cuff talkin

Last night at the Boardroom I got into a discussion with my old pal and longtime commenter Kose Sose over the issue of eminent domain. After visiting all the points and counterpoints we concluded the conversation with the realization that eminent domain is for better or worse the way shit is. For cities to grow and develop into someplace folks want to live in, change has to happen.

But as we also know, change don’t necessarily make it better. Hopefully city government’s will temper shit with the knowledge that people aren’t fuckin pawns on a chessboard to be bandied about at will and treat em like proper human beings. And as far as the ruling, it’s like someone said the other day on the Internet. That loud grunting gasp heard nationwide the other day? That was the collective sound of every land developer in the country achieving collective orgasm when the Supreme Court issued it’s ruling.

Any true tough guy will attest to the fact that violence begets more violence. And the only way to stop it, is to either make your violence so fuckin over the top that the other party just shuts the fuck down or you deescalate some shit by stepping away from it. The only reason I’m saying this is that for being a medium sized city, Kansas City has become the kill capital of the country. I think at last tally we’re at fifty-five and there seems to be no end in sight.

I’ve discovered a new taste sensation. It’s called ice coffee! Yeah, coffee poured over ice, who would’a fuckin thunk it? I had one this weekend over at Broadway Café. It was hotter then a muthafucker but I was really craving a coffee from there so I walked in and told the kid behind the counter that I needed a coffee. He looked at me and swear to god the first thing out’a his pimply face was, “

little hot for coffee isn’t it”?

Don’t you hate when muthafucker’s do that? It’s like renting porn and when you go to pay for it the chick behind the counter looks at you like you’re some kind of freak. Bitches.

Anyway I must’a had that look on my face cause after dropping some bass in my voice and explaining to him that I’d be drinking the muthafucker inside where it was all air-conditioned and shit, not outside in the hot assed heat. The kid quickly suggested an ice coffee to me. So I tried it, and after mixing it the same way I usually do my coffee, two sugars, pinch of coco with a few shakes of cinnamon and cream. I found it not only very refreshing but cool on the palate. As a matter of fact, at the Hurricane last night I went thru a whole pot of coffee that way. Don’t you just love finding new shit?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

good eats

brains make good eats

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

how you like me now....bitch

See this is the kind of “fuck you” I’m talking about. But to do a “fuck you” of such magnitude means that you have to have money backing you or just a lot of fuckin money. Just thinking of what I could do with a few million dollars and an attitude makes my nipples hard. Even if it doesn’t work I just love people with these kind of balls.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

uh oh, someone doesn't like you

dammit, this is the only thing I have in red. do you think he'll mind?


As a cat gets older we sometime begin to think of death and living and how we want to be remembered. And I’ve decided that not only do I want to be cremated and have some of my ashes mixed into a douche, seeing how that’s gonna be the only way I’ll ever get near any pussy, but want every chick at my funeral rocking the red dress. That’s right, a low-cut red dress with those come fuck me at midnight heels. Well, except for my mother cause I doubt she’ll be having any of that shit. So remember, if brain dead pull the feeding tube, cremation, and red dresses. Oh, and a little baby oil or some such shit on the breasts wouldn’t hurt you bitches either.

Visualizing my funeral and shit got me to thinking that even though I don’t bandy his name about like we’re all tight and all, god most likely thinks I’m a good person. But I’m so sure that he can’t say the same for some of you muthafucker’s out there. So as a public service here’s a few sure fire indicators that god hates you.

You know god hates you after you decide that it would be a good move to display a big metal cross during the funeral of a friend. As you’re simple ass stands graveside holding your big metal cross, the sky darkens and bam! Lightning hits the big ass metal cross you’re clutching and muthafucker’s have to plan another funeral. Yes, god hates you.

You know god hates you when after a night of hard drinking and being an asshole to everyone around you. Your drunken ass gets home and after a while you feel the strong urge to throw up. As you kneel there praying at the false alter of the porcelain god, your stupid ass passes out and you end up with a severe concussion. When you fall asleep whilst throwing up into the fuckin toilet and crack your head open on the pee-stained rim, yes, god hates you.

You know god hates you when somehow the thought finds soil and germinates in your mind that it would be a fine idea to water the Christmas tree. One thing though that you neglected to remember sunshine. That watering the Christmas tree whilst the muthafuckin lights were still plugged in might be a really bad idea. Yes Susie, there is a Santa Claus, which didn’t do shit for stupid uncle Junior since he forgot that water and electricity don’t mix. Which didn’t matter anyway since god hated him.

And you know that god hates you when you’re the heir to a billion dollar company and you yourself happen to be worth somewhere in the twenty billion dollar range. Life is good and after a hard week of getting city governments to press their power of eminent domain so that you can build more stores where before there were thriving local shops and homes. You decide you need a little R & R and after taking off in your very cool ultra light airplane you crash the muthafucker scant moments later. Yeah, when you’re richer then some nations and heir to the Wal-Mart fortune and die in the crash of your personal plane. Yes god hates you.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

stop it

hey greg, get you some closure and come see if these are faux...muthafucker!


There are two words in use today that give me the runny shits every time I hear em. Those words would be “faux”, meaning not genuine or real and “closure”, meaning a bringing to an end. And I fully understand that of all things considered, this is a bullshit little bitch, but it’s the kind of stinkin assed day I’m having. ”

Its call FAKE, SAY IT BITCHES!!…..FAKE! FAKE! FAKE! Fuckin (F) fuckin (A) fuckin (K) fuckin (E)”.!!!!. Not “faux”

like you’re all fancy pants and shit living in France dying from the heat because you’re too fuckin stupid to purchase a goddamned window unit for your quaint little French chateau and as far as “closure’s” concerned, only pussies and leaky drawered little bitches need closure. The fuckin Duke didn’t need any closure. Fuckin Shaft didn’t need no closure. And Pam Grier and Raquel Welch sure in the fuck didn’t need any closure. The first two kicked ass until it “closed” up, and the last two would kick it till it opened back up, and do it buck assed nekked at that. Closure is that thing that swings the fuckin door shit and that’s that. Bitches!

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

let them eat cake

The other day I was on a roll about the United States Supreme Court’s ruling on giving the unquestionable right of eminent domain to city governments. Which meant that if the city decides that for the better good of all evolved, meaning “them” (see city government) and “private developers” (see rich and powerful muthafuckers who don’t give a shit about anything but what they want), that your neighborhood would make a fine location for a new stadium or hotel or such shit. They have free rein to take it.

This is something that I plan to keep harping on because I can see some bullshit happening down the road. Cause even though the court says that the shit’s intended for the common good and all that fine flourishing sounding crap. I’m gonna call bullshit on em because you and I both know that this is gonna give muthafucker’s all the excuse they want to run roughshod over people. And just to show you the mindset I’m talking about here’s some excerpts from an interview with the lawyer who won the case whilst representing the city of New London, Connecticut, which the Supreme Court passed the ruling on.

Interviewer: But I think this strikes some people as most people, I believe, as unfair. These people didn't do anything wrong, these homeowners. There was no suggestion that they weren't keeping up their houses. They weren't blighted. They were just going about their lives and, boom, from out of nowhere, someone else decided he had a better idea for their land. Doesn't that seem unfair to you?……….I guess, what I'm looking for is an acknowledgement that real people, individuals, are being hurt in this.

Lawyer: “Oh”.

Interviewer: What would you stay them? To the New London resident for instance, whose family has been in their house, as you know, since 1901. She was born there. This must be crushing to her. How would you explain this to her?

Lawyer: I understand. I don't deny that this is terrible for the individual plaintiffs. It's terrible for any individual plaintiffs who have their property taken for the public good. That's the same argument you'd make if you were taking it for a road or anything else.

Interviewer: But can you give me the three sentences you would say to her to make her feel better about this?

Lawyer: Yes. I would say, it's too that bad your property has been taken. All I can say to you, ma'am, is, it's being taken for the public interest and New London, as a whole, will be better for it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

what, me worry?

Now let me make sure I got this right. In the movies when the scientists take the dead people or animal if that’s your cup of tea, and attempt to reanimate em by draining all their blood and replacing it with a sub-zero saline solution, and after that replacing the saline solution with fresh blood, then hitting em with let’s say, an electric shock, and they come back to life, isn’t that when shit gets all fucked up?

Don’t muthafucker’s wake up being all about eating brains and sucking on faces and shit? So when I read in the stinkin paper that scientist have learned how to successfully create “zombie dogs”, reanimating the dogs after several hours of being considered scientifically dead, as they have stopped breathing and have no heartbeat or brain activity in attempts to develop suspended animation for humans, should I worry?

And that the scientists are doing so by draining all the fuckin blood from the dogs and replacing the blood with an ice-cold salt solution which they say perfectly preserves the internal organs and all that good shit along with making the dogs dead. Then after a few hours they drain all that shit out and pump the blood back in and giving the dogs an electrical shock, which brings em back to life. And then they say that the dog’s brains are normal as pie? Should I worry?

Whilst reading the same paper I came across this article about how on Independence Day scientist plans on blasting a hole the size of a fuckin football stadium in a comet half the size of Manhattan Island. They plan on doing this using a spacecraft innocently enough named “Deep Impact”. And the whole reason for doing this is so they can see what the inside of a comet looks like. Yup, NASA’s spending thirty-three million dollars to see what the inside of comet Tempel 1. which should be about 80 million miles away from Earth at the time of impact looks like.

Now personally, I don’t have a problem with NASA spending money on shit like that, cause fuck, who wouldn’t want to see what the inside of a comet looks like? But it’s things like when NASA says not to worry cause they guarantee that their experiment will not significantly change the comet's orbit nor will the smash-up put the comet or any remnants of it on a collision course with Earth. Again I ask the question, should I worry?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

dancing in the moonlight

the above custom album art is courtesy of
John Wayne Gacy
how Steve got it is a story into it’s self

He told me to he might have some big news for me. It seems that my old pal Steve Tulipana, the cat whose band website I first started writing on years ago. And lately of “Season to Risk”, “Roman Numerals”, “Pornhuskers”, and “Unknown Pleasures”, along with his buddy and band mate Shawn Sherrill, have taken the big leap of faith. They decided to fulfill a years-long dream and taken on the thankless task of being club owners. Remember Malloy’s on the corner of Southwest Traffic way & Westport Road? Well they are the new proud owners of said establishment and big plans are afoot. Expect huge things to happen late August.

Without sounding like some old ditty and shit, I’m so proud of the both of em. For one I knew Steve back in the day and was around when he got married to one of the best women in town and after that he became a homeowner. Whatever this cat set’s his mind out to do he does, so I guess this means I’ll be needing to expand my circle of socialiabilty and all that since I got a new club to hang out at. “You heard it here first.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

eminent domain

you’ll move and you’ll like it!

I read in the news the other day that the Supreme Court passed a ruling that city governments can seize property to make room for private development projects to try to boost their local economy. In short they gave the cities the right of eminent domain. As far as I’m concerned it really means is that no homeowner or property owner can sleep secure with the knowledge that what’s his is his anymore. Think of this as a homeowner’s worst nightmare, in that the highest court in the country has given the rich and powerful leave to do as they please with your shit.

You and your family sweated and scrimped to buy your first house. The neighborhood might have started off a bit dicey, but you painted and cleaned and fixed up till your new place was a home. Then your neighbor’s took heed and followed suit until one year you looked up to find that you lived in a pretty cool neighborhood. You had your piece of the rock, the American dream, your forty acres and your Lawnboy was your mule. Then you get a letter from the city saying that they wanted to purchase your property to make room for a new high-rise hotel.

The price they were offering for your home was thousands under what it was worth. Plus it didn’t matter anyway; this was your house, where your kids were raised, the neighborhood where your now grown kids moved back too to raise their new families. Nobody could put a price on what you had and you weren’t selling. You put your time in and wasn’t going anywhere. But then after a while you and your neighbor’s get another letter telling you all that you will move because the city and developers have the right of eminent domain. And by the way, they ain’t giving you a single fuckin dime cause you blew that chance when you refused their first offer. And because of the Supreme Court’s ruling, you are fucked.

You know that back in the day eminent domain was or was supposed to be used only for blighted areas, like an old warehouse district or maybe a junkyard. Areas that weren’t being used anymore that the city thought could be put to good productive use. But with the new ruling governments can seize non-blighted land for economic development. Back in the day I was caught up in this shit, not as a homeowner but as a renter. We were given thirty days to get the fuck out. Where I lived for seven years now sits two very ugly office towers.

I cried and screamed and there was nothing I could do but get the fuck out. I know how I felt when I owned my first home and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would go thru my head if that had happened to me there. And here’s the worse thing. I can fully understand the deal behind the right of eminent domain. What if instead of a score of storefronts and eighty-year old homes, the city could put in a new office complex or factory that would employ hundreds or thousands? But what again if the city wanted to uproot a bunch of people just to put in condos for the well heeled to live? Couldn’t the well heeled live most anywhere they wanted? That’s when the fighting starts.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

let's all go to the lobby

dude, can I have one of your hotdogs?


There’s been a lot in the media lately about the downfall of the movie going experience. Box office receipts are down and more and more people are opting to stay home and catch a movie wither it be on cable or thru rentals. And again, like with everything else, people are over thinking shit as to why this is. Now I don’t know about your average Joe, but when it comes to seeing movies at my local multiplex, I view it as a personal treat. Sometimes all it takes to ease a cat out is a big bag of buttered popcorn and a couple of hotdogs. And if the movie’s good I just see that as an added plus.

But before I go on, let me describe my average movie going experience. I just can’t up and decide that I’m gonna see a movie, mainly due to the fact that the only time I’ll go see a movie is during matinee hours. See, I hate crowds, I dislike being around people’s loud-ass kids, and did I say I hated crowds? So unless I make that decision in the first few hours after waking up, it ain’t gonna happen. Ok, I make up my mind to go see a matinee and off I trudge to my favorite theater where I insist on being there at least one half hour or more before the movie begins. I mean c’mon, nothing fucks up the whole experience for me more then being late or rushed.

Anyway, I pay for the ticket, which at matinee prices is maybe four or five bucks here in beautiful Kansas City. After that I head to the concession stand where I’ll usually get the same thing every time, large buttered popcorn, two hotdogs (plain), and a large Coke. Let’s see….carry the one and add the two…….ok, so far my movie going experience has hit me up for about twenty bucks, which I fully expected. When it comes to concessions they do bend muthafucker’s over and ground it in, don’t they? You figure a family of four going to see a movie during peak times after tickets and munchies is gonna be out a C-note at least, right? Hmmm, that might keep people at home on the couch wouldn’t it?

Moving on, I find my seat, which means that I’ll that big dark blot sitting at the very rear of the theater dead center in the last row munching popcorn. Also the good thing about matinee movies is if I’m lucky, I’ll be one of maybe half a dozen people in the whole place, which to me rocks. I’m all set with my hotdogs and popcorn and coke sitting in my plush reclining seat when the lights dim. Oh, some of you older reader’s will be glad to know that I better about the lights dimming and shit. I used to get so freaked out when the lights dimmed due to the fact that the first thought in my head was that I was dying or some such shit. “Oh my god, am I dying, everything’s getting dark”? “Whew, just them turning down the lights”.

Anyhow, now if you were to ask me, what comes next is the part that makes me want to stay home and rent some shit. I’m talking about all the cocksuckin commercials they insist on showing. I watch commercials at home and put up with em, but I do not want to see em at the theater especially after I’ve paid to be in this muthafucker. I find them very intrusive and somewhat degrading that folks are made to sit thru the same shit they can see at home like a bunch of fuckin cows at slaughter. It’s like trying to censorship cable. We pay for cable and out of the ass for it I might add, so why try to tell us what we can and can’t see?

The same applies to movie theaters, if we’re paying to see the goddamned movie and pay for the fuckin food; we shouldn’t have to suffer the fuckin indignities of some asshole trolling the virtues of some herpes cream. That is most likely one of the main reasons people are staying away from the box office. People are like me, when they go to the movies they want to enjoy the experience. We’ll suffer the high ticket prices. We’ll suffer the overpriced concessions, the crowds, rude people and bad kids. We’ll even deal with sitting through a bad movie as long as we get to enjoy the experience. But sometimes enough is enough and the stinkin commercials just might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m just sayin and shit.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past…bits & pieces

is that a Maglite in your pocket
or are you just glad to see us?

Best quote of the week:

“You look just like my gynecologist, I always hated when he examined me cause his shoulders were so wide that I had trouble spreading my legs far enough apart, and I’m just a little bitty thing”

All this from a small woman who felt the urge to babble all this to me as she was coming out of the restroom at the Cane.

I wanna walk the earth. I wanna be one of those cat’s that travels the world meeting people and getting into adventures and shit. I wanna be the wind and go where ever it blows. But there’s only one problem with all of this. I not much on the talking. Maybe I can be the silent guy roaming the earth. Yeah that’s it; I’ll be a man of mystery. I’ll be known as the silent cat that roams. But I gotta do something about this not talking to strangers thing I got. I’d suck as a cabbie. I also want to write a book but on what, I don’t know. Maybe I could write a romance novel, yeah, I could call it the Rapture of the Bumble Bees or some such shit. I need to do something to leave my mark on this world. I’m getting old and times a short luxury.

In the small town where my folks came from they had this one guy who fucked a cow so hard it died. The cat wore these waders and what’ll he did was to sneak behind ole Bossy and stuck 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 ruptured the cow and it died 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 wearin nothing but some old ripped up overalls and a pair of mud caked waders. He’s smackin 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?

I remember the time I was driving my sweet elderly mother to the store and some old bitch next to me on the freeway suddenly decides she wants to drive in my lane as well as hers. Well I tell you what! I rolled down my window and started pounding on her hood at sixty miles an hour! If that didn’t pook out her panties I don’t know what did. She’ll look three times before she changes lanes again.

Hey, here’s a party trick I learned year’s ago you guy’s can do with your girlfriends. Get a real bright light source like a Maglite and shine it under your girl’s breast. If she’s had the job done they’ll glow in the dark. Saline not so well, but silicone tits will light up like a bulb. Just something to break the ice with.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

seek and ye shall find

this was just sent to me by GrampaPinhead. It’s a shocking documentary, but the watching is well worth it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

monkeyshines

Tarzan will you check this shit out,
that shit-flinging Cheetah sold another painting!


Another rambling post because I can’t think of anything coherent to talk about. And I’ll start off by taking off the sympathy gloves because I’m so over Terri Schiavo’s family. The autopsy clearly showed the deal and backed up what her husband and “real” doctors have been saying for years. Let it go and stop talking to the media because you’re clearly in danger of moving from grieving family to crazy muthafucker level. Let you daughter rest in piece on whatever shelf her fuckin ashes are currently sitting on.

I love art, whither it be paintings, sculptures or whatever. But I’ve been saying for years that art appreciation is such a scam. People with the common sense of a frog with titties will pay insane fuckin money for something that looks like it splashed off the side of the crapper. And when a cocksuckin monkey can pull better bids then the likes of Renoir and Andy Warhol, it just shows what the fuck I’m talking about.

Goddamn, is this like a sign of the fuckin apocalypse when some dead shit-flinging monkey named Congo gets his “art” brought for twenty five large? An when you go what crazy cocknuzzler with too much money brought this shit? And of course in the back of your head you’re hoping that it wasn’t another American, cause the last thing the fuckin world needs is another stupid American with more money then brains.
But then you find out that it was an American who shilled out the money for some shit a dead shit-flinging monkey scribbled on a canvas.

And you’re going “ohmymuthafuckingod”, this is the silliest shit I’ve ever heard. Wait, how abouts I swallow a bunch of watercolors and shit em out over a white carpet and sell it to the highest bidder? What’s that you say? It’s already been done? Well fuck me runnin for trying to come up with an original idea?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

god said whoa

easy there tiger, I don’t know you that well


Ok, since my fuckin mood isn’t getting any better, I might as well get a good bitch going. What year is this, 2005, in the 21st Century? Man is sending probes to Mars and we even got probes in deep space and shit. People are living longer and healthier and the Russians are our allies and puppies and kitties are playing together and things are just perking along. Fuck, not withstanding who’s in office and all the stinking wars and shit, life in 2005 ain’t bad, hell, even the shit-flinging monkeys are making bank selling paintings and shit.

So please tell me and be sure to speak real slow in that voice that only retards and small children of questionable lineage understand. How is it that instead of doing this in the muthafuckin Middle Ages or maybe during the Industrial Age when it made sense instead of now in the fuckin year 2005, our courts and politicos are openly debating “intelligent design" as an alternative to evolution? Can someone please fill a muthafucker in on when things went batshit crazy and the fuckin Pod People took over? Cause I must’a been in the bathroom, I’m just sayin and shit.

Oh, oh, and the first person that tells me that the shit is even debatable gets called a cocksucker. No, no, let me rephrase that. The first person that tells me that (and I’m doin the finger thingie here) “intelligent design” needs to be taught in the fuckin schools gets called a cocksucker. You crazy Terri Schiavo getting up moonwalkin fucks. Isn’t this what the fuckin churches are for, to preach godspeak and shit like that? Isn’t that why folks go to church?

To hear how god created the earth in six days and rested on the seventh? Isn’t that what these muthafucker’s are for? And as far as I can tell, that’s what “intelligent design" is all about isn’t it? That the world around us is too complex to have been born of some great “accident”, that a great intelligence designed everything. Answers to all the great mysteries that surround us, like why doesn’t our noses drip into our mouths or some such shit. And I’m fine with that. I’m so fuckin fine with that shit that it would surprise a muthafucker.

But it belongs in the home and church, not in the schools. If when your stinkin baggy-pants wearin kids come home from school and you want to teach em that gods will emanates out’a the cat’s wrinkled starfish looking asshole. That’s cool. And if your church teaches you that “intelligent design" (and I’m doin the finger thingie again” is the way life happened. That’s cool too. But to want to change all the books and bring it into the schools as an alternative to evolution is what’s gonna bring on the fuckin zombies.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

trike

I want/need one of these. Anyone got a spare one laying around?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

weekend

we’re dancing here………

Not much to talk about today, so I’ll just ramble a bit if you guys don’t mind. Even though I got out and did a few things I felt very alone this weekend. My friends do try to include me in things, but sometimes I hate being the single guy in everything. I went and saw the “Federation of Horsepower” play at the Hurricane Saturday night. It was a three-band bill that night and one of the bands went by the name of “Kwang”. First thing out of the gate the drummer broke his snare and everything was all held up and shit till one of the other bands got around to lending the drummer a snare.

Myself I thought it was unprofessional as hell cause what touring drummer doesn’t carry spare shit like that? But once they got back to playing it didn’t really matter since I thought they sounded like crap. Or maybe not like crap, but very generic? The “Pseudo Plastics” also preformed on the bill that night and I was very impressed with them. They fit in very well with “Federation” being that they both played stright ahead no bullshit rock. I got to the Cane early enough to catch the last set of the happy-hour band playing on the deck outside. They were a surprisingly good blues band from New York fronted by this cat named “Murall Coryell”.

There was a shitload of MILF’s out back dancing to em, and nobody knows how to fun it up more then a group of MILFs with their drink on. They don’t give a fuck, which made em very enjoyable to watch. It’s just something cool about people having just plain ole, unburdened fun without a by your leave as to what muthafucker’s might be thinking. Later in the weekend I did make it over with the full intention of getting my bike on the street but even though I had it on a trickle charger, the battery was deader then a muthafucker. I have been looking at trikes as of late, which are looking more and more attractive to me. And I mulling over selling my truck and current bike to afford one. I also finished the last of the brisket this weekend too; I’ll never cook a piece of meat that fuckin big again, at least not for myself.

Yeah, I might have neglected to mention, but I decided to expand my cooking repertoire last weekend by cooking a ten-pound brisket in the oven. Actually it was the only size brisket I could find. I hit it with this dry rub and then let it marinate in the fridge for a while covered in Worchester and garlic, then I threw the whole mess into a three hundred degree oven for seven hours. It was so tender I was able to slice it with a butter knife. But after a week I was sick of eating brisket, so I’m glad its done. I also watched a couple of cool things on the TV this weekend.

The first one was that “Crossroads” show on the Country Channel Network. You know the one where they pare a country artist with someone maybe from a different genre? Well this show featured Ronnie Millsap playing with the Los Lonely Boys, and they sounded very cool together. And I enjoyed seeing how stoked the Lonely Boys were having Ronnie Millsap playing with em. The other show was the old Freddie Mercury tribute featuring his band Queen playing with a shitload of superstars. I’ve always dug Freddie Mercury and Queen, plus Queen’s “A Night At The Opera” was one of the first rock albums I every brought. Oooh, look at the time, I do prattle about like and old women sometimes, don't I?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

I got 14 right

I got this test from my sister who
apparently spent the whole day fuckin off


This was challenging. This really is not as easy as you might imagine, try it and let me know how you do. The average person only gets 7 right. This is based on U.S. info, so use all lobes of your brain. This can be more difficult than it looks - it just shows how little most of us really see!

There are 25 questions about things we see every day or have known about all our lives. How many can you get right? These little simple questions are harder than you think-- it just shows you how little we pay attention to the commonplace things of life. Can you beat 20?? (The average is 7) Write down your answers as you go. Check answers (on the bottom) AFTER completing all the questions. REMEMBER - NO CHEATING!!! BE HONEST!!! That means no looking at your phone or anything on your desk

1. On a standard traffic light, is the green on the top or bottom?
2. How many states are there in the USA? (Don't laugh, some people don't know)
3. In which hand is the Statue of Liberty's torch?
4. What six colors are on the classic Campbell's soup label?
5. What two numbers on the telephone dial don't have letters by them?
6. When you walk does your left arm swing with your right or left leg? (Don't you dare get up to see!)
7. How many matches are in a standard pack?
8. On the United States flag is the top stripe red or white?
9. What is the lowest number on the FM dial?
10. Which way does water go down the drain, counter or clockwise?
11. Which way does a "no smoking" sign's slash run?
12. How many channels on a VHF TV dial?
13. On which side of a women's blouse are the buttons?
14. Which way do fans rotate?
15 How many sides does a stop sign have?
16. Do books have even-numbered pages on the right or left side?
17 Ho w many lug nuts are on a standard car wheel?
18. How many sides are there on a standard pencil?
19. Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, Doc. Who's missing?
20. How many hot dog buns are in a standard package?
21 On which playing card is the card maker's trademark?
22 On which side of a Venetian blind is the cord that adjusts the opening between the slats?
23. There are 12 buttons on a touch-tone phone. What 2 symbols bare no digits?
24. How many curves are there in the standard paper clip?
25. Does a merry-go-round turn counter or clockwise?

ANSWERS
1. Bottom, 2. 50, 3. Right, 4. Blue, red, white, yellow, black, & gold, 5. 1, 0, 6.Right, 7. 20, 8. Red, 9. 88, 10. Clockwise (north of the equator), 11. Towards bottom right, 12. 12 (no #1), 13. Left, 14. Clockwise as you look at it, 15. 8, 16. Left, 17. 5, 18. 6, 19. Bashful, 20. 8, 21. Ace of spades, 22. Left, 23. *, #, 24. 3, 25. Counter

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past................god of hellfire

I’m sure we’ve all done it. You know, seen a long shiny black limo and wonder who’s inside and where they’re going. We catch ourselves staring into the blackened windows trying to catch a glimpse of a famous face like it’ll give our lives some sort of credibility. Some of us on a dare will attempt to chat up the driver who’s waiting with the patience of someone in the know,

“who ya driving”? “Can I look inside”?

Even the limo’s drivers carry an aura of richness and class, always dressed to the nines in a tux or dark suit, shoes polished to a high sheen and looking so self important talking on his cell phone. Well, I had a chance to work for a limo company once. And I’m here to tell you, it ain’t all that.

Top reasons people rent limos.

1. Weddings.

2. Prom night.

3. Business tours of the city. (When you see four or five limos in the driveway of a big hotel, they’re usually picking up business reps and taking them to meetings around the city. In the limo trade these are called “Road shows”).

4. Drug deals. (go figure).

5. Bar hopping. (For guys barhopping or having a bachelor party a limo is an eighty thousand dollar acu-jack. The same go for the women).

6. Sex. (Yup, there’s a lot of fuckin in the back of a limo).

7. The Rich & Famous. (It’s an ego thing. Some famous people won’t be seen in anything else but a limo. On the same hand I’ve had famous people who wouldn’t get caught dead in a limo; you better send a van or car).

Between doing gigs for the Man a few years back I had some downtime to kill and needed money in a harsh way. It’s a bitch trying to find work between government gigs because I have trouble lying and when the question comes up as to why I’m not with the Man, not only do I have to explain the weirdness of my job with the Man, but that when the Man calls me back I’m gonna go. That’ll get you the bug eye real quick from the interviewer.

On top of all that I usually walk in looking like the Mob, and the big black suit doesn’t help. You know after a while a cat gets the routine down pat. I usually hit the door with a generic job application, a list of references, resume, and a letter of introduction. And all this is typed and in triplicate on pretty letterhead. Damn impressive if I can say so. But it can also get a cat shown the door real quick. More then once I’ve had people say; “what the hell am I supposed to do with a guy like you”? I can’t really blame em, you know?

But this time I happened to hit this limo company that was looking for a dispatcher and I showed up in my big black suit and all my paper not really expecting a whole lot. This time though god hooked me up with a fellow freak. The guy that owned the company looked to be on his fifth pot of coffee, and it wasn’t yet nine o’clock in the morning. This cat was bouncing off everything in sight, and chain smoking like he was in front of a firing squad. He read all my paper then just sat there staring me up and down. What came out of his mouth next just floored me.

“Do I look like some kind of goddamned fool to you? My mother didn’t cut no slack with idiots or cocksuckers, and I don’t either. By the way you’re hired”

Needless to say I was perplexed but I had the job. Hell, he never did ask me if I wanted the job or not. He told me later that at the time he’d seen so many “unqualified” assholes that after reading my resume he was ready to sign me up at gunpoint if need be.

Being a limo dispatcher ain’t for everyone, dispatching was the easy part. The majority of the work involved scheduling trips. I still believe the reason that I was so good at it was the fact that my brain doesn’t work in a straight line, but squiggles around a lot.

Here’s what it took to be a top Limo Dispatcher.

• Totally embrace stress and all her bastard relatives.

• Memorize the whole city.

• Keep a floating 3-D map of the city in your head. (And if you can do this in color it’s even better).

• Keep a full color, floating clock in your head. (And the clock should be in military time. O100 to 2400 hours).

• You “must” commit to memory every limo or town car the company owns.

• You “must” commit to memory the tag numbers of all these vehicles.

• You “must” commit to memory the names and physiological profiles of every limo driver. (You gotta know who needs the long stroke or who’s real money hungry, and who can you count on to pull that last job that no one else wants).

• You gotta commit to memory the company’s regular customers. You need to know who’s a freak or high roller and what makes them tick. (You don’t want to put the crazy, very rich old guy in a black limo cause it reminds him of dying). That just isn’t kosher.

• And you must have huge nerve and a set of balls to match, cause to make the crazy shit work you’re gonna take some sick risks.

• And when the owner of the company is four inches from your face screaming and wanting to know why the limo was fifteen minutes late picking up some jerk who came in on his Lear Jet just to eat the local barbeque. You lean back and tell the cat that you’re the God of Hell Fire and sometimes shit just happens like that.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

questions from a small town in Kansas

Q. I hope you can help me with a problem I have with my godson. Last summer he visited me for two weeks and plans to return in July. When cleaning out the room he stays in, I found an unfinished correspondence to a chum of his in his hometown. In it he says he going to our local pool to "scout out some camel toads." (I believe that's what it said, he had spilled iced tea all over the desk when writing it, and it damaged a lot of papers.) I'm concerned he is doing drugs.

I tried to look for camel toads in a drug book, and I didn't find them, but I found references to some type of frog or toad that people in another country lick to hallucinate. I don't want to approach him on this until I have more information.

He is a good boy in middle school whose parents do not even drink. Please let me know what camel toads are and how I might be able to tell if he is smoking, taking or licking them.

Perhaps I should have talked to his parents, but I don't want to jump the gun. Is this something the local authorities need to be alerted to in order to protect other patrons at the pool or surrounding area? A concerned and uninformed reader

A. The iced tea did a number on the toads, so my younger, hipper coworkers tell me. What he undoubtedly wrote was "camel toes," a crude euphemism for, well, too-tight pants worn by females.

The good news is that the expression has absolutely nothing to do with drugs. It has everything to do with why teenage boys go to the pool in the first place.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweatin the small stuff

From the “things not to do in Seattle” department……..

Comes the story of a cat who enters Blalock’s Beauty Collage the other day with the intent of robbing it. He does the bum’s rush thru the door with pistol in hand whilst talking tough shit to all the women inside. This all went down a little before noon when the robber walked in and announced, “this is a holdup”, as the students and workers were cleaning up and shit. The gun-waving robber told everyone to get down on the floor and as the women did what he said, some of em started crying which pissed off the robber who told em to shit the fuck up or they’ll be the first to go.

Now according to my many inside sources, what happened next was a beautiful thing to see. After robbing everyone that had money the robber turned to run out the door. The fifty-three year old manager of the beauty school who was lying near the door stuck out her leg and tripped the guy up. As he fell the woman screamed, “get that muthafucker”, and every chick in the shop jumped on the cat and commenced to kicking his ass.

Arming themselves with curling irons, chairs, a wooden table leg and clenched fists, the women apparently whipped that muthafucker so bad that not only was he bleeding over everything but he also peed all over himself. This is a quote from the manager of the beauty school describing what happened as crying and in pain the robber tried to crawl away.

"I grabbed his muthafuckin legs and wouldn't let him go. I pulled his theiving ass back. He wasn't going to get up out of here and tell everyone he robbed us. When he came in here, he knocked down a beehive and sent the bees flying all over."

According to the cops, the wanna be robber will be booked into the City Jail once he is released from the hospital where he’s receiving treatment for severe bruising and lacerations. I would just like to add that if you’ve ever seen the chicks that hang out at black beauty schools, you’d easily understand what went on here. Think of a room full of linebacker’s with tits.



Now from the “why I don’t shit in the woods” department…….

Comes a story from Dunbar, West Virginia, home of the “West Virginia Surf Report”, where Larry and his brother Billy Bob were forced to cut short their latest fishing trip. It seems that ole Larry and Billy Bob were out camping and fishing when they heard all this noise coming from the outside of their tent. Taking a peek, they saw their cooler loaded with beer clamped to the toothy end of a large bear.

The bear dragged the cooler into the woods where he then flung it against a tree breaking the cooler open and scattering Coors Light all over the place. After eating all the food in the cooler and knocking back three of the cold beers, the bear then vanished into the woods. Larry was quoted as saying,

“he only drank three cans, he would've drank all of them if it would've been Budweiser.yuk..yuk.."

Billy Bob wasn’t letting the bear off so easily being that since the bear ate all their food they had to cut shit short and return to Dunbar the next morning.

“Either relocate the goddamned bears or let me eat em”

what? kissing’s old school....
how bout you blow me and I turn into your prince charming?

And lastly from the “since we’re on the subject” department…..

Elsewhere in Virginia this family had an unwanted houseguest in the form of a two hundred pound black bear. The homeowner said that when she let Rosie the dog out Saturday night, she heard the dog barking and caught sight of something small scurrying in the darkness. In the dim light her eyes made out the form of a small bear cub climbing up a tree. How cute she thought till she noticed Rosie the dog beating all kinds of ass running past her into the house.

She looked again and was shocked to see a bigger bear, who happened to be moving rapidly in her direction. The woman did the sensible thing, which was run like a raped ape after the dog. Into the house ran Rosie the dog, followed by the woman, who was followed by the bear. She attempted to slam the front door on the bear but the bear just shoved the door aside and came on in. The bear then went after Rosie the dog, who by that time had skedaddled to the basement.

The woman saw her chance and after screaming to her eighty three year old mother to slam the basement door and get the fuck out, ran back outside herself followed closely by Rosie the dog who escaped from the basement in the knick of time. The woman’s husband who was upstairs taking a shower, heard all the racket and called police who after looking shit over, let the bear out thru a back door. The bear or its cub hasn’t been seen since and the only one to sustain any injuries was Rosie the dog who got bit up just a bit, but who since has recovered fully.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

fences

Environmental groups such as Greenpeace and some members of Congress have said chemical plants pose a grave risk and should be required by law to tighten security. The government estimates that at least 100 plants are in heavily populated areas and store enough deadly chemicals to kill or injure tens of thousands

You know how it is when you own a Yugo, and you begin to notice every fuckin Yugo you see on the street, where before you never did? It’s the same when you work for the Man like I do. I take special notice when it comes to people, buildings and security. And whilst on vacation I noticed some disturbing shit. We were passing thru Huston, Texas where I started noticing some shit, the first being that my Federal ID couldn’t get me into fuckin NASA. Yeah, we drove up to the main gate at NASA and I flashed my badge and said that I was from out of town and wanted to drive around and look at the rockets and shit. Can you believe that they told us to hit the bricks? Bitches.

The nation's chemical plants haven't done enough to protect themselves from terrorists, and the federal government must step in and require them to do more, a top Homeland Security official is expected to tell Congress Wednesday

Anyway It wasn’t till in Huston that I remembered that it was an oil town full of refineries and other shit of that ilk. But as we’re passing plant after plant, I noticed the same thing. The security around the refineries and chemical plants wouldn’t stop a blind fat drunk from getting in. The only things that I saw passing for any kind of security were the crappy fences surrounding all the plants. I’m thinking that this is it? After 9/11 and wars over oil and terrorism, this is it?

The Homeland Security Department studied security vulnerabilities at some of the nation's 15,000 chemical facilities. The Bush administration has generally opposed congressional efforts to regulate the chemical plant industry since the Sept. 11 attacks

A bullshit fence scant yard from the road is all that’s stopping the evil Hoard from fuckin up some shit? I mentioned this to my riding companions and that this is the American way. Which means that nothing will get done until someone’s oil plant is blown the fuck up and thousands of muthafucker’s are dead. Bitches make me take off my boots and shit going thru the fuckin airports, but do nothing about fixing the insanely crappy security around our nations oil refineries.

Until now, the Bush administration has favored a voluntary approach to plant security. When he was Homeland Security secretary, Tom Ridge said companies would be concerned enough about the implications of an attack to tighten security on their own. If not, he said, local fire chiefs and mayors would pressure them to act

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past……..protection from whom

I must be worse then I thought. I’m sitting at the bar early Saturday evening having coffee and watching the crew bounce off each other as they’re prone to do. My gal pal Angela’s hanging out pushing drinks to the handful of customers there early. I’m on the couch having small talk with Hispanic Nate and he’s running down the same old story of going without sleep since last night due to the booty calls stacking up on his pager. Nate attracts the women like Frenchmen to moldy cheese, but he has this cool old school vibe that only a cat from the bad side of the hood gets.

We’re sittin there when the door bursts open and this huge crew of people crowds into the bar. They were noisy, rude and no doubt smelled bad. Nate looked at me and split, I couldn’t blame the brother, hell if it weren’t for the fact that I was already there I would have. Talk about killing a cat’s buzz, they were all screaming for shots at the top of their lungs and poor Angela just grinned and patiently served em. I just sat on the couch hoping that none of em would say a word to me. It’s not that I’m not a friendly cat, but loud drunks tend to say the wrong things to me and that’s when I act up.

After they all downed their shots they filed outside and got back on the short bus they rode in on. We all breathed a sigh of relief and went back to the serious business of doing nothing. About an hour later these three guy’s walked in and ordered beers and sat near me at the bar. After a half hour one of em broke off and came closer to me. He kept insisting that I was the biggest man he’d ever seen and he wanted to know if I played football or some such shit like that. At least that’s what I picked up from the mumbling mush mouthed muthafucker.

Why do all the drunks want to talk with the biggest guy in the bar I’ll never know. Other then being drunk he seemed pretty harmless but suddenly three of the doormen were standing behind us and they made the guy and his friends leave the bar. I said,

“what are you guy’s, my bodyguards”? “The guy wasn’t doing nothing”

One of the doormen looked at me in disbelief and said,

“hell, we didn’t do that to protect you. We threw em out to protect them. We’ve seen how you act when drunks bother you”

Sigh, I’m such a fuckin contradiction.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

beat it

In honor of the American justice system and all that good shit, here’s every Michael Jackson joke I’ve heard so far today.

What's the difference between Michael Jackson and Neil Armstrong?
One was the first man to walk on the moon. The other likes to fuck little boys.

Michael Jackson was in the delivery room with his wife, waiting for his son to be born. When the baby finally popped out into the world, Michael stared his wife in the eyes and asked, "Doc, how long before we'll be able to have sex?"
The doctor replied, "Ooooooh, I'd wait till he's at least twelve."

What’s Michael Jackson’s favorite thing about twenty-four-year-olds?
There are twenty of them

Why did Michael Jackson go to K-Mart?
Boys pants were half off.

Where did Michael Jackson go to college?
Brigham Young.

What do Michael Jackson and caviar have in common?
They both come on little crackers.

The Pope has issued a proclamation on Michael Jackson. If he hears any more allegations about little boys, the Pope says he'll have no choice but to make him a priest.

What will they call Michael's new TV series?
Anus and Andy.

Did you know they're putting out a Michael Jackson stamp?
Fans get to vote for the white or black Michael Jackson.

Who's Michael Jackson's favorite poet?
Emily Dickinson.

Did you hear about the duet by Michael Jackson and Elton John?
It is titled "Don't let your sun go down on me."

What do Michael and Gaylord Perry have in common?
Both have held lots of wet balls in their hands.

How will they ensure that Michael gets a thorough body search?
Hire a Catholic priest to do it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

hand jive

things tend to get mussed up after a rigorous round
of “rock, paper, scissors


Second best “rock, paper, scissors” quote heard lately.

“Everybody knows you always start with scissors”

This from little Alice Maclean age eleven advising her father, a fine-art specialist at Christie’s Auction House on the winning “rock, paper, scissors” strategy that enabled him to best this Japanese businessman who wanted to use the game to decide wither Christies or Sotheby’s would get to auction his firm’s twenty-million dollar art collection.

“I accidentally said yes”

The best “rock, paper, scissors” came from a friend I’m too embarrassed to name, who when I asked how do you “accidentally say yes to something? Told me how she was at the Hurricane the other night when she got into a conversation with this stranger who was trying to talk her into going with him to a strip club. Thinking she was slick and could win, she let a game of “rock, paper, scissors” decide wither she would go with the stranger. Little piece of spooge lost and instead of saying fuck off, hopped into a cab and went with the stranger to a strip club.

I love my friends, I really really do, but sometimes they need a good ole fashioned “come to jesus” talk and a smack to the back of the head. And who fuckin knew that all these years I’ve been going at shit the wrong way when it came to picking up chicks. After all these years I find that something as easy as a simple fuckin game of “rock, paper, scissors” could’a got me laid. I could’a saved so much money and time.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

longtime commenter Kyser Sose sends a joke

I sat next to a minister on a flight to West Palm Beach to visit an old friend. After the plane took off, drink orders were taken. I asked for a bourbon and coke, which was brought and placed before me. The flight attendant then asked the minister if he would like a drink. He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by brazen prostitutes than let liquor touch my lips." I handed my drink back to the attendant and said, "Me too. I didn't know we had a choice."

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

word game

he never did learn how to spell his last name.....

I was reading the other day that kids who tend to do the best in spelling bees after are often of Indian or Asian origin. The article also went on to say a bunch of egghead gibberish about how it’s a cultural thing and the learning ethic is stronger in these kids as they grew up. This is all fine and good, but I’ve had my own theory about this shit for years. And amazingly enough I don’t find too many people that agree with me cause maybe it’s too simple?

But then I’ve always found that most people of high intelligence tend to overlook the simple and obvious. Maybe it gets their nuts off, I donno, but here’s my theory on the learning and spelling shit. As a young spratling in kindergarten what’s the first thing besides don’t eat the fuckin crayons that muthafucker’s teach you? You’re taught how to spell your last name and street address, right? Now if your last name is “Day” and you live on “Elm”, it’s pretty fuckin simple. But have a last name like “Faulkner” who lives on “Universal” street, you might have to work a little harder to learn some shit, thus you have a automatic head start on some muthafuckers.

So my theory is simple, if as a young child stuck with a difficult to pronounce or spell last name or you live on a street with a long name, you start off at a young age learning difficult spelling. Not that I’m calling kids with short surnames dumbasses or anything like that. And god love the little fist fucker’s whose parents were stoner’s or hippies who got stuck with names like “Moon” or “LaQuenta”, or “Petal” or even “Stormy”. And believe me, if you’re a chick and got stuck with the name “Stormy” or “Petal”, or god forbid “Star”, how you might end up in life is food for a whole other discussion. (Stripper, cough, cough)

But back to my simple little theory. If you’re born of a culture where you’re named “Satyavati”, which means Mother of Vyasa, or mother of the lord, or “Avul Pakir Jainulabhudin Adbul Kalam”, which happens to be the name of the current President of India. You definitely have a head start in the reading and writing thing. So to me it’s no secret and wonder that kids with hard to pronounce and spell names are so good in spelling competitions and other shit of that ilk.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

rumor alert

I didn't use my inside sources this morning because they were out scouring up some shit for me. I can't use any names, but here in Midtown it seems that a local club owner who was on parole after serving time for drugs, and who allegedly opened up a new club under another name. Meaning he allegedly used this other cat, a well-known local personality as an alleged figurehead for his new club because as we all know, if you're a felon, you can't hold a liquor license.

Anyway rumor has it that this club owner was allegedly busted again for possession recently, which might explain why the club, which had all the outward appearances of doing so well suddenly shut down due to bankruptcy? And of course this is all rumor and speculation and you didn’t hear shit from me even though shit's all over Midtown.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweatin the small stuff

From the “don’t underestimate em because their old” department…..

comes the best great grandma quote of the week.

"I didn't have my hearing aid in, and I thought he said that he was going to take my pulse, then he said it again, that he was going to take my purse, and I said, 'No, you're not"

This from a ninety-one old women who beat the ass off a would be purse-snatcher the other day. According to the woman, she was in the parking lot of this department store when this cat walked up on her and tried to take her purse.

But instead of rolling over she commenced to smacking the muthafucker about the head and face until he ran off like the pussie he was. Police later found the cat and busted him for trying to strong-arm the old lady. Of course the cop’s said that someone her age has no business fighting off attackers. When the old lady heard this she told em to lick her wrinkled ass and to fuck off.



From the “they’ll fit into trashbags won’t they” department……

Comes the story of a fire that heavily damaged this house. Shit got burned the fuck up and the owner of the house who tried at first to put the fire out had to be treated for smoke inhalation. After the fire was all put out and shit, the fire investigators started doing their thing trying to find out what caused the fire.

They traced the beginnings of the fire to the homeowner’s office where it was determined that his fax machine was where everything started. As they checked the remains of the fax machine, the fire investigators who were both pet owner’s couldn’t help but notice a familiar odor rising from the fax machine. Just then the homeowner came running in all excited and shit holding on to his two little kittens that escaped unharmed from the fire.

Well after some testing the fire investigators concluded that a spark generated when the little kitties pissed into the top of the fax machine caused the fire. The homeowner was later quoted as saying. “If you have a cat, or a dog for that matter, be careful where they pee, and especially keep them away from electrical appliances and wires.”




And from the “bam..bam…bam…bam, halt!!..or is it halt before I shoot?” department….

Comes the story of thirteen cops who got themselves in a lot of hot water. Back in may this cat led cops on a twelve-minute chase thru the Southern California city of Compton. The chase ended in this residential area when the cops surrounded the cat’s car and opened fire thinking that he was armed and shit.

You know how you’ve always been told never to holler fire in a crowded theater? Well you better add never holler fire around a shitload of cops with their guns drawn. Cause somebody hollered “fire” and muthafucker’s started shooting like they were in a fuckin Sam Peckinpah movie. Betwixt all the shooting, over a hundred and twenty rounds were fired. And not only was the vehicle riddled with bullets as well as surrounding homes, but all that firing and shit wounded one of the cops.

And you know what’s really fucked up? With all that shooting and shit, the cat that all thirteen cops were trying to shoot only got hit by four bullets. Four out of a hundred and twenty. Which was a good thing since it was found out that the cat wasn’t even the one they really wanted and unarmed to boot. He just happened to be driving a car matching one wanted in a prior shooting. And all his high ass wanted to do was get away from all the cops following him.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

U.S. Customs "doing a great job"???

Texas Chainsaw massacring muthafucker



Back in April the cat pictured above tried to enter the United states at the U.S.-Canadian border at Calais, Maine, carrying a homemade sword, a hatchet, a knife, brass knuckles and a chain saw stained with what appeared to be red fluid. After fingerprinting the cat and pulling all his shit, United States custom agents let em on thru into the United States. The next day in Canada this old man was found dead in his home with his head in a pillowcase under the kitchen table.

I’m sorry, let me rephrase that last sentence

The old man’s body was found in one part of the kitchen whilst his cut off head was found underneath the kitchen table stuffed into a pillowcase. And I should add that his wife was discovered stabbed to death in the bedroom. All this leads back to the cat caught crossing the border toting all the shit including the chainsaw who had a long history of violence betwixt him and the old man and his family. The same cat whose now in jail on murder charges awaiting extradition back to Canada for killing the old man and his wife.

Now the big question that comes to my mind is with all the extra shit at our borders designed to combat terrorism how does some crazy muthafucker carrying knives and swords along with what seems to be a bloody chainsaw just waltz across like he’s the Man and shit? According to U.S. customs the crazy cocksucker couldn’t be detained due to the fact that he was a U.S, citizen and wasn’t wanted for anything.

And when asked about all the nefarious shit the man was carrying as well as a blood smeared chainsaw along with what could pass for blood all over his clothes. Customs said something to the effect that they’re not fuckin CSI and shit and as far as they knew all the red stains could have been rust or red paint. Plus there’s no law against looking like a freak so as far as they were concerned they had no reason to detain the cat or throw em into lockup.

Of course I’m calling bullshit on all of this cause I can fuckin guarantee that if it was someone of color with the slightest hint of an accent or a band, they’d would’a been thrown into the lockup quicker then shit. I only say bands because I don’t know a band that has gone thru customs that hasn’t been run thru the paces. Anyway it’s nice to see all is safe at our borders, and that if you’re a bloodstained Texas Chainsaw massacring muthafucker you’re free to go about your business without a worry of getting hassled by the Man. What a bunch of dumbasses.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past...sex(ual identity), drugs, & rock & roll

hi bitches, not only am I rich enough to fuck your mom
but I’m horribly good looking


Best quote of the week:

“Pornography perverts the gift of sex”

Personal quote from Billy Graham.

Billy Graham says that sex is a gift from God and that Porn distorts his gift. Might be just me but I think that God has more on his plate then how we fuck each other or if we watch people fuckin on the TV. I’d rather think that God’s sittin behind his desk busting one of the Holy Cherub’s chops, “how come nobody told me Michael Stipe was gay”? “How come I gotta find out from USA Today”? Hell he could’a asked me, it don’t take too much of a reach to picture Stipe on all fours looking back over his shoulder. I guess I’m just bitter. I used to dig REM until they pulled a Sting and wanted to save the world.

At what point does the media look to musicians and actors as being so wise and worthy of a serious quote? I’m the first to applaud the fact that everyone has an opinion and they have the right to voice it. But I get bent out of shape whenever some musician or actor calls a press conference to voice their thoughts on the worlds issues, and after they voice it I’m sitting on my couch going, ”what the fuck just happened”?

“Mr. Famous Musician! Can you address the hunger issue in Ethiopia”?

(In fake British accent)

“Well, I see all these people sittin around in the dirt you know, I’m so sure that if they started growing food and build a few shopping centers that their problems would just go away”. “Rock and Roll! Yeah”

Ignorant muthafucker. Just because you sell millions of records and got more money then a third world country, don’t make you in the know. I’m all over musicians or actors saving the world and reaching out and shit, I just don’t want Ozzy walkin out of a Holiday Inn Express wantin to do open heart surgery on me.

It’s like when Brad Pitt recently toured Africa, where he witnessed firsthand the devastation of AIDS and poverty on the continent. He bitched that America and the media aren’t doing enough to make a real impact on shit in the impoverished regions of Africa. Here’s another muthafuckin actor that makes more money then half the fuckin countries his movies play in.

Instead of bitchin that America doesn’t do enough why doesn’t he step up to the plate and crack off some of his millions to help out? Maybe now that he’s rumored to be knocking the bottom out of Angelina Jolie, who does give money to various charity’s he’ll shut up and step up if for nothing else to look good to her.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

queen of sows

I remember them being better looking though

One of my many inside sources mailed me this morning with some alarming news. It seems that the pussiefication of American has struck deep into the heartland in the great state of Iowa. It seems that the time-honored tradition of a yearly Pork Queen might be coming to an end. Every year since the 1960’s during the Iowa Pork Congress, an annual industry gathering, a two-day state competition has been held in Iowa to pick the newest Iowa Pork Queen.

During the Pork Congress a three-judge panel assesses the young pork nubile’s on their knowledge of the pork industry, along with grooming and speaking skills. (The pork chicks, not the pigs.) Last year’s winner made a speech about the decline of the family farm that she had spent hours rehearsing with her mother who happened to be a past pork queen as well as a national queen. She also decoded ear notches that farmers use to tell pigs apart and selected the correct dosage of vaccine to give a 250-pound sow. For winning, the Pork Queen got the tiara, the sash, a bouquet of roses and a $2,000 scholarship.

She won't compete for a national title like her mother did because the National Pork Board eliminated its queen in 1987 due to lack of interest. This year, members of the Iowa Pork Producers Association proposed replacing the queen with the pussiefication title, youth ambassadors, which would include boys as well as girls. The proposal came after association members complained that the program excludes young men. "Times have changed," the queen-committee chairwoman who helped draft the proposal has been quoted as saying.

During my years doing for the Man, I’ve actually had the pleasure of being up in Iowa during the state fair on numerous times. And I’ve witnessed the innate grace and local glory that is the Iowa Pork Queen. And anybody from a small town can attest to the coolness of a small town summer parade where the Pork Queen as well as the Corn Queen, the Rhubarb Queen along with the Beef Queen and others are driven thru town wearing their various crowns sitting on the back of convertibles and shit. I don’t give a fuck where you come from or what your background is, there’s just something cool about some chick wearing a crown doing the Queens wave at the townsfolk. And I find it somewhat unsettling and sad that such a time-honored tradition is going the way of dollar gas.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

rude boy

this picture has nothing to do with anything,
it just made me feel better about myself

For a lot of years I’ve worked hard to be polite to people, almost to the point of being annoying. If you’re female it doesn’t really matter the age, you get a yes ma’am or no ma’am and if you’re a guy it comes out pretty much the same. I open doors for women along with the elderly and all that good shit that make me feel like a normal human being plus I actually enjoy it.

Now I’ll be the first to admit; the politeness thing is sometimes tempered with me being a bit of an asshole. Cause like in the ole West, the only time you called a cat “Mr.” was when you didn’t respect him. But those people usually knew long before that, that I didn’t give a shit. As of late working here in a large office building like I do I feel myself being taken to task for the simple task of being polite.

Take the fuckin elevators for example. When I’m waiting on one and it comes, if there’s women around I always let them on first and the same for when they get off. Or if I see anyone running for the elevator, I’ll hold the muthafucker for whoever it is. But I think that’s all coming to a fuckin screeching halt. I can’t count the times that an elevator has opened up and I step back to let some chick on and all I get is a dumb look as if I’m the one confused. Or I hold the muthafucker for some cocksucker and all the thanks I get is no eye contact and mute silence.

Well fuck that shit, I’m not fuckin doing it anymore and call me all the rude bastards you want, but fuck these people. And I don’t want to any shit from anybody about; “well Greg, you are kind’a intimidating”. That hasn’t got shit to do with shit. I’m sorry if some milktoast muthafucker is put off by my appearance. That’s their fuckin fault and fuck em running for being pussies. If you can’t understand or recognize politeness when it’s in front of you, fuck you for being the rude bitches you are. And to those of you who hold politeness in high regard I thank you. But the actions of a few tend to make me lump all rude assholes together.

That’s what’s wrong with shit these days, muthafucker’s think it’s all about them and they don’t need to acknowledge the other person. When I walk down the street or the fuckin hallway and decide to take the time out of my day to nod or give a greeting and you refuse to reciprocate? You can fuckin suck me off. And for you silly meat puppets that refuse to give up space on the sidewalk or lobby and I have to walk around you? See how you feel about personal space after being shouldered by someone six-three and in the four hundred plus range. I thinking your ass will move next time. Bitches!

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

sweatin the small stuff

this is a picture of the cast of Buffy showing the chicks before makeup and all the good shit, sent to me by one of my many inside sources

From the “canary in a coal mine” department:

Hails an odoriferous story close to my own heart since I shit and smoke at the same time. In Pennsylvania this cat stepped into a porta-potty to take a shit, and as is the habit of some smokers he lit up a cigarette. But instead of leaning back and taking a leisurely dump, the muthafucker got blown the fuck up. Seems that when he lit up, the flame from his lighter torched off a shitload of methane that had built up inside the shitter.

The miner suffered bad burns over most of his body and is permanently disfigured. In short when shit blew up he got fucked the fuck up. According to my many inside sources, the cat’s suing the owner of the land that the crapper was located on, which is this coal company. And also getting sued is the owner of a local methane plant who according to the lawsuit owned the methane pipes that ran under the shitter. Which according to the lawsuit leaked into the porta-potty and caused the explosion.

My god, the poor bastard. Just think about it, you’re taking a break from your busy day and decide to time out in the crapper. All that’s on your mind as you pull out your smokes is maybe what your wife packed you for lunch. You flick your Bic and all of a sudden instead of squeezing one out, you’re getting blown the fuck up. Of all the places in the world that a man can get his ass handed to him, your ass ends up hitting mach-one in some smelly porta-potty in the middle of a fuckin coal mine.



actually it was seeing Gallagher that made the dog do this

From the “I paid to see this?” department:

Comes the sad story of criminal mischief, angry burnt-out used to be comics and other nefarious bullshit. Over in Nevada some cat has accused the comedian Gallagher of assault. You all remember Gallagher don’t you; he’s the muthafucker who’s made a living from smashing watermelons on stages with a sledgehammer. And to think we evolved from ass lice picking apes to pay to see this cocksuckers act?

Anyway according to my many inside sources, during a show at this casino Gallagher walked on a table, bitched out a waitress and slapped this customer on the side of the head. Gallagher is saying that it was all part of his act. He wanted the customer to come up on stage but the cat was busy chatting up the cocktail server. So since comics hate people talking during their acts, he walked across some tables and after calling the waitress a talkie bitch, popped the customer across the head.

He claimed it was akin to hitting someone in the face with a pie and was all done for laughs. But nevertheless, the cops are investigating this as an assault. Just my opinion, but I think the cat needs to be slapped for paying to see this cocksucker. But the casino did fire Gallagher due to all the bad press, as if the fuckin marquee wasn’t enough.



this photo is from my vacation. My friend Sara decided to drive one morning and besides scaring the fuck out'a me, this is what happens when you put her behind the wheel. Damn, this took a long time to clean up, they're still pickin white boy out of the grill

And lastly from the “big giant ass book of dumbass shit you shouldn’t do” department:

Comes the story of a 14-year-old boy who stole a bulldozer and led Tucson, Arizona, police on a 15-mile chase which ended in the kid getting shot the fuck up. According to my many inside sources, the kid stole the bulldozer from a local construction site and took it on a joyride thru town.

Shit began when police noticed scattered power outages in a neighborhood on Tucson’s eastside. After figuring shit out they soon realized that a bulldozer being driven by this kid was knocking down power poles along the road. Pretty soon there were up to fifteen cop cars in hot pursuit of the illicitly commandeered bulldozer that reached speeds of thirty miles and hour. After a fifteen-mile chase, the kid turned the bulldozer turned around and began driving downhill toward the police. That’s when two cops opened up and got all Dirty Harry on the kid's ass with at least one round hitting the bulldozer stealing little fister. The cops are saying that they had no choice given the assumption that he was going to run over em.

Well, isn’t that special? I bet muthafucker’s are all up in arms over this shit and parents are gnashing their teeth and wailing that their son didn’t deserve his fate and somewhere fuckin Jessie Jackson is asking the important questions. “Is the kid black or white”? But here at Death’s Door, we know the deal.

1. If you run from the cops and get shot, your ass shouldn’t have ran.
2. If you try to hurt cops and get shot, your ass shouldn’t have fucked with em.

Which means when you steal a fuckin big cocksuckin bulldozer and after a fifteen-mile chase, turn the muthafucker around and try to run down the cops only to get your young ass shot the fuck up. You asked for it.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

blast from the past

Every so often I feel that since I talk enough shit on a daily basis to power a small city, I need to occasionally humble myself before the stinkin masses. So I try to write about some embarrassing incident in my life just to show that I can laugh at myself. Which if you know me personally, you already know that’s not too fuckin hard. So here’s a post from a few years ago about a very embarrassing thing I had to deal with.

You know those labels on the side of prescription bottles that say, “do not drink alcohol while on this medication”? I got to find out one time what that really means. But let me start at the beginning. For a whole week I was confined to my couch with what had to be the worst thing that can happen to a man. The only reason I’m telling you this is as a public service. Listen very carefully; if you got a set of balls, and they hurt, see a doctor quickly, cause I got stuck with a kind of virus that affects one in a thousand men.

It’s called “Epididymitis”. The generic laymen’s term is “God’s punishment for having a penis”. This virus makes your balls swell to the size of large grapefruits, I fucking kid you not. Think of your balls growing to over three or four times their normal size, and then imagine somebody setting them on fire.

“Wait, it gets better”

Then imagine someone standing thirty feet away with a big stick, and every time you walk or otherwise move, this person getting a good running start and smacking you dead in the nutsac. The pain is worthy of poetry. Word. One of the worst parts was when I was at the hospital trying to find out what was wrong. I’m the fuckin examining room wearing nothing but sneakers and one of those stupid hospital gowns and in walks this gorgeous tiny little Asian chick wearing scrubs. She asks what the problem is and at first all I could do was stare down at her wishing for a doctor with a beard and wrinkles.

“Doc, it’s my balls, they’re not looking so good”

Suddenly it’s like a bad Penthouse moment, she drops to her knees and lifts up my robe to take a good look. Then I hear this cute little muffled voice say, “does this hurt”? And before I could scream don’t, she fuckin poked one of my balls with her finger. After the guy with the stick walked away, I gritted out yes. It was nothing short of irony, the only way I can get an uber hot Asian chick on her knees interested in my balls is when they look like they’ve came off of Godzilla and shit. But she told me what I had and gave me some shit to take care of it and I took my balls and went home.

I couldn’t even go to work not only because of the pain but mainly because I looked so stupid. When I put on jeans it looked like I had stuffed basketballs down the front of my pants, not a pretty site. So I stayed home until everything got better. I did learn a couple of things though, one of which is never tell your mother that your balls have swelled up. She took this insane delight in calling two or three times a day over the phone screaming “how are your balls doing”? Then cackling and tittering like some old crazy women. The second involved my stupid cat. I’m walking around in my robe one day and thought I’d show him what a set of giant balls looked like. He took one look, hissed then swatted one of em. All I can say was that after the man with the stick left I went and sat very still for a long time.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

action panties

check em out here..."forget-me-not-panties"

The amazing shit a cat finds on the stinkin Internet. These are panties that will clock the location of your little girl, wife or cheating assed girlfriend 24 hours a day. And will even monitor their heart rate and body temperature so that you can see if they’re being hit on or not or lying dead in a lake. Based on research developed by the U.S. military. These "panties" can “GPS” the exact location of your women and send the information, via satellite, to your cell phone, PDA, and PC simultaneously. And I just thought of something, what if you’re monitoring your chick that’s wearing the GPS panties and the body temperature and heart rate drop off the meter. Besides lying dead in a lake it could mean that the panties are off!

"and the monkey flipped the switch"