9:45 a.m.
• Well, I guess I really can celebrate Independence Day today since just minutes ago I made the final payment to that $22k credit card debt the better half accumulated over the years. I really should have just spread it out over July and August, but I’m so sick of seeing that shit on my statement I wanted it gone. Took about 13 months to pay this bitch off. Uh, yay and stuff. Part of me is pissed when I think what could have been done with that money instead of feeding it into a black hole, but now the black hole has been fed and I don’t have to worry about it anymore – or at least until Mrs. kkk decides she can be trusted with finances again.
11 p.m.
• So Warrior was on Hannity and Colmes tonight. Do I need to say anything more? And good job Alan for defending the fans' right to boo during high school games against those two commies that you had on an earlier segment of the show. I can understand not wanting fans to swear and throw shit onto the field, but to not let people go "booo" during a free throw or a fourth-and-goal situation? Get out of here.
• I'm sure there's a Bill Clinton joke to be made here, but it's late and the KFC I had earlier tonight has me wanting to go on the disabled list. Why oh why do I think eating this shit is a good idea? And to make matters worse, I think I chipped a tooth way in the back. Eh, I don't use those ones anyway.
• So ESPN is doing these hippie "Day in the Life of" segments with athletes and I just saw one today featuring Jeff Garcia. Got married, eh? To a playmate no less. N*gga plz. I don't care if you like to toss the pigskin without a glove, but dude you're not fooling ANYONE with that performance.
10:30 p.m.
• Yeah, and then when the price of flags triple, these same people that want Old Glories made in the USA will bitch about the cost.
Yep. My state can't get so-called property tax reform in gear (which won't do anything for homeowners anyway), but we can work on this type of shit. Uh oh, I hope this doesn't make me a terrorist.
4 p.m.
• So I just got home from work and turned on ESPN, which just started an "Outside the Lines" story. What what it? Oh Christ, I missed the lead-in, but they're talking pardons, probably because of the Scooter Libby story mentioned below. Tim to hear about Willie Mays Aikens again.
For those that don't know, peep the Wik. For those too lazy, here's a rundown. Get it? Baseball, rundown? LOL2007.
Gag, I really hate this puff piece, which I have seen at least three times already. So you and Cal Ripken Jr. feel you served enough time? That's nice. Hey, don't want to be locked up until 2012? Here's hint. You ready? OK, here it is...
Don't sell crack to an undercover officer!
12:30 p.m.
• So W. just gave Scooter Libby a pseudo-pardon.
Whatever. Like I’ve said before when commenting on this situation, I don’t care. Of course I’m sure Democrats will say this is an OUTRAGE, but unless Libby is shares a cell with to Sandy “is that a classified document in your pants or are you just happy to see me” Burglar, I’m not paying attention. I previously commented that this is like the Republicans' Lewinsky-gate, but after seeing a few of Valerie Plame’s pics...
...I’d rather the roles were reversed and we were instead talking about Val giving oral pleasures. Yeah, I know she’s a whackjob, but it’s hard for her to bitch about “OMG MY TOP-SECRET COVER WAS EXPOSED” when her mouth is already full (or in my case, somewhat occupied).
8:45 a.m.
• So after mowing the lawn yesterday afternoon I noticed that there was still time to catch my niece-in-law’s championship softball game. I figured what the hell and went. Even though they lost by a score of 16-7, it was no worse than being in attendance at a Pirates game. And, oddly enough, her team was actually in the game –– except for that one inning where the other team scored 5 runs. And those other two innings where the other team scored 4 runs. Oh, and the parents weren't that bad. In fact, they were rather supportive –– even when someone on the other team made a good play.
Got home from work. Mowed the lawn. Attended some pee-wee sporting event. Makes me actually feel like an adult. Blech.
3 p.m.
• So my one co-worker died on Friday at the age of 48. No, I didn't hate her. We didn't talk much, but I have nothing bad to say, even though from what I heard she didn't do all that much work. Whatever. Not my problem. Don't care. Now our organization, which prides itself on being a close-knit "family," a crock of shit if there ever was one, just went to view her body at the funeral home. Everyone, that is, except me. Like I said before, I have nothing against her, but we rarely, if ever, interacted. I learned a long time ago to separate business from personal life at this place, which is a shame because I actually like being friends with the people I work with (ask Swift Terror, who would probably regret knowing me). Did I do the wrong thing? If you say "yes," I wouldn't argue (much), but when a place squashes any kind of camaradie and runs an impersonal, uncaring atmosphere, don't be shocked when the help acts accordingly.
• If you thought that last blurb was depressing, and you loathe the current Mexican invasion into the U.S. of A., then this video clip won’t be much better. But hey, it’s got the Benny Hill theme, so it’s all good.
9 a.m.
• You know, I don’t think I’d want to be employed at a brothel for women, aside from the fact I would probably get no work whatsoever. Think about it. You would probably have to bang fat chicks, and you wouldn’t be able to get drunk beforehand.
And how exactly does a male brothel work? If your man finishes before you do, does a sub come in –– I would guess a chick pays for a certain amount of time. I have always assumed a female prostitute charges per ejaculation. And I didn't even make one "liquor license" joke.
8:30 p.m.
• Holy crap. I'm glad I don't work drive-thru anymore. I'd probably be killed. And Penn Hills is not that far from where I live.
It’s kinda funny because the reason young chicks work cashier jobs is to put a pretty face out there so men won’t be as likely to bitch about their order. And forget about saying “thank you,” just get my order right and I’m good.
10 a.m.
• So last night there was supposed to be some big “walk out” at the Pirates game to protest the fact that this team is bad. And what happened?
You want to send a real message to management? DON’T GO TO THE FUCKING GAMES! Hell, I bet a number of these protestors probably bought snacks from the refreshment stands. I feel for you people because putting your heart into a team with 14 consecutive years of losing must feel pretty bad, but the funny thing is despite all this suck the Pirates still make a profit. In a way, you got to respect that.
Pirates management. It’s a lot like Hitler.
Remember, the Steelers pretty much did jack shit for 40 years before winning four Super Bowls during the 1970s. Only 26 more years to go, Bucco fans.
9:45 a.m.
• A final update on Mohammad Mouse. Now this is how a series finale should be done.
Here's the video.
• You know, I actually think this isn’t such a bad idea.
When I worked at the Quickie Mart, it was about that time when we had to really start carding people or else the Anti-Tobacco Gestapo would be hitting us well-to-do cashiers with fines and shit. We were told that we had to card anyone that looked younger than 27. But you have to be only 18 to purchase tobacco? Didn’t matter. Our magic number was 27. And you can imagine how great this went over with our customers. My usual answer to the responses below were something like, “Because I was told to card anyone that didn’t look 27 because Joe Camel is making our kids smoke.”
“OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
“DO I LOOK 18?”
“THIS IS SO STUPID!”
“WHY DO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU MY ID?!”
Now seriously, I ask you: What is so difficult about pulling out your driver’s license? I’ve done it before with no problem. Hell, whenever I go to purchase alcohol, I have my ID out by the time I get to the register, and I’m older than the big 2-7. If it’s the LAW that EVERYONE has to whip out ID in order to purchase booze, and it makes the lives of the many cashiers in the great state of Tennessee easier, then I say why not.
9:30 a.m.
• Remember that shit a while back about OMG Captian America is dead? Peep the final paragraph.
4:30 p.m.
• So Philly's mayor has nothing better to do on a workday than wait in line for an iPhone.
I remember for years this one guy with a mohawk always ran for office in Shittsburgh. He was named "Mad Dog." Interesting fellow.
9 a.m.
• So yesterday I left work early to do this interview thing. The place was 60 miles away, and I gave myself more than two hours to get there. Turns out I needed another 60 minutes due to road construction. OK, I get that roads need to be maintained, but when you shut down MILES of highway only to have FIVE people wearing shiny yellow jerseys standing around some 10-foot hole backing up miles of traffic, I can understand why some people get road rage in these instances. But that really wasn’t a problem for me on this day because when I arranged this interview earlier in the week I let the receptionist chick know that I was coming from a distance and had set up a time just in case of a mishap like this. I’ve done this shit enough times in the past to know things like so-called “work areas,” accidents and shoddy directions can happen. No problem. However, there were some other things that I expected to happen, and sadly I wasn’t let down.
When I got the call back early in the week from this place about the position I applied to, I had a list of questions I wanted answered right off the bat. After all, what’s the point of going through all this shit when I can nip it in the bud with an inquiry about the job from the comfort of my own home? Unfortunately, this chick (I’ll call her Kelly) had no idea how to answer my questions. Turns out she’s not a recruiter but the receptionist. However, I’m not going to rag on Kelly because during the phone conversation she told me she was recently hired and trying to learn while on the job. I can respect that. Never once was I rude, condescending or patronizing to her. The questions I had for her she tried her best to answer, and that’s all you can ask of a person. When I arranged for my interview, I asked what would be involved and what materials should I bring with me. I was told the whole procedure (including filling out the application form) would only take 30 minutes, and that all I needed to bring with me was my employment information for the last three years.
Yeah, right.
When I entered this place’s office, I saw some late-teen/early 20something sitting at a desk talking on the phone while wearing in a low-cut shirt and skimpy dress. After her work-related conversation ended, I replied, “Hello, you must be Kelly.” The reason for this is because not only did I recognize her voice, but I also noticed that there was a sheet of paper taped to the wall behind her that had all the information to the questions I had asked of her earlier in the week. Now this is where the fun really begins. Kelly asks me “Did you bring your driver’s license, social security card and birth certificate?”
She hands me the application I had to fill out, and, sure enough, the form asks me to fill out employment information not from the past three years, but rather from the past three employers. There was also a section for references, requesting names, addresses and all that good stuff. Sadly, I was ready for this sort of thing, because in the past when I dealt with these staffing organizations they had no clue as to what they were doing. As I filled out the form I was seated next to two women. At least one of them was interviewing for the same position I me. Now when you already have a job and are interviewing for another position, your demeanor is much more different than if you are unemployed and looking for work. Christ I hate that feeling. That sense of dread and all-or-nothingness. But when you know a paycheck is already coming to your bank account, your mood is much lighter. However, it seemed this chick was a bit on the nervous side, so I left her alone. The other gal, some black chick with an accent I couldn’t pinpoint, asked me for the time and then started fretting about the application she was filling out, mentioning that she had to be out of her by 4:30 p.m.. Uh, OK. The first chick got called to do a typing test and it was just me, the black chick and Kelly.
Let me tell you something about Kelly. If she wasn’t an example of a “Butterface,” I don’t know who is. From the minute you look at her from the neck down, you know why she got this job. Great figure, greater tan legs, not a large rack but perfectly in proportion to the rest of her body. Her face? Well. I didn’t look at it long enough because I didn’t want her to catch me staring, but I fear the poor girl has been battling acne for quite a long time. There was a crater/scab/whatever in the middle of her forehead so large that at first I wondered if it was one of those red dots Indian women put on themselves. But whatever. She was nice enough, and you could tell she was trying at her job, which, from my experiences, is a rarity at her type of employment. I even got a bit more information about the position out of her through cordial chitchat. (They were seeking several hirees and there were a number of cancelled appointments.) Of course, after I turned in the application, she then gave me some speling and grammer tests. Oh I hate these fucking things. Sad, isn’t it? I’m a JOURNALISM grad and I suck at the English language. I wasn’t as annoyed about actually taking these tests as I was at the fact this place was closing at 5 p.m. and the “half hour” I would be spending at this place was already past the 45-minute mark with the typing test and interview still to be completed. Well, long story short, after I completed these tests I went into another room and started typing. My score: 67 words per minute, 1 error. It was now just after 5 p.m. and the office was closed. I went with some other chick to do the interview, and at 5:45 p.m., 105 minutes after I showed up, I was out the door.
Did I get this job? Don’t really know. Don’t really care. I’ve done so many of these interviews in the past that I don’t concern myself with worrying about something I may have said or did to throw my chances of getting a job with the interviewer out the window. I’ve learned that in many instances the employer already has a set candidate in mind, and no matter what you do to prove yourself you’re just not “that fit.” Nothing personal. Just business. Funny enough, in many of these instances I’m also sitting at my side of the table thinking, “Do I really want to see you for eight hours a day, 40 hours a week?” I’ll find out sometime this week if I’ll be brought back for training, which is fine. Even if I don’t get this job, as I mentioned in yesterday’s entry, I have my resume and (surprisingly good) test scores seeded at this place, which does recruiting in my neck of the woods, away from Shittsburgh region. Ideally, I’d like to try out this at-home position as a second job, and if I like it perhaps I’ll be able to quit my current place of employment and focus solely on this one, which is a pay-for-what-you-produce type of thing. Either way, I got out of my office three hours early today, and if nothing else, this trip was worth it just for that alone.
11:30 a.m.
• So I’m driving 120 miles round-trip in a few hours for a job interview. You know what I love about interviewing when you already have a job? Not having to kiss the interviewer’s backside. When you’re without a paycheck it’s sometimes depressing to have to try and justify getting hired by someone whose job you could do better than them. I really don’t have a feel for this one –– I’m dealing with a staffing agency, and my experiences with these places aren’t all that good. But I’ve got 3 comp hours to spend this pay period, so I figure why the hell not. Worst case scenario I have my resume on file for an area that’s not near the Shittsburgh region, which could give me some sort of edge with jobs near my community. Well, actually, the worst case would be opening my mouth and blasting these people for their inability to do their jobs, but I won’t be doing that. I think.
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 19
It was dark times for the Conservative Brigade. Even though there was strength in numbers, it lacked one thing all groups need. A lawyer. Not only are these bottom-feeders necessary to fend off lawsuits, but they can also find out when we were wronged, thus turning the legal tables on the unsuspecting. But who can be trusted to head such an important duty? Vyce? Hell no. He likes those queers too much. That’s when it all became clear. It’s hard to go wrong with someone that starts a thread titled: “ Mikey was at my school...” followed by “No word on if the gym collapsed.....”
You’re hired. And I don't even know if you're Jewish.
What was the point of all this? I don’t know. I just like the guy. And he was listing why ESPN sucks before it became popular. Well, at least before it got some really big threads devoted to the subject. I guess I might as well do the dramatic introduction like I did with yesterday’s entry, providing people didn’t click on the links above, thus running any kind of surprise element.
Number 19 is…
…The Real World’s Champion.
8:30 p.m.
• LOL. Enough said.
7:45 p.m.
• Don't you know that rationing fuel is one of the worst things you can do to a Muslim male?
7:30 p.m.
• Aww, poor baby. Watch his temper tantrum in court here. Caution: I had a crappy time with the video.
And just what was this teen convicted of?
And I bet he was such a good boy, too, eh Ms. Johnson? Why the fuck to parents cry when their little monsters get convicted for shit like this? Rather than wail into a Kleenex, they ought to be wailing on the back of their kid's head, saying, "What the hell is the matter with you?"
5:15 p.m.
• So Neal Cavuto had Tommy Chong on for a segment today talking about immigration. Oh my God.
• And I'm stealing this from the other place because it pretty much sums up my thoughts on today's events in Washington.
1:45 p.m.
• Chyna is on Jim Rome's radio show and caller just asked her if there was any truth that Vince McMahon wanted Owen Hart dead as payback for the way Bret left the company.
9 a.m.
• Aw, this is a shame.
Yeah, Tony Snow, this is going to end up being on "tough" bill (see the 8 a.m. entry).
8 a.m.
• So I’m listening to Dennis Miller’s show yesterday and he’s talking with Tony Snow about this amnesty program. Tony, I feel you, and I’m sure there are measures to “protect the border” in the pages upon pages of this abortion, but if you actually think this bill is going to actually do any of these “lockdown” measures then you’re on drugs. All this stuff about “there’s no line jumping,” “they have to pay fines,” “you don’t have access to the welfare system,” and “you have to learn English” that I’m hearing you say, Tony, as I’ve heard you say on other shows as well, is NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. You actually think Ted Kennedy will go along with this shit? Once this invasion bill gets approved, then the focus will shift as follows.
There’s no line jumping.
Uncle Ted: Come on, guys, Jose is away from his wife and 10 kids that have to wait in front of 2 million others people. Let them pass –– Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
They have to pay fines.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t afford to pay this fine. You’re taking away food off his family’s table. Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
You don’t have access to the welfare system.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t afford the medical insurance to pay for all those kids. Joes’s not a TERRORIST. What are you, a RACIST?!
You have to learn English.
Uncle Ted: Come on guys, Jose is picking lettuce 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He can’t immediately learn English right away. We need to cater to his needs or else we’d be a RACIST country. While we’re at it, we also have to make sure his 10 kids that are taking up space in our fine government schools get the same treatment.
So please forgive me if I don’t seem all that confident in this bill’s ability to enforce laws that aren’t already being enforced and view this pro-invasion legislation as just that.
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 20
OK, now the competition is getting fast and fierce; 83 have been listed, 20 remain. The swerves, the pageantry, the… oh let’s get this fucking thing over with.
This poster has been a mod for some time, and unlike other TSM’ers in leadership positions, this guy is actually pretty well respected for his modding and knowledge of the folder’s contents in which he patrols with a big stick. That’s wooden. And made in Louisville. Well, maybe not Lousville – I have no idea what with globalization and all. Anyway, even though the guy’s a commie, much like another Pennsylvanian on this list he’s from the eastern part of the state, so it’s only natural he would fear self-reliance. Nevertheless, he puts up with my retarded jokes and AIM questions regarding America’s National Pastime – all while having the power to ban me in the blink of an eye.
I’m talking of course about…
...Al Keiper.
3 p.m.
• Yesterday I talked a bit about my pro wrestling viewing habits. Someone asked me what turned me off from the product. I guess the best answer is I got bored. Sometime in late 2001-early 2002 I was sitting on the couch watching Raw and thought to myself, “Why am I watching this?” I changed the channel and didn’t look back. Every now and then I’ll flip on Raw just to see if I can recognize today’s “Superstars.” It’s a hit-or-miss affair. Did the consolidation of the major American wrestling companies have something to do with this? I would have to say probably. In the late 1990s I remember watching WWF, WCW and ECW programming. When Vince McMahon swallowed up the competition the product seemed stale, especially after the whole “Invasion” angle. Oh well, it’s not like I can’t find anything else to waste my time on. I have no clue as to the financial state of the WWE, nor do I care. I have no idea what happened in the last few Wrestlemania, nor do I care. Most of my wrestling info comes from glancing at the WWE folder here and looking at the latest thread. If it’s any good I might click on it. And sadly, like I said yesterday, most of these threads involve someone dying. Who knows, maybe one day I'll tune into pro wrestling on a regular basis. Not sure when that day will come, though.
7 a.m.
• So I haven't gotten any interesting "enlarge your penis" ads in my e-mail bin as of late. I get them, but many of the ads aren't all that creative or funny. However, this one below pimping some "penis patch" to enlarge my member the "natural" way makes the cut. Peep the freak on the right.
8:15 p.m.
• Well, the attempt to legalize the Mexican invasion is back on like Donkey Kong.
Time to see how my elected officials voted.
Big fucking shock there, Crazy Arlen and Junior.
8 p.m.
• So now we can start suing hurricanes, or, better yet, George W. Bush for causing global warming which makes these natural disasters more, err, disastrous? Woo-hoo.
• My n*gga.
• Wait a second.
So these places have to put the calorie counts NEXT to their products on those marquee menus? Putting all the nutritional info on a placemat or on a wrapper or carton should be good enough.
This raises an interesting point. I'd be more curious to see this kind of information on sit-down restaurant menus. Not like that would deter me from ordering anything.
Only 990? Shit, I thought it would be way more than that.
2:30 p.m.
• Murder-suicides that make you think of ... Chris Benoit
Buncha crazy fucking people in this world.
2:15 p.m.
• So Chris Benoit died. Hey, why is my office desk swirling around me? And why do I have the urge to upchuck my lunch?
I don’t comment on wrestling all that much, and I stopped watching the product about 5-6 years ago. Growing up during the 80s, I was a huge Sgt. Slaughter fan, especially when he would beat up brown people. However, as I got older, I tuned out of the pro wrestling scene. In the mid- to late-1990s, I got interested in it once again when some people I knew started wearing those black-and-white New World Order shirts. When I found out what these things meant, I decided to check out this testosterone-lace soap opera. Again.
Even though I had no idea who most of the people were on WCW’s Nitro, I must say that I enjoyed this product. The production value, the pizzazz: it made for a very entertaining evening of television. And while I found much of the “main event” action boring, I tuned into to watch those little masked guys fly around in (and out) of the ring. I also took a liking to many of the wrestlers who were in “mid-card” storylines. One of these performers was some guy named Chris Benoit. I didn’t know what it was about him I liked. He didn’t talk much, if at all, and all he really did was wrestle. But I did enjoy his work. I can’t explain why –– I just did. One thing I thought to myself was, “Why didn’t this guy get more exposure? He seems pretty good.” Little did I know that a few years later when I was introduced to this thing called the Internet Wrestling Community I discovered that I wasn’t alone. Sure I knew nothing about the “glass ceiling” or about how Kevin Nash was holding everybody down, but I really didn’t care as long as I got to see Benoit wrestle during some Nitro segment every Monday night.
As the years went by, and my wrestling viewing continued, I always liked Chris, among other talent. (I was a huge Booker T. fan while he was in WCW, and I always laughed whenever Lance Storm said “if I can be serious for a minute…”) I haven’t been up to date on the wrestling scene in years, and the only news I hear about is when someone dies. So when I saw the TSM “Chris Benoit Dead” thread early this morning, I thought, “Is this real?” Turns out it was. Wow. That sucks. How did he die?
Wait, what?
If this is indeed true (breaking news can sometimes be inaccurate –– remember the cannibals in the post-Katrinia Superdome), why did I just waste 400 words on you, Chris? I don’t care how much I enjoyed your work in the past. You killed your wife. You killed your kid. You also, according to the above news article, left two other kids fatherless, although I don’t know how much of a father figure you were to them in the first place. It's a shame you didn't decide to clamp down on the barrel of a shotgun and pull the trigger in your weight room first before paying a final visit to the rest of your family.
3 p.m.
• Exactly 10 years to the day this racist/fascist/xenophobic/sexist/right-wing/left-handed bastard was manning a booth at a local water park on behalf of a nonprofit. As he sat there, a number of voluptuous females walked by him in their skimpy bathing suits that showcased their goods. These stuck-up twats with their tan skin, c-cupped breasts and round backsides wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Eventually, one approached and wasn’t repulsed by this booth-sitter’s looks and personality. She actually thought this idiot was funny. That chick then left because her boyfriend returned from the nearby snack stand and the person I ended up marrying on June 25, 2005, showed up.
Baby, you’re the greatest. Or at least the best I could get with what little I have going.
7:30 am.
• This showed up in my work e-mail this morning. How could this NOT be legit? They even included a link to a story talking about the plane crash this German guy died in!
Is there any doubt why Africa has no money? All these people die, leave their accounts frozen and don't give the Dark Continent a chance to make this cash grow.
7:15 a.m.
• While looking at the story below, which I first read on Drudge, I saw this headline, too.
Now THAT'S some funny shit right there, NYT.
• See, this is what's wrong with California. Requiring pets to be sterile? Unwanted pets cost $300 million per year? How about neutering welfare recipients, felons and illegals -- I'm sure that'll save you guys a nice chunk of change.
1:30 p.m.
• A big "Fuck You" to the prosecutor Dan Satterberg. With the voter fraud that went on up there in your one recent election (Governor or Senate spot: I can't remember which off the top of my heat), you decide that you "can't look the other way" with this? Fag.
6 p.m.
• So I finally saw Spiderman 3 last night and honestly… wtf.
Spoilers ahead and stuff.
Fuck Aunt May for being a goddamn hippie. “Forgive” the person that killed your longtime husband? Bitch please.
Fuck that butler guy for waiting all this time before telling Harry that his dad was a fuckup.
Fuck Mary Jane for being a jealous bitch. And I'd take JJJ's secretary over anyone from these movies.
And I don’t get that Brock Junior guy getting all mopey for getting busted for taking faux pictures. First off, that’s a big no-no. Secondly, making up news to fit a certain template – I’m sure the New York Times would have had him on the phone the moment he got released from the Daily Bugle.
What’s this shit about another guy killing Peter’s uncle? And what’s this shit about “I didn’t mean to shoot your uncle”? Oh boo-hoo. You shot an innocent person. He died. You should have gotten the needle years ago you pissant – and I don’t give a shit if your kid is sick. What did you do for her in the end? Just turn into sand and float off, leaving your kid to fend for herself and hope the State can be a better father figure than you could, you lowlife piece of shit.
You want to know what the good was? J. Jonah Jameson, although not as good as in previous films. Bruce Campbell got a paycheck. And, I kid you not, was waiting for the line Harry says that’s in Black Lushsus’ avatar over at the other place. I was sitting there halfway through the film wondering what the hell is going on and thinking, “So when is Harry going to be saying, ‘so good’?” I also liked Venom Brock – it’d be nice if he was on-screen for more than five minutes.
Oh, here’s another thing that got on my nerves. In the first Spiderman movie when the Green Goblin was being mean on the bridge, everyday New Yorkers came to Spidey’s defense by throwing stuff at the Goblin and saying stuff like “You mess with Spiderman, you mess with New York.” In the second film, those passengers on the subway try to defend Spiderman from Doc Ock. What happens in this film? OMG there’s this big sand guy and black thing holding a chick hostage in a car way up in the air. Let’s all just stand around and do nothing. If the fire fighters can’t at least turn the hose on the sand guy while I’m waiting for my friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend arrive on his hippie hover board, then I’d be moving to another city that would at least appreciate my efforts – and no, gay parades and keys to the city don’t mean shit when you’re having slabs of construction material hurled at you.
One last thing about the sandman. Great concept with the roaring face and all that – I liked it better the first and second time I saw it during the “Mummy” movies.
But at least Bruce Campbell got a paycheck.
Maybe I’ll better appreciate this movie upon a second viewing or something. My spidey sense is going off on this one, though. Or is that my ears ringing due to the wax removal drops I put in earlier today?
11:30 a.m.
• Well this can't be good. Earlier this morning the better half and I heard this engine noise from outside. After a while when we got our lazy asses up to see what was going on (my guess was the cable company trimming some trees from phone poles or something like that) we saw an ambulance by our shut-in neighbor's house. And the only thing worse than an ambulance at your house is when the paramedics don't seem to be in any hurry to cart you off. Not sure if the guy died or not (there's a chance he could be getting transported to a nursing home/rehab/etc.), but one of his adult kids was there with his wife and talking on the cell phone. My guess is that he was calling the rest of the family to deliver the news. If that's the case, then peace out, Mr. Auld. Saturdays just won't be the same around here without your family coming over and screaming at the top of their lungs during every play of a Notre Dame football broadcast, and I mean that in a sad way.
11 a.m.
• Well yesterday was fun. For our upcoming anniversary, I had been saving up to get the better half a television for the bedroom. Now I know what you’re thinking: You’re just getting the television for yourself and disguising it as a gift for “her.” You would be wrong. When we had our former TV in the bedroom, I never once had it on; the better half likes to watch DVDs before nodding off, and there would be many times when I’d come to bed and she’d be snoozing to “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” or an episode of “Charmed.” A while back, Max knocked this television onto the floor in the middle of the night – my guess he was trying to get up to one window and was using the television as a springboard. He then slipped somewhere during this action and while trying to regain his balance on top of the television knocked it over. That was a fun noise to wake up to at 3 a.m. on a worknight. Anyway, because we have spent the past year paying off Mrs. kkk’s credit card bills, a new television set wasn’t in the cards. However, I had been saving up and was hoping to get a nice LCD set for the bedroom for her. I saw a nice deal at Best Buy this past week and planned to get the set last night and hook it up in time before she got back from working her second job.
Or so I thought.
I always liked Best Buy, but one thing I could do without are employees stopping me every few minutes asking if I need anything. No I don’t. Go away. I knew someone who worked at a Best Buy once and he said the employees at his store had to flag down a certain amount of customers per day and fill out some hippie report. Is he right? I don’t know. However, this day everybody must have met their quota because I was in the television department for 40 minutes trying to get someone to ring me up. It was unreal. If I wasn’t being walked right by store personnel as if I didn’t exist, I was being told to “wait and someone will be right with you.” I’m not a high-maintenance customer. Most of the time I want to be left alone. But I find it funny that the one time I was hoping to get pulled over by someone wearing one of those blue shirts I was unable to. I bet if I was going to buy a $5 DVD I’d have six of these CSR’s letting me know that if I wanted to buy a big-ticket item they’d be down the next aisle.
But it all works out in the end. I just left and went to another store where I bought a “normal” television set and some extra stuff with the several hundred dollars I saved from not making that Best Buy purchase. Not only did I not break the bank when getting Mrs. kkk a gift that she can (and will) use, but also if I hear a loud “crash” at 3 a.m. I can go back to bed knowing that buying the less expensive product was the right thing to do.
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 21: Cartman
I don’t have much to say about Cartman. The guy’s a commie, but as I have said before that’s not really all that big a deal. What is a big deal, though, is that he is the kkk Bowl II champ. Don’t believe me? Look at his sig. Speaking of NFL contests, it looks like he did some “Survivor” deal back in ’03. We've been around that long? Wonder if he's got the same girlfriend that he had back in '04 where he wanted to know what kind of video games the two of them could play together? Hey, she liked sports games; sounds like a keeper to me.
And now a word from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From Cancer Marney:
Coming soon...
The Top 20~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
DEVELOPING...
9 p.m.
• The better half had an interesting story to tell today. She had to work late so I made the bitch take the bus home. When she takes the bus home, she hops on Westmoreland Transit, which is the county we live in that’s next to Allegheny County, home of Shittsburgh. Because of this distance, there aren’t as many bus routes for Westmoreland Transit as there are for the Port Authority of Allegheny County (which by the way is a fucking joke and is bankrupt). Mrs. kkk was on the bus today and this bitch was sitting near her on the phone bitching to some bureaucratic peon from Westmoreland Transit. The problem? The bus this chick was originally waiting for broke down and she had to wait two hours for the next one to pick her up. When she asked the bus driver if she had to pay the fare, the bus driver said “yes” in “a rude manner.” Now the better half said she was ready to tell this person to shut up, but I know better. She just sat there and let this cunt do her thing. I’ve taken public transportation during my college years and it’s just a fact of life that these pieces of shit break down every now and then. That’s the price you pay for using public transportation.
That’s also the price paid for depending on the government to provide for you.
6:30 p.m.
• So Pacman Jones is in a bit of trouble…
… and what do I hear on a SportsCenter teaser today -- “How will THIS affect Pacman Jones’ re-entry into the NFL?” How do you fucking think? I’m sure Roger Goodell will be thinking, “Boy, that Pacman is sure being held down by the Man. I think we’ll shave a few months off his sentence.
• If you haven’t heard this story about Pirates pitcher Ian Snell…
Well now you have. Why do I comment on this? Because of this wacky mishap, Snell got scratched from his regular start, which was last night against the Mariners (which the Pirates won). When is he going to pitch again? Against the Angles. If that’s not paying for one’s stupidity I don’t know what is.
• Today I went to the printers to look over a proof and start the process rolling on this month’s workplace publication. When I walked out of the printers building I saw a white dog roaming around (this was in Shittsburgh’s South Side). Now I have no problem with dogs, but when I see one roaming about I leave it alone. Don’t know where it’s been, don’t know what it’s temperament is. Well, the guy I deal with at this print shop must have been told by a co-worker about this dog and went out to see its condition. We both approached it and noticed it had a collar but no tags. Poor thing was panting like a champ, too. The other guy, a dog owner, took it out back to give it some water and shade and I told him if the owner couldn’t be found I’ll try and set it up in a no-kill shelter. I spent the next 20 minutes when I returned to the office to find a shelter for the pooch, and later on that afternoon I was happy to hear the dog’s owner was reunited with his lost companion. Oh happy days.
Nothing against dogs, but in a house with three cats, it wouldn’t have been a good match. A few years ago, the brother-in-law and his wife asked if we could keep their newly bought dog at our place for a few days so they could surprise their kids on Christmas day. We accepted. Boy was that a fun time. Dessa and JJ didn’t take too kindly to their guest; I think we only saw each of them once during this time, twice at the max. The puppy, who was eventually named Duchess, was a husky or some kinds of elk hound. And of course it had a case of diarrhea the whole time it was with us. That’s what family is for, I guess.
To get shit on.
9 p.m.
• I’m smelling left-wing conspiracy here to take God out of our society.
• I don’t go to casinos, but are there such do-not-allow-me-in-the-building laws in the States? (This case was from across the Pond.)
• Arena football may be back in Shittsburgh, baby.
I remember years ago we had the Gladiators. Never went to a game. Never cared. I heard on the radio today they moved to Tampa. I did a quick Wikipedia and noticed the Gladiators lost Arena Bowls I and III, but have won five since moving to Flordia, including one right after setting up shop in Tampa.
This was funny.
Makes me wonder if the possibility of getting an Arena Football team would have been likely if there wasn’t going to be a new arena built. OMG THE ARENA WOULD HAVE BEEN JUST FOR THE PENGUINS!
8:45 p.m.
• Oh no another GOP defection~!
Whatever. He was never a Republican anyway – just some Dem who jumped over to avoid some commie-fest Democrat primary. I don’t care if he runs or not. I wouldn’t vote for the guy.
• R.I.P. Barker beauties.
I wonder how Rosie would react if some contestant in military uniform would get out of that first-round guess-the-closest-price stage and end up next to her. I'm also quite sure there won't be any little old ladies giving her pecks on the cheek. Then again, old people don't know where they are half the time anyway.
11 a.m.
• And who says crime doesn't reach our more rural regions? Oh Somerset County.
And now for the "meat" of the story.
But that's not all...
10 p.m.
• OK kiddie, gather around. It's time to play...
...what will the defense lawyer say this time?
If you said...
You win ... nothing.
Oh, here is some more notable stuff.
8 p.m.
• So what skin at TSM are you in?
Still with the old-school blue.
7:30 p.m.
• So the guy from South America won the U.S. Open. Whatever. I watched a little of the tournament this weekend. I actually so this guy play a little Sunday and thought, “Hmm, I never heard of him before. How come nobody is thinking he can win when he’s not that far behind?” What insight.
One thing I’ve been hearing on the PTIs and ATHs of the world whenever a major tournament has a course where the winning score is over par is should courses be that difficult. The people who disagree say they want to see birdies and eagles while those on the other side of the coin want to see the best golfers in the world struggle. Where do I fall in this debate? Who cares what the final score is – it’s not like half the players go on a different course while the other half have to struggle/excel on another 18 holes. Like I’ve said before, I don’t follow golf except for watching the occasional major, so I have no clue as to this sport’s intricacies. Everyone has to play the same 18 holes, although I’m sure there could be a difference in the greens from when the first guy of a day’s event gets on to the final golfer makes his putt. Nevertheless, I don’t get the whining if a course doesn’t offer up birdies every hole. If that’s the case, then go for pars. Big deal. Eh, I’m getting too far into this topic in relation to how I care about it.
• I saw an interesting segment on ESPN yesterday about these three chicks and their nudy pics, or refusal to do such photographs. One chick (Amanda Beard) is doing Playboy. Another (Brandi Chastain) didn’t go nude, but had some other risqué shots done. Then there was another who just appeared in a swimsuit (Jennie Finch). Hey, if a female athlete wants to show off what she’s got then more power to her. Sure some people might think that this “cheapens” her on-the-field successes, but so what? I’m sure most guys thumbing through a magazine to get to a chick’s centerfold wouldn’t be caring much about how she won Olympic gold or a professional title. I wouldn’t care to see some female athlete in a nudy magazine; the outfits many of them wear reveal enough to keep me happy. Actually, I’d rather have them clothed because it leaves more to the imagination. With that being said, I might as well rank in order the kinds of female athletes I like to oogle as of 7:30 p.m. on Monday, June 18.
Soccer chicks: By far my favorite, although goalies and some defenders can be a bit butch. The toned upper torsos, the powerful legs, the sweaty bodies, the ability to get on their knees at a moment’s notice … excuse me for a few minutes while I have to feed the cats. Yeah, the cats.
Volleyball chicks: What I really like about this sport is that there are several varieties. You got the short spunky ones who jump 10 feet in the air to serve or spike, and you also have the thicker ones who set and block. Please note I’m talking about indoor volleyball athletes. Those Pro Beach competitors just seem too lanky.
Swimming chicks: I feel a bit guilty about ranking this group third because they have an advantage with getting to wear bathing suits, but whatever. It’s not their fault they need to be in shape for this sport.
Tennis chicks: While I enjoy watching women’s volleyball and soccer, I probably like watching women’s tennis the most out of any female sport, especially when compared to the amount of time I spend watching this sport’s male counterparts. At least in the women’s sport they seem to volley more, and I’m not going to complain about the outfits, either, although I was never a big Anna Kournikova fan.
Softball chicks: Over the last few years I’ve been drawn to women’s softball. Much like the soccer chicks, there are some big girls on these teams, but someone’s got to play catcher. If only they grabbed their crotches more while playing they might have been able to move up a spot or two.
I didn’t include track and field chicks on this list because, well, I don’t watch this shit. Ditto basketball. I haven't seen enough golf to make a decision one way or the other. I've seen some of those women on the LPGA and ... shudder. I'm sure there are hotter up-and-comers to be had, and I'm sure they will get the publicity when the time is right.
Now what do all thewomen’s sports I ranked have in common? Surprisingly enough, they are all sports I don’t mind watching just for the sporting element itself. Yeah, I know, I just spent a few hundred words talking about T&A, but I also actually like watching each of these women’s sports from time to time. Except for swimming. I’m a perv when it comes to this one. Sorry.
9:30 p.m.
• Yeah, too bad if these kids got killed by the cops you wouldn't be saying this "now's not the time for blame" shit.
Here's my favorite part.
I think God was trying to tell you that you're a shitty mother and your kids are better up there with him than down there with you.
Living about 30 miles from the area, this has gotten a good deal of coverage (I made a remark about this story last week), and, if the rumors are true, it sounds like the two mothers would lock their kids up while they would go to the nearby bar.
1:45 p.m.
• Dedicated to the recently hitched Smitty and SFA Jack. Not to each other, though. Although I wouldn't be surprised if Smitty lives for the cock.
So Friday my old lady sends the better half and I an anniversary gift: some money. Whatever. I’m not 10 anymore but you never look a gift check in the mouth, or at least until after it clears. Last night when I got home from work Mrs. kkk struck up the following conversation regarding said windfall.
Her: “You know what I was thinking we could do with that money? Since we weren’t expecting it, we could use it to buy a new door for the back porch.”
Me: “You know what I was thinking we could do with that money? Pay off credit-card debt.”
There was a moment of silence, then she responds with this: “Well, I don’t want to put the new screen door in the back until we replace that back door first.”
Here’s some backstory. While paying off the better half’s credit-card debt, we made an agreement that she could get two screen doors this summer to replace the shitty ones that came with the house when we bought it in 2004. Well, these new doors we recently bought aren’t screen doors, but whatever. They’re those secondary doors where when you open the main door your cats can look outside with no problems. Here's the one we got for the front entrance.
Side note: I would like to point out that the old front screen door did have a huge rip in it because Dessa (pictured bottom left) got out a few months ago and decided that she didn’t like it out there, ripped a hole in the screen, jumped in-between the two doors and cried until one of us realized she was no longer in the house. Back to my story.
Of course, the cost of these things (one for the front door, one for the back) was more than what Mrs. kkk said they were going to be. Big shock there. But here’s my favorite part. After making my remark up above, she then mentions that she now wants to replace the main back door before putting on the back screen door. When did we decide on this shit? Is that supposed to be some kind of threat that oh no we have a screen door paid for but won’t install it until we go out and buy another door? My response to her response to my first response to her first response.
“OK, then the screen door will stay in the garage.”
Yeah, I have no idea how she ended up with $20k in credit-card debt. The really sad thing is that we’ve almost finished paying off the aforementioned debt and now she’s thinking it’s time to go out and accrue more expenses.
Here’s another example of wedded bliss that took place early in the week on the way home from work. I’m sure you can figure out who is who in this conversation.
“What’s wrong with your mouth?”
“I cut my lip”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it – it’s stupid.”
“No, what happened?”
“I did something stupid and paid the price.”
“What was it?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Come on, what was it.”
“I cut myself licking a noodle off my Campbell’s soup can during lunch at work today.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I said before I wasn’t thinking when I did it.”
“You know you’re not supposed to do that. You could get hurt doing that. That was stupid.”
“No shit.”
“Why would you do something about that?”
“I said before I wasn’t thinking when I did it.”
“I can’t believe you did something that stupid.”
“I said before I wasn’t thinking when I did it.”
“You not going to get any sympathy from me.”
“When was I asking for any?”
The rest of the conversation is a blur. All I remember is at some point she said, “why am I with you?” Later on I turned up the car radio and connected a few right crosses to her face. Then again, I think this isn’t so much “wedded bliss,” rather than it being “together with someone for 10 years” bliss.
“I do.” Ain’t those two little words a bitch? Happy matrimony, guys.
I justy noticed my USA Today insert that's in my Sunday paper has a cover story talking about "Marriage and Money." Oh this should be good.
This just in. Right as I'm typing, the better half just came in and said, "honey, I just hit myself in the head off the house." Oh this should be even better. DEVELOPING...
11:15 p.m.
• So I just spent the last 11 hours finishing up the monthly publication that I’m responsible for producing. There’s no way I’m looking at a computer screen anymore tonight.
• Good.
Fuck him. Nothing else needs to be said on this matter, other than I can’t wait for the students to start suing him. That’ll be a sight to see.
12:30 a.m.
• So here’s an update on the “Aussie Prince.” For those that don’t know, here’s a recap.
Well, today I found out that this couple isn’t divorced, but they are no longer living together. Oh, yeah. The Aussie Prince told the not-quite-ex-wife that he now has a “great job,” bought a new car and moved into a house. All within a month. Boy, that bitch was sure holding him back.
• OK, now this is scary. From Dave Ramesy’s Web page that features testimonials from people who made stupid decisions with their money:
I’m 31 and this person who is just three years older than me has a 14-year old? Now granted that means this chick squirted out the kid when she was 20, but still. Makes me glad I’m not responsible for another life, outside of the better half and three cats.
8 p.m.
• Oh get over yourselves.
I’ve never played this game, but I’m sure including this cathedral in the game isn’t meant to mock your precious cathedral. Jesus Christ. In fact, I’m sure this is the only time most of the people playing this game have seen the inside of a church.
Well lookie here at the next paragraph of this story.
What if you fight the aliens with gamma blasters or laser arrows instead of guns -- would that be OK?
7:30 p.m.
• Good. Fuck you and your $54 million pants.
• Interesting.
This guy was about to buy the Penguins when the sale fell through at the last minute. Looks like Shittsburgh dodged a bullet, at least when it came to keeping its hockey team here.
• Can we sue parents for making their kids fat?
The last time I checked, kids don’t spend their allowance on Frosted Flakes. Parents do. Jesus Christ, the health Nazis have already begun its initial blitzkrieg. Do I advocate fat kids? No. But it shouldn’t be the job of the business to play parent. Hell, with these cereals supposedly being “more healthy,” I’m sure a number of parents out there will feed their kids TWICE as many Rice Krispies servings as before.
10:30 p.m.
• So I was curious to see what the score is of Game 4 of the NBA Finals.
39-34 Spurs.
At halftime.
• Hey, Sidney Crosby won the NHL MVP Award. Good for him.
• It’s been a while since I’ve listened to Dave Ramsey ever since the Jesus radio station took him off because they are a bunch of Jews and didn’t want to pay the man. He has his programs archived on his Web site, but I’ve always been too lazy to listen. Tonight I remembered/got motivated enough to download a few hours. Boy do I miss this show. First caller off the bat: a single mother missed three $600 mortgage payments and her shyster sub-prime lender is charging her $8,000 in fees. Oh yeah, her interest rate is 10 percent. What the fuck is wrong with people? I’m tired of saying “DON’T BUY A HOUSE IF YOU CAN’T GET A DECENT FIXED RATE FROM A REPUTABLE LENDER.”
But I’ll still say it anyway.
Oh, lookie here.
10 p.m.
• So the fourth starter on my Single-A MVP 2005 team just gave up back-to-back-to-back home runs in a 7-3 loss where two other round-trippers were smacked out by the other team. Well I know someone who isn’t headed to the big leagues anytime soon.
6 p.m.
• Oh boy, a copy-from-the-Drudge Report twin spin!
Pity, and I have applauded Angelina’s humanitarian work with the United jew-hating Nations in the past. I don’t quite get the point of making a movie about the Wall Street Journal reporter who got his head chopped off – it’s not like we are unaware of the end. Then again, that movie dealing with the boat which hit an iceberg made a few dollars.
• Please.
I’m willing to be my government-school education that this kid was a fucking brat throughout the year and this was the teacher’s way of getting back at the little bastard. “Sir Clowns-a-Lot”? Come on. Then again, I did spit out my Crystal Light Iced Tea when I read “Most Likely Not To Have Children.” And what the hell is with this “Words cut deeper than any knife could,” shit spewing out of his stepfather’s mouth? No wonder this kid is fucked up.
• Neglect wasn't the issue? YOU LEFT YOUR KID IN THE FUCKING CAR!
You know, maybe the solution to leaving kids in the car is putting them in carriers like we do with cats. (Whenever JJ has a vet appointment, there's no way him and his mouth are going to be abandoned in the back seat.) After all, if you see some cumbersome container you might actually be reminded that you’re leaving your kid – that little human who lives with you – in the car. Plus the tyke will probably be screaming due to the confinement. Better to be alive and screaming than silent and dead. Then again, I might rethink my last sentence the next time I’m by the dairy area and hear some brat scream from the produce section.
7:45 p.m.
• What a bunch of pussies.
Well I guess this makes sense. Rush and his ilk cause global warming, so why should these listeners be warned when a hurricane they helped create comes over and wipes them out with no warning?
7:15 p.m.
• So there’s this semi-local restaurant called Eat ‘n Park. It’s got a number of locations, but it’s regional. Anyway, they have this stupid mascot thing called Smiley, named after their smiley cookies. What is it? A cookie with frosting that makes it look like there’s a happy face. Well last night the better half wanted to go to the Eat ‘n Park across from the grocery store we go to every Tuesday afternoon. Turns out that was the time Mr. Smiley was paying a visit to that restaurant. And the place was PACKED with kids all screaming "SMILEY!"
Believe it or not, I wasn’t that annoyed. I normally don’t mind noisy kids if they’re having fun. That’s what kids are supposed to do, after all. It’s the ones that throw temper tantrums that I want to smack upside the head with a brick. Well, as Mr. Smiley was making his rounds, Mrs. kkk made some remark about Mr. Smiley, and just to be an asshole I said I’d break Mr. Smiley’s leg and shout out to all these brats, “Where’s your Smiley now?” This of course brought the usual, “You hate everything that’s good and wholesome in this world.” I normally respond with a pedophile priest joke, but this time my retort was, “So what’s your point?” I then added we should go to another local restaurant because their mascot better resembled my attitude. And just what is this other mascot?
The Frownie.
Good God is this a fucking retarded character. It makes the Mr. Smiley marketing concept look like those three Budweiser frogs from the mid-90s. You know Bud … Weis … Er. (And I didn't even like those frogs to begin with.) The Frownie’s restaurant, which is called King’s, has this thing included in a number of its billboards making some pseudo-sarcastic comment. For example, there’s one billboard I drive by every day on the way home from work pimping some kind of sandwich, and the Frownie is saying, “Nice Buns.” Who comes up with this shit? And don’t get me started on the television commercials.
Too late.
"That’s one mean dessert?" Fuck around with my sales reports and I’d be putting your right hand through the paper shredder. Bitch.
7 a.m.
• I didn't watch last nights NBA game but I heard on the radio today that LeBron got fouled when he took his last shot. A clip was then played after the game with James being asked a question about that play, and he replied "incidental contact." Well played, even though from what I've gathered last night's game was not.
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 22: Danny Dubya
A fellow Keystone stater, even though I don’t recall chatting it up much with him at TSM, we’ve gotten into it much more at the other place, where he is better known as Dubs. Because he’s from the other side of Pennsylvania, Dubs has got his head so far up Fast Eddie’s ass that he can peek out every time Rendell opens his mouth. What do you expect? The eastern part of this state is so contaminated with Democrats that if Three Mile Island would have had a full meltdown it would improve the region. Wait, Three Mile Island is more toward the central of the state. Shit. Oh well, you know what I’m talking about. Nevertheless, even though Dubs will take any chance he can get to slob on Eddie’s knob, he at least has enough common sense to shoot down the governor’s stupid-ass referendums that would really fuck us over. Then again, giving these people the power to try and do this shit in the first place is bad enough.
And now a word from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From Cancer Marney:
9:30 p.m.
• Oh fuck you.
Yeah, your woman isn't putting butts in the seats and now you're blaming us for not watching cBS because we're all SEXIST~! It can't be because she's a polarizing feminazi, could it? Nah.
Ha. So you were hoping to bring in more chicks and only got the slightest of increases. Are these female non-viewers sexist, too? LOL at the 11 percent drop in male viewers, too. I can only pray this will be the same when Hitlery gets the Democrat nomination for president.
7:45 p.m.
• So what was the big story in the Shittsburgh area today? Was it a fire that killed five children and was reported on national newscasts? Hell no. It was an incident that happened two months ago when the city’s 27-year old mayor crashed a private event to get his picture taken with Tiger Woods.
Luke went on the local RIGHT-WING RADIO show this afternoon to defend what he did, adding that the reporter got his facts wrong. Is this true? Who knows, who cares. I found the whole thing funny as hell, and I shot off a letter to the RIGHT-WING RADIO host saying that Luke was probably training to be Pennsylvania’s next Lieutenant Governor. Within minutes of sending it, the host read it over the air waves and laughed. Woo-hoo.
For those that don’t get the joke, peep this entry from a while back.
9:30 p.m.
• Humor, huh?
Well let’s look and see how funny this ad is.
*Views ad*
Well, I’m sure EricMM has already wanked to it, but I found the ad to be fucking retarded. Let’s see what other "job interview" ads he’s done.
*Views ad*
OK, this one got a laugh out of me – I liked the “overqualified” line at the end.
How about we go to the other job interview ad.
*Views ad*
Uh, Bill, pimping that you were Secretary of Energy during the time of the Los Alamos scandal isn’t something I’d be pimping. Then again, I’m sure nobody remembers that.
Let’s try this one.
*Viewing ad*
OK, W. said similar crap when he was campaigning in 2000.
Wait, wha-? Say you want to get U.S. troops out of there. I understand. But heal?
Hard diplomatic work? Oh Jesus Christ. I should have quit while I was ahead.
6:30 p.m.
• OK, so I have never watched an episode of the Sopranos, but it was one of those shows that I have planned on getting the DVDs. The question is with all the bitching I’m hearing about the ending, is it worth it to get involved in this show now?
• Dennis Miller pissed me off today on his radio show. No, he didn’t say how great Hitlery is. Instead he was talking to Dana Carvey (I was listening to Friday’s show via the archives) and he said that he thought Carvey’s “grumpy old man” schtick was going to bomb when he first did the routine on weekend update. Oh bullshit. I loved the grumpy old man skits – that’s the way it was back then and WE LIKED IT!
• You can’t make this up.
Do I even need to do the obvious “making up the news” joke that you will normally find at this point in one of these entries?
• Whatever.
The headline is, in my opinion, a bit misleading. “Quit” isn’t quite the same as “retired.” Being a government employee, I'm sure he'll have a decent goodbye package. Regarding this guy who had TB – I hope that everyone he came into contact with sues him. After all, with this guy being a trial lawyer, I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to take a few of these cases if some sap committed the same actions he did.
4:30 p.m.
• So I was pondering coming into work this weekend to finish up some stuff, but then I heard on the radio Friday that a major road into Shittsburgh was going to be closed all weekend. That’s right. ALL WEEKEND. Oh, and there was some concert going on at Heinz Field Saturday. I decided to stay home.
I think I was right on this one.
Close an interstate when 50,000 people are slated to show up for a concert. Brilliant. Say, why don’t you wait until the NFL season starts and plan these construction weekends whenever the Steelers have a home game?
