Tuesday, December 23, 2008

255 Degrees In The Shade

I am such a pussy when it comes to winter since I have never really adapted to cold weather. I’m not happy until it’s 95 and humid. I would rather my balls be bathed in sweat than gone south for the winter. It was about 10 degrees Fahrenheit when I got up this morning. Or 255 degrees Kelvin. In either case, my testicles were cowering next to my Adam’s apple. 

I was very tempted to make myself a hot toddy, toss a porn into the VHS and not venture to work. Which gets me to the real gist of this blog, my employment. As you probably know, since you are no doubt an avid reader of this blog like so many, I work in an IT department for a semi-conductor company in Massachusetts. I know times are tough all over (unless you are a defense contractor or bankruptcy lawyer) but things are beyond tough in the semi-conductor biz. No sales period. And none forecasted until late next year if we are lucky. So what to do with all the employees with nothing to do? Get rid of them! This year alone we have booted over a 1/3 of our work force which was already down considerably from the year before. 

So why am I still employed? Got me. And those of us survivors will have to endure weeks of unpaid shutdowns in the coming months. Needless to say morale aint all that high at work. And it doesn’t help ole Wheegun’s fragile nerves to be in this situation. Remember, I’m the one who stays awake at night worrying about the asteroids hitting the Earth. I’m a godawful wreck. 

“What can we do to help, Wheelgun?” I hear you all ask. I suppose the answer really depends on your gender, if you know what I mean. But apart from that, please take me out drinking! I need to get out more! Even if it’s a really cold night, since I’ve devised a ball warmer made from an old car heater. I will just have to drag a 12 volt automotive battery around with me. Lord Kelvin would be proud.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Ice Ice, Baby

Boy, it really sucked not having internet for a few days due to the ice storm. I’m way behind in my internet porn research. Gotta make up for lost time since the spank bank is almost empty. But before I do, I will grace you guys with a wildly entertaining/informative blog - just the kind you have come to expect from me!

I’ve been watching some of those old Christmas movies lately since my roommates put them on all the time. Of course I would prefer to be watching some hot girl on girl action (x-rated, not x-mas), but what the hell. So here a few observations I have about holiday cinema fare:

I would rather live in Potterville in “It’s a Wonderful Life”, the alternative future that happens if George Bailey never exists. A lot of debauchery and merry drunkenness goes on there, so what could be better? It also seems like a place you could get a decent backstreet blow job for less than 5 bucks. And here’s a question: If every time you hear a bell ring it means an angel gets a pair of wings, what is it you hear when an imp gets a pair of horns? A fart?

Wouldn’t it have been a riot if Herme in “Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer” wanted to be urologist and not a dentist? And he circumcised the abominable snowman instead of removing his teeth? What if he wanted to be a proctologist? A gynecologist? Man, I stay up late wondering these things.

They should do an updated version of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” because you know Charlie Brown would bring a Tech-9 to school and cut down all of his tormentors if the story took place in the present. He would no doubt be part of the trench coat mafia. And I could see him hauling out a neener and popping a cap in Lucy’s fool ass for removing that damned football.

Holy shit, what a fucked up story “A Christmas Carol” is. An evil old fucker hallucinates one night and then becomes a philanthropist for the rest of his life. Maybe there is hope for Dick Cheney. Perhaps we can get Grace Slick to slip some ‘cid into his scotch and soda like she almost did to Nixon’s.

Why the hell didn't those weird little fuckers in Whoville have burgler alarms or Neighborhood Watch? And unless Whoville had strict gun control laws thanks to those goddamned Who liberals, I suspect the Grinch's sit-upon would find itself overburden with double-aught buck.

Any guess as to what would happen to Santa from “Miracle On 34th Street” nowadays? He would find himself face down and ass up in a prison.

I should probably stop now. I am harshing everyone’s Christmas buzz. Sorry.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Car Czar

Did you hear that part of this automotive bailout that Congress is proposing for the Detroit dinosaurs calls for a “Car Czar”? Shit, I want to apply! My qualifications are numerous : I have been driving for 34 years and have a spotless record, I own a car, I rebuilt the engine on my 383 Road Runner when I was in high school and would race it at New England Dragway on grudge nights, I can change a flat by myself, I watch NASCAR, I’m a member of FAG (Fans Against Gordon), I’m a huge NHRA fan, I still have a bunch of Hot Wheels, I drive a standard, I am related to an automotive pioneer, I once had a long conversation with “Big Daddy” Don Garlits, I’ve been to the Earls Court Motor Show in London, I’ve been to a Formula 1 race, I can parallel park with the best of them, need I go on?

Here are some of the things I would do as the nation’s Car Czar:

1. Force the big 3 Detroit Automakers to merge into one company and call it “God’s Chosen Car Company” or GC3 for short.

2. Make them sell only incredibly fuel efficient/hybrid/fuel cell/bio-diesel/solar/piss powered cars with a minimum fuel economy of 50 MPG.

3. Limit automotive executive compensation to the current minimum wage.

4. Require automotive executives to work the line at least 20 hours per week.

5. Exempt all 60’s muscle cars from any regulations at all.

6. Make the Speed channel part of basic cable.

7. Force guys who buy big pick-up trucks or SUVs who don’t really need them to have a “Small Penis On Board” sign in the back window.

8. Reduce the national speed limit to 60. I would make it 55 but the last thing I want to do is encourage Sammy Hagar.

9. End ethanol subsidies for automotive fuels and apply them to any drinkable alcohols.

10. Insist on a public apology from General Motors for the Chevy Vega.

11. Ban Renaults from the US.

12. Make car dealerships have self checkouts thus eliminating that scourge of western civilization, the car salesman.

13. Federally subsidized taxi rides to and from bars!

And if those fuckers in Detroit want any of our money, they better start making cars that are built to last unlike my last Chevy Blazer which was one heinous piece of shit.

Saturday, December 06, 2008


It’s time for Wheelgun Bob’s yearly Christmas wish list, my faithful worshippers! Please don’t hesitate to use this list when you wander out to get me something this holiday season. But keep in mind it’s only a guide. If, for example, I put a Dodge Viper on the list and you want to get me a Bentley Continental GT instead, then have at it! So here is the list in no particular order:

Gift certificate to newegg.com. I haven’t built a computer from scratch in 4 years! I’m suffering from the geek version of DSB (deadly sperm build-up). Help!

Kimber Ultra Carry .45 automatic. Quick! Before the liberals take our guns away! This has been on my last 4 Christmas lists. Could someone please step up to the plate?

A new snow blower. The old one finally shit the bed after only 30 years and that blows! Although my driveway is only 20 ft long I also do all the sidewalks on my block. I want one with heated handles and a drink holder.

“Butt Fuck Sluts 7 - The Directors Cut” DVD. Nuanced acting and gorgeous camera work, arguably the best of the series.

An autographed picture of Karl Rove. Who knows, I might run out of toilet paper one of these days.

A new scotum. I don’t really need one, I just like saying the word “scrotum.” Go ahead, say “scrotum” out loud right now – it’s fun! It kinda trips off the tongue, as it were…

A couple of weeks on one of those big resort cruise ships. Just keep it far away from the Somali coast.

A business loan so I can start my own business and get the hell out of cubeville. What kind of business? That’s a subject for an upcoming blog.

Some autographed OJ Simpson memorabilia. I would feel safe selling it now.

A copy of Eddie Vedder’s death certificate. Please, oh please, make this happen. I am so fucking sick of hearing his imitators on every goddamned “music” radio station known to man. And you wonder why I listen to the right wing government propagandist shit-bags like Rush or Jay Severn.

Or maybe Peace on Earth or some such hippy crap.