Friday, September 30, 2005

Hammer Time

[Ed. note: I was working on this blog whilst woofing down my dinner at work tonight when our enterprise back-up system blew up. I am now at home drinking a beer and wringing out my nut-sack.]

Another dog blowing night here at work. People just won't leave me alone. And everybody's got a shitty attitude around here. I refuse to catch it. Although it sounds like I already have it from reading my blogs, doesn't it? It's just that I refuse to do a half-assed job and also hide or blame other people for my mistakes. Shit, I would be one crappy Republican (sorry, I know that the Democrats are just as bad but they don't count anymore).

Speaking of Republicans, Tom "The Hammer" Delay, the Teflon Don of the Republicans, was indicted yesterday for some campaign finance shenanigans. The guy's so crooked that he can't even lie straight in bed. They used to say the same of LBJ. There must be a factory in Texas that mass produces corrupt politicians. Or maybe it's in the water. Texas is where Bush calls home - 'nuff said? But I happen to like Texas. I drove across it once and spent some time in Austin. I could easily live in Austin.

A couple miscellaneous thoughts before I have to return my attention to the job:

- There are now 9 million millionaires in this country. Guess what? I ain't one of them.

- Do you think Fox News will start referring to hurricanes as "homicide storms?"

- Maybe the Red Sox should see if Miguel Tejada can inject Curt Schilling in the ass with his magic B-12.

Speaking of the Red Sox, they must win 2 out of three from the Yankmeats this weekend or it's time to clean out the locker and go home for the winter. After tonight's glorious win, I wouldn't bet against it.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Rust Never Hunts

It's been awhile since I've been shooting. And I'm in the mood to find a gravel pit and shoot shit! Does anyone know of a safe one around southern NH? The last couple of places I went to I almost got arrested at. I have the day off tomorrow (last one for a long time) so I might just get drunk and load up some .44 Magnums for my Ruger and .45-70s for the mighty Contender. And maybe some .357s for idle plinking with my S & Wesson. Anyone with me?

Speaking of guns, I made a horrifying discovery the other day. Hunting season is fast approaching so I thought I would get out my Thompson Center Hawken .50 cal flintlock and check it out. It always takes a lot of work to get the flint just right so it will go FLASH-BOOM! Instead of FLASH....BOOM! Or just FLASH! Plus I like to put a few rounds through it at a range before hunting season so I don't flinch when the ignition powder goes off. Since the frizzen and pan are right next to your face and even a little flinch makes it wildly inaccurate, it's good to get used to it.

Well, I couldn't find the damned thing! I checked my gun cabinet where I always put it after I clean it. Had I lent it to Cod God to kill squirrels like all my other guns? Then I remembered that I had put it out in the garage after hunting last year. The reason was because it was still loaded! Now don't go all liberal/anti-gun/Ted Kennedy on me. I unscrewed the touchhole nipple (insert joke here, Codgod) and emptied the powder out. And I was going to pull the ball (insert another joke here) but never got around to it. So it was still out in the garage under a ton of shit that's collected there over the year. And it's rusty as hell.

Does anyone know of a way of removing a lot of rust from a gun besides the steel wool/elbow grease method? Maybe I should just buy a new one. Shit, I can't afford to. The question might be moot since I'm not sure I can even come up with the extra $40 for the hunting license. Maybe I will just get really drunk, go in the woods and club the deer to death with it.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Fly Me To The Moon

Our mental midget president has announced that NASA is sending people to the moon again, like we can afford it. Why? Well the answer is simple really. Much of this project is going to be farmed out to private contractors. Probably among them Halliburton or one of its subsidiaries. I tell you, if you are country club pals with the president, then you have made out these last few years. The rest of us, of course, are getting poorer.

Since it will cost over one hundred billion dollars, NASA should try to make some money along the way. Here are some suggestions:

Sell advertising. This is simple. You put ads on everything from the space suits on up. Pfizer would pony up big bucks to have a giant ad for Viagra on the side of a rocket, for example. And giant banner ads could be unfurled on the surface of the moon.

Sponsors. Have everything be the official whatever of the moon program. Wendy’s or McDonalds could freeze dry some of their crap and it could be the official food for the astronauts. A zero-g douche made by Coca-Cola could be the official feminine hygiene product for the female astronauts.

TV revenue. Have a reality based TV program about the moon program. NASA should purposely hire good looking crazy young people to be the astronauts. You could have two knock-out babes, an uptight no-neck and a gay guy for example. Hi-jinks would ensue. You could even have astronauts voted off the space craft. You could also get real celebrities involved like having Oprah or Elton John be guest astronauts.

X-rated pay per view. Televised zero gravity fucking.

Sell rides to the moon. You know some bored billionaires would pay hundreds of millions of dollars to go. Just get George Bush’s Christmas card list for the names.

Sell shit. Bring back tons of moon rocks and sell them. Retrieve what’s left of the original moon landers and lunar rovers, etc. and sell it all on Ebay. This also goes for any crashed UFOs or World War II bombers they find up there.

Drill for oil on the moon. Maybe this is the real reason Bush wants us up there.

Friday, September 16, 2005


There is a Nextel Cup NASCAR race in New Hampshire this weekend, weather permitting. I like NASCAR but I'm not a huge fan. I keep tabs on it and will watch the occasional race if I have lotsa beer and time and no roomies around who want to watch something gay. But I prefer drag racing and here's why.

The typical Nextel Cup car puts out around 700 horse power. Now that’s a lot of ponies for sure. Your car might have 130 if you're lucky. A Cup car's top speed is probably close to 200MPH. That’s haulin' the mail, Cletus! Actually, more like haulin' the moonshine since NASCAR originated from hopped up cars running moonshine one step ahead of the law. Nothing too unusual about these race cars. V-8 engines with carburetors. Some exotic alloys in the valve trains, etc. but not a lot different from my '69 Plymouth Roadrunner.

Drag racing, on the other hand, features fire breathing monsters know as Top Fuel Dragsters and Funny Cars. These things are incredible. Their motors put out more horse power per cylinder than an entire Nextel Cup car engine. Estimates range from 8,000 HP on up. I read an article in Road & Track once that calculated that at a certain point during a race, a fuel motor is putting out over 10,000 horse power.

As far as performance, you'd better be equipped with a fire proof butt-plug if you ever drive one of these fuckers. They are the fastest linear accelerating vehicles on the planet. They out accelerate the Space Shuttle or a jet fighter being steam catapulted off the deck of an aircraft carrier. How fast is your car in getting from 0-60? My Toyota will do it in about 10 seconds. A top fuel dragster is going 100MPH in .8 seconds. In less than 4.5 seconds, you are going 335MPH. In 5 seconds, you've pulled your chutes, decelerated quicker than you just accelerated and have no doubt evacuated your bowels. A NASCAR Nextel Cup car going at top speed (200MPH) at the start line of a quarter mile would loose to a dragster racing from a dead start.

So how the hell do they do it? Simple - big V-8s, blowers and nitro methane. They use 500 cubic inch aluminum knock-offs of the Chrysler 426 hemi. Sitting on top of these motors is the supercharger, or blower, which is just a big compressor made out of titanium that jams the air/fuel mixture in to the cylinders almost to the point of hydraulic lock (turns into a liquid).

The piece de resistance is the fuel they burn: nitro methane (CH3NO2). It is partly self oxidizing so you can use a lot more fuel than air thus producing a hell of a lot more power - about 3 and a half times as much the engine would on gas. These mothers will burn about 10 gallons of nitro in a quarter mile pass. The exhaust produces a sickly sweet smell that is actually poisonous if you get too much. And boy, it's like getting hit with pepper spray.

So what are they like to watch/hear/experience? I went to the drags once with a NASCAR fan and after the fist pair of top fuelers took off, he just looked at me slack jawed and said "fuck." They are the loudest things you will ever hear. They literally take your breath away and almost knock you over when they take off, they cause that much over-pressure in the air. Because they are using basically a rocket fuel jammed into the cylinders at such high pressures (and due to valve over-lap), when they hit the throttle, huge flames erupt out of the headers. It's a site to behold.

A top fuel motor has been likened to a grenade with a loose pin. They explode so often that they have to cover them with ballistic blankets so people don't get fragged. You need a big budget to run one of these things. Apart from loosing engines, it costs about $5000 per quarter mile run.

True, a drag race lasts for only 4 seconds. And the cars go in circles for about two hours in NASCAR. But as I like to say: If you can turn, then you’re not going fast enough.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

No Sheep Is Safe Tonight

The smirking simian that somehow ended up being our president is in New Orleans tonight. There he is to make a speech about rebuilding the flood ravaged city so he can hopefully rebuild his image. No doubt his handlers will keep the negroes at a safe distance (except a few token ones so people think he cares). I hear we might end up spending about $200 billion cleaning up after hurricane Katrina. And let’s not forget the $6 billion a month we are spending on Iraq to promote an Islamic republic -er- democracy. So do you think W is going to push for more tax cuts for his country club pals? You betcha!!!

So the whole Judge Roberts confirmation hearings were boring as hell, not that I really expected them to be exciting. No talk of pubic hairs on coke cans like with Judge Thomas. Roberts didn't really answer any important questions but he will be confirmed. At least he sort of said the right to privacy is inherent in the constitution. That made the right-wingers apoplectic but me happy. I can now go home and sodomize my blow-up sheep dolls without worrying the damned gummint will bust down my bedroom door and arrest me. Phew!

I was going to go on a bit more but, unfortunately for you, I must get back to work.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Approach The Bench And Squat

I wish I was on the Senate Judiciary Committee so I could ask Supreme Court nominee Judge Roberts some questions. Here are a few I just thought up:

1. Do you drink?

2. As chief justice, would you wear that gay robe with the gold arm bands like Renquist did?

3. Would you ever go duck hunting with someone connected to a case that was to be argued in front of your court?

4. Would you stop any ballot recounts that might prevent a republican from winning an election?

5. Should Rafael Palmiero be elected to the hall of fame?

6. Does Justice Ginsburg wear split-crotch panties?

7. Do you have the Ten Commandments tattooed on your ass?

8. Does the 2nd amendment allow me to own an anti-tank gun (keep in mind that my .45-70 Contender isn't really considered an anti-tank gun)?

9. Who has a bigger penis, Justice Souter or Justice Thomas (Think about that one. The answer might not be so obvious)?

10. Do you think there is a right to privacy even if it isn't enumerated in the constitution (see amendment #9), or do you believe the government can pretty much stick its nose into anyone's business for whatever damned reason it pleases?

11. If a big scary negro raped your wife and she got pregnant from it, would you want her to have an abortion?

12. Would you duct tape your asshole shut if you were ever in a room alone with Justice Souter?

13. If your prostate was the size of a musk melon and the only thing that would relieve your nausea from the cancer treatments was doing bong hits while listening to Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, would you legalize the medicinal use of marijuana?

14. Would you overturn Hulk Hogan v. Andre The Giant?

15. Is “Antonin Scalia” the sound it makes when Anna Nicole-Smith takes her bra off?

Monday, September 12, 2005

When I win The Lottery

So everyone around here at work is in a chipper goddamned mood. Rumor has it a big layoff will happen Thursday. Could be a couple hundred people. My manager told me to take the next two days off. Coincidence?

Let me say this - If I didn't need the money, I wouldn't work. I'm not like those idiots who win the lottery and say they will keep their stupid little job. No fucking way. The only thing I would do is work part time at Ceres Bakery so I could hang with the babes.

Man, I've got at least twenty years until retirement. Maybe I will start buying lottery tickets. You know I have never done that? I have never bought a lottery ticket or scratch ticket or what ever. I'm sorry, it just seems so white trash to me. But I think I will head into the nearest packy tomorrow and buy a forty, some cheese doodles and a lottery ticket. Then I will go home, watch a "Cops" marathon and wait for the lottery numbers to be announced. Wouldn't you guys shit if I won?

You know what I would do with the money? Buy a farm. In the continuing attempt to depress the hell out of myself, I read this article the other day. It got me thinking. Oil will run out soon and in the mean time get really expensive, so buying a Dodge Viper isn't a good bet. I want a big ole farm with a house that has a back porch I can shoot my guns off of with out pissing off the neighbors. It's always been a dream of mine.

And when I do win, I promise to buy all you guys dinner at Gilley's. Since only one or two people read this blog, that won't be too expensive.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Mega Dittos, Shit Heads!

I'm sitting down for my 5 min dinner break here at work. That means I gulp down a shitty low-cal frozen dinner (heated up of course) and entertain you guys with a blog. You can skip it if you want, it's just my usual political rant -

How's this for irony - I was listening to my pal Rush Dimbulb on the radio today and I actually heard him yell "It's not Washington's fault!" in reference to the government’s incredibly inept and disastrous response to Hurricane Katrina. That's right, folks, seems like Rush's main job these days is to defend the federal government. Oh how the times have changed!

I used to get a kick out of Rush during the last administration when he would make fun of Bill Clinton’s foibles. (Note that, in hindsight, there was some irony involved there as well since a lot of Clinton's problems were personal in nature and here was a wife swapping, pill popping, doctor shopping degenerate making hay of them. I guess it really takes one to know one).

But I still liked the fact that people got on Clinton and questioned everything he did. We need that in a democracy. Our leaders need to be examined, questioned, and probed (to the tune of over $40 million of your tax dollars in Bubba’s case) and never, ever given a free pass. In those days, Rush and his ilk hated the gumint and wanted desperately to limit it.

Fast forward to today. Now the Republicans control the entire federal government. So I guess that makes gumint good and pretty much without limitation (e.g. Patriot Act). It also seems it should be considered infallible. If you dare to question the gumint, you are branded unpatriotic or even worse, a "liberal" (queue chorus of boos). North Korea would be proud to have government propagandists working for them as good as Rush Dimbulb.

And then there is the main stream press that the right wing dubs the "liberal media." From listening to the "liberal media," I have figured out that that term means any media outlet that doesn't toe the government’s propaganda line. Actually, the main stream press until recently was so timid that it was doing almost as much a disservice to democracy as the right-wing shit bags. Hey, we need a free press. Sorry if that means your little hero W might get criticized. Too fucking bad.

I will just lay back and enjoy listening to “El Rushbo” as he blames state and local governments and sings the praises of federal government. Wow, what a turn around.

Thats enough for now. Have a fun weekend. Go Sox!

Thursday, September 08, 2005


It's towel snapping, grab-assing, locker room praying football time! To quote the eminent philosopher Hank Jr, "Are you ready for some football?" Shit, I'm ready, that's for sure. I've been running around slapping men’s asses for weeks now in preparation for this. Tonight it's our World Champion Patriots vs. the damned Raiders or somebody. Won't be able to actually watch the game since I'm here at work, but you can bet I will be keeping tabs on the score. I will also miss BFace faves The Rolling Stones who will perform at the pregame if they're still alive. Oh boy! Now that's a night of enter-fucking-tainment! I heard it was supposed to be Michael Jackson but he is too busy writing a song for all his peeps floating around The Big Easy.

Well, that's about it for now. I've got to get back to work. But I'm Looking forward to doing bong hits with Randy Moss later. He will need cheering up.

Friday, September 02, 2005


The devastation is unreal. And I'm not talking about New Orleans either. I'm talking about my damned cube here at work. The Russian intern has finally gone back to school and has left a swath of destruction behind him reminiscent of a force 5 hurricane. I've been at it for over an hour and I still haven't finished clearing out this tiny 8 x 8 foot area. And then I have to uninstall all the fucking instant messaging programs and other shit he installed on my computer without my permission.

I grabbed the fucker as he was about to leave today and marched him to our (MY) cube and waved my hand at the disaster that is my home away from home. He looked at me with embarrassment on his pock-marked face and mumbled "I'm knowink you're not goingk to like dees." I said "Damned right I'm not going to like this, now get your hammer and sickle tattooed ass out of here before I go Ronald Reagan on it!" Now I know why Russia and the other Eastern block countries are such an environmental disaster. Nobody there can clean up after themselves.

But at least he's gone. And I'm going to have a three day weekend if someone will work for me. Maybe I should see if Turnyouheadandkov will stay through Monday. Naw...

I need the time off. It's been very tense around here and I have been on the verge of loosing my temper on numerous occasions over the last couple weeks. I'm also very jittery, can't sleep and have a bad stomach due to the steroids I'm taking for my arthritis. Maybe I should get together with Jose or Raffy and see how they cope with the side effects of ‘roids. And being in constant pain doesn't lend itself to being happy either. Good thing I don't have little kids to run around after like the Cod God does.

Well, enough of my damned belly aching. Once I'm home and in the arms of Jack Daniels I will be fine, so don’t you worry.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Dr. Diet

There is this doctor in NH who recently got in trouble for lecturing some fat woman about her weight. The poor cow filed a complaint and it made national news. The whole anti-PC crowd jumped on it with out getting any of the details as they so often do. How could the bitch file a complaint about being lectured at about her weight? She must be watching too much Oprah, etc.

Well it turns out, as is often the case, there is more to the story than first reported. Read this:

When I read it, I actually laughed so hard I almost had a fecal incident. He is actually being accused of making a racial remark. He told the blob "Well, men might want you, but not the types you want to want you. Might even be a black guy." How does he get off assuming the fatty doesn't want a black guy anyway? No wonder black people hate us.

The best part is Dr. Terry Bennett didn't deny making the remark – “In a telephone interview Tuesday from Rochester, Bennett defended his message to her, saying he has read polls that say black men prefer overweight women.” That’s when I lost it. What polls? Where can I read these polls? How were the questions posed to the black guys? "Do you prefer the company of thin bitches or fat ‘hos?" "Do you like your booty so big that it beeps when it walks backwards?" "If a woman was so fat that when she jumped in the air she stuck, would you want her over a waif?" "Do you like women so big that when they fall in love, they break it?"

He was also once accused of making an even more insensitive remark, advising a woman to shoot herself after brain surgery. Once again, he not only doesn't deny the remark but makes it worse by saying - "That patient is currently in a nursing home completely demented, tied to a chair drooling on herself and doesn’t recognize anybody," said Bennett, 67. "She was in pretty nearly that condition at the time she filed that complaint." Go Terry!

Well I'm switching PCPs tomorrow. I want Dr. Bennett to be the man. As many of you know, I'm pretty damned plump myself. Some would even say fucking fat. I will spend maybe the next two or three weeks eating nothing but Little Debbie’s snack cakes and drinking beer (in other words, my usual diet, but on a larger scale) and then get an appointment with the Doc. I will show up dressed in a moo-moo like Homer Simpson did in that episode when he got real fat. I will be munching on a ham hock when he sees me. I will make sure my pockets are filled with Twinkies so some will fall on the floor as I struggle to get up on the exam table. When he asks me whats wrong, I will burp in his face and say in a pleading, sado-masochistic voice "Please lecture me about my weight!" and "Please tell me Korean chicks prefer fat men!"

I heard the rumor that Dr. Terry Bennett is the father of BFace's pal Terry Bennett. Is this true, BFace? I was going to go on at this point speculating what his childhood was like with Dr. Terry as a father, but I'm getting hungry so I will stop for now.