A farting pole and a redneck lunch box.

I have no idea why but the other day I sent a text message to several friends that asked this strange question:
Should a farting contest have some sort of “farting post” you approach and hold onto or something?

None of the people I sent the question to were aware that there were others on the list and yet, 50% of the people responded with:
“Yes, it provides more leverage.”

The other 50% responded with such answers as:
“I would suggest one.”
“I hurt myself on one.”
“It’s a POLE…as in farting POLE!”

I have weird wonderful friends.

It has also just occurred to me, if you’re in such a contest, should you wear farting mitts?”


Today I overheard a comment I think you could only hear in south Arkansas. I don’t want to be stereotypical but, well…you tell me…….
“So when I left the trailer I grabbed the lunch box with the dirty dishes in it.”

Wouldn't work. Vaginas don't blink.

Mice keep yanking my chain. Today was a perfect example. I read an article that said scientists produced mouse stem cells from mouse skin cells. This could be a huge breakthrough, both ethically and medically. The only problem is that the method used on the mice would cause cancer in humans. Fuck you, mice. Give me something I can use!

My disappointment could have been worse. It’s not clear I’ll ever need that particular medical breakthrough anyway. The stories that really chafe my neusters are the ones that sound like this:
“Researchers announced a breakthrough in gene therapy. This new technique gave mice an IQ of 700, grew hair in bald patches, made them sexier than John Reznick, and made them immortal. The mice also showed signs of telekinesis, unlimited male orgasms, and x-ray vision. In lab tests, the mice beat leopards in paw-to-paw combat.”

This makes me all excited because I think, “Heeeeey….I could use a few of those things!!” Then I read the rest of the story and it says something like “The researchers cautioned that this sort of gene therapy in humans would make their eyes turn into vaginas.”

It’s bad enough that I live in a country that ranks 37th in health care. The thing that really pisses me off is that I have worse health care than mice. If I were a mouse, I would start smoking, drinking, overeating and having unsafe sex, because those tiny bastards can be cured of anything with a goddamned aspirin and a shot of their own skin cells.

It makes me wonder if mice are easily cured because of the placebo effect. Mice don’t know anything about science, so they think whatever the scientist is doing must be helping. For example, if a lab mouse sees the janitor pleasuring himself with a test tube, the mouse thinks “Hey, my tumor is shrinking!” And then it does. You can’t underestimate the power of positive mouse thinking.
Just once I would like to see a headline that said, “SCIENTISTS DISCOVER A CURE FOR HUMAN DIABETES,” followed by details that say, “Scientists caution that this treatment in mice would give them inverted erections and make them hump themselves to death.”
Well, I can dream.

Why toenail flavored mittens help the economy! Or..A Monkey with a Leaf.

Think about all the people working and earning paychecks from companies that will ultimately fail. It’s a lot of people. But until those companies fail, the employees are getting paid, buying goods, and contributing to the economy. After the failure, those employees hop over to another sinking ship, and so on.

Within successful companies, a huge portion of resources are dedicated to projects and products that will ultimately fail. But in the meantime, everyone is getting paid and propping up the economy.

I understand the math of capitalism, and how the few successes are so large they pay for all the failures and then some. But at any given moment, the majority of resources in a capitalist system are being pushed over a cliff by morons. This fascinates me. And it’s clearly the reason that humans rule the earth. We found a system to harness the power of stupid.

In the rest of the animal kingdom, being a moron is nothing but bad. A moron lion, for example, who can’t catch anything to eat, is adding nothing to the lion economy. But a moron human who starts a business selling toe nail flavored mittens is stimulating the economy right up until the point of going out of business and opening a business selling pizza flavored ear muffs, in Phoenix. On so on and so on.

My point is that I hope the monkeys that already know how to use sticks for tools don’t start using leaves for money. If that happens, we’re screwed.

How my sucide bomber date lost her teeth.

Wacked out, fundamentalist, bitch ass, Islamic ass clowns are apparently now becoming more tolerant of women. They are beginning to accept them as human beings by letting them blow themselves up. Reports around the world state that women are being accepted in the Muslim/Islamic world to be trained as suicide bombers. However, it is not clear to me if they get 70 virgins when they get to paradise. Maybe they just get their clits back. Who knows?

Actually I’m less concerned about that than I am the possibility of these women infiltrating our society. Let’s face it; Americans are all about getting laid so it’s quite possible some clean cut, harmless, innocent, all American kid can get mixed up with one of these bitches on a first date. With that in mind I’d like to submit a few helpful steps to out these crazy ass bitches on a date.

1. While ordering dinner, try to make concrete plans to watch "American Idol" on TV the following week. If she backs out or claims she doesn't watch American television, she's probably planning a suicide operation. Immediately drive a thorazine-filled syringe into her eyeball and check her for explosives. If you find some; kick her in the teeth and call the authorities. If you don’t find explosives act as if you are performing CPR when she comes to and claim you just saved her life.

2. When you are enjoying live music at the local club, casually whisper to her there are Infidels present and ask her how she would like to proceed. If she suddenly walks toward her handbag, tackle her immediately and kick her in the teeth.

3. When you are getting romantic, give her a little casual sniff when she isn't looking. If she smells like fertilizer or rocket fuel, hog-tie her and then call the authorities but don’t forget to kick her in the teeth. If she smells like anything else, it's totally your call.

4. Show her your brand new video camera and ask her if she would like to say any last words to her family. After she begins her speech in Arabic, hit her with a conveniently-placed hammer and then send the tape to authorities for translation. Also kick her in the teeth.

5. After dinner, initiate a playful game of "peek-a-boo" with her. Show her your belly and then insist she show you hers. If she hesitates or declines, she's probably hiding an explosive belt. Immediately drive your dinner fork into her sternum and diffuse bomb with a pair conveniently placed wire cutters. And of course kick her in the teeth and as an added bonus remind her that the majority of American women enjoy sex and are encouraged to have it….all the time….as much as possible…any way they want…when ever they want…like now….Uhhhhh, sorry – I digress.
I’m certain these steps will help and thanks for being on the look out for ignorant ass Islamic bitches.

Why you're weird.

Late last night I was reading something I wrote a little over a year ago. I’m not going to post it here but it speaks of how things can become mottled and discolored right before our eyes, and yet, basically unnoticed. It moves on to explain that, through understanding, we should not judge ourselves or others on our past works.
Honestly I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written. Or at least I appreciate it the most because it has so much meaning.

I’m not sure why, but after I read it I was reminded of the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. I know…that’s weird.
The principle is applied to physics and its premise is that the more precisely you locate the position of something, the less you know about its path.

That’s a hard enough concept to grasp and since I’m damn sure no physicist I began to think how this principle could apply to people, personalities, situations, relationships and the like.

I think that there is no thought, intention or ideal that can be precisely established.
In other words, nothing is certain. There is risk in everything.

We all feel compelled to move in a certain direction and I applaud that but there are many times I have followed that compulsion in which I failed to measure the potential cost of my direction. The cost was revealed later. I am not saying one should blatantly question a given path but we should all consider: Is what we move towards more valuable than what we have?
Then again, nothing is certain. But by that logic, why would we move at all?

I think I just gave myself a headache.

Boy George and Holy Wilford.

I had a dream the other night where I killed an abortion protestor. It was OK, because I was just doing the Lord’s work. If I didn’t kill the abortion protestors, they would eventually kill abortion doctors. Thus, I saved lives by stopping murderers from murdering... by being a murderer.

Oh sure, I was dragged into dream court, but it didn’t matter to me. I told the Judge that the only verdict that mattered to me was God’s verdict. He had spoken to me and I did his bidding. Nonetheless, the jury found me guilty and sent me to dream prison. There, I was immediately killed by my fellow inmates because my shrill proselytizing annoyed them.

Then, with great anticipation, I arrived at Heaven’s Gate and was met by the Lord Himself. Imagine my shock when the Almighty Father read me the riot act for killing people. Here I was expecting to be rewarded and praised but it turns out that whole, “Thou shalt not kill, violence begets violence, vengeance is mine and mine alone” stuff, applied to me, too. God looked me in the face and said I was a raging moron for even thinking He had spoken to me, let alone hired me as a hit man. When God said He wished people would quit thinking they were getting messages from Him, I felt really, really, stupid.

Then God, who looked a lot like Wilford Brimley, personally escorted me to the gates of Hell. Taking me inside, the Devil, who looked a lot like Larry King, laughed as he showed me where the rest of the religious kook-killers sat. Culture Club was playing and I began to panic. That’s when I woke up. Thank Wilford!

Explain 'dem bones, holy homey

Here’s a question for any Christians who believe everything in the Bible is true (I’d call them “fundamentalists”, which was what they used to call themselves, I believe, but the word has a negative association these days):

What about Neanderthals?

If you believe in the Bible, including Genesis, you believe in Creationism, and that means that such a thing as “cavemen” could never have existed; the first men in the Bible, both in Eden (Adam and Eve) and shortly after (Seth, Cain, Noah and so on) are described as civilized, having a society, building cities, and so on.

So, according to Bible-based Creationism, there never was such a thing as Neanderthals living in caves, being more advanced than apes yet less than men. Not to mention that they are supposed to have lived millions of years ago… hey, isn’t the universe just 6000 years old?

But… where do all these fossils come from?

Logically, a Christian would have to accept one of the following:
1. The fossils are all fakes, created by scientists and other “enemies of faith”, to discredit Creationism.
2. God created the fossils to “test our faith”, making them appear much older than they really are, to all scientific tests - not to mention the fact that they are from beings that never actually existed.
3. Genesis is, at least in part, a fictional book.

So… which is it?