kkktookmybabyaway

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.

My second thought: Sheryl Crow's "Sweet Child of Mine." I don't want to reveal my first thought. EDIT: And how could I forget Marilyn Manson ruining my user name?

I think Dennis Miller mentioned this film a while back on his radio show. He goofed on it. That's all I got.

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.

Speak for yourself.

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.

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.

Sorry to disappoint. Why should I care what someone wants to eat? As long as it's not one of my cats, knock yourself out.

9:30 a.m. • In the jail cell, the dingy jail cell, the lion sleeps tonight.

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...

Agreed. Now we part ways.

Like last year, don't put me down for a team but if someone flakes out just let me know.

Wow. I liked it so much I said it twice.

Pity, Wendy's is by far my favorite fast-food place. I love their grilled chicken sandwich/small chili combo.

Rap music is packed with homophobia.

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...

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.

Just go out and graze in the yard behind the store.

In Luke-o's defense, he didn't say if this was a government school.

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.

No Sallah. No Henry Jones. No Marcus Brody. No Short Round. No way.

My n*gga. My favorite segments were when stuff would explode or fire would shoot out, freaking out the kid by his side.

I never knew there was an old Baconator. Whenever I want to give my heart a scare, I'll stick with my Wendy's triple.