Thursday, June 30, 2005

"The Sound Activated Shit Auger...if you build it...they will scream!"

The Sound Activated Shit Auger (as pictured at the Sandwich fair) can liven up any party or social gathering!

Simply bind a "friend" in the chair and insert his/her head in the fish bowl receiver.

Have one of your lactose intolerant friends mount the comfy thunder pot transceiver. Have your friend "download".

When your bound friend realizes what he/she is about to experience, they will shout out in excitement/anguish/panic/euphoria. This shout will be picked up by a concealed microphone that activates the auger. The more they shout, the faster the auger turns!

- Little Dougie Pork Sword

I understand that LDPS is in negotiations with Dean Kamen who is interested in manufacturing these. - WGB

Wednesday, June 29, 2005


It is with heavy heart that I announce to you that Methuselah, my dear friend and last remaining sea-monkey, has passed on and is now swimming around sucking up algae in the happy hunting grounds of his ancestors.

I consider myself truly blessed that I was able to watch him grow from a precocious little speck, jerking all around while avoiding getting eaten by his relatives, to the proud 1/3in long strong, majestic sea creature he became. He was a strong and effortless swimmer able to use his powerful cilia to propel himself upside down (or right side up, I'm not sure) from one end of his 5in deep aquarium to the other and back again over and over and over.

Although each smaller than this period:".", his dark eyes held an inquisitive gaze about them that always seemed to meet the stares of his countless admirers. He was one ballsy dude, although I doubt he actually had balls. I'm not even so sure he was a dude.

His departure ends an awesome year and a half run of sea-monkeys, the longest I have ever been witness to. Believe it or not, Methuselah swam solo for about the last two months. He will be missed. Or at least until I order some more eggs on line at And I will get that sea-monkey cam going next time I promise.

In lieu of sending flowers, you can make donations to the Young Sea-Monkeys Education Fund. A brine shrimp is a terrible thing to waste.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Fuzztones. LOUD

I have the house all to myself for a few days as my roommates are away. What to do besides walk around naked? Maybe clean the place up since my roomies are such slobs. I will play the Fuzztones at an ungodly volume. Then perhaps I will hook myself up to the morphine drip The Cod God gave me, get comfy on the couch and watch "Butt Fuck Sluts 3." The possibilities are endless.

I didn't get fired for my boner (mistake, not erection - get your minds out of the gutter) last night as I had hoped. Oh well. I will try harder next time.

I love the way Congress has backed an anti-flag burning amendment to the Constitution. Obviously those dip-shits don't have anything better to work on, i.e. spiraling health care costs. Republicans love smokescreen issues like flag burning and school prayer and haul them out every now and then when things aren't going well for the party. Such as the unmitigated disaster in Iraq.

And will the spineless Democraps do anything about it? Of course not! Would you want to be known as "pro flag burning"? That’s exactly what the government propagandists like Rush Dimbulb and Sean Hannity will tag them with.

They can all feast on my shit for all I care.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Spank Rag O' Death

I would have written a blog for you yesterday, my loyal order of expectant fans, but I was just too damned busy. I will craft one for you now. Boy, aren't you lucky as shit?

So they discovered that poor woman in Florida those damned liberals murdered was actually brain dead after all. A veritable vegetable just like the 300 doctors testified to in the various trials over the years. I think Frist and the rest of the Republicans should have CAT scans done on themselves to see if they have any functioning gray matter.

And talking about those theo-cons (conservatives who want to run this country like a Christian Taliban), they are trying to tell us that a clump of cells formed just after procreation is as human as we are (at least those of us not on death row). What's next? Is the jism from our very dicks going to be accorded all the rights as a person since it's just one step removed from that clump of cells? My god! We could all be declared mass murderers on a daily basis! Well, daily for some of us. I can almost hear the prosecutor now: "Did you or did you not ever willfully and knowingly murder 480 million children by launching them into your bedroom ceiling, or by smothering them with Kleenex and flushing them down the toilet, or by leaving them on your girlfriend's breasts to die?"

Hey, it's your country. And it's your rights they are taking away. Gonna do anything about it? Huh? Huh? I didn't think so. Too boring.

Enough politics. (I can hear a collective sigh of relief)

Well at least the weather is good. Scantily clad chicky-boos are out in force! Its days like these that I truly can't understand how some guys can be gay. How could you possibly crave hairy man-ass when there are so many lovely sweet smelling girls bouncing around all over the place displaying their awesome wares?

Sadly, there are few good looking chicks were I work. And speaking of work, no they have not taken my fucking cube away from me yet. I'm the lone IT guy left in a sea of weirdo engineers. I think they are afraid to move me. I'm beginning to catch on to this corporate schtick. I believe I intimidate the powers-that-be with my sense of humor/biting sarcasm (even though I've toned it down a bit). Plus the fact that as pitifully out of shape and slobby fat as I am, I could beat the living fuck out of any of them and, for some reason, they know it. I actually think I scare some people. Or they are just plain afraid of someone who is different.

Oh, and speaking of my job, I made a huge blunder tonight. I won't go into the gory details, but at one point earlier in the evening I was thinking that I have been at my current job for almost a year without having made a big mistake. Of course you are judged by your mistakes and not your accomplishments in this sort of job. I jinxed myself. Blew it big time tonight. I will have to face the music tomorrow. But the best defense is always a good offense so I am already formulating my attack. I tell you, I'm catching on!

Hey, if they fire me I can at least return to a real life. Hopefully Ceres Bakery will take me back and I can work with cool people again. And most of those cool people will be raging babes! Makes me want to haul out little Wheel Gun Bob and start...well maybe not. I don't want to be indicted for murder.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Why Fi?

I'm in the market for a laptop. Not a lap dance, although that would be more fun, but a laptop computer. The one I currently have is 10 years old. And being an IT fag, I should have the latest and greatest computer equipment, right?

I even set up a new wireless access point last night in anticipation of getting this laptop. I had a few pulls of Jack once home from the coal mines and set about configuring the damned thing for maximum coverage incase I ever need to use my laptop while I'm standing in the compost pile behind the garden shed. So I was stumbling around in the dark outside with my signal strength meter in hand at about 3AM. Good thing no one called the cops on me thinking I was a terrorist with a tri-corder.

I gave my old wireless equipment to The Cod God so he can write blogs while sitting on his throne. I might be partly to blame for his increased out put as of late. Gives new meaning the phrase "brain dump." Maybe I will find some wireless shit for BFace. Then hopefully being perched upon his shitter with laptop in hand and pants around high-tops will finally inspire him to write something on his blog. We can always hope.

I noticed that the new laptops are behemoths with very wide screens. So wide in fact, you might need two laps to accommodate them. Which is good if you have a girlfriend. You could snuggle side by side while perusing EBay or reading my blog for that matter. Although if I had a girlfriend, I would be busy speed-bagging her epiglottis with my purple helmeted spelunker instead of surfing the web.

That's enough of my crap for now.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Beat It

[Ed. Note: Once again, I plopped down for a couple of minutes last night in order to write this blog and then a shit storm blew in and I forgot to post it. So here it is. Worth the wait.]

It's Monday, boys and girls, and things aren't going so well here at work. I would tell you all about it except I don't really have time to and besides, I go on about work too much as it is. So fuck it with a pressure treated 4X4 I say.

I bet you have all been waiting to hear my take on the Michael Jackson trial outcome. So here it is. First of all, I never liked him as a performer. His breathy, squeaky way of singing always drove me nuts. And it inspired a generation of Michael Jackson sing-a-likes like all those goddawful boy bands (FYI - my #1 pet peeve, Eddie Vedder imitators, drive me even more insane).

But I will bet you an expensive bottle of Jesus juice that he is a pedophile. I know I wouldn’t let my kid near him. I wouldn’t let my cat near him. I wouldn’t let my sea monkey come close to him. Hell, if I had to go with in a 100 yards of him myself, I would be sure to suture my asshole shut and cover it with strapping tape. Of course I’m probably a little old for him.

Actually I hardly paid any attention to the trial. I can’t stand celebrity trials. I can’t stand celebrities. And America is obsessed by them. I think I will move to Norway.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Pigs Can Swim

Boy, I'm happier than a pig swimming in shit 'cause it's Friday! Well actually Saturday since it's way the fuck past midnight. I just got home from work. And just had my first couple shots of Jaeger. It's about time since my BAC had dipped under 20%. Yee-fuckin-haw!

Me and the roomies have a party planned for Sunday. Got a couple kegs and a nitrous tank. Good times will be had by all (except possibly the neighbors). Hopefully ole Wheelgun will hook up with a nymphomaniacal hotty. Don't bet against it. I know what chicks dig and I still have the moves. Actually I think chicks dig it if I move away from them. Oh well. I will still have fun.

So I will leave you with this thought to end the week on (sorry it's political):

There have been some rumblings about initiating impeachment proceedings against the trained baboon we have in the White House. Seems that the so-called "Downing Street Memo" has made people realize that our president may have misled us into war. Finally! I was beginning to think it would take Bush tattooing "Suckers!" to his forehead for those who dun votatated for Dubya to realize this. But he shouldn't be impeached. We voted him in for a second term so we deserve what we get. Besides, it's not like he got caught in a lie concerning getting his crank gobbled by a fat intern or anything.

That's all for now. Gotta rough up the suspect and catch some z's.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Keep Your Damned Filthy Hands Off My Cube

There is no end to the misery! Guess what? They are trying to take my goddamned cube away from me! Yes, you heard me right. My cube is going to be turned over to an engineer!

The company for which I toil is relocating a bunch of engineers to Beverly, the location where I can be found. As well as hiring a bunch of others. These engineers need room to do whatever the hell it is they do. So who ever decides these things decided the lowly IT department could give up some of their cubes.

I will, along with a couple other IT off-shifters, have to take up permanent residence in the NOC (Network Operating Center) which is a giant glassed in area that looks like the control center of a power station. Boy, is that going to blow dog! It's cold and noisy in there. Plus people can keep an eye on you all the time either by looking in the glass front or dialing up the web cam (if you fuckers think for a moment I will give you that address, you are dreaming).

The only good thing about the NOC is that whenever one of the few good looking chicks around wants to drop off a laptop for repair or pick up a loaner, you always arrange to meet her there since the air is kept so frigid. Just remember to borrow some safety glasses from manufacturing so you don't lose an eye!

Now let me tell you about cubes. If you have ever read the comic strip "Dilbert" (it's incredibly accurate - I can't even laugh at it anymore) then you know what I will be going on about. We working stiffs live in these little beige 10" X 10" cubes that are about 5 feet high. Of course you personalize them as much as you dare so you don't go crazy. I have pictures of dragsters and Hillary Swank in mine. And some odd toys. Like a miniature guy named "Bob" in a tiny cube. And I've collected a number of old computers and equipment so my cube looks like the set up The Lone Gunmen (computer nerds from the X-Files) had. I've also hoarded a bunch of things that help me do my job so I don't have to go running around like an idiot looking for shit when I need to, say, deploy a system.

[Warning: This next paragraph verges on geek talk]

I mean, the set up is sweet. I have a computer dedicated to network monitoring. It's some old piece of shit that they were going to throw out that I got working (adjusted the air/fuel mixture, by Jesus). And I found some Dell Trinitron monitors that nobody wanted because they weren't new or black and cool looking. I have one computer that's Windows 2000/Office 2000 and one that's XP/Office 2003 so I can help people with either of our two main setups. I even installed Linux as a dual boot option on the Win 2k machine just in case we get hit by a virus and I can't use Windows (One of these days I will dedicate a lengthy, boring blog to the incident that inspired me to do this).

And the really cool thing about my cube, besides the pictures of Hillary, is that I have set up two work stations using a switch, old monitors and some of the stuff I've found. I can work on two computers at once; right in the comfort of my own "home" instead of the pigsty know as the "build room." And it's a place to hang my goddamned coat! I don't want to give it up!

Well yesterday they booted the third shift guy Glenn out of his cube. He is the type of guy who really hates that kind of shit and is not shy when complaining about it. So in order to prevent him from going on a killing spree, I took his crap out of the NOC and set it up in my cube. I cleverly re-arranged everything so that there's room enough for both of us. And since we don't work at the same time, it should work out. And I have this hope that the powers that be (the "high-walls") will look at this act of compassion and spare my - I mean our - cube from being turned over to some weasely little dullard from MIT.

[Ed. Note: I was not able to post this blog at work due to a network anomaly that cropped up in Agrate, Italy that diverted my attention. I just got home so I am posting it now. Glenn, by the way, when he saw the dual set up in my cube said “Fuck them. They can kiss my dick.” And proceeded to install an obscene screen saver on the engineer’s computer in his old cube. He also said he would move his shit back to the NOC. Like a good little martyr.]

Monday, June 06, 2005

CRT vs. Smith & Wesson

I was up late the other night flipping channels. Can someone please tell me what's funny about Seinfeld? I saw about five minutes of an episode (which brings my life time Seinfeld viewing total to about 7 minutes) and there was nothing funny or interesting about it. And then there is that really annoying bass music. I ended up watching a movie on the Sci-Fi channel. It's usually that, or the Discovery channel or the History channel. Why the hell do I spend so much money on cable TV? And how come there is no titty channel with basic cable? What's more basic than sex?

You know what one of my ambitions is? To shoot a TV. Really. Not as a political gesture, but just for the hell of it. Now, I have shot TVs in the gravel pit before but I want to shoot a TV that's on in a room just like Elvis did. I would be lying on a couch with a beer in one hand and the clicker in the other just flippin channels like I do. Resting comfortably yet menacingly on the table next to the couch would be my trusty S & Wesson .357 magnum. [Jesus, do you know how annoying it is to try and write a blog with a damned beeper going off every 15 seconds? Our network is experiencing a lot of traffic so our shitty network monitoring program keeps beeping me. Good thing I don't have my .357 with me here at work!]

You might ask why I would choose my dainty .357 magnum to shoot a TV over, say, my .44 magnum or even the mighty Contender. Well it's because I suspect the .357 would probably get the job done. And get it done without blowing the fucking living room windows out. Shit, I've got a shell loader set up in the basement, so I might just load up some special TV shooting cartridges now that I think of it. Might even load 'em up with black powder so the living room is all smoky and stinky after I assault the boob tube.

So Seinfeld better watch out.

Friday, June 03, 2005

Danica Deep Throat

[Ed. note: I was going to post this last night from work but some idiot came by at 10:30 and said "My laptop stopped booting up today. Can you fix it?" Good thing he waited until 10:30 at night to do anything about it. Anyway, I got distracted. So here it is now.]


Good news. They are finally coming out with a top level domain for online porn sites! .xxx! I am going to be the first one to register It's sure to be a hit.

Deep Throat

Deep Throat has finally been revealed. You know, the guy who secretly fed Woodward and Bernstein info that helped bring down Tricky Dick. Is there anyone out there with balls enough to help bring down the current sack-of-shit president? Actually, just the stuff that's common knowledge should easily be enough to get Bush impeached. But nobody seems to care. Too bad, it's your country. Fair warning: I feel a political blog coming on soon. Or maybe that's the chili dog I had for lunch.

Big Stick

Who in their right mind would ever pitch to David Ortiz with the game on the line in the ninth inning? I think I would rather intentionally walk him even if it meant walking in the tying run. At least then you would have a chance of winning.

Auto Erotic

I like the Indy 500 chick. She's cute as hell. And she can sure turn a wheel. I bet you she can also suck a cage ball through a pipette. But the ballsiest female driver of all time is Shirley Muldowney. Not only was she good, she was successful. And she won two championships. That's right, not just races. Championships. She was know for her ferocious competitivness as well as her considerable temper. If any guy tried to cross her, she might just wail on him. And, lets face it, you've got to have a hairy pair to drive an 8,000 horse power top fuel dragster at over 300MPH. I've shit myself just standing near one warming up in the pits. I now feel a drag racing blog coming on. Perhaps I will get my brother Wheel Gun John to chip in.

Cod Piece

I invited The Cod God over for some whiskey fried steak, lard donuts and absinthe. But he turned me down. He must have something better to do. You know what they say - Absinthe makes the heart grow stronger but the pancreas grow weaker.

The weekends almost upon us! Well I've gotta go. I'm going to put on an INXS record and practice some autoerotic strangulation. And finish that absinthe!