrapped the presents under the tree.

Here are some of the things in Christmas past that I circled.

The groovy clock.

Dapper Dan.

Leopard print jammies.

Snoopy.

Robots.

Lava Lamps.

Lester AND Hugo.

Barbie’s Karosel Kitchen. I know, I know, I cried when I got a baseball mitt until my dad went to the store and got it for me.

So Christmas present has not been good. Really it's been horrible. We all get the Christmas we deserve.

Here’s a list of things I want Santa to bring me this year.

Auntie Mame’s Chinese front door. Complete with eye holes and smoke. Just like the ladies room at the oriental theater.

Robbie the Robot! With real working subservient behavior. Able to make a dress from diamonds!

An I-Victrola.

The Jill Munroe Paper Doll.

I WANNA BE MISS TRUCK STOP FAVORITE! Just once in my life, I wanna be the FAVORITE. Not including second grade class favorite.

Here’s my Christmas Music Extravaganza. It’s filled with groovy music. Not your ordinary playlist! Listen to it.

Happy/Merry blah blah blah.

That was Beautiful, Precious:

2011-12-16T11:20:00.003-06:00

Meteora:

2011-12-14T20:02:00.001-06:00

Optimus:

2011-12-09T13:22:00.004-06:00

Christmas in Florida doesn't feel very Christmassy with the palm trees wrapped with lights and the temps in the 70's by day and 30's at night. I got my present early this year, a 5 ton HVAC unit! I’ve been freezing my ass off for years in this Victorian debtor’s prison. I can handle the heat but not the cold. The Canadians have no pity. “You people don’t know what real cold is…”

Fuck off snow birds!

The culprit is humidity. It makes the cold air bone chilling. You just can’t get warm. In the summer the humidity makes your skin glow and I thrive under these conditions. When they complain of the stifling 75 degree heat wave I tell the snow birds, “You people don’t know what real heat is…” When you live under extreme conditions your blood adjusts its viscosity. I’m a heat miser whereas you’re a snow miser.

Fuck off snow misers.

The HVAC unit isn’t completely installed. It’s not in the bathroom or the entrance foyers yet. So I saved one of the hundreds of little space heaters for the bathroom. He warms the tile, defogs the mirror while showering, and dries me afterward. I love him. After the second week of February when summer begins and the snow misers start to complain and shuffle back from whence they came I’ll put Optimus away in the attic and crank down the new fantastic AC contraption.

Numbers Are Knowledge:

2011-12-08T11:46:00.001-06:00

Occupy Bethlehem:

2011-12-06T22:10:00.001-06:00

Hurry Up Hurry Up Let's Go to the Sto:

2011-12-05T19:03:00.000-06:00

Morning Joe:

2011-12-05T09:09:00.005-06:00

A Portrait:

2011-12-04T13:13:00.006-06:00

I ran into a friend I haven’t seen in a while at a restaurant the other night. Later we wound up at her place for a glass of wine get together. She has that aura about her. The gay mens are magnetically pulled in her direction. Some women collect shoes, she collects gays. Her grandfather is from a little town in Arkansas that was very close to where my father grew up. So we immediately acknowledged the fact that we're cousins. In the hallway of her home is a large collection of framed black and white photographs showcasing the vaudeville act, “Lum & Abner”, (remember them?) of which her grandfather was, “Lum”. Photos with Clark Gable at Hollywood clubs, things like that.

Her home is filled with wonderful art kitsch and mid-century lamps and furniture collected back when nobody wanted it. The most striking piece in her home is her portrait. “I was working at this factory in New York and a tiny French woman was next to me and we started talking. Afterwards I followed her home to an apartment that was under the subway. Later she showed up with this portrait on top of a taxi. I’ve gotten her so much work since then.”

Modified:

2011-12-03T09:14:00.003-06:00

I'm hungover. I'll be doing everything modified today.

Holiday Shopping:

2011-12-01T23:50:00.007-06:00

You said three carrots, right?

Last Christmas:

2011-11-30T08:17:00.009-06:00

I gave you my work, the very next day you packed it away...

Remember last year when I was too busy to blog because I was decorating a friends place? Well what I didn’t share with you was that the joint was being staged rather than decorated. Yes, staged for a photo shoot and then a party.

Let me show you around,

Don’t be too picky as I’m only responsible for most of the work. If you like it, then I did it. If you don’t, then it was the work of the home owner.

The foyer, (foy-yay), as it’s pronounced in a proper Southern accent. This tree literally swallowed ornaments. The Hungry Christmas Bitch!

The upstairs Art Deco drawing room.

The front parlor, (paa-lah).

The Louis style commode in the dining room. Showcasing my latest invention, Instant Drapery. See what you do is…go to Home Depot and buy $6.00 drop cloths then clip’em, poof’em and zhoozh’em.

The glorious wreath I made from scratch. My girlfriend Heather said, “Oh no, no, no, You can’t cover up a mirror like that…all the girls will want to check themselves in it, you have to take it down!” Turns out it was the highlight of the Christmas party. If you stood to the left of the wreath and a cameraman stood to the right, then your face magically appeared inside the wreath. Next day it was everyone’s new Facebook picture. Heather said, “Woah, I misjudged that one.” See darling that’s why I’m the professional Kringle here…

The dining room table by Knoll in extinct Brazilian rosewood with extremely fussy Christmas table runner centerpiece, I call it, “Leftover Christmas Doo-Dad Jewelry on White Porcelain”.

Lindsey Mae the harlequin Great Dane lying on her throne.

Paris is a Lonely Town:

2011-11-29T21:48:00.003-06:00

Now that Jason's back!

Tis:

2011-11-25T09:10:00.000-06:00

It Just Can’t Get Any Worse:

2011-11-24T13:31:00.007-06:00

I have so many things to be thankful for this year and I try to remember not to complain. Like when I say, “It just can’t get any worse” I remember that it always can. For instance I remember the time my shoe lace got caught in the escalator and I said, “It just can’t get any worse” and then I lost my balance and plunged head first down the spikey moving stairs landing at the bottom where my hair got caught in the metal teeth and my scalp was ripped off.

Or the time I was driving down the highway behind a watermelon truck and the moorings broke loose and the melons became missiles that were launched in my path. After dodging them and pulling over I said, “It just can’t get any worse”. Afterwards I pulled back into traffic and a truck hauling sheet metal scraps pulled in front of me and a huge unwieldy piece flew off and collided with my windshield and I was instantly decapitated.

And then this one time…I was working on the automatic irrigation system and I was splicing two pipes together and a piece of polyvinyl chloride broke off and shot into my eye. After realizing that I was not blinded I said, “It just can’t get any worse” and then the evil possessed riding lawnmower growled to life and raced across the lawn mowing me down, severing my right leg in the process.

What?

You were expecting a moral to this rambley story? Get over it and stop your belly aching and above all never say, “It just can’t get any worse” because it always can. Instead be thankful that you have your scalp, your head, your eye, and your right leg, even if they’ve all been replaced, you still have them.

Before I go and ingest ten times the legal limit of trans fat that the FDA imposes on a KFC, I would like to show all of you the latest thing that I am grateful for,

His name is Menow.

A friend of mine has a little boy who can't say the word, “Meow”. We play a game where we whisper animal sounds into each other’s ears. I’ll cup my hands and say, “Moooooo”. Then he'll do the same and say, “Menow”. Then we both roll on the floor laughing because whispering tickles your ear.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving everybody and remember it can always be worse.

STOP:

2011-11-20T13:07:00.008-06:00

Put on your parachute pants, push play and run around the stop sign, it's Hammer Time.

Airport Terrorism:

2011-11-17T21:33:00.002-06:00

I just returned from a trip to Atlanta where I snapped a picture of this little decal on the back window of a truck. I thought it was amusing. On the return trip I was frisked by airport security and then once home found the lock on my luggage had been removed and all my things had been rifled through. Exactly the reason why I placed the lock on there in the first place. Damn pilfering baggage thieves.

Away From the Office:

2011-11-13T22:27:00.001-06:00

Acid Trip:

2011-11-11T23:14:00.010-06:00

While I was out of the country in Alabama I visited a few stores and one in particular took my breath away. The window was dominated by panels of aluminum sheets with circular perforations. Each perforation held a colored glass marble. Another sheet on the other side bolted together held the marbles in place.

Stood upright and lighted from behind the overall effect was dazzling!

It was like being inside a Lite-Brite tripping on acid.

Like the other night when I went to this store tripping on acid and they had this window that was like being inside a Lite-Brite tripping on acid…

The Return of Classic Names:

2011-11-08T21:29:00.005-06:00

In an earlier post I complained about how I hate the name, Brianna. Many comments revolving around the return of good solid classic names. Well, I had to go all the way to Gadsden Alabama to find some.

Pick and choose your favorite or mix and match.

Just please stop naming the babies such awful appellations.

One Thing Leads to Another:

2011-11-07T22:14:00.009-06:00

I’m on the road again. As usual I randomly loaded up my phone with music from my archives. This time I included the album, “Music To Watch Girls By” from the Bob Crewe Generation.

It’s a song that's infectious and also reminds you of a Pepsi commercial which of course it was originally written to be a Pepsi commercial. While driving along the Alabama highway near Birmingham toward Tennessee I couldn’t help notice the only bottling plant along the way was for Pepsi. Which is blasphemy as Coke was originally bottled in Mississippi where I’m from AND is the only soft drink allowed.

“What’ll ya have?”

“I’ll have a coke! A co-cola.”

“Will Pepsi do?”

“What?!!!”

“I’m sorry we’ll be dining elsewhere...”

After hearing, “Music To Watch Girls By”, the theme to “Barbarella” came on.

I’m humming along and trying my best to match the voice to his...”An angel is Love, La,aaaaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaaahve!” I get distracted imagining what a crowd pleaser it would be to sing the theme to Barbarella at my local Karaoke night. When I look at the phone and realize that it’s sung by Bob Crewe. I never put the two together that the Bob Crewe of Barbarella is the same Bob Crewe that sings “Music To Watch Girls By”. How many Bob Crewe’s are there out there???

I mean really.

So later I google Bob Crewe. Turns out he’s one of those prolific song writers. He wrote for Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. He wrote, “Big Girls Don’t Cry” for Heavens sake. He’s one of the inspirations for the Broadway hit, “Jersey Boys.”

Most interestingly while in New Orleans he was inspired to write the hit disco tune originally recorded by the Eleventh Hour, “Lady Marmalade”. That few have actually heard before. I Youtubed it and found that it was recently uploaded on November 3, 2011.

You heard it here first kids.

I Really Hate That Name:

2011-11-06T12:20:00.008-06:00

Flack! Flack! Flack! I know I’m going to get some flack for this but I really hate the name Brianna. Bring on the flack you flackers. I asked a friend if she had ever heard the name before? She looked puzzled and said, “Rhiannon”? I said, “No, BRIANNA”. She said it sounded like they heard the song Rhiannon and got it wrong.

So I googled it.

“Brianna, tacky, name”

From the list:

"Is the name Brianna a nice name?"

Answer:

No (honestly)

If you are contemplating naming a child, Brianna, just google it and hit the images tab to see what she will become. It's about a one hundred percent chance that she will become a stripper, a hooker and a porn star.

So what are some of the “new” names that you despise?

On The Road Again:

2011-11-03T09:08:00.001-05:00

On the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
I just can't wait to get on the road again

Repeat...

Last Night:

2011-10-30T11:43:00.004-05:00

Gayracula:

2011-10-28T09:30:00.001-05:00

I think I have found my costume inspiration.

Occupied:

2011-10-27T08:27:00.006-05:00

Undecided:

2011-10-25T23:21:00.003-05:00

I'm still undecided on my Halloween costume.

Should it be a haphazardly tattooed Wolfman?

Satan?

Spiderman?

Ninja Turtle?

Freddy Krueger?

Let's listen to some Friday the Thirteenth disco while you help me decide.

Super Rare Disco:

2011-10-18T21:57:00.002-05:00

It's taken me years to locate this one, The Playboy Theme interpreted in DISCO!

Enjoy

Vampirella:

2011-10-18T11:03:00.005-05:00

I’ve been terribly busy lately. It is holiday season you know. I’m seasonal. I’ve been working with my product developers to package the Seasons in a shaker form. Just open the cabinet and get out the Halloween Seasonings™. Sprinkle liberally around the house. “Season Seasonings” by MDP.

Following one of my well attended and patented “Yummy Yard Sales” by well-heeled neighborhood Junkers I was visited by seller’s remorse. An occupational hazard of the hoarder. In my attic I have small department stores. The lamp department. The costume department that is further departmentalized with the wig department and the shoe department etc.

So the remorse part,

What if that flowing robe I sold was something that I could have used for a costume?

It’s better not to think too much about these things. After all it found a good home.

While rooting around the attic for plunder I felt the mesmeric stare of Vampirella (an attic resident) over my shoulder. She was telegraphing that, “I better hadn’t dare even think of selling her!”

Oh no sweetheart you’re part of the family like the deer heads and the caskets.

Then I realized I have no plans for a costume this year. That’s odd I usually have one formulating at least by September. Then it struck me, I shall be Vampirella for Halloween. Then the logistics settled in, where would I find so much red material for her body suit (unitard – tard?) at such a late stage. JoAnn’s Fabrics is bound to be out of red everything. Curse you JoAnn!

Once I made the beginnings of a horror movie about Vampirella. Did you know that Vampirella is an alien? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO VAMPIRELLA IS? Pick up the pace, people. She leered out from behind the comic book section with those lewd breasts enticing young boys to thumb through her. Vampirella is from the planet Drakulon where people drink from rivers of blood. When the blood dried up Vampirella came to Earth.

My movie got as far as her crash landing on Earth and being badly damaged and needing blood to regenerate. Along comes a motorcycle gang ready to have some fun when she kills them, drinks their blood, and takes off on a motorcycle to the tune of Out of Limits.

Wish I would have finished that movie.

So what plans say you for Halloween costumes this year?

It's Beginning to Feel Like,

2011-10-10T18:53:00.011-05:00

Halloween in Florida

Honors flysis Income beezis Onches nobis Inob keesis:

2011-09-29T22:18:00.011-05:00

Many years ago when I was a little boy I would watch old movies. Sometimes I would even skip school if there was a good one and still kind of do. I’ll play sick and stay home from work and curl up on the couch and make a pig pen around me.

One day there was a screw ball movie, Murder, He Says, with Fred MacMurray and Marjorie Main about a man (Fred MacMurray) who works for, “the Trotter Poll same as the Gallop Poll only not in quite as much of a hurry.” He goes in search of another poll taker that went missing up at the Fleagle place. The Fleagle clan is crazy and is headed up by a whip-cracking Mamie Fleagle(Marjorie Main). The crazy family is looking for stolen money hidden in an old house with secret passages.

The secret to finding the money lies in a rhyme or like a cryptic Mairzy Doats that is repeated throughout the movie. Trust me, you don’t forget this rhyme. It goes, "Honors flysis Income beezis Onches nobis Inob keesis.". But it’s the tune that goes with it that sticks with you.

Years later I remember hearing the, “All Things Considered” theme on National Public Radio and thinking to myself that I know that tune. It’s the, "Honors flysis Income beezis Onches nobis Inob keesis" tune. I never thought much about it except for the fact that when I heard it I always sang the words, "Honors flysis Income beezis Onches nobis Inob keesis."

Surely this wasn’t a coincidence? The person who wrote the theme obviously was using the tune as sort of an inside joke. Turns out it’s not such a joke. As when NPR held a contest to put words to the All Things Considered theme and members of the audience responded with, "Honors flysis Income beezis Onches nobis Inob keesis."

BECAUSE THOSE ARE THE WORDS!

You be the judge.

Avatard:

2011-09-24T15:35:00.000-05:00

Morning Logos:

2011-09-23T13:00:00.004-05:00

Ever wonder how many corporate logos you see in one day? Hundreds and hundreds that’s what. So here’s my morning logo roundup.

Wake up to my nice sheets.

Check the time.

Put on my underwear.

Then my bathrobe.

Took a whiz.

Checked my messages.

Had breakfast.

And some juice.

Brushed my teeth.

Turned on the TV.

Watched my game show.

Reached for a smoke.

Lit it up.

Performed ablutions.

Washed my hair.

And my face and body.

Moisturized.

Put on a shirt.

And some shorts.

And some socks.

And some shoes.

Got a check in the mail.

Got in my car.

Needed gas.

Went to the bank.

Came home and unlocked the door.

And watched the very last episode of All My Children : (

Do Tell???

2011-09-21T14:48:00.004-05:00

I live in

We train elite

We’re the home of the

One of those

He showed up regularly on the

He claimed that he was

Everyone in the area knows at least

Many have partners and have had for many years. It’s never been a secret. It’s my hope that hundreds will now come out to the

and freshen up the mix. It’s been so stale lately. Do I think this will happen? No. But I dream about it and besides many are already taken and of course all the

have

Bitches!

On second thought those

So congratulations to the

that now may safely come out come out wherever they are…

When the local news did some coverage of the issue the one and only dissenter was a big ole Country Bear.

Please honey me think thou doth protest too much and with that mustache and pot belly who could blame the,

HOMO-SEX-YULS.

Have a Blessed Day:

2011-09-20T03:48:00.010-05:00

I know I'm going to offend people when I say this, but...

I grew up in a Baptist church.

There I said it.

Not that I’m ashamed but people think I’m out to save them or something when I mention it. To the contrary, I really don’t give a fuck about your soul. That’s your business. Okay I do care but really hasn’t everybody heard the news? Do we really need crusades in the 21st century?

Can I get an Amen?

I’m fortunate to have grown up with religious indoctrination. I was made to go to church every Sunday morning and night service and Wednesday service as well. THREE TIMES A WEEK.

“And you will do so until the day you move out and pay your own way, young man!”

I've been to church a handful of times since moving out. I’m fortunate in that I’m not one of those that wander the earth pondering, “What is the meaning of life?” You know what? There is NO meaning to life. Get over it. The purpose of your life could be trivial. Like opening the door for an old lady one day and five minutes later you drop dead. That very well may be the meaning of your life. Oh sure it could be important like becoming the president or having stopped a serial killer, but I don’t bet on it. It’s more likely that you were supposed to change a light bulb. Poof you’re dead.

I’m also fortunate that I had an early near death experience. Not like I was on life support or anything but a bit of a nervous breakdown where I was convinced that I was going to die any minute now. At the time I didn’t think this was fortuitous. But in hindsight I feel that it was…a blessing. I was able to formulate my attitude about my own death and dying. I faced my own mortality. Your death and your dying are two different things. Your death could be simple like changing lanes and running off the road and hitting a concrete embankment. You’re dead. Your death is your death. The moment you cease to live. Your dying is entirely different in that it implies a lingering and suffering. One that gives you a chance to get acquainted with the idea that you are about to meet your maker. Then the grief sets in and the bargaining etc. Dying is worse than death. I’ll take death over dying any day. Like I said, I don’t expound on the meaning of life. I also don’t sing Jesus Loves Me and not have an understanding of what it means.

Lately I’ve encountered individuals that leave me with a parting gift. They say, “Have a blessed day”.

I say, “I'm already BLEST!”.

It’s a threat. Why else do they say this? Is this some sort of Jesus Ponzi Scheme? The more they say it the more they climb another level? Like saying, “Have a blessed day” pushes them closer to the top? I think not. Going back to my upbringing I have to think that certain people are addicts. Occasionally I run into a sinner. They did drugs or they were addicted to abusive behavior or whatever the addiction was they gave it up and switched to God. Now they push God. I’ve met the worst trash in the world and then after a death or dying experience they switched to God.

I’m not a villain. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a saint either. I have a healthy outlook on life. I’m not a drug addict nor a Jesus freak, but somewhere in between. A Jesus loving drug freak. I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’m well adjusted. I’m not preaching to everyone and blessing the living daylights out of everyone I encounter. But the whole bless this and bless that thing creeps me out. It’s trading one addiction for another.

“Hey man have you tried Jesus…I got some, you wanna try it? Jesus really gets me off”

No thank you!

I’m blessed enough. Now I run into strangers that say this shit, “Aren’t they lucky to be blessed with twins? Aren’t you blessed? Aren’t we blessed to serve a blessed god? GOD BLESS AMERICA”. In my time frame the only reason someone said the word bless was in the context of an unfortunate as in, “Bless her soul”.

My mother had the right idea when she said, “God Bless America. I hate that! It’s about time that America blesses God.”

If only we could do something about the Amish compound refugee waitress at Denny’s that says, “Thank thee”.

I hate that.

When life hands you a blessing you rarely see it as such in the moment. The lord works in mysterious ways you know. A blessing is something that you realize much later. MUCH LATER. It’s not like winning the lottery. As the Discovery channel has shown us it’s not a blessing but a curse. One to be figured out over a long period of time after losing it all and your friends and family. It was that your friends and family were the real blessing all long.

Have a blessed day. No, thank thee. Really thank thee.

Bless you. No bless you. No, thank thee.

May the lord smile upon you.

Bless you.

Aren't you blessed?

Bless you.

Fuck off.

Me Blaaarg:

2011-09-19T23:24:00.001-05:00

Ayyyy, matey

Today is National Talk Like A Pirate Day . Since I have nothing else to go on about I thought I’d mention it. I’ve never really done so before even though pirate is part of the name of my blog. It’s mostly because I steal or “pirate” ideas from other people and places.

So with about 30 something minutes left, Happy National Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Back to the Futuro:

2011-09-16T01:30:00.011-05:00

I’ll start this off with a little whingey rant about how the future was supposed to be more futuristic than it has actually become. Suddenly it is the future with all the promised inventions to make our lives more leisurely. However, the corporations have seen to it that all the leisurely inventions have actually been invented to make people work harder and around the clock.

The computer? It means you can work all the time at home or in the office.

The cell phone? It makes it possible for everyone to call you at any time.

The television? It’s made great strides from large blocks of unoccupied time slots with test patterns, to cable, satellite and streaming networks that mean you have to keep up with the latest information 24 hours a day and also have to look presentable for teleconferences and skype conversations.

All the promised technology sort of snuck up on us. Without actually making things more convenient but instead more complicated. Where is my robot maid? And the moving sidewalks? Or the suction tubes for transportation? The flying car? The teleporter? Believe me if we had these things it would definitely be a way of increasing the workload.

The future is now. But why does it look so bleak? Not much has changed culturally in the last twenty years except for the technology. I’m so sick of the era that we live in. And don’t even get me started on reality T.V. The Real Housewives? They are the very symbol of everything that is wrong in the world.

So the other day I was driving along our lovely beach and looked up at the futuristic spaceship house that is a fixture and thought, what the hell happened? This and many other things that sprang from our race to reach the moon were meant to move us toward a more optimistic outlook. All the things mentioned above were offshoots of that exploration of modern design.

Well, we reached the moon and found a bunch of rocks that’s what. The race was over and we lapsed into post-modern, a dreary netherworld. We’re neither past, present nor future. So the 1990’s was a perfect time to reflect on all the design that proceeded the century. It’s 2011 now! Get over it already. We need another goal to focus on. We need another space race. We need something new for a change instead of rehashing what’s been done to death.

So anyway looking at the spaceship house I got to thinking about what concepts went into creating such a dwelling. It was designed by Matti Suuronrn to be the Futuro house a product of post-war Finland, reflecting the period's faith in technology, the conquering of space, unprecedented economic growth, and an increase in leisure time.

It was designed by Suuronen as a ski cabin that would be “quick to heat and easy to construct in rough terrain.” The end result was a universally transportable home that had the ability to be mass replicated and situated in almost any environment.

However, by the mid-1970s the house was taken off the market due to the Oil Crisis where tripled gasoline prices made manufacture of plastic extremely expensive. Once again a bright future turns bleak. That’s the case with the future and optimism, something always comes along to ruin it and we’re back to toiling again.

Imagine if the Futuro actually was a spaceship for the family on the go. Let’s also imagine it was capable of entering other atmospheres and was watertight. If we are going to trot out the past then let’s visit some of the better concepts. Ones that actually make it possible to escape this workaday prison of a corporate planet.

Fuck You I Like Roses:

2011-09-12T21:32:00.003-05:00

Where Were You and What Were You Doing?

2011-09-11T14:21:00.005-05:00

Much like the generation a few years before me who can recall exactly where and what they were doing the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated, I remember exactly where and what I was doing when I experienced the details of 9/11.

I woke up excited about starting a new job that very day. I was also anticipating my morning routine which was to be another first, enjoying my newly self-renovated bathroom spa completed just the day before. It was a tiny house that had a series of jumbled closets and rooms adjoining the bathroom that I knocked out and reclaimed for the bathroom. An entire corner of this room was devoted to floor to ceiling dressing mirrors with an infinity effect, a jet tub with a steam shower. I found that my new morning routine had increased by an hour.

When I emerged from the tranquility chamber I was greeted with anxious and nervous energy. My supercharged alarmist roommate was hyperventilating in the next room on the phone, computer, and to himself and me, “Get in here…get in here now”, he screamed. I went to the next room to find out what or who was bothering him now. “A plane…A plane flew into the World Trade Center in New York”, he said rather panicky. I immediately recalled one of those weird event documentaries on the Discovery or Learning channels about a bi-wing plane colliding with the Empire State building in the 1930’s and said, “Is that all, that sort of thing has happened before. Stupid pilot what was he doing flying so close to the World Trade Center anyway”. The roommate was now curled up in a ball watching the coverage on the television while he sputtered, “No! This is completely different. A jet plane flew right into it and the whole building is now on fire and people are scrambling around. It’s a mess”.

I looked at the T.V. and saw what was going on and thought, oh those poor people and boy was this going to be bad and how the media coverage is going to be relentless for the next few weeks. Then I recalled similar events when the space shuttle disaster occurred. I was again getting out of the shower heading to a college history class. I said to myself, screw the history class I’m watching history being made right this minute. A point I argued and won with the professor when he tried to dock me for the absence.

I wasn’t able to rationalize the same argument when it came to missing my first day at a new job. I gathered my things and dashed off to work. When I arrived the whole place was deserted. I found a few of the early bird workers in the lounge huddled around a small T.V. watching the first tower as it imploded. When the boss arrived he announced, “Hey everybody this is the new guy”. To which a few people turned around and nodded hello. Then the boss made another announcement, “I don’t think we’re going to do much business today so I think we should close up shop and head home”.

To this day when I finish my morning routine I turn on the news channels to see if there is a reason to continue getting dressed. In some instances there has been an even more sense of urgency to get going like the day hurricane Ivan suddenly swept back over central Florida into the Gulf of Mexico and had reformulated into a category 4 storm headed straight to my front door in less than 24 hours. The race was on to get to the grocery store, the tobacconist, and the Home Depots! As much as I despise the current state of news media organizations I have to admit they have been on occasion responsible for lighting a fire under my butt and kicking into gear my survivalist mode.

So, Where were you and what were you doing when you learned of the events that fateful day of 9/11?

Mix and Match:

2011-09-09T19:32:00.007-05:00

I find myself doing this all the time.

I should say, to myself,

"What would I look like with his legs? or her hair? or his dick?"

Big Mistake, Big, Huge:

2011-09-08T13:30:00.004-05:00

Would someone please get this poor girl a proper stylist?

When dressing your toddler as one of Hollywood’s most iconic hookers it’s all about authenticity with an eye for detail. It’s shameful to miss the mark on so many levels. For instance, the dress although remindful of the original is shoddily crafted from inferior synthetics and is entirely unsuccessful. The boots are all wrong. And that wig!

Big mistake, big, huge!

"It's the same women that do this to their children that complain about sexual predators living in their neighborhoods." - Mean Dirty Pirate

Colonel:

2011-08-22T15:28:00.005-05:00

Allow me to introduce you to, Colonel. My oh my, but he's a fancy one. He's taken up residence with my country mouse friend. I'm a city mouse, myself. The country is way over yonder about a mile or two from the city.

Colonel can't cock-a-doodle yet. I've been a coachin' him.

"Come on Colonel, you can do it,"

"Erk-A-Erk-A-Eww...Erk-A-Erk-A-Ewwwwww!"

One Thing Leads to Another:

2011-08-15T18:32:00.007-05:00

Last night I visited 63Mago where the topic was Sunday music and the featured artist was Rosalyn Tureck who was instructed by Léon Theremin who invented the Theremin. It’s one of my favorite weird instruments. So I commented on the article and asked if Mago was familiar with the work of Clara Rockmore one of the foremost practitioners of the Theremin. Which of course set me on a youtubes search for strange electronic music and it's pioneers which ended up being one of those, One Thing Leads to a Another moments.

First we have the eerie Clara Rockmore doing what she does accompanied by her sister on the piano, take it away Clara…

Then I noticed to the right of the youtubes the suggested videos and saw a mash up of, Clara Rockmore V/S Anna Karina.

Then I wondered who is, Anna Karina?

Anyway, back to the Theremin, one of the first Science Fiction movies to incorporate the new sound was The Day the Earth Stood Still which is one of my favorite film scores.

Then I wondered about the soundtrack to the wonderful movie, Forbidden Planet Which was scored by the then unknown team of L ouis and Bebe Barron. Coincidentally they were friends of Louise Huebner, The Official Witch of Los Angeles and her husband the talented Mentor Huebner a wonderful storyboard artist for such great films as Ben Hur, Blade Runner, and of course, Forbidden Planet.

It turns out that while the theremin (which was not used in Forbidden Planet) had been used on the soundtrack of Alfred Hitchcock's 1945 film Spellbound, the Barron's electronic composition is credited with being the first completely electronic film score; their soundtrack preceded the invention of the Moog synthesizer by eight years (1964). The Moog synthesizer was invented by Robert Moog.

It turns out that Robert Moog happened to be friends with Clara Rockmore and by chance here is video of a dinner between the two great musicians,

Then I wondered about the avant-garde "Laurie's" composers like Laurie Spiegel who made compositions on something she invented and named the concerto generator,

And then of course the other Laurie, Laurie Anderson who has somehow managed to make sense of all of these strange instruments.

Then I fell asleep.

Would You Like Some Wine with Your Cheese?

2011-08-11T23:45:00.005-05:00

Da Famalee Dolla:

2011-08-10T20:22:00.014-05:00

I dash into da Famalee Dolla Sto for a 2-liter Co-Cola. The place is empty except for Keanan the 7-foot tall cashier who I suspect took the short bus and probably had a sign in the front yard that said, “Slow Children Playing”. I grab the cola from the 6-foot tall rack, round the corner to the check-out, plop the cola on the counter, omit the, “How’s it going” as I know Keanan lacks pleasantry. Then I reach into my pocket and fumble for money. All in that order.

Surprisingly, Keanan says, “dolla 34” before I even hear the beep of the UPC. I happen to notice a penny on the floor as I pull out a dolla 33. I reach down to pick up the penny and in so doing I hear the unmistakable scuffing noise of house shoes behind me. Next the sound of a box landing on the counter. Then the sound of teeth sucking. Then a weave scratching. She looks like she sounds. I notice a box of Kotex on the counter. As Keanan slooooowly puts the cola in a plastic bag she says, “Um, do ya’ll have a bath'oom?”

Workout Disco:

2011-08-03T10:55:00.007-05:00

Considered Super Rare disco, so ladies get your ass into a leotard and start aerobicizing. I'll be outside the gym grilling a Little Debbie Snack Cake on my battery operated portable Ronco Rotisserie.

Lorena Bob-A-Tater

2011-07-30T11:17:00.024-05:00

Ladies are you tired of your lazy husband lying around the house all day?

Day in and day out,

Are you tired of the same old boring banana split?

Day in and day out,

Try the New Lorena Bob-A-Tater and make those memories a thing of the past.

With a swift clenching of the ergonomically designed handle you can turn your husband from a hunter to a gatherer in seconds and enjoy the most delicious banana split, soaking in satisfaction sauce.

• Interchangeable blades guarantee precision slicing either using the Penis Pruning™ secateur blade for cutting off at the root or the Penis Pepperoni™ blade for creating 5 thin, uniform slices at a time.

• Stainless-steel blades coupled with innovative design equals a fun, easy-to-use tool that makes lightning-fast work of slicing even the most pugnacious prong.

• Works on livestock and pets too!

Crazy Labels:

2011-07-27T08:40:00.000-05:00

A Slow Death:

2011-07-26T01:35:00.005-05:00

I’m a bit over the blogs. I’m contemplating blogicide. I have work to do on my house, myself and my job. I feel I’m wasting time. Posting has been sporadic at best lately. So, please leave reasons to stick with it.

Charlene:

2011-07-24T10:02:00.002-05:00

If you listen to the words it's like they almost make sense.

Love at First Sight:

2011-07-19T10:04:00.003-05:00

My Little Pony:

2011-07-18T15:43:00.007-05:00

Yesterday, Eric Easley was charged with first-degree rape, first-degree burglary and third-degree domestic violence after a woman told deputies he broke into her home, raped her and held her for nearly a day against her will.

Easley broke into a home in Wilmer Alabama early Saturday, held a woman against her will and sexually assaulted her. The woman escaped early Sunday and notified deputies before seeking treatment at a local hospital.

The story then goes on to say,

In November of 2010, a Wilmer man was charged with felony cruelty to an animal after Mobile County sheriff's deputies said he sexually abused a miniature horse and was also charged with the felony of killing or disabling livestock.

The spokesperson said that two separate charges were filed because Alabama has no specific provision in its sexual abuse laws to cover bestiality.

Deputies were first called to a residence on Wilmer Road that serves as a breeding facility for the miniature horses.

The owner of the female horse noticed the animal was acting strangely and deputies found tail hair tied to a post, indicating someone had tried to tie the tail to the post. The deputies and a veterinarian discovered blood and other evidence that indicated the horse had been sexually abused.

The owner found a wallet containing Eric Easley's identification, including a driver's license and Social Security card, near the horse.

Really?

Alabama doesn’t have sexual abuse laws to cover bestiality?

Really?

Shell Shopping:

2011-07-13T08:07:00.006-05:00

The Florida Panhandle has been suffering from months of beautiful days. I hear you all pity me. Sunday the rain rolled across the sky drenching the area and Monday morning it was gone. The plants were satisfied, the grass less crunchy and the beach was gorgeous.

After a storm the beach has a special quality to it. The water is smooth as glass with a light emerald green cast and the shore is shallow. It’s like the Blue Lagoon. I become Brooke Sheilds in a loin cloth surveying my aquatic kingdom. Skimming the water’s surface with my feet and splashing my blond teenage husband with the spray. I cover my geisha giggles with an over rehearsed coquette hand gesture.

Ack Ack…Ack Ack…I say to the dolphins, communicating with them in a telepathic sonar who then turn flips at my command. The seahorses and starfish hop onto the sand, dry themselves and beg to become my nautical jewelry and adornment for the day. The fish light a bonfire then jump into a kettle and cook themselves for my lunch.

Then I go shell shopping. Not just any shells will do mind you. They must be just so. THEY MUST BE PERFECT! After I have collected the perfect shells, I curl up on the beach and act coy while the sand crabs weave them into a tapestry.

It’s an idyllic paradise.

Reverse Psychology:

2011-07-06T23:14:00.002-05:00

With all the celebrity reverse mortgages available these days it’s hard to know which one to pick.

The Robert Wagner one seems promising but I don’t trust him. You know…after he killed Joanne Woodward in that movie where he pushes her off the ledge of the justice of the peace building and well you know…drowning Natalie Wood and all…

The Fonzi reverse mortgage looks interesting but he sort of mooched off the Cunningham’s for years rent free on Happy Days…I don’t think he knows anything about paying a mortgage let alone getting money back on one.

The Fred Thompson one seems the most plausible but after his pathetic run for the White House I don’t think he could be elected dog catcher but he seems likely to have paid his rent.

I think I should just pay my actual mortgage for another twenty years before I think about reversing it.

Besides I’m still undecided on which scooter company to choose. I like the Hover Round because you can spin 360 on a dime and visit the Grand Canyon with a great probability of rolling off the edge of the Grand Canyon and plunging to your death. Come to think of it, wouldn’t Robert Wagner be better suited to spokes model the Hover Round scooter?

Anyway I’m way to busy trying to reach an equitable settlement with J.G. Wentworth. BECAUSE IT’S MY MONEY AND I NEED IT NOW!

But first I need to plunge off the Grand Canyon in my Hover Round so I can get a wrongful death lawsuit going so I can get a settlement.

I think I should stop watching the commercials during The Price is Right and Matlock.

What would Casey do?

2011-07-06T09:18:00.004-05:00

So everybody is upset. Are you really surprised? Nancy Grace took an obscure crime, dubbed it the, "Tot Mom" case and afforded nightly unending coverage to it enraging the nation's population of mothers. The sad fact is there was just not enough conclusive evidence to convict the bitch.

People have said that Casey Anthony should go away or into hiding as there are going to be vigilante groups seeking her head. Maybe even a sniper set up to get her on the way out of jail. She was having a relationship with her attorney and she should leave the country. They say they no longer have faith in the justice system.

So lets move on shall we. What should Casey Anthony do now?

Here are my top five suggestions.

1. Open the Casey Anthony Daycare and Swim club.

2. Get a job at Disney World.

3. Become an elementary school teacher.

4. She should get pregnant and have another go at it.

5. Write self help books and newspaper columns for teenage mothers with low self esteem.

What about you?

What do you think she should do?

What do you think should be her future?

Like a Cheese Dick:

2011-07-05T21:54:00.002-05:00

Sparkle on the Fourth:

2011-07-04T12:43:00.002-05:00

Wabbit:

2011-06-28T23:19:00.005-05:00

Have you ever had an uncontrollable involuntary all over body shiver?

I have.

I have them irregularly.

I have them involuntary.

I have them uncontrollably.

It’s rather like the unlikely event of having to sneeze while taking a piss. Don’t laugh it happens sometimes and when it does it hurts like a mother fucker. The urethra clamps down and stops the flow of urine from the penis in an excruciatingly painful way. The sneeze itself makes you close your eyes and your hand shaky, thusly the jerking motion of the sneeze results in the urine stream becoming unsteady and spraying the toilet and the walls and the toilet paper, etc. So ladies this may help to explain why some men leave an untidy mess behind in the bathroom. Or maybe your guy is just a pig.

On that subject matter, I never understood why the toilet seat HAS to always be left in the down position. I live a life of manliness. Women simply don’t live here. They visit…and remark…but my toilet is always in the upright position. That way I don’t piss all over the seat and when you ladies come over, the seat is always neat and clean. I understand both sides of the issue. I hear you say that, “In the middle of the night you might fall in the toilet.” I say twaddle! Don’t be so lazy. Get in the habit of dropping the damn thing before you go twinkle. That way the guy is never in the dog house for leaving it up and the seat is always fresh. Also when you get up at 3:30 in the morning you can bang the lid down loudly and wake the man from his sleep as a form of revenge. Then he can snuggle with you until you fall back asleep…that is if you want to go back to sleep now that you have awakened him.

Understand?

Anyway, this has nothing to do with the subject matter at hand and that is, “Have you ever had a rabbit run over your grave?”

I’m not sure where I got the phrase but it has always been with me. I am from Mississippi after all. I think my Great Grandmother Maw Maw Tatum used to say it. The implication is that when you suddenly have a full body shiver it means that a rabbit has just run across the empty grave in which somewhere you will someday be buried.

Aren’t those rabbits clever?

It’s creepy to think about your own mortality and that someday you will be buried in the dirt. Unless you have purchased a plot and then you know where you will be buried. Unless you are going to be cremated and that negates the whole purpose of the saying, “A rabbit just ran over my grave.”

When I say it people look at me like I just went into some trance and predicted the future.

What about you?

Have you ever heard the phrase before?

Bonus Hole:

2011-06-27T10:10:00.000-05:00

Father's Gay:

2011-06-24T09:46:00.001-05:00

Icky Gay Profiles:

2011-06-21T23:28:00.002-05:00

Herbert Mopjune was told to hide his feelings as a child. As a result he feels no pain. Occasionally he employs torturous devices in an effort to regain his emotions. Sometimes the effect has more lasting implications. For instance, large amounts of clothespins applied to the scrotum and areolae produce short term firmness and tightness to the areas as well as remorse, regret and shame.

Empathy vs Sympathy

2011-06-14T09:59:00.002-05:00

Empathy is the ability to understand and place yourself in someone else's situation.

Sympathy is the point where you get involved.

Boys in Bikinis girls with surfboards:

2011-06-12T14:08:00.006-05:00

When did everyone become so Victorian about showing some skin on the beach? In the 80's no one batted an eye if Magnum wore short shorts. Today fat ladies wear skimpy strings to the beach while the pot bellied husbands wear exaggerated pajama like board shorts that cover the ankles with cartoon characters printed all over them.

Careful don't show too much skin!

They should exchange swimwear.

I'm off to the beach..."Strangers in the night exchanging pantses..."

Blogcation:

2011-06-09T23:36:00.009-05:00

I've needed a blogcation a breakcation a staycation and a vacation all at the same time. A cation. Any of the cations' would have done. Now I feel like chatting again but actually I'd rather lazily show you through a series of slides that I'm going to haul out. Dim the lights and draw the curtains and if we have time I'll get out the carousel of when I went to the Holy Land and floated on the Dead Sea...

Wah! Wah! Wah! Call the Wahmbulance:

2011-05-07T22:44:00.003-05:00

Today I felt scrappy and made dramatic turns while spitting tacks at everyone just like Wahna Turner!

Hey Mr. Grumpy Gills:

2011-05-07T00:23:00.010-05:00

As it turns out May, 5th wasn’t the terrible day this year that it has been in the past. It turns out it was May, 6th! I received some rather unsettling news today, nothing earth shattering or disastrous but nonetheless troublesome for the immediate future and as the voice on the other end of the phone informed me, “I meant to call you yesterday...”

Oh well, buck up sister. At least I didn’t wake up dead. I now have a very clear idea of exactly what day that will be, May 5th but I probably won’t know I’m dead until May 6th.

In the wise words of Dory, "Just keep swimming...just keep swimming...just keep swimming...swimming...swimming..."

Cinco de Drinko:

2011-05-05T12:59:00.005-05:00

Have I ever mentioned that everything bad that has happened in my life has happened on May 5th? Once when was I fourteen, my mother found a little bag of something in my room and grounded me for six months. I eventually found it and replaced it with oregano. I’ve broken up with a partner on this day. I’ve lost a job on May 5th and then lost the next job on the same day the following year.

Did I mention that I HATE MAY 5TH!

It’s also the day everyone wants to go drinking. I’ve recently discovered that I CAN’T drink liquor. I can’t even spell the word without spell check. I just had to use it. Lacquer is more like it. I just blackout immediately following one little sip and then hear horror stories the next day from people, if those people are still talking to me.

I can still drink beer just fine.

Wine is an iffy subject also.

So Happy Cinco de Mayo everybody...I stay in bed on that day, pull the covers over my head, and wait for the evil day to be over with.

Easter Sunday:

2011-04-24T11:27:00.004-05:00

Good Easter Morning to you folks. I trust you find this crisp beautiful weather to your liking? I'm off to the chapel for worship on this the most sacred and holiest christian day.

What am I wearing you ask?

A pair of pink seersucker trousers, a lemon yellow linen blazer and underneath a baby blue chemise Lacoste.

The sermon shall endeavor to uncover the evils of dandyism. By special summons, I'm to be seated front row center.

Afterwards there is to be an ice cream social, an easter egg hunt and a parade. Oh how I love a parade and wearing bonnets, "Oh oh oh, in my easter bonnet with all the shit up on it, I'll be the gauchest lady in the easter pah'rade..."

The Royal Wedding:

2011-04-20T08:11:00.002-05:00

I’m not sure that I’m going to watch the Royal Wedding. I think it could be a great big snooze. First of all she's forgoing the carriage ride. She’s opted for a limousine. Which means that she'll be wearing a miniskirt. If she had a big poofy dress with a train then she’d be riding in a carriage. The couple has sent out electronic invitations. There is to be a man-cave and finger foods at the reception. WTF? Heck His Royal Highness will not even be wearing a wedding ring. Like father like son. Just marry the twit and have your fun on the side.

I remember getting up at the crack of dawn to watch Diana’s wedding. I remember the wee hours of the morning the news announced her death. I remember her funeral.

I have a feeling that this royal wedding could be a bit of a train wreck. That’s the real reason to tune in. It should look something like this,

Thanks to Joe for this one.

Pensacola Babylon:

2011-04-18T15:16:00.008-05:00

“Did I ever tell you about the time I met the most handsome man in the world?”

“No but most of your stories begin like that.”

“See what had happened was...I was invited to the summer wedding of my good good friend and neighbor, Anjelica Vonshire. Believe me she’s just as gorgeous as her name, however the equally enchanting Nastassja Gallant gave her a good run for her money. But that’s another story.”

“Would you get on with it?”

“Anyways the wedding was to be held at the Big Lagoon state park outdoor pavilion and it was like a thousand degrees and I was sure that I was going to sweat a lot so I wore the most scrumptious pair of linen pants in a butter yellow and a thin as veal cotton sweater vest in ice blue and no shirt underneath so my handsome bare chest showed and a beautiful pair of leather sandals. I looked good. Albeit a little scandalous but good.”

“So what did the bride wear, a thong?”

“Oh she and her dashing groom were tripping balls. But you would have never known it though. The whole place is like a nature preserve on the inter coastal waterway and is sort of edged on a boggy lagoon with all these pitcher plants. So Anjelica Vonshire made a lovely bride in a strapless white satin column dress very austere with no bows or doodads and she wore an up-do.”

“Okay what about the handsome man?”

“Oh yeah. So during the ceremony I was looking over the crowd because the pavilion is shaped like a horseshoe and everybody can see everybody else and I looked straight across and there he was. The most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on or have ever seen in person. You know when you hear people say, piercing blue eyes? Well he had them. I mean you could see them from fifty-feet away. I was stunned. I couldn’t take my eyes off his fine ass. He had a great square jaw and a huge dimple in his chin. He was cuter than Jesus.”

“Really? I never thought Jesus was all that hot.”

“Have you ever seen Jesus of Nazareth?"

"So later we attended the reception at the Perdido yacht club and I was stepping outside when he was stepping inside and we totally locked eyes. He was just inches away from me and I got a good close-up of those eyes. He was fucking dreamy. He smiled in that way a man does when he knows he’s gorgeous and you’ve noticed. You know what I mean? Anyhow, I found my date, Pouri the Persian and we had a seat at the bar and guess who sat next to me? Um hum Mr. Knockout that’s who. Pouri immediately chatted him up with that purring husky accent of her's, ‘So daaaarling tell me about yourself?’ He said I’ve done some modeling in the past...”

“Big surprise there...”

“I know right? Then he went on to say that his name was John and that he liked to skydive and that he had made over 6000 jumps. Honestly he could have read a beer label to me and I would’ve cherished his every word. I was instantaneously infatuated. Eventually we took our leave from my new imaginary boyfriend and later I found out he wasn’t some ordinary local model he was like in the big leagues. Hugo Boss, Montana, Gianni Versace. He’s been photographed by Steven Meisel. The big revelation though was that he had most recently been a catalogue model for International Male.

“Hmm”

“I know I know. Later when I got home I went to the International Male website and there he was.”

“Did you beat-off to his picture?”

“I’ll just keep that to myself. So about three weeks later I was watching the news when they had a top story that a man had been injured in a skydiving accident. My heart sank.”

“Oh no.”

“Yes. He apparently worked for the skydiving place as a cameraman for recording peoples skydiving experience. He opened his shoot and it got tangled up in the camera equipment mounted on his helmet. He plummeted 11,000 feet to the ground. When rescuers found him in a field he was still alive. He was taken to the hospital where he died several hours later.”

“Oh honey that’s a horrible story.”

“I know I know. He was so beautiful and he was very kind and I’ll always remember that moment he locked those gorgeous eyes with mine.”

For more on John go here,here and here

History Repeating:

2011-04-14T12:10:00.006-05:00

I don’t listen to the radio. I mostly dance to my own beat = MP3. However, every now and then I go to a club and hang out in the Wrinkle Room™ and that’s where I heard Jen’s, "The Most Beautiful Woman in the World", new song. Catchy tune! But once again I think I’ve heard it before. After a quick rolodexing of songs and playing Name That Tune, I realized that I was hearing the Lambada! Really Jen? The Lambada?

WHY CAN’T PEOPLE MAKE UP NEW SONGS?

Compare and contrast:

Jen's Dance the Night Away

Kaoma’s Lambada

Personally I prefer the Lambada. But that’s not even the best song on the record...yes I said record.

Enjoy,

Sopenala

Next Vacation:

2011-04-13T19:28:00.000-05:00

Magic:

2011-04-08T17:18:00.031-05:00

Occasionally when I travel I'll spend the night at a friend's house. Last night was one of those occasions. I worked until after 9:00 P.M. then drove about a hundred miles down a creepy highway. The night was foggy with few other cars for companionship. I listened to the radio. Gospel radio…nope. Country Western radio…nope. Static…nope. I switched the thing off. When I reached a critical interchange I noticed my phone lit up. The message on the screen read, SIM CARD MALFUNCTION. Great! Now I'm all alone on a deserted highway with no way to call for help should I veer off the road and as my mother would say, "Wind up dead in a ditch". With each passing mile marker I noticed strange things.

Firstly, I saw eyes peering out of the forest along the deep ravines that border each side of the highway that curiously have no guard rails. If I should take my own eyes off the road for a second I'll end up in the deep ravine with no way to call and nothing but the other eyes for company, dead in the ditch.

Secondly, I pull off the road at the Dizzy Dean roadside rest area in Wiggins Mississippi for a stretch and a much needed cigarette break. The place is abandoned except for a tiny little booth thankfully attended by a tiny little security guard. I'm not alone. I nod he nods back. Then he flicks off a light switch and plunges the whole place into darkness and stares at me. As I sit on the bench in the darkness inhaling and exhaling my cigarette smoke into the fog I wonder where my smoke ends and the fog begins? Then I hear twigs crackling in the distance. Birds take flight with rustling noises. I begin to imagine Big Foot lumbering out of the woods. I stamp out my cigarette and get in my car lock the doors and speed off in one single motion.

Thirdly, I'm reaching the end of my tank and there are no gas stations that seem to be open. Finally I get to an area that appears to be civilized with a traffic light and a Waffle House, a fire department, and a gas station. The price reads $3.94! I'm desperate so I pull in to get exactly $3.94 worth of the damn stuff. I do so then head inside to find the whole place empty. I look around. I call out, HELLO. I use the restroom. I walk up to the register. There is nobody in this place. I turn around and I'm face to face with Alice the Goon. I'm startled. She's carrying a mop and a bucket and says in a curt voice, "Can I hep ya?" I say no…no thank ya.

I get in my car and think about the eerie experiences along the way when I finally reach my destination and get out of my car and kiss the ground then ring the doorbell.

After a drink and conversation I was shown a door at the end of the hallway that was to be my guest room for the night.

The room was a welcome sight and I kept thinking about the ditch that I could have ended up sleeping in…with the fishes and the eyes and the no service cell phone.

The bed looked cozy and I fell asleep immediately.

Later in the wee hours I heard a noise. A sort of scratching noise coming from the closet.

I open the closet and find THIS!

I closed the closet door instantly. I thought I had imagined it. I open the doors again and it's still there. Yep it's still there all right. I go to the bathroom to take a knock out pill. I return and check under the bed and then climb in it and pull the covers up over my head. That image keeps returning. I finally fall asleep.

Later I wake up from hearing a door creaking. I jump out of bed and out of the door lickety split. I hang out in the bathroom for a while and splash cold water on my face then I return to the bedroom to find this…

I slept in my car with the doors locked and the alarm set.

Magic is NOT fun.

We Need a Montage:

2011-03-29T09:14:00.001-05:00

My Momma:

2011-03-25T20:34:00.003-05:00

Since the passing of Elizabeth Taylor I’ve been having reflection about my own personal copy of her. See my mother is Elizabeth Taylor. At least I think so. Men always complement her and open doors for her and tell my father what a lucky man he is to have married such a lovely bride. I just assumed she was a star, but she’s a happy homemaker and my mom. She recently turned 75 and in the living room of my parents home (they’ve been married for 52 years) you’ll find an end table with a nail file, polish and tweezers. In her purse you’ll find a six pack of Tab because as she says, “You never know when you’ll find yourself stranded at an airport without it!”

Here’s to my Momma, my own personal Elizabeth Taylor.

Pole Dancing for Jesus:

2011-03-25T00:10:00.003-05:00

I suppose you put a tithe in her G-String rather than tip her.

Pink:

2011-03-24T02:35:00.009-05:00

The most incredible live performance I have ever seen by a recording artist.

R.I.P. Liz:

2011-03-23T08:56:00.001-05:00

Look What I have:

2011-03-22T19:11:00.010-05:00

I have intentionally not had my girl dog (Shareeka) spayed. I know I hear Bob Barker lashing me with his sharp wicked tongue about the poor unwanted animals in the world but, FUCK OFF BOB! See Shareeka is a bit high strung and I thought she needed a brood to calm her ass down. Besides I just knew that Shareeka and Two Pack would make the loveliest puppies, I have good instincts and matchmaking skills about these matters. I was right. I plan to have her fixed the moment the milk in her titties sours. Right now she’s a huge tit bag.

Anyway take a look at my wee little babies. Aren’t they adorable?

I have found (unsuspecting suckers) good homes for two of them all ready. That leaves two. So today I placed an ad on Craigslist. Good old reliable Craigslist. I hate Craigslist. They not only yanked my ad once but twice. Fortunately they forwarded this kind note as an explanation as to why:

"As you may be aware, animals given away for free can, and unfortunately often do, meet gruesome fates. They can end up in the hands of animal abusers like Barry Herbeck, a Wisconsin man who was convicted last year of torturing and killing animals he obtained through "free to good home" ads. He confessed to taking his kids with him when responding to the ads so people would be comfortable turning animals over to him. People known as "bunchers," who obtain animals illegally from random sources to sell to research facilities for profit, often acquire animals by answering "free to good home" ads. Small animals advertised as "free to good home" are sometimes acquired by individuals who intend to use them as bait in training other animals to fight. Gerbils, hamsters, and young kittens are often acquired to be used as snake food."

Fuck you Bob Barker. Fuck you PETA. Fuck you Craigslist.

I’m on to Facebook now.

If anyone is need of a puppy or snake food, drop me a line.

Clickety Clack:

2011-03-20T12:30:00.006-05:00

Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! I hear the familiar sound of wheels on asphalt. Is it a skateboarder? The sound is too heavy for a skateboard. Is it a roller skater? Nobody wears quad skates these days except for me and I don’t roll down the street in them anymore. You can hear the sound of metal clinking and rattling. It must be Cracky Jackie pushing her grocery cart up the street. I wonder what sort of junk she’s looking for today? Usually there is a filthy stuffed animal doing the driving in the little fold away seat with matted fur from a rainstorm.

I wonder why Barnes Grocers lets people take the carts from the parking lot? It’s always been a service in the neighborhood. Buy some groceries and push them a few blocks home and leave the cart next to the curb. Days later a Barnes van pulls up and two well built teenagers hop out and load it up. Wouldn’t it be easier to just deliver the stuff?

Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! The sound stops. Then starts again. Then stops. She must be rooting through my trash. She must have just rummaged next door in Mr. Dudley’s trash. He doesn’t waste and he recycles everything. Way ahead of his time for a ninety year old man.

Once I determined the sound is definitely a grocery cart, I grab my camera ready to spring a picture of the notorious Jackie on the world. Quietly I raise the blinds and lift the window. It’s a grocery cart all right but not Jackie it’s someone new. It's not Crazy Curtis who is in the funny farm these days after hacking up a code enforcement officer with a meat clever. That cart is filled to the brim with bright shiny aluminum cans. He’s moving in on Jackie’s turf, she won’t like that one bit. No sir. Not one bit.

Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! Next stop my house. Oh I do so hope there is something in my trash he can use. I cut the soda out of my life almost a year ago and promptly lost fifteen pounds in the process. So no cans in my bin. Maybe there is something he can use. I polished off a six pack of beer at the beach last week, but they were bottles. I know, glass on the beach I hear you say, but I always just leave my footprints behind. Never trash. This new fellow has no need for glass only aluminum.

Maybe he’ll have better luck at Mrs. Johnson’s place across the street. I see her haul a twelve pack of Coke inside at least twice a week. Bingo! Mrs. Johnson is the gold mine of the block today at least twenty cans and a bonus drum of some sort.

Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! Clickety Clack! He’s on his way. I wonder what the lesbians have in store for him? They’re vegans and they compost. Slim pickings there. I need to recycle more often. I like to help out where I can.

Born That Way:

2011-03-19T09:33:00.001-05:00

Remember to Wear Something Green:

2011-03-17T11:30:00.006-05:00

Because they aint pinching today!

And watch out for the Leprechaun!

Carol:

2011-03-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

Before Buck:

2011-02-11T09:06:00.001-06:00

Locomia:

2011-02-06T18:42:00.001-06:00

Back by Popular Demand:

2011-02-01T21:00:00.002-06:00

Because I demand it. I demand that everyone read and firmly grasp the moral of this story.

Lara Saint Paul:

2011-01-31T22:49:00.005-06:00

Music I’ve never heard before so enjoy Lara Saint Paul.

'So' Groovy!

It's My Birthday:

2011-01-31T08:21:00.001-06:00

Hwy 63's Dirty Signs:

2011-01-16T14:53:00.006-06:00

Another satisfied Cumbest customer!