sweating the small stuff

From the “you and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals
so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel” department…………..

comes the best quote of the week;

“Why does Godzilla protect us? Because there’s a little Godzilla in all of us.”

From the movie Godzilla 2000.

Now this is what I’m talking about, a Godzilla movie with all the right stuff. You had bad special effects and the bad dubbing and they kept the short squatty crusty Godzilla kicking ass and fuckin over the Tokyo landscape. I once heard from my many inside sources that the Godzilla movies are a deep seated physiological response to the atomic horrors that were inflicted upon the Japanese. So in a non-reality sense this reincarnation of Godzilla could represent the Japanese and the UFO he was fighting could represent the United States and that by having Godzilla destroy the UFO that could represent the Japanese people defeating the United States in battle.

Until you figure in the fact that the Japanese are always trying to kill the big horned toad looking muthafucker and then what’s up with the UFO crapping out the Monster that had the big fight with Godzilla? I found that part to very confusing. Then after the big battle to save Tokyo Godzilla was able to pick out then kill the Japanese Minister of Defense. And then you never hear about the Japanese federal aid to rebuild Tokyo or the Red Cross efforts to help the displaced families. A very entertaining film but also very confusing.

I can’t help but notice that the international fight over eating dog is picking up speed. Now I see that they’ve even out’ed the stinkin Swiss as being puppy noshers. I think that if I were a dog living overseas instead of licking my balls I’d start earning favor by licking my master’s balls instead. I can’t wait for Chef Emeril Lagasse to feature dog on his show, or better yet my favorite show “Good Eats”.

My many inside sources told me that back in the day Sioux Indians used dog meat, actually puppy meat, in some of their most sacred ceremonies? Dog, not only Man’s best friend and a food source but culturally useful. That reminds me, I think I’ll see if a friend of mine has the movie “A boy and his dog” in his collection. Some of you older cats might remember this one. It was made in 1975 and starred Don “Miami Vice” Johnson.

He lives in a war torn post-holocaust wasteland and traveled around with this super smart telepathic dog. The climax of the movie came when Don Johnson found himself a woman and they were starving and wondering what to do for food. The scene faded with Don and the women looking at the dog. The next scene showed Don and the dog sitting around the campfire picking their teeth and the women gone.










Now from the “do I make you randy” department……..

comes a story I read today on one of the news sites about some cat convicted of having sex with cows. It seems that he’s been banging the herd since he was twelve years old. I suspect he’s not alone. In the small town where some of my many inside sources came from they had this one guy who’d fuck cows so hard they die. The cat wore these waders and what he’d do was sneak behind ole Bossy and stick her back feet inside his waders and off to bang town he’d go.

From what they told me the dude was built like a retard John Holmes. So as a result of this he’d rupture the cow and they’d die from internal bleeding. Makes for an interesting visual doesn’t it. It’s a hot day in West Texas and out in the green fields among all the cow shit is ole stupid Junior banging the bejesus out of some cow who’s bawling it’s ass off.

He’s wearing nothing but some old ripped up overalls and a pair of mud caked waders and smacking that cow ass and singing old Negro spirituals at the top of his lungs. Swing low sweet chariot come to take me home. Which is interspersed with cries of “I’m ah fuckin, I’m ah fuckin! Enough to make you want to pull the trigger isn’t it? But then again, better ole Bossy then your sister, huh?









And lastly from the “Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream” department……..

comes a confession I have to make. I have a serious problem sleeping at times and the sleep depravation sometimes makes me do strange things. Like the time I spent one morning scrubbing my kitchen floor naked. I swear to god, if you had seen me you would have thought I was on crack or meth or some shit like that.

Want to know a cool thing? If you don't have a mop, just put a large towel on the floor, get barefoot and step on the towel. Then you start doing like a choo choo train, shuffling your feet all over the floor. Try to get that picture out of your heads. As a treat to myself I thought I'd go to Gates Barbecue here in town for a late lunch.

I get there and the place is stupid with people, spilling out the door and all that. I'd forgotten about all the tourist in town that weekend, what a mess. So I get inside and the girls finely see me. If you've never been to Gates and you're not black, it can seem kind’a alarming cause from the time you hit the door you got black folks screaming at you. Hell, if you’re black it's alarming. “HI, CAN I HELP YOU!!!”

So as they screamed at me I prepared to use my outside voice to scream my order right back at em. I opened my mouth to scream my order out and not a damn thing happened. My voice somehow had left me. Excuse my language please, "how muthafuckin embarrassing". Somewhere between the sleepless night, scrubbing my kitchen floor naked, and that afternoon, I had lost the ability to speak. Damn bad timing. The girls at Gates kept screaming at me and I kept trying to speak. I ended up walking out in shame and horror. If I close my eyes I can still hear their shrill harpy like voices, “HI, CAN I HELP YOU! HI, CAN I HELP YOU!” Over and over and over, like a bad evil echo in my brain. It may be years before I can eat there again. Bitches.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"