The questions have been emailed.......
The answers have been formulated.......
The Yoo-Hoo has been poured..........
Now, after much delay, it is time for the long awaited return of..............
MR. ANSWER GUY!!!
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
At what age should you start talking to your kids about sex?
Allison - Bridgewater
I’m glad you asked. The plan for my daughter is to sit her down, and have an intelligent, open, mature discussion about sex. Then I will, as honestly as possible, answer any questions she may have about it. This will all occur when she is in her late 40’s, and I release her from the tower I’m going to keep her in, in my backyard. If all goes according to plan, though, her skin will be so pale from not seeing the sun and her body will be so disgusting, from never being allowed to bathe, that I’m pretty sure that I won’t have to worry about anyone wanting to have sex with her. At least, that’s the plan right now. Things could change. I could also dig a hole, in my yard, like the one Saddam Hussein was in when they found him. Either way, any boy who looks at my princess in "THAT WAY" will be beaten to death with a blunt object. So, no matter what, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.......I’m sorry........What was the question?
Dear Mr. Answer guy,
Who would win in a tag team fight? Ray Rossi and Michelle P, orDoubledown and Judy?
Ryan- East Hanover
It would depend. In a cage match, I would have to give the edge to Ray and Michelle. They are bigger, and stronger, and the smaller space would serve them well. In an open ring, the nod would go to Judy and Chris. They’re smaller and faster, and the extra space would give them the edge. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I would never allow this to happen, because anything with the words "Judy," "Michelle P," and "tag team" would have to involve ME!!! Ray and Chris can go have their own fun, someplace else.
Mr. Answer guy, why is it I never hear of anymore NJ 101.5 chip clips being given away anymore? Are You Smarter than Ray Rossi is one of the most exciting hours in radio today, the drama and competition are very intense. Hell, you can almost feel the intensity being broadcasted into my car every time. So why no more chip clips? You gotta keep those stakes up high to make sure only the best and brightest are playing!
Fred Hadayia - Somewhere in New Jersey
There is no "one" person to blame, here. Perhaps all of mankind, really. You see, New Jersey 101.5 chip clips are not mass produced. They are a naturally occuring phenomenon, in nature. Due to the effects of global warming, and the destruction of the rain forests near the "New Jersey 101.5 Chip Clip Plantation," in Brazil, the number of chip clips is at an all time low. It’s not just affecting you. People all over the garden state are being forced to deal with stale chips. Add to this the faltering economy, and the fact that people no longer have the disposable income to go out and purchase "fresh chips," and you will understand why the lack of chip clips is rapidly becoming a state wide disaster, worthy of governmental assistance...........Either that, or "Ray The Prize Guy" is too drunk and cheap to order more from the factory in China...........One of those two.
You said that "Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress" by the Hollies was the greatest rock and roll song ever. What’s the greatest album ever?
Paul - South Brunswick
Abbey Road by The Beatles.
This, too, is not open for debate.
Are you gay?
Steve - Somewhere in New Jersey
I’m in a pretty good mood. But, not enough to really be "gay." So, I’d have to say no.
If we started a write-in campaign and voted for you to become Governor, would you do it?
Gail - Pennington
We have a governor who had virtually no political experience, and look how well that’s working out for us. That being said, Whitman and McGreevey had experience and they screwed things up, pretty good, too. So, all things considered, I would have to say yes. I would do it. BUT, only if I got to wear a baseball hat that said "GOV" on it, and I would want several young women, dressed in Roman togas, to fan me and feed me grapes during all public appearances.
Why hasn’t Ray Rossi killed you, yet?
John - Wildwood
Because, if he does, he’ll never find out the location of the storage unit where I’m keeping his daughter.
So I was wondering how hard has it been going back and forth from NJ to St Louis? I feel so bad for you. Are you excited for having a boy? Kate from Gillette
Don’t cry for me, Argentina.....Even though I have made more than 30 trips, back and forth, since last August, I’m fine. In order to pass the time, I used to pretend that I was an air marshal, and would pick out the other passengers that were terrorists and shoot at them.......But, they took my toy gun away, so I can’t do that anymore. Now, I just listen to my iPod. The worst part about the whole thing is that, half the time, when I land I’m in St. Louis. That is one messed up town. But, that’s another blog, for another day......Am I excited about having a boy? You bet. As with my daughter, I just hope I don’t screw it up.
Are you smarter than Ray Rossi?
Jaimn Gallagher - Somewhere in New Jersey
I can’t even tie my own shoes.
Okay "Mr. Answer Guy," you’re stuck on a deserted island, and there is little hope that anyone will find you. What 5 things would you want to have?
Brenda - Hightstown
-Salma Hayek
-Natalie Portman
-Charleze Theron
-Carrie Underwood
-Kate Hudson
Please note that, at this point, were you to FIND me on this deserted island, I would beat you to death with a coconut and sink that boat that you came in. I do not wish to leave.
What makes you think you’re so smart?
Tina - Somewhere in New Jersey
I have a t-shirt that says so.
Has the American dream finally died? Or only in the state of New Jersey? I have a few friends that moved out of this state over the last ten years to places like North Carolina, Oregon, Nevada, Alabama, Virginia, and Illinois and they can actually earn a decent income and afford to live and raise their children in a nice environment and enjoy life. Is Missouri an affordable place to live, too? Thank you. Katie - Morris County, NJ
Of course not. The American Dream is alive and well, in New Jersey. The only problem is that it’s just that. A dream. The reality in New Jersey is rapidly becoming a freaking nightmare, with Jon Corzine in the role of Freddy Krueger. Taxes are too high, and their trying to make them higher. Private jobs are leaving the state at massive levels, and government jobs are actually going up. Housing prices are out of reach for the people who live here, and there is NO ONE new coming to the state to buy them. So, people are stuck in homes they can’t afford, and can’t sell. BUT, it can be fixed if we start voting people out of office who are causing the problems. It’s really not that difficult to fix a bad government. People just to want to do it, for whatever reason. Until people get interested in fixing it, the politicians who run the place are going to keep screwing it up. Period.
As for Missouri....Well.....It’s Missouri......I mean.....Cows are nice.....If you like that sort of thing.
That’s the end.
I’ll be out of town from Friday to Monday. So, there MIGHT not be another blog until Monday. But, you never know.....If I get bored......We’ll see.
Should you have any questions for the NEXT edition of MR. ANSWER GUY just email them to mranswerguy@gmail.com
Now, if you will excuse me, there are Spanish soap operas to watch, and I’m just the man to watch ’em!!!
Casey
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Proof That Recycling Will Kill You!!!!!
I haven’t blogged in a while because, and it’s just a little thing, but my wife tried to kill me, and my right arm hurt.
A few days ago I could have answered the following question, the following way:
Question: "Casey, has your wife ever tried to kill you?"
Answer: "No."
Now, I miss that guy. That simple man, whose view of the world was so simple, and naive. A blind optimist, if you will.
The problem, really, is in the marriage vows. "Love, honor, and obey."
You will notice that it does NOT say, "love, honor, obey, and never try to kill." I’m sure it was probably just a small oversight, at the time. But, as I was laying in my driveway, writhing in pain, hearing the voices of dead relatives telling me to "walk into the light," I thought it was pretty important.
Saturday was a day like any other. The weather was nice, the sun was shining, and I had decided to take my family out to lunch. My wife decided that she wanted to drive, that day. Mind you, I ALWAYS drive. Brooke almost NEVER drives, when we are together. Looking back, I suppose I should have been suspicious. But, like I said, I was being foolish. Love does that to a man. Makes us do silly things.
So, she got into the driver’s seat, my daughter got into the back, and I headed for the passenger side. When I opened my door she said, "Before you get in, can you bring the recycle bins up?"
"Sure," I said.
This SHOULD have been my second clue. I NEVER recycle anything. I don’t believe in global warming, and think it’s a sin to leave a perfectly good landfill half full. So, I throw EVERYTHING away. Including stuff you’re not supposed to throw away. Paint, half used cans of gas, human remains. Sometimes, just to thumb my nose at the hippies, I will buy a newspaper for the sole purpose of throwing it away. So, it was odd that she would ask ME, of all people, to bring up the recycle bins. But, as I said before, I was firmly under the "she-devil’s" spell. I simply did as I was asked, like the mouth-breathing, putz that I am.
That’s when it happened.
I walked around the back of the car, and she threw it into reverse, and hit me. BAM!! Just like that. The force was so powerful that it knocked me......well.....back, a couple of steps, at least. At this point, my wife became very concerned.
Me: "OWWWWWW!!!!"
Brooke: "What?"
Me: "You hit me."
Brooke: "I did not."
Me: "Yes, you did. You HIT me WITH the car!"
Brooke: "I didn’t feel anything."
Me: "That’s because you were IN the car. Not out here, with me, getting hit!"
Brooke: (sighing) "Are you okay?"
Me: "I think my arm is broken."
Brooke: "Your arm isn’t broken. Are you gonna get the recycle bins?"
Me: "I can’t feel my fingers."
Brooke: "Wah, wah, wah. I’m hungry. Let’s go eat."
Me: "I don’t think my arm is supposed to bend this way."
Brooke: "Just get the bins."
I don’t blame my wife for this. She is six months pregnant. For those of you who have never been around a pregnant woman, when they are hungry, they are hungry NOW!!! Not in 10 minutes, not in 5 minutes, and CLEARLY not when I am done getting the recycle bins......NOW!!!!! What part of NOW don’t you understand!?!!
This is why, I believe, my wife hit me with a car. Not JUST a car. A BIG car. A minivan. A minivan with a DVD player, which I believe added extra force to the impact.
Normally, when my wife is NOT pregnant, she almost NEVER hits me with the car, or anything else. But, when she is "in a family way," I become more of a human abuse experiment. Sleeping in the same bed is not unlike going a few rounds with Tyson. Then there’s the whole "attempted murder" thing. You see, I TELL my wife that the reason I wanted to live in New Jersey, while she stayed in Missouri, was so that we wouldn’t have to pull my daughter out of school. In truth, had she moved to New Jersey, I may very well be dead, right now.
Now, I don’t want to go so far as to suggest that pregnant women should be locked up for 9 months. That would be extreme. I’m almost 80% certain that some pregnant women NEVER try to kill their husbands. Though, these are only rumors that I’ve heard. But, some sort of restraint system might be in order. Nothing too unusual. I was thinking along the lines of the system used to restrain Linda Blair, in the "The Exorcist."
It’s just a thought, and NOT one that I will bring up to my wife. At least, not without witnesses around.
Now, if you will excuse me, Brooke just sent me a package........It’s ticking.
Casey
NEXT WEEK, THE RETURN OF "ASK MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!" ANY LAST MINUTE QUESTIONS SHOULD BE SENT TO mranswerguy@gmail.com
A few days ago I could have answered the following question, the following way:
Question: "Casey, has your wife ever tried to kill you?"
Answer: "No."
Now, I miss that guy. That simple man, whose view of the world was so simple, and naive. A blind optimist, if you will.
The problem, really, is in the marriage vows. "Love, honor, and obey."
You will notice that it does NOT say, "love, honor, obey, and never try to kill." I’m sure it was probably just a small oversight, at the time. But, as I was laying in my driveway, writhing in pain, hearing the voices of dead relatives telling me to "walk into the light," I thought it was pretty important.
Saturday was a day like any other. The weather was nice, the sun was shining, and I had decided to take my family out to lunch. My wife decided that she wanted to drive, that day. Mind you, I ALWAYS drive. Brooke almost NEVER drives, when we are together. Looking back, I suppose I should have been suspicious. But, like I said, I was being foolish. Love does that to a man. Makes us do silly things.
So, she got into the driver’s seat, my daughter got into the back, and I headed for the passenger side. When I opened my door she said, "Before you get in, can you bring the recycle bins up?"
"Sure," I said.
This SHOULD have been my second clue. I NEVER recycle anything. I don’t believe in global warming, and think it’s a sin to leave a perfectly good landfill half full. So, I throw EVERYTHING away. Including stuff you’re not supposed to throw away. Paint, half used cans of gas, human remains. Sometimes, just to thumb my nose at the hippies, I will buy a newspaper for the sole purpose of throwing it away. So, it was odd that she would ask ME, of all people, to bring up the recycle bins. But, as I said before, I was firmly under the "she-devil’s" spell. I simply did as I was asked, like the mouth-breathing, putz that I am.
That’s when it happened.
I walked around the back of the car, and she threw it into reverse, and hit me. BAM!! Just like that. The force was so powerful that it knocked me......well.....back, a couple of steps, at least. At this point, my wife became very concerned.
Me: "OWWWWWW!!!!"
Brooke: "What?"
Me: "You hit me."
Brooke: "I did not."
Me: "Yes, you did. You HIT me WITH the car!"
Brooke: "I didn’t feel anything."
Me: "That’s because you were IN the car. Not out here, with me, getting hit!"
Brooke: (sighing) "Are you okay?"
Me: "I think my arm is broken."
Brooke: "Your arm isn’t broken. Are you gonna get the recycle bins?"
Me: "I can’t feel my fingers."
Brooke: "Wah, wah, wah. I’m hungry. Let’s go eat."
Me: "I don’t think my arm is supposed to bend this way."
Brooke: "Just get the bins."
I don’t blame my wife for this. She is six months pregnant. For those of you who have never been around a pregnant woman, when they are hungry, they are hungry NOW!!! Not in 10 minutes, not in 5 minutes, and CLEARLY not when I am done getting the recycle bins......NOW!!!!! What part of NOW don’t you understand!?!!
This is why, I believe, my wife hit me with a car. Not JUST a car. A BIG car. A minivan. A minivan with a DVD player, which I believe added extra force to the impact.
Normally, when my wife is NOT pregnant, she almost NEVER hits me with the car, or anything else. But, when she is "in a family way," I become more of a human abuse experiment. Sleeping in the same bed is not unlike going a few rounds with Tyson. Then there’s the whole "attempted murder" thing. You see, I TELL my wife that the reason I wanted to live in New Jersey, while she stayed in Missouri, was so that we wouldn’t have to pull my daughter out of school. In truth, had she moved to New Jersey, I may very well be dead, right now.
Now, I don’t want to go so far as to suggest that pregnant women should be locked up for 9 months. That would be extreme. I’m almost 80% certain that some pregnant women NEVER try to kill their husbands. Though, these are only rumors that I’ve heard. But, some sort of restraint system might be in order. Nothing too unusual. I was thinking along the lines of the system used to restrain Linda Blair, in the "The Exorcist."
It’s just a thought, and NOT one that I will bring up to my wife. At least, not without witnesses around.
Now, if you will excuse me, Brooke just sent me a package........It’s ticking.
Casey
NEXT WEEK, THE RETURN OF "ASK MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!" ANY LAST MINUTE QUESTIONS SHOULD BE SENT TO mranswerguy@gmail.com
Friday, March 21, 2008
Keep Your Mouth Shut And The Amazon Warriors Won't Kill You
Short of root canal, or driving nails into my own flesh, I would have to say that the thing I hate most of all, on the entire planet, is looking for a house.
The reason for this, I believe, is that my opinion doesn’t matter. I don’t get a vote. As the husband, I am an "un-person."
Do you remember those cell phone commercials, from not too long ago, where the wife keeps asking the husband’s opinion, and then does the exact opposite of what he says? Yeah, that’s my life. Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife, Brooke, and she tries her very best to pretend like she cares what I think. But, at the end of the day, my opinion matters about as much as the lint that you pulled out of your navel, earlier today.
Brooke: Honey, which do you like better? That 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath colonial, with the 3 car garage, and the in-ground pool, or that pit of poisonous snakes?
Me: Well, I just kind of thought that the house would be better. You know, for the kids and all.....
Brooke: Really? Because, I was thinking that the snake pit would be nice. Sort of different, you know?
Me: Well, wouldn’t they bite us?
Brooke: (Annoyed Sigh) You are a wimp, who talks like a muppet.
Me: Yes dear.
Brooke: Go do the laundry.
Me: Yes dear.
Brooke: And, stop talking back to me.
Me: Ye.......Sorry.
This isn’t always the case. When we AREN’T looking for a house, I am free to stumble through my daily routine, and try not to hurt myself, or those around me. I like it this way. We’ve been married for 11 years, and I have settled into the arrangement. BUT, when we start looking at places to live. We don’t see eye to eye. Honestly, I think my wife forgets WHO she’s married to.
She sees ugly walls, and says we can paint them.
I hate painting.
She sees ugly floors, and says that we can put Pergo in (whatever that is.) PLUS, we can do it ourselves, to save money.
The last home improvement project I started was two years ago. It’s still not done, and as of now all signs point to professionals needing to be called in.
She sees a one car garage, and says that we can make it work.
This is code for: "Casey gets to park in the snow."
Then, and this is one of my favorite parts, we have to think about "resale."
We haven’t even BOUGHT the house, yet, and we’re already thinking about selling it? Why don’t we stay awhile, and see if we like the place, before we start thinking about selling it.
So, Brooke starts thinking about ways to improve the house for the NEXT owners.
Brooke: If we buy this place, we should put in granite counter tops.
Me: What’s wrong with the counter tops that are there?
Brooke: Nothing. But, when we go to sell it, it will sell faster if we have the upgrades.
Me: Oh....Wait....Sell it? We haven’t even bought it, yet.
Brooke: I know. But, more people will want to buy it if it has granite counter tops.
Me: But, WE might want to buy it, and it doesn’t have granite counter tops. If that’s so important, why don’t we find one that already has granite counter tops?
Brooke: Because they might not be the color that I like.
Me: Oh....But, if WE put them in they might not be the color that somebody else likes, and that could keep THEM from buying the house from US.
Brooke: Is the laundry done, yet?
Me: No....Sorry.
The only family member that my wife will listen to, in matters like this, is my mother-in-law. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother-in-law, and we have no issues.......Other than the fact that I married her daughter, and took her to another state so that she could never see her.
But, when my wife and I are together we are husband and wife. When my mother-in-law comes to town, my wife reverts back into "daughter mode." Then, as if by magic, I become the most annoying creature on the face of the planet:
THE BOYFRIEND WHO WON’T GO HOME!!!!!
If I suggest someplace to go for dinner, I am glared at.
If I try and watch something that I like, on TV (Buffy The Vampire Slayer?), I get the remote taken away from me.
If I dare to make some sort of "house" suggestion, I am savagely beaten to within an inch of my life by these two amazon warriors......They are both very tall.....Worse yet, they let my daughter watch. They call it "training." I don’t think I like that.
So, I try and keep my mouth shut. But, they keep pretending to WANT my opinion.
The problem is that inherently, as a male, I don’t need a house. I need a cave. I don’t care about the size of the bedrooms, or the number of closets, or the proximity to schools. As long as there is a soft pile of dirt in the corner, for me to sleep on, I am perfectly happy.
Those were the good old days. You found a cave you liked, and you took it. If another caveman already lived there, you would beat him over the head with your club, and make a loin cloth out of his flesh. You didn’t get into a bidding war, with anyone. The guy with the biggest club won. Period.
Just try doing that, today!!! Beat a guy over the head, with your club, and take his house. You know what would happen? Some scummy real estate agent would come in and charge you a 4 percent commission, based on an existing contract, on top of another 2 percent late fee for not have your club notarized, by a licensed notary IN their office. Then, there’s the whole "blood/murder" issue. But, still.......
Nope. You can’t do things like they did in the good old days, when men were men, and the law was what we wanted it to be, as we went along.
Sad, really.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go finish the laundry.
Casey
The reason for this, I believe, is that my opinion doesn’t matter. I don’t get a vote. As the husband, I am an "un-person."
Do you remember those cell phone commercials, from not too long ago, where the wife keeps asking the husband’s opinion, and then does the exact opposite of what he says? Yeah, that’s my life. Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife, Brooke, and she tries her very best to pretend like she cares what I think. But, at the end of the day, my opinion matters about as much as the lint that you pulled out of your navel, earlier today.
Brooke: Honey, which do you like better? That 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath colonial, with the 3 car garage, and the in-ground pool, or that pit of poisonous snakes?
Me: Well, I just kind of thought that the house would be better. You know, for the kids and all.....
Brooke: Really? Because, I was thinking that the snake pit would be nice. Sort of different, you know?
Me: Well, wouldn’t they bite us?
Brooke: (Annoyed Sigh) You are a wimp, who talks like a muppet.
Me: Yes dear.
Brooke: Go do the laundry.
Me: Yes dear.
Brooke: And, stop talking back to me.
Me: Ye.......Sorry.
This isn’t always the case. When we AREN’T looking for a house, I am free to stumble through my daily routine, and try not to hurt myself, or those around me. I like it this way. We’ve been married for 11 years, and I have settled into the arrangement. BUT, when we start looking at places to live. We don’t see eye to eye. Honestly, I think my wife forgets WHO she’s married to.
She sees ugly walls, and says we can paint them.
I hate painting.
She sees ugly floors, and says that we can put Pergo in (whatever that is.) PLUS, we can do it ourselves, to save money.
The last home improvement project I started was two years ago. It’s still not done, and as of now all signs point to professionals needing to be called in.
She sees a one car garage, and says that we can make it work.
This is code for: "Casey gets to park in the snow."
Then, and this is one of my favorite parts, we have to think about "resale."
We haven’t even BOUGHT the house, yet, and we’re already thinking about selling it? Why don’t we stay awhile, and see if we like the place, before we start thinking about selling it.
So, Brooke starts thinking about ways to improve the house for the NEXT owners.
Brooke: If we buy this place, we should put in granite counter tops.
Me: What’s wrong with the counter tops that are there?
Brooke: Nothing. But, when we go to sell it, it will sell faster if we have the upgrades.
Me: Oh....Wait....Sell it? We haven’t even bought it, yet.
Brooke: I know. But, more people will want to buy it if it has granite counter tops.
Me: But, WE might want to buy it, and it doesn’t have granite counter tops. If that’s so important, why don’t we find one that already has granite counter tops?
Brooke: Because they might not be the color that I like.
Me: Oh....But, if WE put them in they might not be the color that somebody else likes, and that could keep THEM from buying the house from US.
Brooke: Is the laundry done, yet?
Me: No....Sorry.
The only family member that my wife will listen to, in matters like this, is my mother-in-law. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother-in-law, and we have no issues.......Other than the fact that I married her daughter, and took her to another state so that she could never see her.
But, when my wife and I are together we are husband and wife. When my mother-in-law comes to town, my wife reverts back into "daughter mode." Then, as if by magic, I become the most annoying creature on the face of the planet:
THE BOYFRIEND WHO WON’T GO HOME!!!!!
If I suggest someplace to go for dinner, I am glared at.
If I try and watch something that I like, on TV (Buffy The Vampire Slayer?), I get the remote taken away from me.
If I dare to make some sort of "house" suggestion, I am savagely beaten to within an inch of my life by these two amazon warriors......They are both very tall.....Worse yet, they let my daughter watch. They call it "training." I don’t think I like that.
So, I try and keep my mouth shut. But, they keep pretending to WANT my opinion.
The problem is that inherently, as a male, I don’t need a house. I need a cave. I don’t care about the size of the bedrooms, or the number of closets, or the proximity to schools. As long as there is a soft pile of dirt in the corner, for me to sleep on, I am perfectly happy.
Those were the good old days. You found a cave you liked, and you took it. If another caveman already lived there, you would beat him over the head with your club, and make a loin cloth out of his flesh. You didn’t get into a bidding war, with anyone. The guy with the biggest club won. Period.
Just try doing that, today!!! Beat a guy over the head, with your club, and take his house. You know what would happen? Some scummy real estate agent would come in and charge you a 4 percent commission, based on an existing contract, on top of another 2 percent late fee for not have your club notarized, by a licensed notary IN their office. Then, there’s the whole "blood/murder" issue. But, still.......
Nope. You can’t do things like they did in the good old days, when men were men, and the law was what we wanted it to be, as we went along.
Sad, really.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go finish the laundry.
Casey
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Let My People Go.......
If I could have everybody's attention, please. I would like to read a brief statement. This should only take a moment.
Ready?
Good. Here it is.
I HAVE TRIED KETCHUP, AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.
Now, if any of you have any questions, I would be happy to field them.
You see, I recently went to an unnamed fast food restaurant, and ordered some food. It went something like this:
Yes, I will have a #6, plain, with a diet coke, please.
I know what you're thinking. "Isn't it kind of stupid to go to a fast food restaurant, and get a bag of disgusting, fat-filled food, and order a diet coke with it?" It is. It sort of reminds me of when I used to work at an ice cream parlor, and people would order a root beer float, but want me to make it with diet coke, instead. As though the ice cream and the diet coke would cancel each other out, and it would be like eating air, only it would taste better.
But, that's another column for another time.
No, I order my food plain. Dry. Meat, or meat-like substance, and bun. Period. I don't like "things" on my food. The problem with this is that people think that I'm kidding. They think that I have made some kind of mistake, while ordering, and that it is now their duty, as a member of the food service industry, to correct it for me. Either that, or they think that I'm 4, and I have simply never tried the "thing" that they have decided to put on my food.
When I have to take it back, which is about 70% of the time, the answer is always the same.
BUT, IT'S JUST_____________.
That's what I get.
"It's just ketchup"
I don't like ketchup.
"It's just mustard."
I don't like mustard.
"It's just cheese."
I......DON'T.......LIKE.......CHEESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, of course, they have to ask the next obvious question.
"Have you ever tried ketchup?"
Yes. I don't like it.
"Have you ever tried mustard?"
Yes. I DON'T like it.
"Have you ever tried cheese?"
YES............I.......DON'T........LIKE.........IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know that there are others like me. We are the last group that it seems "okay" to discriminate against. There are laws protecting people who are mistreated due to their race, religion, sexuality, or if they think Dane Cook is funny (he's not.)
But, if you choose to openly display your hatred against MY kind, the ketchup/mustard/cheese/relish/pickle/tomato/mayonnaise/lettuce hating minority, well you are free to let loose. There are no laws that protect us. In fact, you are free to openly try and DECEIVE us.
If you're like me, and I know there are only a few of us. But, how many times have you told someone that you didn't like, say, lettuce? What's their response? "It doesn't have any flavor." Do we look stupid? If it doesn't have any flavor, then why do you put it on a burger? Nails don't have any flavor!!! Why don't you put some of THOSE on your burger, huh? HA!!!!! FOOLS!!!!!!
Someone once told me that they put lettuce, and pickles, and such on their burgers for texture. Texture? On your food? Texture is for paint. Food is to enjoy. How can you only enjoy something that tastes like SOMETHING ELSE in your mouth? It makes no sense.
It's gotten so bad for some of "my kind" that they've actually started ordering food with all the stuff ON IT. Then, they go into a dark, back corner of the restaurant and try to scrape all the stuff off. It never works, though. You can still taste the "ketchup residue," or the "mustard residue." It makes eating unpleasant. Some of us have even died, from starvation, rather that face the public ridicule of having to order something, "plain."
We are forced to live in the shadows. I, myself, have even turned my back on my people, on occasion. More than once I have denied my "true self," and told some waiter or waitress that I was "allergic" to cheese, or something, in order to make sure that they wouldn't put it on my food. I would rather make them think that they might kill me, than tell them that I simply didn't like something. In truth, it does kill me. A little bit more, each time I have to tell those lies.
Why did God make me like this? Probably because he has warped sense of humor. How else do you explain Ron Paul?
When you see us out in public, just leave us alone. We're not trying to hurt anybody. We're just trying to live our lives. We don't want any trouble. WE ARE NOT ANIMALS............WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!!!!!
.....Who don't like ketchup.......Or, is it catsup?........I've seen it both ways.......What the heck is the difference, anyway?
Casey
Ready?
Good. Here it is.
I HAVE TRIED KETCHUP, AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.
Now, if any of you have any questions, I would be happy to field them.
You see, I recently went to an unnamed fast food restaurant, and ordered some food. It went something like this:
Yes, I will have a #6, plain, with a diet coke, please.
I know what you're thinking. "Isn't it kind of stupid to go to a fast food restaurant, and get a bag of disgusting, fat-filled food, and order a diet coke with it?" It is. It sort of reminds me of when I used to work at an ice cream parlor, and people would order a root beer float, but want me to make it with diet coke, instead. As though the ice cream and the diet coke would cancel each other out, and it would be like eating air, only it would taste better.
But, that's another column for another time.
No, I order my food plain. Dry. Meat, or meat-like substance, and bun. Period. I don't like "things" on my food. The problem with this is that people think that I'm kidding. They think that I have made some kind of mistake, while ordering, and that it is now their duty, as a member of the food service industry, to correct it for me. Either that, or they think that I'm 4, and I have simply never tried the "thing" that they have decided to put on my food.
When I have to take it back, which is about 70% of the time, the answer is always the same.
BUT, IT'S JUST_____________.
That's what I get.
"It's just ketchup"
I don't like ketchup.
"It's just mustard."
I don't like mustard.
"It's just cheese."
I......DON'T.......LIKE.......CHEESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, of course, they have to ask the next obvious question.
"Have you ever tried ketchup?"
Yes. I don't like it.
"Have you ever tried mustard?"
Yes. I DON'T like it.
"Have you ever tried cheese?"
YES............I.......DON'T........LIKE.........IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know that there are others like me. We are the last group that it seems "okay" to discriminate against. There are laws protecting people who are mistreated due to their race, religion, sexuality, or if they think Dane Cook is funny (he's not.)
But, if you choose to openly display your hatred against MY kind, the ketchup/mustard/cheese/relish/pickle/tomato/mayonnaise/lettuce hating minority, well you are free to let loose. There are no laws that protect us. In fact, you are free to openly try and DECEIVE us.
If you're like me, and I know there are only a few of us. But, how many times have you told someone that you didn't like, say, lettuce? What's their response? "It doesn't have any flavor." Do we look stupid? If it doesn't have any flavor, then why do you put it on a burger? Nails don't have any flavor!!! Why don't you put some of THOSE on your burger, huh? HA!!!!! FOOLS!!!!!!
Someone once told me that they put lettuce, and pickles, and such on their burgers for texture. Texture? On your food? Texture is for paint. Food is to enjoy. How can you only enjoy something that tastes like SOMETHING ELSE in your mouth? It makes no sense.
It's gotten so bad for some of "my kind" that they've actually started ordering food with all the stuff ON IT. Then, they go into a dark, back corner of the restaurant and try to scrape all the stuff off. It never works, though. You can still taste the "ketchup residue," or the "mustard residue." It makes eating unpleasant. Some of us have even died, from starvation, rather that face the public ridicule of having to order something, "plain."
We are forced to live in the shadows. I, myself, have even turned my back on my people, on occasion. More than once I have denied my "true self," and told some waiter or waitress that I was "allergic" to cheese, or something, in order to make sure that they wouldn't put it on my food. I would rather make them think that they might kill me, than tell them that I simply didn't like something. In truth, it does kill me. A little bit more, each time I have to tell those lies.
Why did God make me like this? Probably because he has warped sense of humor. How else do you explain Ron Paul?
When you see us out in public, just leave us alone. We're not trying to hurt anybody. We're just trying to live our lives. We don't want any trouble. WE ARE NOT ANIMALS............WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!!!!!
.....Who don't like ketchup.......Or, is it catsup?........I've seen it both ways.......What the heck is the difference, anyway?
Casey
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
My Replacement Is Coming......
I'm going to be a dad............
AGAIN................
At 38!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What, in the name of all things holy, was I thinking about!?!!
A brief moment of passion...........I heard that.................and the next 18 years of my life, minimum, are now going to be dictated by forces beyond my control.
We've decided to name these forces Max.
Max currently resides in a womb, deep within my wife's innards. Several thousand times a day my wife will make a noise that goes like this......."Oh.....Oooooooooooo........" This means that Max is doing some form of "womb acrobatics," and causing Brooke a level of, shall we say, discomfort. So, since he is VERY active while he's in the womb, I have no reason to believe that he won't be VERY active once he works his way out.
I was 30 when we had my daughter, Spenser. It was a good age. The world, and myself, were still young and full of promise. I thought nothing of bouncing out of bed at 7am, to be with my new daughter and show her all that this big, wonderful world had to offer. In short, like most new parents, I was an idiot.
We would show Spenser a leaf, and give her one to hold.............And we would video it!!!!!!!
We would show her rocks, and give her some to hold..................And we would video it!!!!!!
We would bundle her up, and taker her outside in the snow and rain........Again with the stinkin' video!!!!!
I drive around, and I see people do that. "FOOLS!!!!" I say. "You will NEVER look at those stupid videos!!!!" Then, they go inside and call the police. So, I have to leave.
My daughter is JUST NOW at the point where she can get out of bed, by herself, brush her teeth and hair, put on an outfit that doesn't match (she has my fashion sense), and go downstairs and pour herself a bowl of cereal. It is a glorious parental achievement, of which my wife and I are very proud.
Me? Up at 7am? Hardly.
I don't even think that the sun gets up at 7am. Even if it does, I really don't think it can be healthy for people to be up and about that early. I avoid the sun like a vampire who's lost track of time.
Nope. Now, I stay in bed until about 10am, on a good day. I'll put on my Tigger robe (it was a gift..shut up), and head downstairs to see what my wife is going to make me do, today. Then, at around noon, I'll take a shower and we'll do something for lunch. Then, I'll watch TV for a few hours, and we'll go to dinner. Then, I'll watch TV for a few more hours, and I'll go to bed. And, the cycle starts all over again. I've gotten it down to a science.
I am already referring to these days as my "mad, impetuous, youth." The crazy days, if you will.
But, Max is coming, and I am OLD.
When he's 12, I'll be 50!!!!!!!!
When he's 18, and graduating from high school, I'll be 56!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My wife, by this point, will have left me for a much younger, much better looking guy. Then my nurse, who does not speak english, and leaves me sitting in my own filth for several hours a day, will clip on my tie and drive me down to the graduation ceremony. I won't recognize anybody, and I'll just smile and wave, as a line of drool works its way down my face. My daughter, who will be a successful singer/animal doctor/teacher/police woman/artist (her choices, not mine) will be there, with her philanthropist husband, and my own grandchildren will be afraid of me because I, "smell funny."
Then my boy, Max, will take the stage as the class valedictorian (I had to spell check that), and thank everyone, singling out me. "That weird guy, with the gray beard, who always complained about having to get up so early." At this point I'll smile. Not because my son made me proud. More than likely because my nurse will have given me a ball, with a bell inside, to keep me quiet during the ceremony. But, still, I'll smile.
I'm going to try and avoid this, of course.
I will get out of bed early.....My wife will make me.
I will watch The Wiggles, or whatever annoying, brightly colored, happy song singing freaks are all the rage in two years. (Side note: I have seen The Wiggles live, in concert....Swear to God.)
I might try and cut some corners, though. I will be old, and cranky. Instead of taking him outside, maybe I’ll just grab a bunch of rocks, leaves, ice, and water and toss it in his crib.
"There," I’ll say. "Rocks, leaves, snow, and rain. Now, for crying out loud, go back to sleep!!!!"
Of course, I will video the whole thing.
Casey
AGAIN................
At 38!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What, in the name of all things holy, was I thinking about!?!!
A brief moment of passion...........I heard that.................and the next 18 years of my life, minimum, are now going to be dictated by forces beyond my control.
We've decided to name these forces Max.
Max currently resides in a womb, deep within my wife's innards. Several thousand times a day my wife will make a noise that goes like this......."Oh.....Oooooooooooo........" This means that Max is doing some form of "womb acrobatics," and causing Brooke a level of, shall we say, discomfort. So, since he is VERY active while he's in the womb, I have no reason to believe that he won't be VERY active once he works his way out.
I was 30 when we had my daughter, Spenser. It was a good age. The world, and myself, were still young and full of promise. I thought nothing of bouncing out of bed at 7am, to be with my new daughter and show her all that this big, wonderful world had to offer. In short, like most new parents, I was an idiot.
We would show Spenser a leaf, and give her one to hold.............And we would video it!!!!!!!
We would show her rocks, and give her some to hold..................And we would video it!!!!!!
We would bundle her up, and taker her outside in the snow and rain........Again with the stinkin' video!!!!!
I drive around, and I see people do that. "FOOLS!!!!" I say. "You will NEVER look at those stupid videos!!!!" Then, they go inside and call the police. So, I have to leave.
My daughter is JUST NOW at the point where she can get out of bed, by herself, brush her teeth and hair, put on an outfit that doesn't match (she has my fashion sense), and go downstairs and pour herself a bowl of cereal. It is a glorious parental achievement, of which my wife and I are very proud.
Me? Up at 7am? Hardly.
I don't even think that the sun gets up at 7am. Even if it does, I really don't think it can be healthy for people to be up and about that early. I avoid the sun like a vampire who's lost track of time.
Nope. Now, I stay in bed until about 10am, on a good day. I'll put on my Tigger robe (it was a gift..shut up), and head downstairs to see what my wife is going to make me do, today. Then, at around noon, I'll take a shower and we'll do something for lunch. Then, I'll watch TV for a few hours, and we'll go to dinner. Then, I'll watch TV for a few more hours, and I'll go to bed. And, the cycle starts all over again. I've gotten it down to a science.
I am already referring to these days as my "mad, impetuous, youth." The crazy days, if you will.
But, Max is coming, and I am OLD.
When he's 12, I'll be 50!!!!!!!!
When he's 18, and graduating from high school, I'll be 56!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My wife, by this point, will have left me for a much younger, much better looking guy. Then my nurse, who does not speak english, and leaves me sitting in my own filth for several hours a day, will clip on my tie and drive me down to the graduation ceremony. I won't recognize anybody, and I'll just smile and wave, as a line of drool works its way down my face. My daughter, who will be a successful singer/animal doctor/teacher/police woman/artist (her choices, not mine) will be there, with her philanthropist husband, and my own grandchildren will be afraid of me because I, "smell funny."
Then my boy, Max, will take the stage as the class valedictorian (I had to spell check that), and thank everyone, singling out me. "That weird guy, with the gray beard, who always complained about having to get up so early." At this point I'll smile. Not because my son made me proud. More than likely because my nurse will have given me a ball, with a bell inside, to keep me quiet during the ceremony. But, still, I'll smile.
I'm going to try and avoid this, of course.
I will get out of bed early.....My wife will make me.
I will watch The Wiggles, or whatever annoying, brightly colored, happy song singing freaks are all the rage in two years. (Side note: I have seen The Wiggles live, in concert....Swear to God.)
I might try and cut some corners, though. I will be old, and cranky. Instead of taking him outside, maybe I’ll just grab a bunch of rocks, leaves, ice, and water and toss it in his crib.
"There," I’ll say. "Rocks, leaves, snow, and rain. Now, for crying out loud, go back to sleep!!!!"
Of course, I will video the whole thing.
Casey
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hard News...........
This just in to the WSUK newsroom.........New York Governor Eliot Spitzer has announced that he has partaken of the prostitutional fruit, and is resigning his office........Now, here's WSUK anchor-stud, Rex Hardman........
(Overproduced Musical Flourish)
Rex:
Good afternoon. I'm Rex Hardman.
If you're just tuning in, the Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, has resigned his office due to a scandal involving a high-priced call girl......Whom I have never met, and have absolutely no knowledge of.....I swear to God.......At this juncture, while maintaining the privacy and dignity of the Spitzer children, one does have to wonder what affect this is having on the family.
For more on this developing story, let's go to our street reporter, Jennifer Hottington. Jennifer, what is the situation outside the Spitzer home?
Jennifer:
Thanks Rex. The situation outside the Spitzer home is almost circus-like, in nature. While we, at WSUK, are attempting to allow the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, to maintain some level of dignity, members of the so-called "drive-by media" are here in full force.
Now, if my cameraman will pan his camera to the side, here, you can see that there are literally hundreds of quote/unquote "reporters," and their cameramen, simply trying to cash in on the hype, and commercialize this very private situation for the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children.
Rex:
It really is a sad statement on society, isn't it?
Jennifer:
It truly is, Rex.
Rex:
Jennifer, do you know what time these "tabloid" reporters started lining up?
Jennifer:
Well, Rex, we've been camped out here for 3 days, and several of these "opportunists" arrived shortly after that. At one point it got so crowded that I was forced to contact a security person, whose name I don't recall, and flash him my breasts in order to get a spot with a good camera angle, right here in front.
Rex:
It really is a sad statement on society, that some of these, so-called, journalists simply refuse to give the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, the time and space they need to heal.
Jennifer:
It truly is, Rex.
Rex:
Thank you, Jennifer.
And, that really is the story, now. Aside from their father betraying their mother with a high priced hooker, whose name and face they won't be able to avoid.........That's the picture on your screen, right now, of the hooker, whose name is Ashley Alexandra Dupre.......But, with the name and picture being splashed all over the tabloid media, how will the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, be able to heal? For a unique perspective, let's head to the skies with WSUK's very own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1.
Captain Dave, what have you been able to learn from your vantage point?
Captain Dave:
Well, Rex, it's been a little difficult. Several of the low-lifes', from the tabloids, have been recklessly flying around in "mercenary" helicopters in order to try to get even a passing glimpse of one of the Spitzer children, so that they can cash in on it. But, it really does make things pretty dangerous up here for those of us in the legitimate news-copters. Not to mention, Rex, the frustration, and the sadness that people can't help but feel for the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, at having to see that hooker's face plastered all over the tabloids.
Rex:
It really is a tragedy, of sorts, in and of itself, Captain Dave. AND, if you're just tuning in, while we're talking to WSUK's "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1, the image on your screen is that of Ashley Alexandra Dupre, the high paid hooker who brought down the Democratic Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer. At this point in time, one can only feel the pain of the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children......
Captain Dave:
Rex, are you still with me?
Rex:
We're here, Captain Dave.
Captain Dave:
Rex, I have a WSUK, SKY-SUK-1, SUPER EXCLUSIVE!!!!!
Rex:
What is it, Captain Dave!?!
Captain Dave:
Rex, during my last rotation at the Spitzer's apartment window, I was pointing my SKY-CAM inside, in order to try to get a feel for the sadness that the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, must be feeling. As I zoomed in on the window, I was able to catch the face of a young girl, presumably one of the Spitzer children, looking out. She appeared to be crying, and mouthing the words, "GO AWAY." It's a little grainy. I don't know if you can see it back at the studio. But, this is the obvious frustration that a young girl, whose family is falling apart, is feeling about all these paparazzi style reporters, in the other helicopters, trying to cash in on their pain.........And I do want to remind everybody, again, that this is a WSUK, SKY-SUK-1, exclusive video, that you will not see on ANY of those tabloid shows.
Rex:
Captain Dave, we are seeing that video, clearly. It does appear that the girl is crying AND, in fact, mouthing the words, "GO AWAY."
If you're just tuning in to WSUK, we are covering the resignation of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, and the effect this is having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children. On the left side of your screen is a picture of the high priced hooker, Ashley Alexandra Dupre, and on the right side is a continuous loop of an exclusive WSUK, SKY-SUK-1 video that was just captured by our own "Captain Dave." It appears to show one of the Spitzer children crying uncontrollably, and mouthing the words "GO AWAY" to the tabloid media that is in the area........By the way, the music you are hearing, softly, in the background, is Ashley Alexandra Dupre's new single, which is available for download on the WSUK website....
For more on this tragic video.......Uh.....In the booth?.......Can we just run that video, over and over and over again, until people start to choke on their own vomit?.........We can?........Good............For more on this gut wrenching video, which you will only see on WSUK, let's go to our field reporter, Dirk Smoothly......
Dirk, do you have any information for us?
Dirk: (whispering)
Rex, I don't know if you can hear me. But, I'm in the air vent, directly above the young Spitzer girl's room. At this time, I can verify that the young girl is crying, uncontrollably, and did, in fact, scream the words, "GO AWAY," at the tabloid, paparazzi, scum-sucking, reporters that are just outside her window, along with "Captain Dave..............."
WHOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH...........................A WSUK EXCLUSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rex:
If you're just tuning in, WSUK has just learned, from our own Dirk Smoothly, who's in an air vent in one of the Spitzer daughter's bedrooms, that exclusive video taken by our own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1, does in fact show one of the Spitzer daughters crying, and screaming the words "GO AWAY" at the tabloid reporters who are flying right alongside our own "Captain Dave."
Dirk, are you still there?
Dirk?
Have we lost Dirk?
Dirk?
Are you there, Dirk?
Do we still have the signal?
Dirk?
Can you hear me Dirk?
Okay.....
I believe we've lost Di......wait.......
Dirk?
Are you there, Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
Do we still have Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
We seem to have lost contact with Dirk Smoothly.
If you're just tuning in, we're continuing our coverage of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer's resignation, and the affect it's having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children.........Let's head back down to Jennifer Hottington.......Jennifer, do you have any new information for us.
Jennifer:
Rex, I've made my way to the rear of the building, in order to get some clean air away from all the vile, mouth breathing, tabloid, boogers who refuse to give the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, a moment of peace.
Rex:
I can understand that, Jennifer.
Jennifer:
And, while I was back here, Rex, I was able to dig through the garbage, and find a bag that appears to have come from the Spitzer household.
Rex:
Is there anything in it, Jennifer?
Jennifer:
Rex, there is lots and lots of used tissues......One can only assume that they are covered in the tears, and snot, of the Spitzer family, as they try to maintain their privacy, and work through what must be a very difficult time..........However, REAL journalists don't have the luxury of making assumptions, Rex. So, I'm going to bring these tissues back to the WSUK science editor, Dr. Quad Triceps. Hopefully, he will be able to reveal to us if these are the tissues of a common cold.......Or, the tissues of a family, in particular the children, going through a personal Hell.
Rex:
We look forward to that report, Jennifer.
I'm being told that we have Dirk Smoothly back.
Dirk, are you with us?
Dirk:
I'm here, Rex.
Rex:
Do you have any new information for us.
Dirk:
Yes, Rex, I do.
Rex:
What do you have Dirk?
Dirk:
I have the Spitzer's youngest daughter, Rex.
WHOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH...........................A WSUK EXCLUSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rex:
If you're just tuning in, you're watching a WSUK exclusive report on the resignation of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, for visiting a hooker, and the negative impact that the tabloid media is having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, and their ability to heal from this. On the right third of your screen is a picture of the hooker, Ashley Alexandra Dupre, on the left third is a constant loop of a 4 second video taken by our own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1 of one of the Spitzer's children, crying uncontrollably, and mouthing the words "GO AWAY," to the tabloid media. Now, in the middle third of your screen, is a WSUK poll asking you if you think the tabloid media goes to far in covering these types of stories. To vote, log on to WSUK.com.
We're talking with our reporter, Dirk Smoothly, who has an exclusive interview with one of the Spitzer's daughters.
Dirk, what has she told you, so far?
Dirk:
Uh....Nothing.
Rex:
What?
Dirk:
Rex, using a combination of hand-to-hand combat skills that I learned at an executive retreat, and an entire bottle of chloroform, I was able to abduct the young girl, and am currently working my way through the ventilation ducts, and down to my car. At that point, I will take her to the WSUK safe house, in Piscataway, New Jersey. There, she'll be safe from the tabloid blah, blah blah.............
Rex:
Excellent reporting, Dirk. Keep it tuned to WSUK, and we'll bring you that report as soon as Dirk gets to Jersey.
Dirk, while you're in Jersey, see if you can hook up with the prostitute's family, before the paparazzi.......uhhhh............Oh, screw it.....
You've been watching a WSUK exclusive report...............We now join the Jerry Springer Show, already in progress.
(Overproduced Musical Flourish)
Rex:
Good afternoon. I'm Rex Hardman.
If you're just tuning in, the Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, has resigned his office due to a scandal involving a high-priced call girl......Whom I have never met, and have absolutely no knowledge of.....I swear to God.......At this juncture, while maintaining the privacy and dignity of the Spitzer children, one does have to wonder what affect this is having on the family.
For more on this developing story, let's go to our street reporter, Jennifer Hottington. Jennifer, what is the situation outside the Spitzer home?
Jennifer:
Thanks Rex. The situation outside the Spitzer home is almost circus-like, in nature. While we, at WSUK, are attempting to allow the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, to maintain some level of dignity, members of the so-called "drive-by media" are here in full force.
Now, if my cameraman will pan his camera to the side, here, you can see that there are literally hundreds of quote/unquote "reporters," and their cameramen, simply trying to cash in on the hype, and commercialize this very private situation for the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children.
Rex:
It really is a sad statement on society, isn't it?
Jennifer:
It truly is, Rex.
Rex:
Jennifer, do you know what time these "tabloid" reporters started lining up?
Jennifer:
Well, Rex, we've been camped out here for 3 days, and several of these "opportunists" arrived shortly after that. At one point it got so crowded that I was forced to contact a security person, whose name I don't recall, and flash him my breasts in order to get a spot with a good camera angle, right here in front.
Rex:
It really is a sad statement on society, that some of these, so-called, journalists simply refuse to give the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, the time and space they need to heal.
Jennifer:
It truly is, Rex.
Rex:
Thank you, Jennifer.
And, that really is the story, now. Aside from their father betraying their mother with a high priced hooker, whose name and face they won't be able to avoid.........That's the picture on your screen, right now, of the hooker, whose name is Ashley Alexandra Dupre.......But, with the name and picture being splashed all over the tabloid media, how will the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, be able to heal? For a unique perspective, let's head to the skies with WSUK's very own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1.
Captain Dave, what have you been able to learn from your vantage point?
Captain Dave:
Well, Rex, it's been a little difficult. Several of the low-lifes', from the tabloids, have been recklessly flying around in "mercenary" helicopters in order to try to get even a passing glimpse of one of the Spitzer children, so that they can cash in on it. But, it really does make things pretty dangerous up here for those of us in the legitimate news-copters. Not to mention, Rex, the frustration, and the sadness that people can't help but feel for the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, at having to see that hooker's face plastered all over the tabloids.
Rex:
It really is a tragedy, of sorts, in and of itself, Captain Dave. AND, if you're just tuning in, while we're talking to WSUK's "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1, the image on your screen is that of Ashley Alexandra Dupre, the high paid hooker who brought down the Democratic Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer. At this point in time, one can only feel the pain of the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children......
Captain Dave:
Rex, are you still with me?
Rex:
We're here, Captain Dave.
Captain Dave:
Rex, I have a WSUK, SKY-SUK-1, SUPER EXCLUSIVE!!!!!
Rex:
What is it, Captain Dave!?!
Captain Dave:
Rex, during my last rotation at the Spitzer's apartment window, I was pointing my SKY-CAM inside, in order to try to get a feel for the sadness that the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, must be feeling. As I zoomed in on the window, I was able to catch the face of a young girl, presumably one of the Spitzer children, looking out. She appeared to be crying, and mouthing the words, "GO AWAY." It's a little grainy. I don't know if you can see it back at the studio. But, this is the obvious frustration that a young girl, whose family is falling apart, is feeling about all these paparazzi style reporters, in the other helicopters, trying to cash in on their pain.........And I do want to remind everybody, again, that this is a WSUK, SKY-SUK-1, exclusive video, that you will not see on ANY of those tabloid shows.
Rex:
Captain Dave, we are seeing that video, clearly. It does appear that the girl is crying AND, in fact, mouthing the words, "GO AWAY."
If you're just tuning in to WSUK, we are covering the resignation of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, and the effect this is having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children. On the left side of your screen is a picture of the high priced hooker, Ashley Alexandra Dupre, and on the right side is a continuous loop of an exclusive WSUK, SKY-SUK-1 video that was just captured by our own "Captain Dave." It appears to show one of the Spitzer children crying uncontrollably, and mouthing the words "GO AWAY" to the tabloid media that is in the area........By the way, the music you are hearing, softly, in the background, is Ashley Alexandra Dupre's new single, which is available for download on the WSUK website....
For more on this tragic video.......Uh.....In the booth?.......Can we just run that video, over and over and over again, until people start to choke on their own vomit?.........We can?........Good............For more on this gut wrenching video, which you will only see on WSUK, let's go to our field reporter, Dirk Smoothly......
Dirk, do you have any information for us?
Dirk: (whispering)
Rex, I don't know if you can hear me. But, I'm in the air vent, directly above the young Spitzer girl's room. At this time, I can verify that the young girl is crying, uncontrollably, and did, in fact, scream the words, "GO AWAY," at the tabloid, paparazzi, scum-sucking, reporters that are just outside her window, along with "Captain Dave..............."
WHOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH...........................A WSUK EXCLUSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rex:
If you're just tuning in, WSUK has just learned, from our own Dirk Smoothly, who's in an air vent in one of the Spitzer daughter's bedrooms, that exclusive video taken by our own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1, does in fact show one of the Spitzer daughters crying, and screaming the words "GO AWAY" at the tabloid reporters who are flying right alongside our own "Captain Dave."
Dirk, are you still there?
Dirk?
Have we lost Dirk?
Dirk?
Are you there, Dirk?
Do we still have the signal?
Dirk?
Can you hear me Dirk?
Okay.....
I believe we've lost Di......wait.......
Dirk?
Are you there, Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
Do we still have Dirk?
Dirk?
Dirk?
We seem to have lost contact with Dirk Smoothly.
If you're just tuning in, we're continuing our coverage of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer's resignation, and the affect it's having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children.........Let's head back down to Jennifer Hottington.......Jennifer, do you have any new information for us.
Jennifer:
Rex, I've made my way to the rear of the building, in order to get some clean air away from all the vile, mouth breathing, tabloid, boogers who refuse to give the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, a moment of peace.
Rex:
I can understand that, Jennifer.
Jennifer:
And, while I was back here, Rex, I was able to dig through the garbage, and find a bag that appears to have come from the Spitzer household.
Rex:
Is there anything in it, Jennifer?
Jennifer:
Rex, there is lots and lots of used tissues......One can only assume that they are covered in the tears, and snot, of the Spitzer family, as they try to maintain their privacy, and work through what must be a very difficult time..........However, REAL journalists don't have the luxury of making assumptions, Rex. So, I'm going to bring these tissues back to the WSUK science editor, Dr. Quad Triceps. Hopefully, he will be able to reveal to us if these are the tissues of a common cold.......Or, the tissues of a family, in particular the children, going through a personal Hell.
Rex:
We look forward to that report, Jennifer.
I'm being told that we have Dirk Smoothly back.
Dirk, are you with us?
Dirk:
I'm here, Rex.
Rex:
Do you have any new information for us.
Dirk:
Yes, Rex, I do.
Rex:
What do you have Dirk?
Dirk:
I have the Spitzer's youngest daughter, Rex.
WHOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH...........................A WSUK EXCLUSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rex:
If you're just tuning in, you're watching a WSUK exclusive report on the resignation of New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, for visiting a hooker, and the negative impact that the tabloid media is having on the Spitzer family, in particular the Spitzer children, and their ability to heal from this. On the right third of your screen is a picture of the hooker, Ashley Alexandra Dupre, on the left third is a constant loop of a 4 second video taken by our own "Captain Dave" in SKY-SUK-1 of one of the Spitzer's children, crying uncontrollably, and mouthing the words "GO AWAY," to the tabloid media. Now, in the middle third of your screen, is a WSUK poll asking you if you think the tabloid media goes to far in covering these types of stories. To vote, log on to WSUK.com.
We're talking with our reporter, Dirk Smoothly, who has an exclusive interview with one of the Spitzer's daughters.
Dirk, what has she told you, so far?
Dirk:
Uh....Nothing.
Rex:
What?
Dirk:
Rex, using a combination of hand-to-hand combat skills that I learned at an executive retreat, and an entire bottle of chloroform, I was able to abduct the young girl, and am currently working my way through the ventilation ducts, and down to my car. At that point, I will take her to the WSUK safe house, in Piscataway, New Jersey. There, she'll be safe from the tabloid blah, blah blah.............
Rex:
Excellent reporting, Dirk. Keep it tuned to WSUK, and we'll bring you that report as soon as Dirk gets to Jersey.
Dirk, while you're in Jersey, see if you can hook up with the prostitute's family, before the paparazzi.......uhhhh............Oh, screw it.....
You've been watching a WSUK exclusive report...............We now join the Jerry Springer Show, already in progress.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Parents Who Hate Their Children....On The Next "Maury"
The Governor of New York, the honorable Eliot Spitzer, is in trouble for spending what they think may be as much as $80,000 on hookers. Which means that, by the time you read this, he will probably be the FORMER Governor of New York.
Which brings to mind the obvious question: Why would you name your child Eliot?
OF COURSE a guy named Eliot is going to pay for sex. But that's just part of it. Guys named Eliot have a myriad of problems that people with normal names don't have. In fact, I'll bet that if you did a survey of all the guys who paid for sex a good 30-40% would be named Eliot.....or Blaine......Probably Julian, too.
Face it, the name you give your child is the life, and career path that they will be doomed to take for the rest of their lives. For instance, people always think I am either:
A) A girl.
B) Someone who strikes out a lot.......in Mudville.
C) On the radio.
See? Don't you think that I would rather be some kind of bad ass detective, like in the movies? It wouldn't work. Look at this.
"You screw up one more time, Casey, and I'll have your badge!!!"
Doesn't really work, does it? Nope.
How about this.
"Oh my God!!!! The giant, flesh eating, death monster of doom is coming!!!!!!!!!!! Do something.....Casey!!!"
Nope. "Casey's top 40," "Casey's Coast to Coast." I'm SUPPOSED to work on the radio. Period......Or Target. One of the two.
What about women? Would you sleep with a woman named Mathilda? What about Maude? Ida? I think not. Those are the girls that Eliot marries after he's spent all his money on hookers, and his wife has left him.
Jazmine would be a good hooker name.......Or Candy......I bet Candy is worth 80 grand. But, I digress.
So, as you can clearly see, parents have a direct effect on what their children do, and become in life. If I were Eliot Spitzer, I would try and sue my parents. They doomed him to having to go to hookers for the rest of his life. Even if he didn't want to.
So, who's the real victim here?
The people of New York?
I think not.
The well paid.....VERY well paid.....hooker?
Doubtful.
How about a poor guy, saddled with a bad name, who was just trying to get by? How about poor, sad, unpopular, little Eliot? The kid who had to stay in his room, and practice the violin, while all the Bills', Daves', and Mikes' were out playing baseball. How about him, huh?
And.......his wife.....I guess......She would be a victim, too, because her husband went to a bunch of filthy skanks.
The three daughters, too, I would guess......They would be victims, also......That's pretty messed up, if you think about it.......Dad paid $80,000 for hookers, and it's splashed all over the front page. I mean, in "The History Of Things That Suck" that has to be pretty high on the list.
Okay, so as far as victims go, let's say it's the daughters, followed by the wife, THEN Eliot...........Though it is kind of messed up, what Eliot did. I mean, even if you have a bad name, you shouldn't go to a hooker. My parents gave me a bad name, and I've never gone to a hooker. Maybe Eliot's just a jackass. How about that? Yeah!!! Take that, you giant booger, Eliot!!!! Poor kids.......
I hate Eliot.
So, the moral here is NOT to name your son Eliot. If you do, he will become a pathetic, philandering, booger, who screws up his kids lives.
.....Or, Casey. If you do, the giant, flesh eating, death monster of doom will kill us all.
When that happens, just sue my parents......I hate them.
Casey
Which brings to mind the obvious question: Why would you name your child Eliot?
OF COURSE a guy named Eliot is going to pay for sex. But that's just part of it. Guys named Eliot have a myriad of problems that people with normal names don't have. In fact, I'll bet that if you did a survey of all the guys who paid for sex a good 30-40% would be named Eliot.....or Blaine......Probably Julian, too.
Face it, the name you give your child is the life, and career path that they will be doomed to take for the rest of their lives. For instance, people always think I am either:
A) A girl.
B) Someone who strikes out a lot.......in Mudville.
C) On the radio.
See? Don't you think that I would rather be some kind of bad ass detective, like in the movies? It wouldn't work. Look at this.
"You screw up one more time, Casey, and I'll have your badge!!!"
Doesn't really work, does it? Nope.
How about this.
"Oh my God!!!! The giant, flesh eating, death monster of doom is coming!!!!!!!!!!! Do something.....Casey!!!"
Nope. "Casey's top 40," "Casey's Coast to Coast." I'm SUPPOSED to work on the radio. Period......Or Target. One of the two.
What about women? Would you sleep with a woman named Mathilda? What about Maude? Ida? I think not. Those are the girls that Eliot marries after he's spent all his money on hookers, and his wife has left him.
Jazmine would be a good hooker name.......Or Candy......I bet Candy is worth 80 grand. But, I digress.
So, as you can clearly see, parents have a direct effect on what their children do, and become in life. If I were Eliot Spitzer, I would try and sue my parents. They doomed him to having to go to hookers for the rest of his life. Even if he didn't want to.
So, who's the real victim here?
The people of New York?
I think not.
The well paid.....VERY well paid.....hooker?
Doubtful.
How about a poor guy, saddled with a bad name, who was just trying to get by? How about poor, sad, unpopular, little Eliot? The kid who had to stay in his room, and practice the violin, while all the Bills', Daves', and Mikes' were out playing baseball. How about him, huh?
And.......his wife.....I guess......She would be a victim, too, because her husband went to a bunch of filthy skanks.
The three daughters, too, I would guess......They would be victims, also......That's pretty messed up, if you think about it.......Dad paid $80,000 for hookers, and it's splashed all over the front page. I mean, in "The History Of Things That Suck" that has to be pretty high on the list.
Okay, so as far as victims go, let's say it's the daughters, followed by the wife, THEN Eliot...........Though it is kind of messed up, what Eliot did. I mean, even if you have a bad name, you shouldn't go to a hooker. My parents gave me a bad name, and I've never gone to a hooker. Maybe Eliot's just a jackass. How about that? Yeah!!! Take that, you giant booger, Eliot!!!! Poor kids.......
I hate Eliot.
So, the moral here is NOT to name your son Eliot. If you do, he will become a pathetic, philandering, booger, who screws up his kids lives.
.....Or, Casey. If you do, the giant, flesh eating, death monster of doom will kill us all.
When that happens, just sue my parents......I hate them.
Casey
Monday, March 10, 2008
The Grease Monkey King......
The "check engine" light came on in my car, today.
So, like any good, God fearing, red blooded American I got out of my car, popped the hood, and "checked" my engine.
It did no good.
No sign popped up, telling me what was broken.
There were no alarms going off signifying the actual BROKEN part of my engine.
Nothing.
I got back in the car, and turned it back on.....The light was still on.
"But, I CHECKED it," I said to the voices in my head.
I don't need a light in my car. I need a light in my engine. What good does a light IN my car do? It tells me nothing. I need a light on the offending peice of machinary IN the engine. How else will I know what's broke?
Truth be told, this could be my fault. I know nothing about cars. I can put gas in it. That is the full extent of my automotive knowledge.
Years ago, though, I learned the name of one thing. The Cellinoid. Sadly, I think I might even be spelling and saying it wrong. I've also heard it called a Selonoid. If only there were some sort of computer process that I could use, and type in the words, then have a bunch of information on that term be presented to me.......Maybe someday. Either way, when I say the word Cellinoid, I try and say it fast so that the person hearing it won't be able to tell that I don't know what I'm talking about.
This hasn't been nearly as helpful as you might think it would be. If I'm not mistaken, the Cellinoid (Selonoid?) has something to do with starting the car. I don't know where it is. If I was asked to point at it, I couldn't. I would just randomly gesture toward the engine.
But, since I'm a man, and men are supposed to be able to kill things, and fix cars, I cling to it as much as I can.
Mechanic: I think I know what the problem is.
Me: Is it the Cellinoid?
Mechanic: Well, no.
Me: Who do you think you're messing with, pal?
Mechanic: Well, sir.......
Me: I know a thing or two about cars, you know!!!
Mechanic: I understand sir, but.....
Me: I've been standing here the whole time, and you haven't even LOOKED at the cellinoid.
Mechanic: You're right, sir. I haven't.
Me: Then, how can you say that it's not the cellinoid?
Mechanic: Well, sir, this is your left, rear tire. See that little silver thing? That's a nail. After careful consideration, I have determined that THAT is the reason why all the air came out of your tire.
Me: I see.......Not the cellinoid?
Mechanic: No.
Me: But, I was right. You did not, in fact, check the cellinoid.
Mechanic: Isn't it selonoid?
Me: Shut up.
The problem is that, every time there is a problem with my car, the mechanic feels the need to show me the offending part. So, I feel the need to stare at it, examine it, and nod my head.
Sometimes, I think they bring me things that aren't even in cars, just to see me nod my head. I'm pretty sure someone showed me a shoe, once.
There is one thing I can do, though. A couple of years ago, my father-in-law bought me an air compressor. I never understood WHY he bought me one. But, he did. Usually, I turn it on and let the air fill up. Then, I will pull the cap off, and blow the air through my hair. It makes my daughter laugh, and a good time is had by all.
This past weekend, my wife asked me to check the air in the tires. I think she did it just so that I could feel manly, and say things like, "I had to work ont he car, this weekend!!"
So, I made a big deal of getting out the air compressor, firing it up, and filling it with air..........Then, she got mad at me when I kept blowing the air through my, and my daughters, hair.
Eventually, after several dirty looks from my wife, I got the tires filled up. Truthfully, I probably over filled them. I don't have one of those little thingys that tells me when to stop. At some point, a tire is going to blow up in my face, and I'm going to have to have someone come over and fix it.
Maybe I'll ask them to check the cellinoid...........Or is it solonoid. I can never remember. I'll just say it fast.
Casey
So, like any good, God fearing, red blooded American I got out of my car, popped the hood, and "checked" my engine.
It did no good.
No sign popped up, telling me what was broken.
There were no alarms going off signifying the actual BROKEN part of my engine.
Nothing.
I got back in the car, and turned it back on.....The light was still on.
"But, I CHECKED it," I said to the voices in my head.
I don't need a light in my car. I need a light in my engine. What good does a light IN my car do? It tells me nothing. I need a light on the offending peice of machinary IN the engine. How else will I know what's broke?
Truth be told, this could be my fault. I know nothing about cars. I can put gas in it. That is the full extent of my automotive knowledge.
Years ago, though, I learned the name of one thing. The Cellinoid. Sadly, I think I might even be spelling and saying it wrong. I've also heard it called a Selonoid. If only there were some sort of computer process that I could use, and type in the words, then have a bunch of information on that term be presented to me.......Maybe someday. Either way, when I say the word Cellinoid, I try and say it fast so that the person hearing it won't be able to tell that I don't know what I'm talking about.
This hasn't been nearly as helpful as you might think it would be. If I'm not mistaken, the Cellinoid (Selonoid?) has something to do with starting the car. I don't know where it is. If I was asked to point at it, I couldn't. I would just randomly gesture toward the engine.
But, since I'm a man, and men are supposed to be able to kill things, and fix cars, I cling to it as much as I can.
Mechanic: I think I know what the problem is.
Me: Is it the Cellinoid?
Mechanic: Well, no.
Me: Who do you think you're messing with, pal?
Mechanic: Well, sir.......
Me: I know a thing or two about cars, you know!!!
Mechanic: I understand sir, but.....
Me: I've been standing here the whole time, and you haven't even LOOKED at the cellinoid.
Mechanic: You're right, sir. I haven't.
Me: Then, how can you say that it's not the cellinoid?
Mechanic: Well, sir, this is your left, rear tire. See that little silver thing? That's a nail. After careful consideration, I have determined that THAT is the reason why all the air came out of your tire.
Me: I see.......Not the cellinoid?
Mechanic: No.
Me: But, I was right. You did not, in fact, check the cellinoid.
Mechanic: Isn't it selonoid?
Me: Shut up.
The problem is that, every time there is a problem with my car, the mechanic feels the need to show me the offending part. So, I feel the need to stare at it, examine it, and nod my head.
Sometimes, I think they bring me things that aren't even in cars, just to see me nod my head. I'm pretty sure someone showed me a shoe, once.
There is one thing I can do, though. A couple of years ago, my father-in-law bought me an air compressor. I never understood WHY he bought me one. But, he did. Usually, I turn it on and let the air fill up. Then, I will pull the cap off, and blow the air through my hair. It makes my daughter laugh, and a good time is had by all.
This past weekend, my wife asked me to check the air in the tires. I think she did it just so that I could feel manly, and say things like, "I had to work ont he car, this weekend!!"
So, I made a big deal of getting out the air compressor, firing it up, and filling it with air..........Then, she got mad at me when I kept blowing the air through my, and my daughters, hair.
Eventually, after several dirty looks from my wife, I got the tires filled up. Truthfully, I probably over filled them. I don't have one of those little thingys that tells me when to stop. At some point, a tire is going to blow up in my face, and I'm going to have to have someone come over and fix it.
Maybe I'll ask them to check the cellinoid...........Or is it solonoid. I can never remember. I'll just say it fast.
Casey
Friday, March 7, 2008
....And It Was Good.
As the father of a "pending" teenage girl, I'm always looking for ways to eliminate teenage boys. By eliminate I don't me kill. I just mean that I would like to make them all go away.
Luckily the world of science, clearly populated by the fathers' of teenage daughters, has stepped in and offered a solution.
A device developed at Carnegie Mellon University will "allow computer users to manipulate three dimensional images and explore them....not only through sight and sound, but by using their sense of touch."
Now that I think about it, this was probably DEVELOPED by teenage boys.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!!!
So, someone would be able to create a three dimensional object......Just for conversation sake, let's say a woman......Then, they would be able to see it, hear it, AND touch it?
We'll never see a teenage boy, or a lot of pathetic middle-age men, AGAIN.....EVER.
Why go to the expense of taking a girl out on a date, buying her dinner, paying for a movie, and trying NOT to look like an awkward geek (which most teenage boys are), for a couple of hours, when you can just go to your computer, download your virtual Salman Hayek, and NOT get your hand smacked away?
In a way this is MORE than a little pathetic. I mean, there are researchers out there trying to do important things. Split the atom, cure AIDS, figure out why people thought "Nirvanna" was any good (they weren't.)
Yet, here these guys are, with their huge grants, and high powered computer equipment, and they've done little more than create a high-tech porn program. I guess that Nobel Prize for Computer Research is gonna have to wait a few years, huh?
And ladies, the next time that creepy guy at work, who still lives with his mom and drives a Gremlin, starts walking around with his digital camera, just know what he has in mind. He's going to take pictures of all of you, download them onto his computer, create a virtual image of you, and........well.........you can use your imagination from here.
One day, in the near future, the grid will go down like it did in 2003. People will be forced to come out of their homes, talk to their neighbors, and unite to get through this disaster once again.......The pasty skinned, sickly looking, thin creatures standing under the shade of the trees, hissing and throwing rocks at the sun, will be the teenage boys.
They will eventually die off, due to minor sun exposure. The teenage girls will eventually grow up, and try to keep society going. But, they will fail. Biologically speaking, they will be doomed.
Men will be nothing more than a memory, for some, a rumor for others. A species that died out, a long time ago, due to the advancements in technology made by Carnegie Mellon University.
Mankind will have disapeared. And it will all have happened without one, greasy, pimply faced, hormone raging, teenage punk being able to lay his slimmy paws on my young girls virtue.
Somewhere in Heaven, I will be smiling.
Casey
Luckily the world of science, clearly populated by the fathers' of teenage daughters, has stepped in and offered a solution.
A device developed at Carnegie Mellon University will "allow computer users to manipulate three dimensional images and explore them....not only through sight and sound, but by using their sense of touch."
Now that I think about it, this was probably DEVELOPED by teenage boys.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!!!
So, someone would be able to create a three dimensional object......Just for conversation sake, let's say a woman......Then, they would be able to see it, hear it, AND touch it?
We'll never see a teenage boy, or a lot of pathetic middle-age men, AGAIN.....EVER.
Why go to the expense of taking a girl out on a date, buying her dinner, paying for a movie, and trying NOT to look like an awkward geek (which most teenage boys are), for a couple of hours, when you can just go to your computer, download your virtual Salman Hayek, and NOT get your hand smacked away?
In a way this is MORE than a little pathetic. I mean, there are researchers out there trying to do important things. Split the atom, cure AIDS, figure out why people thought "Nirvanna" was any good (they weren't.)
Yet, here these guys are, with their huge grants, and high powered computer equipment, and they've done little more than create a high-tech porn program. I guess that Nobel Prize for Computer Research is gonna have to wait a few years, huh?
And ladies, the next time that creepy guy at work, who still lives with his mom and drives a Gremlin, starts walking around with his digital camera, just know what he has in mind. He's going to take pictures of all of you, download them onto his computer, create a virtual image of you, and........well.........you can use your imagination from here.
One day, in the near future, the grid will go down like it did in 2003. People will be forced to come out of their homes, talk to their neighbors, and unite to get through this disaster once again.......The pasty skinned, sickly looking, thin creatures standing under the shade of the trees, hissing and throwing rocks at the sun, will be the teenage boys.
They will eventually die off, due to minor sun exposure. The teenage girls will eventually grow up, and try to keep society going. But, they will fail. Biologically speaking, they will be doomed.
Men will be nothing more than a memory, for some, a rumor for others. A species that died out, a long time ago, due to the advancements in technology made by Carnegie Mellon University.
Mankind will have disapeared. And it will all have happened without one, greasy, pimply faced, hormone raging, teenage punk being able to lay his slimmy paws on my young girls virtue.
Somewhere in Heaven, I will be smiling.
Casey
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
AT or OF: The Battle Continues!!!!
This just in from the federal department of THINGS YOU ALREADY KNOW.
If kids sit around and watch TV, or play on the computer all day, they will get fat.
There.
Now you know.
There was a study, that people paid ACTUAL money for, to tell you that your kid will become a fat, disgusting cow if you let them sit around all day.
I'm stunned. STUNNED, I tell you.
This "study" was actually conducted by the University at Buffalo. That's right. AT Buffalo. This is a place where, apparently, they pour thousands of dollars into the Department of the Perfectly Obvious in order to study things that the rest of the world has already grasped.
The Pope is Catholic. Known to many. PROVEN by the University at Buffalo.
Cows say moo. A given? Not until the University at Buffalo did a 7 year, $2 million dollar study, and put it on paper!!
The Earth is round. Proven by Columbus. BUT, at the University at Buffalo, they.....Oh.....Well......Actually, they're still working on that one. Results are pending ANY DAY, though.
Everyone knows that letting kids sit around, and watch TV makes them fat. Did we really need a study on THAT? People just don't seem to care about it. Heck, I knew it. That's why I don't let my daughter sit around, eat potato chips, and watch "Hannah Montana" all day. Quite frankly, if it doesn't bother you that your kids weigh 300 pounds, it SHOULD bother you that I'm a better parent. Do you know how long it was before my wife let me HOLD my daughter? Much less, leave me alone with her. Personally, I think she was overreacting. I mean, you play Put The Keys In The Light Socket one time, and people start passing judgement on your parenting skills. Please...........
As for spending money on obvious studies, why doesn't the University at Buffalo start studying things we REALLY care about?
Why did Brad Pitt leave Jennifer Aniston, for Angelina Jolie? Jen's hot. Angelina Jolie is a scary, freak. I would personally pay for that study!
Why do people keep paying to see Will Ferrell movies? I tried. I really did. "Anchorman" just wasn't funny. "Elf" was good. I'll give him that. But, at some point, someone is going to have to stop this man.
Why is it the University AT Buffalo, and not the Universtiy OF Buffalo. I can't speak for everybody. But, this particular one has been bothering me for several minutes. Are they ashamed to be OF Buffalo? Until someone is willing to fund a study, I guess we'll never know.
The bottom line is that we don't need studies on things we ALREADY know. We need studies on things we DON'T know, or at the very least have forgotten. Until someone at the University at Buffalo makes a stand, and stops the insanity, we will never have the answers.
We'll still be the winners, though. No matter what, we're here, and THEY'RE in Buffalo.....Or, at Buffalo......I don't know which is worse........Maybe I should do a study.
Casey
If kids sit around and watch TV, or play on the computer all day, they will get fat.
There.
Now you know.
There was a study, that people paid ACTUAL money for, to tell you that your kid will become a fat, disgusting cow if you let them sit around all day.
I'm stunned. STUNNED, I tell you.
This "study" was actually conducted by the University at Buffalo. That's right. AT Buffalo. This is a place where, apparently, they pour thousands of dollars into the Department of the Perfectly Obvious in order to study things that the rest of the world has already grasped.
The Pope is Catholic. Known to many. PROVEN by the University at Buffalo.
Cows say moo. A given? Not until the University at Buffalo did a 7 year, $2 million dollar study, and put it on paper!!
The Earth is round. Proven by Columbus. BUT, at the University at Buffalo, they.....Oh.....Well......Actually, they're still working on that one. Results are pending ANY DAY, though.
Everyone knows that letting kids sit around, and watch TV makes them fat. Did we really need a study on THAT? People just don't seem to care about it. Heck, I knew it. That's why I don't let my daughter sit around, eat potato chips, and watch "Hannah Montana" all day. Quite frankly, if it doesn't bother you that your kids weigh 300 pounds, it SHOULD bother you that I'm a better parent. Do you know how long it was before my wife let me HOLD my daughter? Much less, leave me alone with her. Personally, I think she was overreacting. I mean, you play Put The Keys In The Light Socket one time, and people start passing judgement on your parenting skills. Please...........
As for spending money on obvious studies, why doesn't the University at Buffalo start studying things we REALLY care about?
Why did Brad Pitt leave Jennifer Aniston, for Angelina Jolie? Jen's hot. Angelina Jolie is a scary, freak. I would personally pay for that study!
Why do people keep paying to see Will Ferrell movies? I tried. I really did. "Anchorman" just wasn't funny. "Elf" was good. I'll give him that. But, at some point, someone is going to have to stop this man.
Why is it the University AT Buffalo, and not the Universtiy OF Buffalo. I can't speak for everybody. But, this particular one has been bothering me for several minutes. Are they ashamed to be OF Buffalo? Until someone is willing to fund a study, I guess we'll never know.
The bottom line is that we don't need studies on things we ALREADY know. We need studies on things we DON'T know, or at the very least have forgotten. Until someone at the University at Buffalo makes a stand, and stops the insanity, we will never have the answers.
We'll still be the winners, though. No matter what, we're here, and THEY'RE in Buffalo.....Or, at Buffalo......I don't know which is worse........Maybe I should do a study.
Casey
Monday, March 3, 2008
Oozing Testosterone.....
I recently had my manliness called into question by a man wearing an apron. Trust me, it's never a good thing to be called out by a man wearing an article of women's clothing.
We were at Home Depot. You all know Home Depot. It's the store that you go to in order to spend large sums of money on home repair, after you have been convinced by a guy in a apron that you could easily replace all the plumbing in your home, in a matter of hours and at a fraction of the cost, if you just had the right tools.
You can't.
Then, you get to pay a contractor to come in and clean up your mess AND do the job right. If you're lucky, as I often am, you'll get a contracter with a sense of humor who will look at your "work," smile, and say "Went to Home Deopot, huh?"
Everybody loves a funny contractor.
Anyway, we had to go to Home Depot because our back fence needed to be repaired. Our dogs are constantly doing battle with the dogs behind us, through the fence. It's a kind of North Korean/South Korean border skirmish that on rare occasion can lead to bloodshed.
On a recent battle the border fence was damaged. A couple of the slats (I learned at Home Depot that they were called slats. I had foolishly called them "pieces of wood," before) had come loose, and needed to be fixed.
So, with all the naive confidence of someone who had no clue what they were doing, I announced:
"I can fix it! Let's go to Home Depot."
I had spent several minutes staring at the pieces of wood (slats), before I came to the expert conclusion that they needed to be re-attached to the other pieces of wood (I never learned what they were called.) So, I assumed that I would go to Home Depot, buy some nails, maybe stand around and talk about home repair with "the guys" while I held my nails, and be on my way.
That's what guys do, right?
When we got to "The Depot," as I was now calling it, we found the nail/screw section.
That's right. Section.
There is an entire section of nails and screws. I thought I would walk up, grab a little thingy (technical term) of nails, and be on my way. No such luck.
So, my wife and I found a large, mean looking guy, in an apron, and asked him.
Me: "I need to fix my back fence, and I need to find some nails."
Apron Guy: "What kind of fence?"
Me: "Wood."
Apron Guy: "What's wrong with it?"
Me: "The wood pieces came out, and I need to put them back."
Apron Guy: "The slats?"
Me: "Uh, okay."
Apron Guy: "Are they in the ground?"
Me: "No. They're leaning against a tree."
Apron Guy: "No. Were they in the ground BEFORE they broke?"
Me: "Uhhhh...."
My Wife: "No. They were attached to the crossbeam."
Me: "Yeah, they were attached to the cross...thingy."
Apron Guy: "What kind of wood?"
Me: "Uh...Sort of....grayish, brown."
Apron Guy: "Huh?"
My Wife: "Number one, two face."
Me: "Yeah....The two face kind.....That one."
Apron Guy: "And you want nails?"
Me: "Yes."
My Wife: "Actually, I was thinking that a wood screw would be better."
Apron Guy: "It would."
Me: "Wouldn't it be easier to just pound a big nail in?"
Apron Guy: "Maybe you should be carrying the purse."
Me: "Shut up."
So, right there, in the middle of "The Depot," in front of everyone, a guy in an apron called me out. Shocking!!!!
I would have walked out, right then, buy my wife was giving advice to some guy about replacing his gutters. She made me hold her Vera Bradly purse, with the big flowers all over it. It didn't even go with my shoes. Very embarrassing.
It made me question myself.
Was I NOT a man!?!!
Desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I made a list to prove that I was, in fact, a man.
THINGS THAT MAKE CASEY A MAN:
- I have a penis. (I decided to start with the obvious.)
- I collect Mickey Mouse watches.
- While I talk like a muppet, it is the HEAD muppet (Kermit.)
- I drive a minivan.
- I have seen Duran Duran in concert.
- I have a Kermit the Frog antennae ball ON my minivan.
- I like to bake cookies.
- I wear a Kermit the Frog hat much of the time.
- I don't use bar soap. I use a gel, which I apply with a "squishy."
- I like vanilla toothpaste.
There. Check AND mate.
If you can't feel the testosterone oozing out of your computer, after reading that, than you have no idea what it is to be a REAL man........LIKE ME.
If you are one of those apron-wearing, girlie-men, you can just keep your opinions to yourself.
If you don't, I swear to God I will hit you with my wife's purse..........I'm only holding it because she's killing a spider for me.
We were at Home Depot. You all know Home Depot. It's the store that you go to in order to spend large sums of money on home repair, after you have been convinced by a guy in a apron that you could easily replace all the plumbing in your home, in a matter of hours and at a fraction of the cost, if you just had the right tools.
You can't.
Then, you get to pay a contractor to come in and clean up your mess AND do the job right. If you're lucky, as I often am, you'll get a contracter with a sense of humor who will look at your "work," smile, and say "Went to Home Deopot, huh?"
Everybody loves a funny contractor.
Anyway, we had to go to Home Depot because our back fence needed to be repaired. Our dogs are constantly doing battle with the dogs behind us, through the fence. It's a kind of North Korean/South Korean border skirmish that on rare occasion can lead to bloodshed.
On a recent battle the border fence was damaged. A couple of the slats (I learned at Home Depot that they were called slats. I had foolishly called them "pieces of wood," before) had come loose, and needed to be fixed.
So, with all the naive confidence of someone who had no clue what they were doing, I announced:
"I can fix it! Let's go to Home Depot."
I had spent several minutes staring at the pieces of wood (slats), before I came to the expert conclusion that they needed to be re-attached to the other pieces of wood (I never learned what they were called.) So, I assumed that I would go to Home Depot, buy some nails, maybe stand around and talk about home repair with "the guys" while I held my nails, and be on my way.
That's what guys do, right?
When we got to "The Depot," as I was now calling it, we found the nail/screw section.
That's right. Section.
There is an entire section of nails and screws. I thought I would walk up, grab a little thingy (technical term) of nails, and be on my way. No such luck.
So, my wife and I found a large, mean looking guy, in an apron, and asked him.
Me: "I need to fix my back fence, and I need to find some nails."
Apron Guy: "What kind of fence?"
Me: "Wood."
Apron Guy: "What's wrong with it?"
Me: "The wood pieces came out, and I need to put them back."
Apron Guy: "The slats?"
Me: "Uh, okay."
Apron Guy: "Are they in the ground?"
Me: "No. They're leaning against a tree."
Apron Guy: "No. Were they in the ground BEFORE they broke?"
Me: "Uhhhh...."
My Wife: "No. They were attached to the crossbeam."
Me: "Yeah, they were attached to the cross...thingy."
Apron Guy: "What kind of wood?"
Me: "Uh...Sort of....grayish, brown."
Apron Guy: "Huh?"
My Wife: "Number one, two face."
Me: "Yeah....The two face kind.....That one."
Apron Guy: "And you want nails?"
Me: "Yes."
My Wife: "Actually, I was thinking that a wood screw would be better."
Apron Guy: "It would."
Me: "Wouldn't it be easier to just pound a big nail in?"
Apron Guy: "Maybe you should be carrying the purse."
Me: "Shut up."
So, right there, in the middle of "The Depot," in front of everyone, a guy in an apron called me out. Shocking!!!!
I would have walked out, right then, buy my wife was giving advice to some guy about replacing his gutters. She made me hold her Vera Bradly purse, with the big flowers all over it. It didn't even go with my shoes. Very embarrassing.
It made me question myself.
Was I NOT a man!?!!
Desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I made a list to prove that I was, in fact, a man.
THINGS THAT MAKE CASEY A MAN:
- I have a penis. (I decided to start with the obvious.)
- I collect Mickey Mouse watches.
- While I talk like a muppet, it is the HEAD muppet (Kermit.)
- I drive a minivan.
- I have seen Duran Duran in concert.
- I have a Kermit the Frog antennae ball ON my minivan.
- I like to bake cookies.
- I wear a Kermit the Frog hat much of the time.
- I don't use bar soap. I use a gel, which I apply with a "squishy."
- I like vanilla toothpaste.
There. Check AND mate.
If you can't feel the testosterone oozing out of your computer, after reading that, than you have no idea what it is to be a REAL man........LIKE ME.
If you are one of those apron-wearing, girlie-men, you can just keep your opinions to yourself.
If you don't, I swear to God I will hit you with my wife's purse..........I'm only holding it because she's killing a spider for me.
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