SMELLS LIKE BULLSHIT

I'm trying to go backwards in operating systems, wish me luck!

"I will never listen to a State of the Union Address with the volume on 11."

Henry Rollins

To read the entire article go HERE

I also want to drop a note of thanks to the Main Mexican here in KC for throwing me a bone on the last post and making a cool link to it on his often rant filled daily news of KC blog Tony's of Kansas City So Thanks Amigo!

Don't forget if you feel like a cocktail after work on Monday (and really who doesn't?) I and hopefully other bloggers will be at Mickey's Pub in the northland, 420 NW Englewood in the old Tanner's spot. I'm thinking around 5:30-6pm I know traffic getting up there sucks at the time of day, so come early and drink more.

Oh and as for the Zombies....Watch out un-dead!!

78%

Stupid picture link doesn't work...Well it just says I'm 78% more likely to survive a Zombie attack...I have a lot of fire power and a loose moral obligation to protect those who are dumb. Like the old joke about a bear attack, I don't have to be faster then a bear, I just have to be faster then YOU!

Most people know or at least have heard that 20 years ago I broke my back. I fell off of a house drunk at a party one night in Los Altos hills CA and fell approx. 50 feet. This caused tons of damage to my back, I crushed 3 vertebrae and cracked 6 others. I then proceeded to baffle the hospital staff by enduring 3 CAT scans, and a litany of reasons why I needed three of them, machine wasn’t calibrated, the machine was broken, and finally “Well we don’t know how you did it..but you don’t have any nerve damage and you’ll be walking out of here Sunday” that was a week after I went in.

But why am I telling what most people know anyway? Because I had to wear a brace for 45 days after the accident to keep my spine straight so my vertebras would mend. During this time of sitting up straight and wheeling myself around campus in my rental wheel chair ( my brace didn’t allow for bending the right way to fit into the college desks) I learned a very important lesson from a very unsuspecting person.

I was standing in “Joes U Save liquors” , the groovy liquor store by my apartment that was extremely lax on carding people, buying a 12 pack to help with the pain killers that didn’t seem to work unless I added a beer or 10. So I’m standing in line waiting my turn to pay, vaguely wondering if Joe was going to card me this time(he was lax, but sometimes he would bust your balls just to be busting them), when I hear a voice behind me say “Wow, did you break some ribs or something?”

I didn’t bother to turn around I just said loudly “Not ribs, I broke my back”.

“Jesus, how did that happen?”
Again without turning I gave the cliff notes version of what happened, and moved forward to pay for my beer. Joe didn’t card me and as I waited for my change I heard the guy say, “ Well it could have been worse.”
I turn around to ask this talkie Mcspeakerson, “how the fuck does he think it could be worse, with a all league football player with 4 full ride scholarship offers, and now a broken back more than likely ending his illustrious albeit short career..what the fuck could be worse about this situation?”

Before I spoke and as I turned, I got a look at who I was conversing with. There was a man standing there shirtless, wearing cut off jean shorts, covered in tattoos, holding a 12 pack in one hand and a hand carved wooden crutch under the other arm, and as my anger cooled I looked down and saw that his leg was amputated at the crotch.
My mouth froze. My brain stopped and I knew he was absolutely right. Things could be worse. I looked him in the eyes and replied, “You got that fucking right, thanks man”

Now when I get to the end of my rope at work or even at home and I am tired of dealing with assholes, and clients and I am trying to find a reason not to get my pistols, and go on a tri state killing spree I always remember that guy, his missing leg, and the fact that no matter how bad it is it could always be worse.

It can always be worse.

This is a good one, so I had to "Borrow it" I know I could have just linked it but then I wouldn't feel like the cyber terrorist that I dream to be.


Ok here is the link

Who knew Wings had so much great thought behind the "dumb" actor?

Steven Weber

Daddy's Home

38 Comments | Posted June 23, 2007 | 11:47 AM (EST)
Read More: Breaking Politics News, Steven Weber

stumbleupon :Daddy's Home digg: Daddy's Home reddit: Daddy's Home del.icio.us: Daddy's Home

We Americans have been in foster care for decades now. Every four or eight years we get shuffled off to the next house, headed by a new foster daddy. And we try to adjust to our new surroundings, which don't look terribly different from our last ones. Maybe there are some new gadgets.

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And each new daddy smiles and pats us on the head and bounces us on his knee and tells us all the things that make us feel like we finally belong, that we finally matter and that our real daddy -- him -- is at last come home.

He has us listen to his pronouncements and his rules and tells us what our previous daddies did wrong and how he'll help us and love us better than they ever could.

He introduces us to his friends, some of whom it seems we've met before, who look at us and smile small smiles. And they have a party and we look at each other and shrug our shoulders and think "maybe daddy's really home".

And then things start to turn. He acts strangely. He gets angry. He rants. He waves his hands around. He calls some of his own kids names. He and his friends whisper and look at us and whisper some more. And we begin to hear stories about him, stories that seem to explain his odd behavior.

But then something happens and it scares us and we all do what children are supposed to do: turn to daddy.

Daddy tells us that we should be scared and we huddle, trembling, worried.

And daddy sends some of us out to fight some fight that he says we have to fight.

Daddy says so.

And some of us don't come back. We whisper among ourselves.

We fear our newest daddy has lied to us, has in fact been lying all along. He doesn't really love us. Just like all the rest. He's just another in a line of daddies that goes back years. We have vague memories of daddies past, a few who actually may have loved us well, and who we had clearly grown too fond of because the folks who run our foster care -- our daddies' daddies -- made sure that never happens again, lest a bond be formed that is too strong for them to sever. A bond that makes us all whole, all one, and a bond that would make their agendas and machinations weak and worthless. To them it's important that we foster children never remember our true parents or ever feel truly comfortable in our home. We must be made to stay hungry for love, lonely for any affection, and to eventually just accept it in any form, and to be grateful that we receive any attention at all.

Daddy is rarely nice to us anymore. He packs his bags and mutters to himself and whispers to his friends who never look at us at all.

This means it's time when a new bunch of daddies line up and tell us their stories and show off for us. They all say they want to take care of us but we're only allowed one of them. And we're told we have to choose. And we're told that we do.

But it's getting easier to tell that the daddies have other things on their minds than loving us. Maybe we're growing up, which is possible even without his love and attention. Maybe we're growing up in spite of the crap he gives us to eat, crap that he calls "nutrition" that tastes good but is really supposed to stunt us.

Sad, but maybe there'll come a time when we realize that we don't need any of these daddies at all, that they're actually hurting us,

And we realize that we have to take care of ourselves, rebuild our family and finally, really be home.

It was a once in a lifetime trip and I'm so happy that my two brothers and I were able to make it possible for Dad to finally see Vegas!

We started this caper last February when none of us could decide what to do for Fathers day. Some of you may remember that a few years back we tried to send the folks on a trip to Las Vegas, but that as spoiled by a meddling step-sister. So my two brothers and I hatched a plan and put it into action a couple of weeks ago.

The back ground story- I need to have some work done on my basement and I'm no plumber. Dad was a plumber...see how nice that fits.

The nice part- The Older Brother hence forth known as OB, was going to take us out to dinner Monday night for a late fathers day gift since we all had other plans, and the Younger Brother, or YB, was to call since he lives in Boston nowadays.

The LIE- What Dad didn't know was that YB was actually driving in (he was at the formula 1 race in Indianapolis on Sunday) and that we had booked airfare, hotel,In the Planet Hollywood Casino in Las Vegas and a helicopter trip to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with a champagne lunch.

The Story-We go to dinner when Dad and I get done surveying the work that needs to get done on the basement, and we go to a semi fancy place, get set up, YB walks in right on Que and we all break down and cry..it was awesome. Then we hit him with the trip and we cry some more. I need to go now as he is waking up for his nap, OB is taking him to see "O" tonight at the Belligio.

I'll post pics soon.

Ok here is the name and address for the bar, and since Heather at General Blather can't make a Weekend gig, what does the census say for Monday July 2nd at 5:30pm, here at this bar;

Mickey's Irish Pub
(816) 455-6868
420 NW Englewood

I had such a good time at the last blog party held at Harry's Country Club , hosted by Michelle that I was thinking we need to hav another one. Is there any interest in getting together next Friday afternoon at the old Tanners (Now an Irish Pub, what name I can't remember at this time) By Side Pockets off of I-29.....Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Northland Blog Party? Who knows if this is gonna fly?

They say war is hell.

I have never been to war. I cannot say from personal experience. I can only imagine the traumas that our soldiers have to face on a daily basis fighting in the Middle East, for what some say is a righteous, much needed police action, and others say an abomination based solely on lining the pockets of the first family with oil money. I would personally like to see us just take the country away form the people who haven’t had peace in their land for 3000 years. Like a petulant child and their favorite toy. Take it away and promise to give it back only when they decide to behave.

But that isn’t what concerns me today. What concerns me today is that the army is calling for more psychiatrists to help our soldiers with the mental trauma they have been exposed to in war.

Now I know that this is going to sound wrong, and will piss off several million people (as if that many people even know I exist) but I read the article here , and all I could think about was history, the history of war, the damages that Soldiers all over the world have experienced since the dawn of time. This article made me wonder;”is this the begging of the end? Is this the slippery slope of exposing how much of a sissified country we have become?”
Again, I am not trying to downplay the seriousness of war, nor that our men and women are in need of mental health care to help deal with what they see and hear in a war zone. HOWEVER, this to me screams of mental and physical un-toughness, brought on by raising a generation of people who have learned that crying gets you what you want.
Maybe the millions of soldiers throughout history suffered the exact same traumas in all of the battles ever fought, and had the same mental anguish. But why has it taken 3 million years of fighting to get to the point where we need more psychiatrists? Was the battle of D-Day, where over 10,000 allied troops lost their lives in a single afternoon, less traumatic than fighting an insurgency in Iraq? Or did we raise a generation of people who never learned to do for themselves, and thus don’t have the mental capacity to handle the horrors of war? And I’m not saying the horrors of war are something you should have to handle, fuck knows I have never had to deal with anything that traumatic, but it is a term everyone knows.
My Dad’s favorite saying was “Knock that off or I’ll kick your ass up between your shoulder blades”, I knew that when this phrase was uttered that I had went as far as I could without getting a beating. I also knew that when Mom reached “3”, or sometimes “1”, my ass was getting beat. Why did I know that? Because she never held back on consequences, if you do “A”, then “B” will happen…and yes “B” stands for beating. My brother and I were the worst kids in 3 counties, but we always weighed the options, we were smart like that. But we also knew that when we were caught it would result in an ass whipping, did it change our behavior? Yes it did we learned where the boundaries were and what happened when we decided to cross them. Today’s kids and the people one generation behind me, they didn’t have boundaries, or didn’t have consequences when those boundaries were crossed.
I just spoke to one of my co-workers about this and he agrees that the previous generations have us beat hands down in the toughness category. His Grandpa had to unload the bodies in San Diego from the D-Day invasion, my Grandpa never talked about the war, but he got his hand caught in the nuts of his combine, lost a finger, wrapped a greasy rag around the stump drove to the ER, walked in, held it up and demanded to have it “fixed”. When asked “where is the rest of it” he replied “I ain’t got time for that shit, just sew it up”, 2 hours later, he was back to work on his combine.
We are the only country in the world that has silly shit wrong with us. Lactose intolerance? C’MON! do you think Habib in N. Africa has a lactose intolerance problem? I seriously doubt that he would turn down any food since he is eating Sally Struthers’ table scraps. We are the fattest country in the history of people walking upright, we make shit up to fund medical research, and buy shit we don’t need. I’m not discounting the trauma that these soldiers are feeling, or the need for psychiatrists, but I do think that this is a big shiny light in a dark corner that we don’t want to see, but we need to see.

We have raised a generation of sissys, a generation of whiny cry baby assed kids who look up to people like Paris Hilton instead of their parents or teachers or community leaders, and then when they decide to give something back, and join our military, we hand them a rifle and tell them to go ahead and walk into that fire fight against people with no military uniforms, so you can’t tell the good guys from the bad, and then treat them like shit because they went to war, and didn’t stand up and tell our government to back off this is a dumb idea.
My friend KFK, joined the Marine Reserve to get his college partially paid for, and because he liked the uniform…Yeah I know a couple of great ideas, his unit was called up 2 weeks after he completed basic training for the first gulf war. I call him and thank him for everything he sacrificed, wanted or not, every Veterans Day.

So do we need more psychiatrists? Probably.
Is this a wake up call to stop pampering our fucking kids?

I think so.

I know it has been awhile, but I stumbled across this and I had to share!!

I don't know why I hadn't seen this yet, but HOLY SHIT! someone is well on their way to Billionaire!

Check THISout!

Work sucks.
politics suck.
religion sucks.

So here are some pretty pictures for your amusement.












**EDIT**
THE BLIND WAL-MART CLERK

A woman goes into Wal-Mart to buy a rod and reel for her grandson's birthday. She doesn't know which one to get so she just grabs one and goes over to the counter. A Wal-Mart associate is standing there wearing dark shades.

She says, "Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me anything about this rod and reel?"

He says, "Ma'am, I'm completely blind; but if you'll drop it on the counter, I can tell you everything you need to know about it from the sound it makes.

She doesn't believe him but drops it on the counter anyway.

He says, "That's a six-foot Shakespeare graphite rod with a Zebco 404 reel and 10-LB. Test line. It's a good all around combination; and it's on sale this week for only $20.00."

She says, "It's amazing that you can tell all that just by the sound of it dropping on the counter. I'll take it!" As she opens her purse, her credit card drops on the floor.

"Oh, that sounds like a Master Card," he says.

She bends down to pick it up and accidentally breaks wind. At first she is really embarrassed, but then realizes there is no way the blind clerk could tell it was she who tooted. Being blind,he wouldn't know that she was the only person around.

The man rings up the sale and says, "That'll be $34.50 please. "

The woman is totally confused by this and asks, "Didn't you tell me it was on sale for $20.00? How did you get $34.50?"

He replies, "Yes, Ma'am. The rod and reel is $20.00, but the Duck Call is $11.00 and the Catfish Bait is $3.50."

That’s right Hell has froze over….


More on that in a few.

Bouby and I spent the last 4 days at a wonderful place called ROCK EDDY FARM If you are a person who likes hiking and the solitude of nature in its pristine condition, this is the place for you. The number one thing to do on their website is NOTHING! And believe you me, it is hard, NOT to do nothing. There is the constant want to walk in the woods, and the canoeing not to mention fishing if that is your thing. There is nature abound. A spring fed creek that over the course of the last 10 million years cut a natural bridge, called the Clifty Creek natural bridge.

This is the first look at the cabin;



This is the view from the deck….stunning.


And we did just what the brochure said we could do we walked, fished, and then ultimately nothing.
We went out to dinner on Friday night to a GREAT steakhouse food was amazing and the view was just as tasty. BUT before we left our cabin while we were getting ready I had something that was on my mind and was finally ready to get it off my chest and out in the open. So when Bouby was ready to walk out the door I stood up and said “Are you going like that?”
“What do you mean?” She replied, “What’s wrong with how I look”
I said “nothing is wrong with how you look, but is that the way you want to go to dinner?”
She looks at me starting to get pissed, and says “Well how would you like me to go?”

Then I made her cry.

I said “I would rather you go to dinner as my future wife instead of my girlfriend” And I handed her this.



So I’m guessing the temperature in Hell dropped a few degrees and Satan is slowly doing a figure eight on the formally known lake of fire.

That and women all over the planet are now crying….YEAH RIGHT!

OH and She did say yes by the way....

I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed.
Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous
flow of free and easily accessible food. But then the birds started
building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to
the barbecue.

Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the
table...everywhere. Then some of the birds turned mean: They would dive
bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own
pocket. And others birds were boisterous and loud: They sat on the feeder and
squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that
I fill it when it got low on food.

After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. I took
down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up
their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio.
Soon, the back yard was like it used to be...quite, serene and no one
demanding their rights to a free meal.

Now lets see...

Our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care,
free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen.
Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to
pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families: you have
to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor: you child's 2nd grade
class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak
English: Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to press "one" to
hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than
"Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights
and free liberties.

Maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder!

And now a History Lesson;

History 101

For those that don't know about history...Here is a condense dversion...

Humans originally existed as members of small bands of nomadic

hunters/gatherers. They lived on deer in the mountains during the

summer and would go to the coast and live on fish and lobster in the winter.

The two most important events in all of history were the invention of

beer and the invention of the wheel. The wheel was invented to get man

to the beer. These were the foundation of modern civilization and

together were the catalyst for the splitting of humanity into two distinct subgroups:

1. Liberals; and

2. Conservatives.

Once beer was discovered, it required grain and that was the beginning

of agriculture. Neither the glass bottle nor aluminum can were

invented yet, so while our early humans were sitting around waiting for

them to be invented, they just stayed close to the brewery.

That's how villages were formed.

Some men spent their days tracking and killing animals to B-B-Q at

night while they were drinking beer. This was the beginning of what is

known as the Conservative movement.

Other men who were weaker and less skilled at hunting learned to live

off the conservatives by showing up for the nightly B-B-Q's and doing

the sewing, fetching, and hair dressing. This was the beginning of the

Liberal movement.

Some of these liberal men eventually evolved into women. The rest

became known as girlie-men. Some noteworthy liberal achievements

include the domestication of cats, the invention of group therapy,

group hugs, and the concept of Democratic voting to decide how to

divide the meat and beer that conservatives provided.

Over the years conservatives came to be symbolized by the largest, most

powerful land animal on earth, the elephant. Liberals are symbolized

by the jackass.

Modern liberals like imported beer (with lime added), but most prefer

white wine or imported bottled water. They eat raw fish but like their

beef well done. Sushi, tofu, and French food are standard liberal

fare. Another interesting evolutionary side note: most of their women

have higher testosterone levels than their men. Most social workers,

personal injury attorneys, journalists, dreamers in Hollywood and group

therapists are liberals. Liberals invented the designated hitter rule

because it wasn't fair to make the pitcher also bat.

Conservatives drink domestic beer. They eat red meat and still provide

for their women. Conservatives are big-game hunters, rodeo cowboys,

lumberjacks, construction workers, firemen, medical doctors, police

officers, corporate executives, athletes, Marines, and generally anyone

who works productively. Conservatives who own companies hire other

conservatives who want to work for a living.

Liberals produce little or nothing. They like to govern the producers

and decide what to do with the production. Liberals believe Europeans

are more enlightened than Americans. That is why most of the liberals

remained in Europe when conservatives were coming to America. They

crept in after the Wild West was tamed and created a business of trying

to get more for nothing.

Here ends today's lesson in world history: It should be noted that a

Liberal may have a momentary urge to angrily respond to the above

before forwarding it. A Conservative will simply laugh and be so

convinced of the absolute truth of this history that it will be

forwarded immediately to other true believers and to more liberals just

to piss them off.

Well The wedding was a hoot!

I did find out that the fireworks weren’t for the wedding like previously thought but instead for a party that was being held the next night at my step brothers feed lot. Apparently they invited the whole town of 1200 people and they thought they needed to light the sky with $6000 worth of fireworks.

So besides me getting into an argument with some huge hat wearing kid about Charlie Daniels, and how there was no way anyone but Charlie could play “The Devil went down to Georgia” good except him. I was telling a story about how a friend of mines band used to cover that song and they metal-ed it up a lot and it was way better then Charlie’s old tired country version, and this Floppy hat wearing miscreant took offense. But since I was in conversation with my little nephew who is off to college in Manhattan KS this fall, and I was giving him some advice, like Call me instead of your parents if you have too, and don’t forget I grew up in that burg and I still know a lot of people there, like two cops who I went to high school with.

But the one main thing I was telling him was to go into everything with an open mind. NEVER look at something and make a judgment based solely on what you think you have learned at this time in your life, because you’re only 18 and I have had more information lost since I started drinking today then you actually know in your whole life.

So when this closed minded asspounding wanna be cowpoke, started arguing with me, I just smiled real big, winked at the nephew and reminded him what a terrible thing it is to have a closed mind.

Tomorrow my brother and I are going to a wedding, my step-niece is gittin’ hytched.

And yes I spelled that right. That is how it sounds when that side of the family says it. They are cowboy hobbyists. They rope and ride and do it for money in what they call Jack pots. I love going to these things because with my tattoos and earrings I stand out like dick in a pickle jar, but I tend to know quite a few people there. Because I can do all of those things I just suck at roping, and I don’t enjoy the camaraderie of most of the uneducated, or ignorant by choice people out there.

But the wedding should be fun.

I know it will be fun, wanna know, how I know it will be fun?

My dad called me yesterday on the way to St. Joe MO to buy fireworks for the wedding.

And really what is a redneck wedding without fireworks and fistfights.

I better pack my new brass knuckles, my Step-nephews are pretty tough.