Thursday, November 23, 2006

Enjoy the yams and shut up, already: my predictions

At some point in the afternoon, at least one of my children will have put black olives on his fingertips to wave that hand around, showing everyone what priority food looks like. Someone will attempt to get out of the age-dependent (bites = age) expectation of the green bean casserole by hiding their portion under a roll. Someone will mention the Broncos/Chiefs game a dozen times.

I'll eat a slice of pecan pie topped with whipped cream, drink coffee, determine what else needs to be done as far as the Christmas lights. Stand on the roof and wonder where the hell the broken bulb is that has sabatoged the next 25 feet. Wonder when I'll have time during the next week to fix the manger scene. Wonder why I worry about the state of a plastic creche, plastic Wise Men, plastic sheep, a plastic Baby Jesus.

Wonder if no Plastic Baby Jesus is better than no Jesus at all.

Harry hildays, ya'll

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

OOOooooh baby, we gonna’ NUKE EM’!!!

Yes, my babies, it’s time to get the burners rumbling for the tumbling of massively booty-shaking music for your next Mixmania! masterpiece. In this round, you’re gonna’ drop a bomb in da’ house, an explosion of groove so exquisitely danceable that any butt not jiggling by your mad mix skills will be deemed DOA and therefore worthy of being kicked to the curb (and they can take the damn Zima home with their dead ass). This is your Ultimate Party Mix for the Ultimate Party Night, New Year’s Eve, the mix you’d play at your own party or the songs you’d wrestle the host of some lame-ass party to hear because God knows, Taylor Hicks deserves to be out on the curb along with the Zima guy.

My folder for my potential cuts is titled “NYEUKAM” (for “New Year’s Eve Ultimate Kick-Ass Mix”) or Nuke em’ and that’s how I think ya’ll ought to approach this – hit em’ with everything you got, dammit, be relentless and unforgiving, brutal; it is, after all, your damn party.

If you’re not familiar with the rules for playing, go HERE and the transpose these dates:

Dec. 15 – last day to sign up
Dec. 20 – email matches
Dec. 22 – mail it out

If you have any other questions, my email address is over to the left. If you’re not smart enough to figure any of this, well, you’re not smart enough to play. Sorry, but that’s how it goes; if I see ya’ bitchin’ about it in the comments, dumbass, expect to be ignored.

As for the rest of you – get your bombs ready; get new-kyu-ler on the dead asses, get radioactive on the asses set to boogie.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Let there be peace on Earth and... yes... Yesssss.... YES!!!

As a confirmed vampire (my creative juices don't kick in until well past dusk), I'm not one to fear The Longest Night of the Year. Indeed, I can't count how many times I've bah-humbugged by the dawn's early light and the insipid sounds of twittering birdies. Fun's over, draw the shades, and egad, I have to be up in two hours. Sometimes the night can't go on long enough.

Not that I celebrate Winter's Soltice in any religious way (I'm a confirmed believer that this is all one huge chaotic game of chance) although this year I have a reason to make plans for December 22: a couple of peace activists in California are calling for all of us to get our jollies that day for the sake of world peace.

Check out the website for Global Orgasm (turn down your speakers to avoid the wretched new age music) and you'll see it's simple to do your part. For myself, I intend to do what I can at least a dozen times that night (probably alone but I am open to any offers). After all, it's a long night and I can't think of a better way to wile away a cold December evening than making noise for the sake of world peace.

I hope ya'll come!

Friday, November 17, 2006

More on me, moron me

A couple weeks ago, The Zero Boss provided some sound advice for bloggers who desire traffic - whatever that means. My guess is that if I'm going to toss off into the tubes of the internets, I might as well actually find readers, something beyond a few family members and the shit picklers in human resources. Jay makes some great points I think - considering Da Boss gets more hits in a minute than I get in a month, yeah, I oughta' listen to the man. Indeed, with the whiny tone of my last post, one would think I'd put Jay's advice to the service of being Teh Awesome Single Dad blog sensation slash studmuffin (all righteous motivation) or something. It's gotta work better than what's amounting to my role as toilet-paper stuck to the bottom of a shoe at next year's BlogHer will be confirmed as friends introduce me around to the blank looks that signal "Who?"

Serves me right: what Jay suggests seems to have slipped past me much in the same way his advice to buy IBM was pooh-poohed by me back in the 1940's. Anyway, the suggestions and my failures:
Write regularly. Daily is best, but at least two to three times a week is fine.

More shit, only shittier. I can do that.
Keep posts short and pithy at first.

Damn, I screwed this one from the start and I must have assumed Jay had a lisp with the "pithy" thing.
Be a regular reader of other blogs.

I really - REALLY - try to do this, I swear. Do this and wonder how much it benefits my own writing (or whatever you want to call what I do) and well...
Comment on other people’s blogs.

I am sooooo bad at this. I read other people's blogs and then I'm stuck with the dilemma of writing - what? - "well said, my friend, ha ha, been there a million times, good luck with that, um yes, hmmmmm."
Link to great posts by other bloggers. Add your own meaningful thoughts to the discussion. They’ll notice you linking to them, will read you, and may even link to you (or at least add you to their feed reader) in return.


What's left is far too tech-y for me to pass on to people more stupid than me which is... heh,

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Vultus est index animi

Something I’m coming to terms with in having this blog is that I feel I owe something to my handful of loyal readers. To be honest, I’ve never understood why anyone takes an interest in this slow-motion train wreck other than to play the Secret Santa mix game I organize. Yes, I write well enough (enough to achieve stardom as the wacky columnist of a backwater newspaper, probably) but that hardly seems the reason. Yet read I am and not just because they got here googling “upskirt pics” or “how to unscrew the lid of an Ocean Spay juice bottle and keep skin on your hand”. I get a lot of hits for the “Back Yardigans” on one of the first things I posted on Patriside and one or two of those readers actually still stick around (apparently the Back Yardigans are huge in Latin America). Something keeps a twisted few intrigued.

Maybe it’s the way it takes me forever to say something. As in, the reason I haven’t been posting much lately has to do issues not involving ropes, jello, or mounds of cocaine.

Obviously, the election (especially that last month when the media tried to turn it into a squeaker) had me busy and preoccupied. Fortunately for all of us, I wasn’t the only American who felt that things weren’t just swell with the nation. A week after the votes were counted, it’s apparent that the GOP continues its streak of fucking up, the inertia of screwing the pooch (and hot man-on-man sex) too much for the brakes. That crew has leapt the curb and is skidding across the lawn, straight for Junior’s bedroom.

More than that, though, has been the wretched past few weeks at work. I started writing this post last Friday but I was beat up, sore, my hands swollen and my knuckles sore, a bruised rib throbbing every time I took in a breath.

The thing I hate the most about my job is a kid so out of control that he needs to be restrained. For two months I had been lucky, the guys in my cabin were going along great, I had probably been involved in two restraints that whole time. Last week I was involved in a restraint every day, three on of those days. Sunday I was involved in six restraints (though to be fair to My Kids, I was being called to other cabins to help out). After shifts like those I’m drained, physically and emotionally; I can’t read, I can’t write, I can only turn on some tunes and decompress.

Then, get up and do it again, amen. Except, the low pay and time it takes from my kids has made my mornings/early afternoons before my shift a grind of cranking out cover letters and sending out resumes. And searching, oy the searching.

The least I can do is offer that explanation to you intrepid angels who keep checking me for an update along witha heartfelt thanks for being so faithful. I wish I could promise to be better about updating but that’s not happening, at least for a couple of weeks. For those of you who are waiting for the next mixmania! theme, I’ll try to get that posted by Friday but again, no promises.

Until this all works itself out, I hope you’ll keep checking with me to see if I’ve poked something up from the slot in my hidey-hole. I can promise this: whatever I shove out into the light of day won’t be something I shouldn’t have eaten. I wouldn't do that to you fine people.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Moonbat dad does his part for the future of his children

My palms are sweaty and my jitters have gone from being a vague uneasy feeling to a Magic Fingers machine in a cheap motel room. My intuition in these matters fails me and so I get spun, dizzy, nauseous. Back in 2004 I was positive that Bush would go down in flames and ended up spending a week in catatonic depression. Not that I thought Kerry was a spectacular candidate (quite the contrary) but he was a damn sight better than the idiotic bully elected on that dark night two years ago.

As the bumper sticker says, if you're not outraged, you haven't been paying attention. As I see it, tomorrow is mostly about my children and what kind of country they'll have when they are old enough to vote. You can see from my last post the concerns I have are too numerous to ignore.

Check those issues in that post and check your own conscience to see if you honestly think this country is headed in a positive direction, if your own children and grandchildren live with the same promise of America that you grew up with. Ask yourself if this war has made us any safer, if it's cost in dollars and lives has amounted to progress; ask yourself if the balanced budget this country had 6 years ago was better than the tab handed to our children (to the tune of almost 50 grand per citizen).

Even The American Conservative magazine says the GOP must go, that Bush and his rubber-stamp GOP majority has created a mess that will take years to clean up. Naturally, the editorial is hardly complimentary to Democrats but it is candid in its assessment of what wrecakage has resulted in the past few years.

Whatever happens tomorrow night is so far out of my control and all I can do is take some time to cast my vote. Not for my future but for the future of my children. It may be one of the most important gifts I can give them.

I hope you view your vote in the same way.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Swarm of the fuckup fairies

"Of flesh and bone;
And when through all the town there ran
The servants of Your enemy,
A woman and a man,"

- Yeats

MMMmmm, it must have been in the mid-70s this afternoon, a thrill in November. Nothing else to do but hang out with Zeke in the park, watch him throw sticks in a stream and sand in his hair. Hang and dry in the golden light of a year creeping away like it had pissed in the sink and had been busted.

Too nice outside for the Spongbob marathon, surfing updates of the laughable demise of the Right, conservative cocksucker porn by the hour, “We want you to vote against gay sex while we have some ourselves.” The slackjawed few wondering how far the jaw unhinges before turning toes in a pool of drool and heading back to replace the old rugged cross, broken on the lawn. Yee Haw; k-chunk, bappity bappity-bap bap bap motherfuckers, let’s get stupid, let’s get retarded.

It’s been awhile since I’ve dome political rant so I’ll let Tristero at Tbogg say it (say it sistah):
Which Just Goes To Show You

by tristero

...that the Bush administration is as incompetent at keeping documents secret that (many reasonable folks agree) should be kept classified as they are at everything else.

9/11: Incompetence.
Afghanistan: Incompetence.
Pre-Iraq intelligence: incompetence.
Post-Iraq intelligence: incompetence.
Post-Iraq reconstruction: incompetence.
Katrina: incompetence.
Science and health: incompetence.
Homeland security: incompetence.
Global warming: incompetence.
Diplomacy: incompetence.
Education: incompetence.
Torture and other human rights issues: incompetence.
Nuclear proliferation: incompetence.

What the hell are these people doing still in charge of the United States? What will make this nation catch on that these people are fucking hopeless? What?

Y'know sometimes I think that the only way this country would wake up is if some really high official was shown to be so stupid and inept he accidentally shot someone in the face!

Oh, wait...