Hey Joe

Hope springs eternal

This week's Mega Millions jackpot has climbed to $330 million, and I sure could use it. Have you seen the price of pizza these days?

Of course I'd keep working and probably wouldn't change much about my lifestyle. Except that I'd build a fabulously lavish spread on a few hundred acres and tell the rest of the world to piss up a rope and leave me the F alone. But other than that, I wouldn't change a thing.

Of course winning would sort of put the kibosh on that whole vow of poverty thing I don't recall taking, but obviously did, no doubt under duress.

Apes have nothing on dragons when it comes to going all feces

I love my daughter. She's probably one of the gentlest people I know. She wouldn't hurt a soul (except maybe her brother), which is what makes this picture so amusing to me.

It depicts a dragon ransacking her school, and the title "What I think of school", slightly obscured by the camera's flash. Apparently the group of students in the foreground supports the dragon's actions, as evidenced by their collective "Yeah!"

Happy Friday. I have not doubts that the girl is happy that it's Friday.

 

R.I.P.

Richard Jewell

1962-2007

 

Richard Jewell, the former security guard who was wrongly accused of planting a pipe bomb at the 1996 Summer Olympics Games in Atlanta, GA, died on Wednesday of an apparent heart attack.

Jewell was originally lauded as a hero for having discovered the bomb hidden in a backpack, and for clearing many spectators out of harm's way. But within days his name was being bandied about in the press as a possible suspect in the bombing. With the arrest and eventual confession of Eric Robert Rudolph, Jewell's name was finally cleared, but his reputation never fully recovered.

I always felt sorry for this guy. Once called the "Una-doofus" by Jay Leno (pot calling kettle black), he was portrayed as a loser security guard who couldn't hack it as a real cop. This is a good example of just how fragile one's good reputation really is.

OK, enough of that rot, back to the lambasting.

CMA Bashes Gays

Heterosexuals seem to be running the show over at the Country Music Awards Association.

According to reports on ABC's "Good Morning America, straights received top nominations, including entertainer and male vocalist of the year. One can only view this as a flagrant affront toward country entertainment's homosexual brethren.

What's that? It's Strait?

Never mind.

That’s a shit-load of kibble

I don't know what to say, other than what a fucking idiot.

I understand that people love their pets. Hell, most dogs are nicer than most people, but to leave $12 mil to the care and upkeep of a mongrel, and a long-haired, more than likely yappy one at that? Fucking ridiculous. Fine, leave some amount of money to ensure proper care, or better still if you really cared about the critter, make arrangements for someone to take the mutt before you roll the old snake eyes, and leave it at that.

When she first drafted that clause into her will she should have been shot in the back of the head like a rabid dog; executed before it could be executed.

What, me worry?

USA! USA!

Are you looking at me? I'll kill you man. Now leave me alone. I need to go clean my gun. Or my weapon. Whatever you call that thingy with like, a trigger, and like you stick in those little pointy things that look like cute little torpedoes and that makes a loud noise and scares me, but like in a good way, all shivery and stuff but in a manly way.

All I'm sayin' is don't mess with the US of A man.

Welcome to Sunny Acres – A nice place to live

The other night we had dinner at my folk's house. No sooner had we got home when we received a call from my mother, informing us that they could not locate my father's cell phone, and did we perhaps take it home with us by mistake. This seems to be a constant concern of theirs, the mistaken cell phone swap. We did a cursory search of the counter top: mail, school work, gutted animal carcasses, half a rebuilt transmission from a 93 Mercury Sable; no phone.

Mom:    "OK. Well keep an eye out for it. We can't imagine where it went."

This morning I received a telephone call from my father:

Dad:    "Just wanted to let you know we found my cell phone." (My cell phone caller ID had already informed me of this)

Me:    "Ah" (I had forgotten it was missing)

Dad:    "It was under the head rest in the car. I was in the car last night and heard it buzzing. Anyway, just wanted to let you know we found it."

Me:     "OK thanks…. The head rest?"

Dad:    "Yes. We can't imagine how it got there."

Me:    "I can. The boy probably shoved it in there the other night."

Dad:    "Yes, that's what I was thinking. Anyway, just wanted you to know that it's up and running again."

Me:    "Good. I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Silence.

Dad:    "So I read your blog. What's with that link to the penis thing?"

Me:    "That was an actual e-mail I received….at work no less. I thought it was funny."

Pause

Dad:    "There's some pretty filthy language on your blog."

Me:    "Don't read it."

 

Hi Dad. Didn't I tell you not to read this? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it's like I'm talking to a wall. Go to your room. NOW. Don't make me publish things like the name of your street or neighborhood.

Apathy and random bunkum

Yet another addition to my ever growing list of pet peeves; people who don't respond to e-mails in a timely fashion.

I realize not everybody spends a huge chunk of their day on the computer, but I don't think there's a person I know that:

1. Doesn't have a computer
2. Doesn't have e-mail

I've said before that if not for e-mail I probably wouldn't keep in touch with anybody, and that almost includes my wife. In the middle of a work day an old friend might pop into my head for no reason, and it takes me less than a minute to jump into Yahoo and fire off an e-mail. And they're simple e-mails of the "Hey, long time no hear. How's tricks? Hope all is well. Joe" variety. I'm not updating them on all the minutiae of my life since we last communicated; I'm just dropping a short note to say hi; to remind them that I breathe and to possibly prod them into dropping me a note when they get a minute, nothing more. So how come it takes some people weeks or months to respond? No one's that busy. And before you get all testy, if you happen to respond promptly to your e-mails then I'm not talking about you, am I? No. So what's the story?

I know what you're thinking; "It's you." And you know what; I'm beginning to think you're right. I suck, and this is everyone's way of tell me so.

In other news, Lisa had a successful first day back at school. One school day down and only 179 days to go. 180 working days out of a 365 day calendar year? Boy, teachers are such slackers. I recall having a throbbing crush on my second grade teacher. I wonder which kid will be looking to clap the erasers for her. Anyway, there she was with 17 bright and eager 2^nd graders, all of them thirsty for knowledge; all of them empty fonts waiting to be filled with the spirituality that is her wisdom. I think hand farts are on the syllabus for day two, part of George Bush's No Child Left Behind curriculum.

Teachers really are gifts from God.

Let the Games Begin

School is officially back in session and today the kids will endure their first full day. Wahh, wahhhh.

Lisa, on the other hand, does not officially begin until Monday. I say officially because although she's been back at work since this past Wednesday, her students will not arrive until Monday morning, and because I like italics. What this means is that summer is officially over, and that balls out chaos will soon descend once again. For example:

Yesterday morning as we're running around getting ready, prodding the boy to eat breakfast, looking for shoes, blah, blah, the boy decides he's going to spike his hair. I know this because I discover him in the bathroom with a tube of styling gel. The boy has not yet mastered the technique known as the gentle squeeze, and therefore is trying to apply two pounds of gel to his head. I couldn't watch and walked off to locate a missing cat.

"We're going to be late! Let's go!"

Girl heads for the door.

"Did you brush your hair?"

"Yes. Where's my check for school pictures?"

"In your backpack."

"I can't find it."

"It's in there."

I begin looking. Where the hell is it? Move all contents of backpack to kitchen floor. Find order form and check at bottom of backpack. Replace contents of backpack. Wonder where boy is. Head to bathroom. Find boy with his head in the sink.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing my hair."

"Are you kidding me? We're late. We need to go."

"I put too much gel in my hair."

At this point he's already reached the rinse cycle. What could I do but help with the towel drying.

"I think I need to change my shirt."

I look at the boy and wonder vaguely if there's a first day of school wet t-shirt contest scheduled for today.

"Uh, yeah."

 

Only 179 school days to go.

How Did They Know?

Actual e-mail I received at work today.

Hello joe.r

You MUST enlarge ur penis!

http://kaluteroi.com/