Freedom Pandemic

Since I love dancing with the devil and sticking bamboo shoots under my nails for recreation, one of my favorite annual pastimes is reviewing new laws and our insurance policies. This is the time of year that I start longing for a tall-flagged Hoveround to motor home rather than drive that two ton registered steel trash can I use now. The truth is I am not sure what it is that I am actually registering and insuring  except that by next year there will be MORE intrusive rules, less cash in the bank, and an even rustier bucket in the garage.

I’m just in a grumpy mood since as soon as New Years rears its ugly naked-baby head, the reference to ‘death and taxes’ becomes more poignant all the way through mid April and already makes me feel dead. All stupid insurance companies seem to line up to ‘protect’ me from the distress of death, but I can’t find a one who will sell me a policy to fend off the ‘seat’ of government or any of its other dirty smelly parts.  I have to be honest, since covens of thirsty vampires have taken over the States and nation, my garden is already a quart  or mo’ low so I’m not so ‘Oh positive’ now of how much plasma I’ve got left to squeeze from my turnips or blood oranges.   

What I need is a practical insurance plan that ensures the milk for my bread pudding stays warm and un-curdled during my whole life and the government won’t keep putting even MORE holes in my leftover swiss cheese. I don’t mind paying a few premiums now as long as future generations will still be able to buy magazines of any size or capacity if they like to read, or chug syrupy sodas more than 12 ounces if they please.  I want assurance though if I stay responsible, skinny up and take care of myself today without sorrow, that fat bureaucrats won’t feverishly fiddle with riddle-clued rules to find pleasure impeding my path tomorrow.

Clearly it’s my highest priority on this year’s viral resolution list, to dream of a contagious ‘freedom pandemic’ ablution wish. Don’t try to defy the takeover of liberty’s tingly sensation, even if you stick instead of kick your can, with a double dose inoculation. Yes freedom’s ring is the kind of clean sweep insurance thing that we all need more of to savor and savvy, to keep us economically lean and less legislatively flabby.

A Dirtier moniker

After nearly a third of a sesquicentennial of living and irritating other people’s spider senses, I have decided that I need a gritty nickname. Yes, before I make that final belly-flop into a shallow worm-ridden mulchy grave, I need some kind of hip ‘callsign’ and an icy-hot image.I think having a ‘too cool drug mule’ moniker is a necessity if I ever end up in a 6 X 9 foot cell with other amoebae, compare scars with Topless Gun pilots, or become a rap music star with a toothy, gold grill!

You see, I got kind of jealous recently when I sour-noted a concert line-up of noisy music dudes named ‘N. E. Yo, Pitbull, and T. Pain” performing for a morning TV show. Not a plain vanilla, Anglo-Saxon grunt name to be shared among them. So obviously to be ‘phatter’ than I already am I’ll need to combine some USDA choice meaty nouns with at least one initial. So where do I go to register a sheik hipster image like those music guys and what government agency is responsible for taxing society’s patience?

Are there any official pre-requisites for my new responsibilities and image as a self-involved ‘blogga’-gangsta’ idol? Maybe I need The Donald’s whispy locks, Mickey’s oversized ear buds, or a Hitler ‘half-stash’ to dress up the rebel ‘tude? I was hoping the warehouse-mirror sunglasses, ‘finger thickin’ good’ gold chains, and beltless n’ baggy pants were good enough to make a splash in today's modern blue gene pool?

Now admittedly I am kind of a ‘dough-so-soft’ wimp, so for my new image I should probably shy away from the calloused and brawny, testosterone belching, smelly-man ‘nom de fumes’. I was however thinking that I do happen to know my way around buckets of butter pretty well, so maybe a catchy caloric name like “I.M. Greezy.” or “Tubb E.” would fit the BILL? No rush though; I still have time to hone my future edgy, bad-dog, blogging moniker. I am lucky since I have a few years stock of my current library bookplates and the laundry labels my Mom used to sew in my CAMPground skivvies – ‘Der T. Drawers’!

Made to be a Monarch

I just learned today that no ‘only child’ has ever been U.S. President. What a shame that yet another one of my self-flagellating nightmares has been dashed by geeky statisticians. Oh that’s ok, because the last time the ‘odds’ makers got something truly right was when my mafia parents MADE me. It seems I’ll never live there, but like the White House, I crow constantly about my crummy coop overflowing in a load of ‘white stuff’ ,with no fixes in sight too.

So since dirty birds like me spend so much time shopping at the ‘Home Despot’ I am probably better suited to the Monarchy anyway. Yes inbreeding has served me well since I am an expert on frilly clothes and routinely stick my pinkie out whenever drinking, hitchhiking or condemning other insects to their death. Anyway now with that recent Royal pudding of a wedding, the Monarchs are in fashion again and I have it on good authority that even cartoon lions cannot wait to be Kings.

Believe me I have put in the time to groom myself into an effective career as a future Monarch. I brush my tooth daily and powder not only my own Whig but the Tories’ too. Oh sure one unfortunate incident with a leg of MUTTon and everybody automatically takes the DOG’S side. Honestly, hopping to get around ‘aint’ that big of deal when all you do is sit around playing poker and smoking pricey cigars all day.

I cannot tell you how many troubling knights I have laid awake, crying remorsefully for closure - but not in a ‘Brokeback Mountain’ kind of way. I have grown considerably since the ‘dog leg’ incident, and as evidenced by my bathroom scale and golf scores, I have learned to control my gluttony. Even though I am only a man-child in a baggy blimp’s body and will never be President, despite life’s limitations I am still prepared to fly. So if I ever find myself reincarnated I hope to emerge from my chrysalis as a benevolent Monarch butterfly, dancing gracefully upon a radiant dew-kissed flower. Because let me tell you, there is no way I am repeating this grade again as a dumb gray sack of Pupa plopped on top of a rotten banana.

Celebrity Pie Beats the Pyramid

Wow first in Egypt and now the U.S. Department of Agriculture – what is everyone’s sudden interest in messing with control over the pyramids? Being blessed with a pointy head myself, I can understand how confusing and truly mysterious the area (1/2b * h) inside triangles can be. I’m guessing the ancient Native Americans were confused with this food pyramid thing too since they seemed to prefer MOUNDS over Almond Joy when given choices to chew.

So assuming they weren’t interested in dentures or x-rays, the USDA introduced ‘MY PLATE’ this week though ‘my trough’ would have personally meant more to me. I am so thankful to replace the food pyramid with this new dinner plate of caloric proportions, especially since the diameter of the thing seems open to interpretation. Yes, up until now, I never knew that fruit and veggies are better for me than my regular ‘Foie Gras’ injection of jelly beans, hard tack, and a keg of nog. In all honesty though, I’m not sure what it is that they really want me to eat, because the chart definitely reminds me more of a delicious pot PIE than anything truly healthy.

I think in today’s Hollywood obsessed culture the USDA should have used the pictures of celebrities in place of the common food group categories. I don’t know about you but when thinking of pure white dairy foods, what young teen doesn’t swoon to the likes of that angst ridden pasty-faced vampire kid? And when it comes to whole grain goodness, let’s not forget the pride of crying Indians everywhere since he feels our squeals for a bowl of ‘sugar coated Maize pops’ at dawn’s first radiant crack.

'Swarzenporker' is the only slab of hormone-injected Braunschweiger who appropriately represents protein on our celebrity pie chart. Oh sure he’s the ‘Wurst’ and a bit fatty around the head but I have it on good authority that his heart is lean and very mean. I’m also pretty sure that ‘exorcised’ pop-tart Richard Simmons will happily do a capable job as an energetic proponent toward a fruit-filled life. Oh and lest we forget everybody’s favorite comedian, Carrot Top can surely fill the bill in all but ONE of the 50 vegetative states. Not only does he round out the nation’s ‘harried’ nutritional aspirations but just a lock off of that mop always magically seems to find its way into MY PLATE of chum chow!

High Fidelity Terminated

Hey I don’t care if you were or are a fan of California’s former Governator, 'Swarze-whatever' – aren’t you getting tired of these high profile losers and their lack of fidelity? Gee can’t anyone find Arnold a quality pair of lead-lined chastity lederhosen to contain his steroid-shrunk enthusiasm? I know she isn't Jewish, but if I were Swarzy’s wife and my hubby’s stereo-enhanced Hi Fi behaved this badly, I would have ALREADY had its amplitude modulated permanently!

Now I really could care less what kind of maiming the Terminator and his ‘full-of-themselves’ famous ilk do in their free time no matter how discourteous. But once one signs up for these top-shelf jobs working for the public and IN the public eye, you might want to remember not to SPIT in it at the same time. Oh I know it’s a lot to ask for just a whisper of decorum from a dumb hunk of Douglas Fir but remember you are supposed to be a ‘role model’ NOT a ‘roll with a model’!

It’s obvious those massive dark shades ‘Termy’ wears all the time aren’t working. It seems that the guy’s hypnotic red wandering eye has designs on just about anything that has big pixels. I have seen so many of Swarzenegger’s pixilated offspring this week that my vision is getting MORE blurry. No wonder the poor guy keeps trying to procreate – he just longs for children to focus on that actually have distinguishable facial features.

Oh sure we’re all indignant now but just wait until the dark forces of Skynet and James Cameron rear their ugly movie-heads with more Terminator sequels. The high-calling for pure hearts and ethical fidelity will both soon be forgotten. We will forgive Arnold’s granite jaw, lead head, and wooden speech to make him just as popular as ever, and indeed his stupid adoring fans WILL be back. Too bad though, it’s never that fickle-fun or easy for the toxic left-overs from yesterday’s meal. Despite Swarzenegger’s muscle-bound brain, the REAL heavy lifting in this apocalyptic mess, has been abruptly thrust upon yet another supposedly idyllic ‘public family’, and their TERMINATED remains.

SCAN THIS!

Ok I am getting a little bored with the whole debate over the airport screening flap. I am all about protecting personal freedoms ESPECIALLY as an American, but give me a break with the manufactured indignation over stupid airport scanners. There are plenty of other REAL problems in the world to worry about.

My wife flies commercial usually twice a week and I hit the unfriendly skies 3 or 4 times a year. I can tell you, honestly I wish I did not have to get undressed every time I see a Transportation Security Agent (but they just look so good in those pretty blue shirts). In reality however, I get more stressed about leaving the ‘Cinnabon’ stand behind in the food court than getting unduly man-handled by security wonks in starched collared shirts.

I mean, I try to look at the positive side when I am flying. Without the TSA folks, I would never know that most of my socks have holes in them. I am kind of hoping that with these new total body scanners, the agents can help me check for excessive wear in my undies too? Who knows, maybe I can save a few bucks on dental x-rays or hopefully discover an actual pig inside of me to justify all my body bacon?

I was really good at avoiding the gym showers in high school, so of all people, I am not anxious to have pictures of my love handles scrutinized by random airport cops, but I’m sure it’s no picnic for them either. The reality is I prefer to make a little better travel time to both coasts than is currently possible by horse, buggy, or bus. These holiday travel babies need to fly private at four times the cost or wear lead-lined diapers in a twist if they're so concerned with intrusive security.

I for one hate trying to get caps off of aerosol paint cans, yet I don’t see barrio ‘taggers’ crying to the press about this unfair inconvenience. I can’t even sneak a nightcap swig of Nyquil anymore without pulling off an inner safety seal. And those poor tobacco fans – not only do they get taxed to death faster than they can smoke themselves there; now they will have to stare at a giant diseased black lung on their cigarette packs while puffing.

So I know the whiners pine away for the good ol’ days of airline travel in America. The ruthless scanner-cams have really made us miss our freedoms just like teens do when they have to grow up into REAL adults. The new reality however, is that we ALL do what we HAVE to do to show up in one piece at the end of the line, baggage safely in hand, and ALIVE. I don’t expect everyone to take this SCANdalous new TSA policy lightly, sitting down. I expect you to just STAND UP, get in line, and take your pats FIRMLY, just like the rest of us … so we can all get where we are going and turn our attention to more important things.

The pleasures of elections

Well regardless of who your favorite son or daughter did in the tallies, the pleasure of elections is when they are OVER! I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic. I am actually thrilled to live in a country where I can exuberantly stand up and be counted without literally losing my head!

At the end of the day though, it is nice to put all of the constant noise and chaff to bed. I think overall though, politics must certainly be good for the economy. I mean just look at how many tv and radio ads are sold. I would guess that if you owned and were paying the bills for a TV station, you would wish for an election vote EVERY Tuesday and a Superbowl EVERY Sunday.

I am not sure what the big hyped surprise of this election is however? How many of your friends would remain so if you simply ignored them even when they were waving their arms, sending smoke signals, and pleading with you to slow down and LISTEN? The electorate felt ignored and cheated so what do you expect, roses and champagne or a big old kick in the pants?

Now don’t get me wrong, there is no mighty mandate here. The people just went on a ‘bad date’ so it is going to be awhile before they warm up to finding ‘Mr. or Mrs. Right’ again. If the newbies saunter into Washington expecting to be loved or even liked without earning their way back into our hearts, they will end up lonely and kicked to the curb next time too.

The biggest pleasure of this election might be, if we are lucky, our politicians, regardless of party, will start treating the U.S. Treasury with the same care and respect that they do their own checkbooks? Hmmm, on second thought though that is probably a dangerous proposition … I bet their personal checks bounce even bigger than their overinflated egos!

My Swan Song – “365 and still alive”

Like death and taxes, when it comes to goals there is a certain inevitability to them. However, unlike dying and taxation, with goals you have the generous 3 alternative outcomes rather than just one. The first of course is to complete the goal as originally established; the second is to abandon the goal altogether; and the final option, most often exercised, is simply to change the goal to a different, more achievable challenge.

While I will continue to try every year to NOT pay more taxes, I think in the end, it will be far easier to squeeze out another gasp or two of life’s last breath than avoid the tax-collector’s deeply dark, and linty pockets. So it is only fair that if I set a real, DEFINED goal, no matter how insignificant, I should do everything in my power to achieve it right – but then what?

So it is with genuine mixed emotions, I can report that as of today I have completed my bloggy goal. Back in March I promised myself to write 365 blogposts as quickly as I could. For five months straight I wrote close to 23,000 words per month and over 11,000 words during both August and September. It has been a fun challenge to write mirthfully to a daily deadline regardless of mood, interest, and other priorities. Despite that fact, it has also been an incredible amount of work too, and it is time for a change.

So unlike politicians and tenured teachers, before I get truly redundant and entrenched in routine, it is time to wander around the bend and conquer new meaningless goals and personal challenges. Oh sure I will check in from time to time on my blog friends and comment where necessary. I will also continue to randomly write a post or two when I stumble upon life’s glaring absurdities begging for goofy insights and wordplay.

So rather than this being the Pajama Monoblog’s ‘swan song’, I encourage you to treat this ‘auditory assault’ as simply my silver swan’s celebratory bugle and hiss of FREEDOM. Check the archives once in awhile if you need a ‘tickle-fix’ and of course stay in touch. Thank you all and remember … when our goals cross paths again in the future – I’ll be sure to HONK!

The pleasures of flying

I always love flying commercial airlines these days. Where else do people willingly line up and give away their money to be abused. I mean who wouldn’t want to open up your wallet so you could breathe bad air, drink watered-down soda and commune with sweaty hefty folks and babies with diapers set to ‘Stun’. If I was a little smarter, I think it’s probably better to go lay my face on a hot stove and STILL suffer less pain.

First they grab as much of your cash as possible for a ticket – and what do you get? At least in the old days, you used to get a piece of cool RED carbon paper and an index card for your 300 bucks. Now, I basically get an e-mail with a number on it and hope the airline won’t go broke before my flight date. Next when I get to the airport I get the pleasure of ‘UNDRESSING’ again since I obviously did not get it right the first time? Yeah, the belt comes off, the pockets get emptied, and the shoes are removed. More often than not, I am greeted with a part of my foot sticking out of a holey sock and my first thought after embarrassment is ‘DARN’ that sock.

Next boarding is always a blast. I think only cows and lemmings are better at lining up for the ultimate slaughter as compared to the airline flying public. Now between senior citizens, stroller babies, military, first class, executive platinum, & priority access PRE-BOARDING, there are about 7 or 8 people left like me who load the plane last. Of course since everyone has been de-incentivized to store baggage where it belongs in the baggage compartment, there is rarely space left for my one lonely bag much less my girth.

Who was the bright bulb who thought it was MORE efficient to encourage 200 people to carry all of their worldly possessions in bloated backpacks and oversized carry-ons in the passenger cabin? I admit however, it takes ‘guts’ for a struggling enterprise which is constantly behind schedule, lethargic, and having difficulty improving customer service, to continue doing their jobs as POORLY as possible. Gee I really am out of touch – I thought that was the job of the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!

PDA – Public Display of ART

Prologue: Thanks are once again in order to Raker for holding down the 'fort' in my absence.I think some of Raker's incapable ancestors filled in at the Alamo (where I was hiding this week) awhile back and look how THAT turned out. I guess then I should consider myself lucky, as the blog does not seem to be broken or worse for the wear. Now that I'm back however, I intend to FIX that problem and screw up this blog once and for all! So on with today's topic ...


Though I really do love quality art and creative and interesting uses of materials, I am actually not a big fan of public displays of art OR affection. What will really turn me off, is if you are kissing on top of a public art display. Even for an open-minded person, that is just too much to stand … so being closed-minded myself, I often will SIT and watch.

Now don’t get me wrong, on occasion like most folks, I enjoy a stroll through a park or city plaza to visit my tax money strewn on the lawn. In many towns, that is where they invest any extra revenue to buy some kind of BIG abstract public art piece. I want to like these ‘so-called’ sculptures, but most of the time I do not think they are ‘THAT’ meaningful or unique. Apparently I am not the only one who feels that way given the special kind of ‘art’ that the birds and squirrels do on top of the public works too.

Most of the problem is that I am jealous of all forms of PDA. I always believe in my heart, that I probably could make better artwork for less money or even ‘kiss’ better for hardly any money at all. The secret for these big-shot artists is that they simply make their stuff really, really HUGE and that is supposed to impress the taxpayers of its significance. If I had a forklift, crane, and random collection of materials, could I throw that stuff out on the lawn and impress people too? Where I come from that is called ‘Trash Day’!

If people are so impressed by big concrete, metal, and glass edifices, why don’t they just go stare at downtown buildings and fall in love with them for their artful significance. Unlike typical public art, those structures are highly interactive, and at least serve some purpose by (usually) keeping the rain off the people are inside. Unless really freaky, most public displays of art and affection don’t encourage people to climb all over them. So as a taxpayer, I have to ask – other than photos, what enlightenment am I really getting for all those public art displays? It can’t be culture, because I still seem to scratch n’ sniff in all the wrong places regardless what I’m looking at. Hmmm, I guess I should learn from those birds and squirrels – when it comes to PDA, they seem to have the right idea after all?

A nasty ‘Tax Santa’ note from Francis Pharcellus

Well I hope you have been nice instead of naughty this year because the holidays are just around the corner. Actually what is unique this year is that it really doesn’t matter if you have been mean, a Saint, or even if you are Christian, Jewish, or any religion at all. In fact, it matters not if you’re lucky, stinking rich, or odor-free and make less than $250,000 per year, because “YES, there is a ‘Tax Santa’ coming to town, Virginia and he doesn’t discriminate!”

By the time you are putting out the torn up wrapping gift packaging on the curb this year, and getting your favorite New Year’s kazoos tuned up, ‘Tax Santa’ is going to make your 2011 extra special indeed. According to television commentator and the ‘American’s for Tax Reform’ spokesman, Ryan Ellis, there will be three waves of added tax burden heading everyone’s way. The first pointy part of this tax trident is the much ballyhooed ‘Bush tax cuts’ which will expire on January 1, 2011. Regardless of your politics, this simply means your personal income tax rates will rise to just under 40% for the highest bracket and unbelievable 50% increase for folks going from the old 10% rate to the 2011 lowest bracket of 15%.

I don’t wish any of you ill will, but if you have to die, like Scrooge says ‘you had better get on with it’ because there currently is no death tax, but in 2011 it will be 55% of your estate if you have over a million bucks worth of stuff. I know a cool million seems like a lot of net worth but consider this. If you have worked your whole life for a nice paid-for home, maybe a vacation place, and of course a handsome 401K to live out your life, you probably will fall into this bracket. What is MOST frustrating is that by doing EVERYTHING RIGHT, and by saving and sacrificing extra spending cash today in order to be self-dependent tomorrow, the government feels it is entitled to better than half your estate. Did somebody forget that on almost all of that cash, dividends, and those worldly possessions that you own, you have paid sales taxes, annual property and Federal taxes, insurance, and maintenance out of your pocket ALREADY?

Speaking of all that stuff too, you have been so good this year, you deserve even MORE from ‘Tax Santa’s’ big bag of tricks. Dividend income taxes will increase over 160% to around 40% of their value, the child credit will be cut in half, capital gains taxes will rise by 25% and the ’marriage penalty’ will return. The second part of this Grinchy trifecta of taxation will of course be the Healthcare bill passed last year. From the 10% tanning tax in July to higher excise taxes on ‘branded’ drugs, everything (except our spirit) is ‘looking up’. Taxes on employer health care plans that are ‘too good’ or ‘not good enough’ will affect nearly EVERYONE with higher costs and taxation - NOT just the advertised evil profiteer and small business making over $250 thousand big ones. There are over 20 new tax hikes alone and 20 thousand pages of added regulations, just associated with this healthcare bill. In 2010, you worked 231 days or 63% of the year, just to pay for your government’s burdens. That is over a MONTH longer than just a couple of years ago and no doubt AT LEAST a couple of weeks less than the taxes required in 2011.

The final point of the wicked tax trident will be a 700% increase in families forced into paying the Alternative Minimum Tax (AMT), as well as loads of new tax hike goodies and slashed expensing for businesses. AMT was originally enacted in 1969 to force the top 155 income earners of the day to calculate and pay a higher tax rate since their ‘normal’ deductions were so massive that the effectively paid no tax under the regular tax system. In 2011, due to inflation, over 28 million taxpayers will have to calculate their taxes under both the regular system and alternative tax code, then pay whichever is the higher amount. Small Business will only be able to ‘Expense’ equipment and tools to $25,000 instead of the previous figure 10 times that amount. Larger business will only be allowed to ‘Depreciate’ tools rather than expense half of them as before, which results in what? – yep, less new machinery purchased which means LESS jobs.

Sorry to ruin your holidays so early and with such a downer. It’s just time that regular VOTING people wake-up and understand that we are literally eating ourselves alive here. The government oddly continues to de-incentivize investment in business, R&D, job growth, all the while spending money and adding taxation at an un-sustainable rate. These tax hikes take away deductions from teachers and ordinary households who rely on tuition deductions for kids in schools and college. No more classroom deductions or Cloverdale education account tax breaks. Even charities are hurt since IRA charitable deductions will be disallowed, so what was once a donation anticipated by a wealthy donor will simply shift to yet another tax payment. There are only 100 pennies in every dollar. When you take away, even a fraction of a cent for some perceived public need, that is a fraction LESS of personal wealth that you individually control. At some point you run out of pennies and … uh well, - Christmas is officially over. Sadly then, all we’ll be able to say is “NO Virginia, there is no Santa Claus – he lost his way and was TAXED TO DEATH.”

Prime 9 signs it is high time to vote!

Oh boy it’s your favorite time of year again. No it can’t be your birthday (unless you're eight), Christmas (unless you're WalMart), or even Hanukah (unless you're Hawaiian). No it is VOTING TIME again – perhaps the most titillating time of the year for computer-bound bloggers and brainy Hooters girls? Hey don’t scoff at the notion – I covered myself with the ‘perhaps’, on the off-chance that some of you may not agree. In any case, today is the day when we start to see the signs that the worst of the political season is behind us, and indeed there is a glow-stick at the end of the tunnel. So AFTER you mark your ballot, pat yourself on the back for a job well done and review these Prime 9 memories of how you knew it was time to make some really tough guesses … uh CHOICES. Enjoy!

1) You madly rush around trying to choose your candidates based on who has the ‘prettiest’ and most colorful yard signs.

2) Robot auto-dialers have grown tired of repeating their taped messages and simply breathe heavily into the phone - which you find oddly arousing.

3) You vote for your candidates based on how many times they HAVE or HAVEN’T uttered any of the phrases ‘change’, ‘Tea Party’, or ‘main street not wall street’, in speeches.

4) Overnight the daily newspaper has become suddenly only 2 pages thick and devoid of any ‘hard’ news except for the crossword puzzle – oops I forgot, it’s already like that every day!

5) You have to ‘un-stick’ your identification from its wallet window pocket , so the old geezer that checks you in at the polls can fondle it and compare your ‘in person’ weight to the ‘ lie’ noted on your Driver’s license.

6) If your homeless or an illegal alien, you must walk from polling place to polling place casting multiple ballots for whichever candidate has promised you the most cigarettes, malt liquor, and lottery tickets.

7) At Walgreens, there is a rush on fingernail polish and ‘Goo-be-gone’ to try and remove your losing candidate’s stickers from the car’s bumper, office windows, laptop, and your billboard-sized forehead.

8) The entire library system’s collection of 32 copies of ‘Voting for Dummies’ are all returned and re-shelved on the day of the election – inexplicably perfectly crisp and STILL never opened.

9) Global Warming has immediately reversed into a dive towards a new ice age when all of the hot air stops billowing out of those airbag candidates and the moronic TV commentators.

So there you have it the Prime 9 signs that it is voting time again. I sincerely hope you have taken your responsibility to understand the issues and candidates a bit more seriously than my goofy post insights. Our nation depends on YOUR vote for guidance and leadership. Without ‘We the people’ there is nobody left in this Republic to tax and pay for all the stuff that we want for free. So be proud, and help put Democracy in action by remembering to VOTE NOW and VOTE OFTEN!

Mock ME but not my country or crackers

I was kind of amused the other day when on late night television, a comedian with a distinctly ‘foreign’ dialect did a stand-up bit referring to the U.S.A as the land of “American cheese CRACKERS’. Oh yes I get that in modern slang, the term is thought of as a pejorative for Caucasians. But honestly folks, does anyone really think this term would get a true American’s blood boiling in real life? I love cheese and crackers anyway, so if somebody said to me “Hey - Cracker!”, I would say “WHERE?”

The thing is around here that Saltines and other types of crackers are so popular, they have their own zip code. I have at least 3 or 4 boxes in reserve at all times in case of cracker supply issues at Wal Mart, or if, on an off chance we meet up with a dozen or so rabid parrots. I can’t help it really, because crackers are so versatile. You can eat ‘em raw or in soup, sail them like Ninja weapons, build little towers out of them, or in a pinch, use them as a decent set of checkers – ovals vs. squares.

As you might expect, I am the practical one of the house and prefer the simple conservative square saltines, also known by their military designator as P.B.D.S. (Peanut Butter Delivery System). My kid has to have those ‘reduced fat’ Triscuts and ultra thin crackers with ‘vegetable’ flavored seasoning. Does all that multicolored powder and the extra long names of these products make them healthier and worth 3 times the price of my ‘plain jane’ saltines? My wife of course only loves those fancy ‘shapely’ girly crackers with the wheat, rye, and butter flavorings. I am not sure but when fermented that mash sounds like the fixin’s for a batch of ‘Hillbilly Hooch’ to me – I’m going to have to keep my ‘pink-eye’ on her.

Wow it’s getting late and this cracker-chat has made me feel a bit ‘HUNGARY’, so it’s times like these that I am thankful I don’t live in North Poland. Those European countries don’t have convenient 24 hour access to bricks of Velveeta and P.B.D.S. on demand like my proud but portly homeland. Yes we Americans are a patriotic, ‘cracker-lovin’ people that believe in God, Country, and a high-caliber double crust, MOCK Apple pie!

Hot - Cold - Hot - Chile

When the weather turns hot and sticky, most of my energy is dedicated to running between an air conditioned car, house, or place of business. Yes I have perfected the ‘dart and sweat’ method like a seasoned prison escapee on the lamb, with mint jelly and just a hint of rosemary. As a thrifty sort that I am, I generally don’t mind the heat too much as long as I don’t HAVE to pay nature’s gas or fuel oil bill.

Now obviously I DO have to fork out truck loads of cash to try and cool off my family of froot loops and the air inside this cereal box we call home. I do it begrudgingly since I generally believe that suffering is good for the constitution; and moreover for the patriotic ‘green energy’ dweebs, because a cheap electric BILL is always right!

Most of the time nobody complains since I have installed fans in nearly every room of the house along with legions of Japanese Geisha to flap them ‘round the clock’. Obviously by name alone, I would have preferred to use historical Chinese ‘Coolies’ instead, but none were available. Clearly these days, the descendants of Central Asia prefer to knock off DVD’s and designer handbags to help plant a ‘Golden Spike’ in the heart of America’s myopic consumer economy.

Whew, I don’t know if it is all of this fiery commentary or just the weather, but it’s clear I am getting hot under the collar and in need of a jigger of antifreeze. I need to relax and quick. All this frosty talk is making me ‘snappy’ but that may be that I’m getting hungry too? With this weather and mood, I’m not sure if I want to eat something ‘hot’, ‘cold’, or how about a ‘forget all your troubles’ "liquid-lunch" instead? By golly I think I’ve got it; like the oil, I’ll have all '3 in 1' –a cup of “CHILLY”!

Never walk in circles

Have you ever had one of those days that you just want to rewind and start over? No harm, no foul – just everybody go back to your marks and let’s try to get it right this time. My daughter’s car would not start right away last night, so I kind of prepared myself mentally for today’s inevitable trials. You know the drill, - make an appointment at the car shop; get the car tucked in with a probe in its tailpipe; and then find a ride back home to wait it out. Then comes the tearful goodbyes as I try to spend some quality time with my money. We try to be brave, but we’ve known each other far too long to try and lie to one another. There is no way to sugar coat it, soon ‘Franklins, Grants, n’ Jacksons’ and I will be parting ways - never to see each other again. Goodbye old friends – I will miss your cocaine-laced embrace.

So today starts out as planned and I give up my car to the kid so she can get to work. After my daughter leaves, I get ready to take her car in and amazingly the beast starts up perfectly without issue. As wonderful as that sounds, I groan, because the only thing WORSE than an electrical problem is an INTERMITTENT electrical problem. I set my negativity aside and already feel a little encouragement however. If I had to have the car towed out of one of the garages, it would have been very hard to get a giant flatbed up on the apron, so since the car was on the road - things were already looking up! I motored happily along for all of 1 mile when the car suddenly shut down. I guided the 4-wheeled paperweight gently to the curb in front of a house that happened to be for sale, on an attractive suburban neighborhood street.

I was not too exasperated since I told you that I had steeled myself previously for just such good fortune. I called the Auto Club and they told me a truck would arrive within 45 minutes. I don’t believe them. In the past 45 minutes usually means they will arrive in 35 minutes on the outside. I really need to use the restroom but I am a mile from home in one direction and a mile from a park porta potty in the other. I briefly think about all the diuretics I had for breakfast, then I think about asking to use the restroom of the house that’s for sale. I ultimately decide it is not the best way to meet new neighbors, so I choose to walk instead and try to forget my dilated bladder. I can’t risk trying to get to my house and back before the flatbed truck arrives, so I essentially walk in big circles around my car.

Now despite over 275 blog stories which prove otherwise, I am not an idiot. I know it is not exactly normal behavior for a middle aged geezer to be walking in a race track pattern up and down the street, reversing course and doing it all over again … and again … and … But at the same time, I’m clearly no threat. It’s hot out and I’m sweating like a big warmed over suckling pig. I am careful not to loiter too long in front of anyone’s home so they don’t get concerned that a sweaty yeti is on the loose. My daughter’s car is a conspicuously bright red convertible and therefore a lousy 'get-away' car. It also barely holds people much less contraband or 'ham-Burglar' tools – so what’s to fear?

Well apparently quite a bit because, though I had only been walking in circles for about 15 minutes, I first noted a County police car slowly pass me and then another police car behind him. As they went up about a block they made a ‘U turn’ and headed back my way. By that time, a Paddy Wagon police truck pulled up behind me and in front of my disabled car. I kept walking calmly but knew what was coming. The first two policemen pulled behind my car and made a visit to the ‘house for sale’. By then I had rounded my race track and was walking back towards the whole gaggle of County servants. One policeman crossed the road to intercept me politely but with his right hand clearly resting on his holster.

I have to admit I was none too pleased and less receptive to public interrogation than usual. (One tiny murder spree and the police seem to hold that against you forever) I was polite but obviously curt and disgusted. Jeez, couldn’t you have waited at least 30 minutes into my walk to break up the monotony a little? Now all of the excitement is front loaded and I will be bored until the Auto Club gets here. Apparently I checked out ok because the police quickly determined I was not going to hurt the occupant of that house with the sign in the lawn. I told the cop “The house is for sale – all kinds of unknown people will be hanging around it for the next 3 months”. Thank goodness my daughter did not have some horrible outstanding warrant on the car that she had forgotten to mention. As the police officer started to walk back to his car, I told him to let the worried lady know that ‘I still would be out here skulking around until the truck comes for my car’. He glared at me and said he intended to. I don't think he liked me or he was still suspicious of my intentions. I didn't mean anything by the excessive fidgeting and wild-eyed crazed looks - remember I had to go to the bathroom!

93 minutes I trod the sidewalks until that dumb Auto Club truck came. I cannot tell you how happy I was to get away from that stupid house that was for sale. Part of me wants to take a check over for the full purchase price of that dump and TEAR IT UP in front of the owner’s face and tell her I would have bought the place until she called the cops on me. I have a better idea though. Every day for the next month or so, I am going to tow some kind of registered vehicle I own and park it in front of her house. Who knows, I may even get some illegal aliens and we will sell tacos and schnitzel there too? Surely someone around her needs a big old truckload of manure to fertilize their lawn right? I know where she lives and I know she won’t mind any of it – as long as I don’t walk in circles around her house.

'High Five' things I miss about the oil spill

Actually there is nothing I really miss about the oil spill down in the Gulf. But in the interest of making lemon flavored water out of Lemonhead candy – uh well you get the point … I did assemble a list of the 5 things I will miss most about this front page story.After all, even in blogging, “you should never let a serious crisis go to waste” right? Although, after a scary 4 months, this news is older and riper than Homo Erectus and his petrified black banana.

COUNT 'EM DOWN FOLKS ...

FIVE ) I do love those big hotel and rental car discounts at the Gulf beaches. There is nothing like a stroll along a vacant white sand beach, alone with your thoughts, red temporary fencing, and a big ol' bag full of tar balls.

FOUR ) Oh how I will miss the last month of the President’s frequent open collar walks along the Gulf coastline, reflecting the concern of every average Joe and Joetta. Yeah closing airports, airspace, all boat traffic, and delaying thousands of workers from trying to contain the mess again and again is a double-darn dandy idea!

THREE ) Sadly I have to admit that I will miss myself, my equally naïve friends, and family all sitting around playing our favorite second-guessing game called “Just plug that hole”. Hey I use a garden hose all the time – I’m sure that oily 'ZIT' is no different a mile below sea level with 7000 pounds of pressure behind it right?

TWO ) Won’t we all miss those shots of turtles and sea birds experiencing a luxury oil dip treatment at the Gulf's BP spa? You could just see how relaxed they were after they got their final scrub down, wash and wax. I never thought about it before but for animals do they get a pedicure or a ‘critter-cure’?

And the number ONE thing I will miss from the Gulf oil spill is …

I may be an immature and juvenile ‘Slumdog’, but I’ll never get enough of listening to America’s first Indian Governor, Bobby Jindhal speak with a decidedly Louisianian accent. I mean I still have trouble with the locals here on how I say 'Missouri' (or MizzouRAH), yet this guy is apparently fueled by Gulf shrimp-water in his veins.

So there you have it. Give yourself a 'High Five' if you suffered stalwartly without skipping straight to number One. Hopefully the spigot stays shut, and the Gulf oil spill, along with this post, will soon be just a distant memory. Let's hope so,'cause the truth is folks, if it happens again, as far as funny goes - I'm tapped out.

The 'Skinny' on Energy Drink Boosters

It is hard to imagine that the world’s leaders are always talking about trying to dig up and invent new sources of energy. Haven’t these people been up the street to a 7-11 or to any store check-out lane on the planet? I mean you really have to be wearing ‘ultra-dark’ sunglasses, slapping ankles and small children with a white cane to miss the so called energy ‘booster’ drinks and shots displayed everywhere.

What happened; did somebody forget that soda, tea, and coffee already had the caffeine and diuretic department covered and locked up? Now it seems anyone with a cute diminutive bottle, flashy label, and some filtered water is getting in on the action. Yeah I could toss out any ol’ pale yellow secret ‘witches brew’, featuring liquid vitamins with caffeine, and fitness fiends would take to it like summer bugs to a porch light.

Now I know being naturally hyper-kinetic, I’m not the best authority to speak to this subject. Beyond that, I suck-in my fair share of diet soda and coffee every week, which keeps my hot-air mouth afloat and the bathroom porcelain well exercised. In general however, it is probably best, if truly health- conscious folks would try to avoid these stimulant boosters as a part of their ordinary routine and diet.

The fact is, most of us ALREADY get a fair dose of these mild stimulants during the course of a day without the need for excessive supplements. I have linked a caffeine database here so ordinary sane people can look up and compare favorite beverages against the myriad of energy potions available. If you are insane (like our world leaders), and refuse to listen or learn in the face of established fact and historical data, I am linking the most powerful caffeine ‘buzz’ per ounce known to mankind. Yep, just pop an ounce or so of this ‘super nova’ stimulant and you won’t sleep for a week. Of course if you do it often enough, the next ‘booster’ energy shot you’ll get is from your doctor. He'll 'FIXX' you right up with a pair of cold metal defibrillator paddles,and if you are good and wake up - he'll give you a pale yellow 'Lolly'!

Redneck Games Reunion

Once again I somehow missed the Summer Redneck Games in E. Dublin, Georgia on Saturday. This is that spoof (sort-of) alternative Olympics started down South when the real five ring Olympics stopped by in Atlanta awhile back. Although the event takes a lot of ribbing in the national media, it actually collects quite a bit of dough for charity, while having a lot of fun.

I’m not so sure what the big deal is though about throwing toilet seats as horseshoes? In Missouri we just throw the whole toilet out in the yard. Actually my nephew used a sledgehammer to break-up an old toilet of mine and we ended up burying the pieces in the backyard. The irony was the toilet rubble was buried to help with WATER control and erosion! Gee I thought that was what diapers were for?

Yeah those Georgian’s down at the Redneck Games have nothing on us Missourians. When we ceremoniously light our BBQ grills here, usually at least one random rodent and a flurry of insects vacate the thing quick. We are not big on Porky pigs feet here, but as I’ve mentioned before just across the ‘Big Muddy’ is a joint that people flock to for Pig snout sandwiches and love ‘em.

So to get in the mood and ready for next year’s Redneck games, I’m thinking of getting one of those mullet haircuts sewn right into a truckers cap. I’ll have to dig around and see if I can find my cut-off jeans made out of the Confederate flag. Though it has been quite a few pounds ago since I wore them, there is nothing quite so nice as resting your sweaty rump on the Confederate flag. Gee I had better be extra careful with those flag pants seams if I bend over though – NOBODY wants to see those Confederates split from the Union again!

Military Intelligence

Far from a buffoon like me to judge the military and tell them what to do when it comes to public relations, buying planes, and high technology gizmos. After all I’m the guy whose ’P.R.’ skills produce a blog with only a dozen or so loyal followers. It’s also widely known that I have a hard time deciding between both guns or butter, and I’m still a little foggy over the whole ‘Spork’ thing. Is it REALLY more fork than spoon or vice versa?

Still when I see a few curious tidbits show up on my desk . . . oh sorry the hamster must be loose again – uh, lets regroup. When I HEAR an interesting news flash about the military or see some high-tech happenings brewing, I try to compile it and pass it along. You can then judge for yourself if the stories have merit, or need (much like these hamster treats) round filing.

This first piece of video is of an Israeli military unit on patrol apparently breaking the tension with a little synchronized dance number. The brass hats were none to amused but apparently the rest of the world is, because the vid went viral. In general, I prefer military units to ALWAYS remain professional when out in public. But let’s face it, there are flesh and blood humans under all that 70 pounds of battle-ready gear. ‘Professional’ does not mean lifeless, and if it ever does, don’t expect those automated robots to provide treats to lost puppies, or a comforting embrace to an innocent child caught in the crossfire.

For this next news item, I had to really break out the Stolichnaya so I could practice my Russian slurs. Because apparently the ‘Ruski’ aerospace conglomerate ‘United Aircraft’ wants a piece of the action of the $40 billion U.S. refueling tanker contract. No doubt the combined effort of Russia’s biggest names in planes can make a fine aircraft, and you might even find a few Air Force jockeys who MIGHT fly them. But the real question in my mind is ‘ARE YOU NUTS’? The air fueling wing is a major component of the global strategic defense plan for the United States. It is hard enough to let France’s EADS and NATO play in America’s proprietary sandbox, much less those ‘Siberian Laikas’ with their Cheshire cat smiles.

Finally let’s end on a high-tech happy note. Since our soldiers never know what risks they’ll ultimately face, I am whole-hog ‘gung-ho’ on TenCate’s new fire retardant Haute Couture for the U.S. Army’s Combat Uniform (ACU). Yes, these new camo-duds may not look new and improved, but take a gander at the vid here at about 30 seconds in on the company’s website. I can honestly say, if I was at the wrong end of a S’more fork, I know which uniform I would prefer to catch on ‘FIRE’ – fashionably speaking of course!

The Spirit of Independence Day!

Happy Independence Day! Yes I gripe a lot about the Gov. and its multitude of problems and practices. But July 4th magically always draws me back in and encourages pause for reflection on the good ol’ U.S. of A. From my earliest days as a tot to now as a graying geezer, this day has always been one of my favorite holidays to stand in awe of not only America as a nation, but my incredible individual good fortune as an AMERICAN as well.

Even if you are not a fan of all the fireworks, fanfare, and hoopla associated with the holiday, I think you might change your mind a bit if all that stuff were missing. What better way to add an exclamation point to the ideals of personal FREEDOM, than with endless volleys of pyrotechnic mortars or a long sweaty parade?

But this day is more than fireworks, BBQ’s, and park outings, it is truly about the ever-present yet intangible SPIRIT that silently propels this nation forward through thick, thin, and the impossible. Regardless of political persuasion or personal identity, even when things get tough, Americans have proven time and time again – we have the will, and literally the 'constitution' to carry-on and make a difference.

Yeah, I’m sure our forefathers would have preferred the fun of shooting off a week’s salary worth of Chinese made fireworks, rather than capturing the true essence of the American spirit. They chose wisely, though, at incredible personal risk, to dog it out and translate that founding philosophy onto a little hunk of parchment called, the Constitution. How we got so lucky, I will never know. All I know is that I am proud, in awe, and incredibly hungry for a grilled burger, chips, and double helping of gratitude!