kkktookmybabyaway

Yeah, the article states that; I just didn't post it. (Actually, it says he donates to Republicans.)

8:30 p.m. • Now what can go wrong with this? • How about awarding people money and they buy the gas themselves? Oh, wait, we're talking about lottery people. Christ, the same people spending $50 per day in lottery tickets will be the biggest complainers at the pump. •

8 p.m. • There are times I really hate TSM. After reading the Diablo III thread I got the urge to start playing my Diablo II characters. Goddamnit. Oh well, I always seem to quit once I get to Nightmare level, so let’s get to it. I remember when the first Diablo came out I got it while living by myself in Sappy Valley. I had nothing better to do and the game was cheap and highly rated. I don’t play games on the computer because that’s what a game console is for. However, this was an exception. Besides, my Genesis was back at the in-law’s house ready for an Ohio trip. I played the game once or twice and it was good enough. After moving to Ohio and settling in, the better half noticed me playing it one night and inquired. Soon thereafter she was playing the game more than me. This of course made us HAVE to get the sequel. Then the expansion pack. Oh who am I kidding? I like playing the game, too. This actually brings back another memory. Now although I said before I play 99 percent of my games in front of a television instead of a computer screen, Diablo is an exception to this rule. While I was in Ohio I noticed the Playstation Diablo title on sale at a used game store. I bought it and played the game with Mrs. kkk for about 20 minutes. Boy was it horrible. A few days later I went to sell it back. I wasn’t looking for a return. Hey, I made the purchase and didn’t like the product. The game itself wasn’t faulty. And this was a used game store after all. Well I went in and offered my wares. At first the sales clerk was excited – a little too excited – about seeing this Playstation game. Then he said he couldn’t buy this copy. Why? Because it was too scratched up and not up to the quality of store standards. Uhhhh, you SOLD me this game three days before in the SAME condition. I don’t use my CD/DVD/video game discs as Frisbees or coasters. The scratches didn’t come overnight. Amazingly enough, the clerk had no response to my “buy you sold me this game earlier in the week” response. Where was I going with this? Nowhere. Big shock. 8:30 p.m. • Here's one from the latest batch of pics I took from the camera an uploaded to the computer. Of course over the last several months these three have been sleeping with us, which makes for some interesting sleeping positions. Dessa (pictured middle) usually camps out between the better half and I because she doesn't want to be near the other two. Max (far) will sleep on the other side of Mrs. kkk because he doesn't like sleeping by me because I tend to roll on top of him. One night he gave a yelp and ran away, which caused Dessa to chase him and hiss. This in turn made JJ run out and see what was going on. Pretty soon there was screaming across the living room; not what you want to hear at 2 a.m. Max also doesn't like laying on the bed sheets so the better half has to make sure he is able to lay on the comforter. JJ usually takes what's available -- meaning he has to sleep by me or next to Mrs. kkk and far enough from Dessa.

I heard about Legends for the Playstation. I must say though that Dark Legacy for the PS2 is great. Although not worrying about reserving your life and putting in more quarters takes something away from the game.

Not at all. Four litterboxes and clumping litter (one in the upstairs computer room, two in the spare room on the main floor and one in the basement) are all you need.

Oh it's on now.

Didn't know about number 2 but congrats and all that.

Instead of "Yankee stats" what about picking one player's year as a Yankee? Oh, and count me out.

9 p.m. • So it’s official. My boss hates me. Why? Because for an upcoming business trip later this month she booked our flights. Guess where our connecting flight from Shittsburgh will be located? Newark, New Jersey. Guess where the connecting flight back home to Shittsburgh will be located? Detroit. I don’t think I’ll be leaving either plane. • The better half’s test-tube kid-having welfare collecting cousin and her sterile Mexican husband 30 years her senior (Or is it junior? Either way, the guy’s about twice her age.) sent her one of those stupid chain e-mails where you answer a bunch of general questions. Under the question of “What’s the one thing you worry about most,” the test-tube matriarch typed, “Our house’s adjustable mortgage.” Why am I not surprised. • Damn. Here's what I don't get. Why bother with "other interests?" If you own a decent portion of the Steelers, that's just as good as having a winning lottery ticket.

Well if the commie message is that up front, I'm sure it will.

6:45 p.m. • So yet another de-maculating moment, I was shopping with the better half for a few suits during the Fourth of July. Mrs. kkk was going on her third interview with this one place and was paranoid that with her two professional suits someone would recognize she was already recycling outfits. (Or was it her fourth interview? Depends if you count 15-minute phone screens.) So as we browsed several department stores, we stumbled upon some sales from JC Penny’s and she found this nice suit for $75. Our jaws both dropped, but for different reasons. Guess who is who below. “$75?! That’s a lot of money!” “Are you kidding?! You better get this … NOW!” Now guess who was who? My quote was the second one. Yep, me. Jew boy. Telling Mrs. kkk to spend $75 on an outfit. Why was I getting wood over this deal? Because the suit retailed for $200. After I showed her the “normal” price, she couldn’t believe how expensive work clothes were. I then realized I knew more about WOMEN’S FUCKING CLOTHING than she did. Good Christ shoot me now. Why did I know more than her on this subject? Because my mom, before she lost her mind while in Jesus school, used to work in the corporate world and I remember seeing the price tags on some of her threads. So when the better half began pondering the cost of female business clothes we took a trip to the Macy’s store – where $300 work outfits are the norm. That brought her back to reality. And we also got her another $200 suit for $40. 8:30 p.m. • W, I voted for you twice and all but come on. Make the late-night comedy writers earn their paychecks. 8:45 p.m. • Having seen the NBA All-Time Draft participants post team summaries, I figure I might as well get off my backside and do the same. Starting 5 Shaquille O’Neal – C Nate Thurmond – PF/C Alex English – SF Clyde Fraizer – PG David Bing – SG Off the Bench Jeff Hornacek – SG Bill Laimbeer – PF/C Terry Cummings – PF Doc Rivers – PG Doug Christie -SG Dolph Schayes – SF/PF Paul Arzin – SF/SG Coach John Kundla My system? Hell, I don’t know. I’d probably focus on the front court, but depending on the matchup, I think I could compete with a guard-heavy opponent. If I need more scoring, I’ll bring in Hornacek and Cummings. If I need more defense, I’ll sub in Laimbeer, Schayes and Christie (Hornacek, too). Rivers is a solid back-up point guard. When it’s late in a game, Hornacek and Laimbeer are excellent free-throw shooters. And the last player on my bench is part of the Top 50 Players Of All Time Club. Now there’s no way I would have assembled this team had I taken part in Cena’s draft. I’m sure I would have missed my turn a few times with the current work schedule I have. However, it’s fun to do something like this every now and then. Now the All-Time NFL Draft? Oh hell no.

This comment got a laugh from me (currently No. 47): I think the conservatives are just jealous that Veggie Tales bombed at the box office.

9 a.m. • So yesterday I had to go to this wedding reception for some chick whose the daughter of some uncle-in-law that I have only seen once in my life. There goes my Saturday night. Whatever, like I was going to do anything in the first place. Here’s one thing I noticed. All the young, single people who are probably in the courting stages of their relationships were all dressed up – especially the women of the group. However, the older couples who have been together for a while were MUCH less dressy. Sadly, I fell into the latter category. I wasn’t wearing jeans, but there’s no way I’m wearing a suit and tie at the local fire hall. Oh, here’s another observation. When the bride and groom were doing their first dance, all the bridesmaids were looking intently with sobbing eyes. The groomsmen? They were just standing in the corner drinking beer and talking to each other totally not paying attention to this moment. That just about sums a lot of things regarding the difference between men and women, doesn’t it? Thankfully, everyone was getting drunk so Mrs. kkk wanted to leave early. She said everyone was acting abnoxious. I didn't notice, but whatever.

4:30 p.m. • So Venus Williams beat her sister for another Wimbledon title. Yay and stuff. Actually, I am a fan of the Williams sisters. Well, as much as a fan as one can be by watching about an hour of women's tennis per year. And 10 minutes of this annual hour's worth was spent watching the women's title this morning.

No you're not. If they don't need the car they don't get it -- especially if they want to make a rental the day they enter your store. UZI: I told Dama this a while back during his journalism days. If you want to get into the print world, study other factors of the communications industry: graphic arts, broadcast, pr. And you will have a much better chance making $70k with UPS than you will writing for a magazine.

Really? I'd find it amusing.

11:30 a.m. • So along with killing bugs yesterday something else monumental took place at the kkk household. The better half and I had to say goodbye to a longtime friend. This companion was with me during the times in my life when I needed assistance the most. Loved by my niece and nephew, he was always able to make them look forward to that day’s activity. And whenever we thought this mate was down and out, he would always surprise us with more get up and go. Who was this person? My crack-whore sister-in-law? A relative with Alzheimer’s? That crazy neighbor? Nope. My 1988 Chevy Corsica. Back in late 1999/early 2000 I was living in Sappy Valley and looking for a used car. The better half and I were using her red cavalier to get around, but I knew with an impending move on the horizon we needed two vehicles. I started looking in Auto Traders and other media outlets with no urgency. Then I got the call from my old man. “Do you want an ’88 Corsica?” Hmm, I remember a few people from my past with Corsicas and they always seemed reliable. Sure, why not. I know jack shit about automobiles. At least this is better than picking out a vehicle because of its color. So I went back to the Shittsburgh area and got this vehicle for $1500. Go ahead and mock me for over-paying. I don’t know if I did or not. It was an older vehicle but had a bunch of stuff done to it. The guy who owned it got the car for his elderly mother and now she couldn’t drive it and he had no room at his place for another car. I guess I should have checked to see what nursing home he put his mom into, because if it was a rat’s den then maybe the brake-line should have been inspected prior to purchasing. Eight months went by and this car was running with no problems. However, I wasn’t taking it on long trips. Just to work and back – all within a 10-minute drive or so from my second job. And before EricMM starts bitching about carbon footprints and all that shit, I used to walk from my one job because the busses didn’t start up that early. It took me more than an hour to walk home, and a bicycle wouldn’t help my impending move. Yes, I was moving from central Pennsylvania to southwestern Ohio. And on that August day I turned in my keys to my Jew-bastard apartment manager-ette, packed the car to the gills with my stuff and headed off to glorious Middletown. During this eight-hour trek I kept thinking to myself “Don’t break down. For the love of God, don’t break down.” And while there were a few times during some steep inclines I got antsy, the Corsica came through. After I reached Ohio, I was always expecting this car to die, especially when I would make 50-mile round-trips to and from work. Oddly enough, the car not only ran but it ran rather well. Sure it didn’t have the fancy gadgets all the newer models had, but I am NOT a car person. As long as it gets me from Point A to Point B I’m happy. And year in and year out it did just that. OK, so it needed a rebuilt transmission, but whatever. It was old. If you would say to me that you get a 12-year-old car, drive it for 8 years and only have to rebuild the transmission, I’d say that’s a good deal. Three years have passed and Mrs. kkk and I were getting ready to drive back to Pennsylvania. Once again, we didn’t think this car had it in him for a similar packed-to-the-gills run across state lines, especially since I never bothered to get an Ohio license plate and updated commie emissions tags. (I avoided the law for three years with Pennsylvania plates and a Temporary registration sticker.) But we were proven wrong for a second time. Now in Pennsylvania we thought for sure this relic would finally call it a day, especially since we never really bothered to maintain the upkeep. But once again we were proven wrong. Sure this automobile could no longer make the everyday work commute through rush-hour traffic, but we didn’t ask him to do that. Need to go to the local grocery store for a gallon of milk? He was there. Have the urge to do some Christmas shopping but the better half has the other car? He was there. Desire the pleasures of some ladies of the evening by making a stop to a Shittsburgh street corner? Hell no. I wasn’t getting no jammy juice on the red velvet interior. Fast forward to the Summer of 2006. Mrs. kkk was in-between jobs and spent the summer working at a local pizza place and babysitting her niece and nephew. Who was there every morning when she had to arrive at her brother’s house at 6 a.m.? Who was there when it was time to take the kids to their dozen-plus summer activities? Who was there to navigate those crater-filled backroads? You guessed it. Not the 2004 Blue Caviler. That was taking me to my job. But instead, as my nephew-in-law dubbed him, Crappy the White Car. Why was my Corsica called Crappy the White Car by a kid who will probably make more as a college intern than I do right now? Because while Crappy could still get you from Point A to Point B he had some … issues. First off, the passenger-side door couldn’t open. That was the case for years. I didn’t care. Hey, I figured if someone wanted to carjack me I had a 1 in 4 chance of getting away right off the bat. Then there was the horn issue. One day I was using Crappy for a trek in Shittsburgh due to a work-related issue and the Caviler was already in use. I knew this would be a risk, considering I it was mid-morning and I knew traffic would be stop-and-go. I was right, especially since every other business in Oakland had its vending deliver trucks clogging up the right-hand lanes. Crappy didn’t take too kindly to this and after about 40 minutes of this I was got pissed and hit the steering wheel. This in turn caused the horn to blare nonstop. For several blocks. God only knows what the poor female motorist in front of me was thinking. I tried to let her know that I wasn’t honking at her, rather Crappy was just going off on his own. But I think I did more harm than good because when observed from a distance I think my body language looked more like limbs flailing about in rage. How did I solve the case of the blaring horn? I grabbed the horn panel and yanked something out of place. I thought that would work and it did. For about two miles. Then it started again and I yanked something else. That was that. Or so I thought. Fast forward to Mrs. kkk’s stint as Aunt Nanny. On one of her trips with the kids to summer camp I guess the horn went off on its own, much to the delight of the niece and nephew, who found the whole thing funny as hell. Couple this with all the amenities of stalling out, no heat or air conditioning, a clock radio that we couldn’t properly set, speakers that were blown out and bellowed out more static than music, peeling paint from all sides, missing knobs, a cracked dashboard from another time I made a this-car-will-overheat-because-of-this-goddamn-traffic back in 2002 (man I-75 was a bitch; thank God I found that back road route to work in Ohio), a crack in the windshield that was there when I first bought Crappy and a gas cap that was hanging on by a thread and you have in the eyes of a 9-year-old the coolest car on the planet. These two kids, particularly the nephew, were OBSESSED with this car. They actually preferred riding in Crappy than our ’04 Caviler or any of the trucks/vans their parents owned. Even earlier this year when the better half was picking the kids up for some function she was asked if they were going to be “riding in style,” a question that was often asked by my nephew whenever he learned Aunt kkk would be driving them somewhere. The nephew even wrote book about his experience during that summer with Crappy the White Car. (Don’t laugh. This 9-year-old was the only one among us who knew how to fix the time on the clock radio. For almost 5 years Crappy was 40 minutes off in time – 1 hours and 40 minutes when clocks had to be adjusted.) But all things don’t last. After this past winter Crappy decided enough was enough and decided to call it a day. We think it’s the starter but frankly it just doesn’t matter at this point. For months he had been taking up space in the garage until one of us finally got the desire to call one of those tow-away-for-charity organizations. And yesterday that big flatbed in the sky took Crappy away for good. Crappy the White Car (1988-2008) The garage just won’t look the same. … Oh who the hell am I kidding? Now until we get a second car, which won’t be until this ’04 Caviler becomes the New Crappy, we won’t need to scrape ice off the windows every winter. But couldn’t the garage be spinning just a little bit? Maybe. But that could be because of the exhaust Crappy would always spew out.

I know both. Not personally, mind you. (Should have stated I don't follow wrestling since '01)

9:30 p.m. • So today the better half told me that there was a group of bees/wasps/whatever starting up a nest in the top left corner of our garage door. The following conversation then took place. You can figure out who’s who: “Why do I have to do it?” “Because I’m working at the second job to pay for my niece’s baby shower because I’m a fucking idiot and once my mom dies there will be nobody left to cater to the crack-whore so she will start calling our house begging us to drive her to the methadone clinic, welfare office or some other decrepit locale.” “Oh yeah.” “So wait until the evening and go out there and spray so you get them all.” “Even the women and children bees?” “Yes. That’s why you do it in the evening. When they are all back at the hive.” “Wow. Now I know what George W. Bush must feel like.” Of course, if the kkk household was made up of Democrats, we would first try to understand why the insects decided to stage an insurgency. Was it because of pollution they decided to set up shop at our residence? Did their previous hive get foreclosed on because of the RECESSION~? We wouldn’t have time to really know because we would have moved to another location. But there are enough left-wing queers on my block. I guess that makes me a fly in the ointment. OK, now this is getting dumber than I thought possible. All I can say is that after trip outside with the bug spray… Of course now the rest of the bugs in the neighborhood will be blowing themselves up, causing my approval ratings to dip even lower among the commie neighbors (if that's possible). Bring it on. 10:30 p.m. • I’m sure there’s a joke to be made here about black people and making babies, but that would be wrong. Can’t wait to find out what a bunch of white people in lab coats determine to be the bodily enhancements of Popeye’s Chicken. Speaking of watermelon, I LOVE this stuff so much I can't buy it or I'll eat the entire box. Well, not the ACTUAL box, but rather what is inside of it.

Well I feel much safer now.

11:45 p.m. • So this gets a little chuckle out of me whenever I see it. All across America the po-lice are CRACKING DOWN on drivers not wearing their seat belts. Oh Noz~! Anyway, these stupid click it or ticket billboards have sprung up in my neck of the woods. If you don’t have one around where you live, here’s how they look. Now the difference in this billboard from the ones in Pennsylvania is that instead of that “click it’ logo on the lower right we have some hippie state symbol and our logo. What is my commonwealth’s logo titled? “State of Independence.” Yeah, we got a mean independent streak. As long as we wear our seat belts… …and not drive more than two miles in the left lane. …and remove all the snow from our vehicle before driving. …and buy your booze from a state-controlled liquor store. Other than that, and the million other nitpicky laws on the books, we’re free to do as we please. Now I need to move the better half away from my half of the fridge we are sleeping on top of. Damn you Bush economy. • Gee, I wonder who will be paying for air time on MTV? I bet it's McCain trying to appeal to the young'ins. Wow, Barack Osama really is that dumb. I'm sure this network would have slobbed his knob through November for free.

10 a.m. • So is North Korea now part of the Axis of Not-So-Nice? • Yet another ruling by the uber-conservative Supreme Court. Actually, I have the perfect solution. Don't execute these kiddie rapists. Just toss them into a prison's general population. Everybody's happy. • Speaking of adult/kid sex. I wondered why these "To Catch a Predator" shows weren't on anymore. Bummer. This was the best thing on television. I think I remember NBC airing that bit with the guy killing himself. Yeah, he was innocent. 6 p.m. • What would a kkk-led nation be like? Here you go.

If this kid was black or a Mexican he would have gotten into an accident and/or put up a bigger fight with the motorist blocking him in. Nice try, fagshanks. Although I'm curious to know what's at the Muncie mall.

9 p.m. • So does this make you want to buy a white, gooey substance in a jar? OMG the Big Gay lobby is shoving their immoral agenda down our throats (ew, another set of words I should not have strung together). Oh, I get it. Mom’s a New York deli guy because her sandwiches taste like they’re from the Big Apple with Heinz’s super mayo stuff. I get the joke. It’s just not that funny (what’s funnier is the queer group telling its people to boycott Heinz products; the O'Reilly reference made me laugh, too). Besides, I’m a Miracle Whip man myself. For my gay humor, I would rather wake up with the King. • Oh boy. Time to bail out the irresponsible and reckless who should have never received loans in the first place! And don’t give me this, “But rich people get bailed out, too.” I know that. Fuck them, too. • You know what? I think I’d rather have the seven-year-old out on the road than his grandma.