Survivor Tonight
Ho hum.
Ulong is now down to just three people- Bobby-Billy-Jon-Jack, Stephenie and Ibrehem.
Koror, meanwhile, has now opened a seafood restaurant, with shark on tonight's menu.
Bolstered by ingesting huge slabs of grilled protein, take a wild guess who'll win the reward challenge?
Duh.
Koror gets a pile of MRE's dropped from an airplane as their treat, I heard. Yum, more selections for their seafood restaurant's menu.
So who will win immunity?
Duh.
Koror wins again.
Knowing as we do that Ibe has made some sort of pact with the devil that allows him to stay week after week, the boot goes to Bobby Jon. Why? Because Ulong votes off their strongest people first, proving for the last seven weeks that "Pulau" in English means, "stupid ass ulong.
I don't even know who to root for anymore.
Your picks?
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
I tried to post this yesterday- Blogspot wasn't cooperating.
The L Word- Pretty Ridiculous This Time
Did anyone see the latest installment? Not their best episode this time.
1. Please, no more pregnant nipple love scenes. Ugh.
2. Plot Prediction: Helena wants to have Tina's baby but not in an, "I want to have your baby" way, I mean she wants to get involved with Tina long enough to steal her baby and keep it for her own, then dump Tina.
3. Someone please shoot Sandra Heartburn and wing Jenny in the process. And Jenny, please get a real job and confine your shitty writing to a little pink gingham journal.
4. Tonya and Melissa Rivers? Yeecch! Perfect couple. Now, both you wannabes scram and leave us in peace.
5. Hey T.O.E. guru, you wife-cheating-on, fat bastard. First, it's pronounced VULnerable, not VUNerable and second, a fat black dude who can't pronounce motivational action words wouldn't last a day in image-conscious L.A.
Go on witcher bad self, Bozo, and leave Kit alone.
6. Plot prediction: Dana and Alice will become the new committed normal couple now that Tina and Bette have both flipped out and gone in different directions.
7. Bette, give it up, move on and have some fun while you're still sorta cute and have a job. Smile more and try to control others less.
8. Plot prediction: Shane falls in love with Jenny? Oh, my.
And would someone please send them both to peer into the windows of the garage apartment, observe the vast array of video equipment and put 2 and 2 together? Stupid asses.
9. Did I mention not wanting to see Tina's giant, pregnant belly or engorged, lactating nipples in a sexual context ever again? Jeeze.
10. Someone please tell Carmen to leave the series, give up acting, move to Texas and marry me. I'll be good to you, Papi. Jenny might be a flake but she has the best taste in women, eh?
The L Word- Pretty Ridiculous This Time
Did anyone see the latest installment? Not their best episode this time.
1. Please, no more pregnant nipple love scenes. Ugh.
2. Plot Prediction: Helena wants to have Tina's baby but not in an, "I want to have your baby" way, I mean she wants to get involved with Tina long enough to steal her baby and keep it for her own, then dump Tina.
3. Someone please shoot Sandra Heartburn and wing Jenny in the process. And Jenny, please get a real job and confine your shitty writing to a little pink gingham journal.
4. Tonya and Melissa Rivers? Yeecch! Perfect couple. Now, both you wannabes scram and leave us in peace.
5. Hey T.O.E. guru, you wife-cheating-on, fat bastard. First, it's pronounced VULnerable, not VUNerable and second, a fat black dude who can't pronounce motivational action words wouldn't last a day in image-conscious L.A.
Go on witcher bad self, Bozo, and leave Kit alone.
6. Plot prediction: Dana and Alice will become the new committed normal couple now that Tina and Bette have both flipped out and gone in different directions.
7. Bette, give it up, move on and have some fun while you're still sorta cute and have a job. Smile more and try to control others less.
8. Plot prediction: Shane falls in love with Jenny? Oh, my.
And would someone please send them both to peer into the windows of the garage apartment, observe the vast array of video equipment and put 2 and 2 together? Stupid asses.
9. Did I mention not wanting to see Tina's giant, pregnant belly or engorged, lactating nipples in a sexual context ever again? Jeeze.
10. Someone please tell Carmen to leave the series, give up acting, move to Texas and marry me. I'll be good to you, Papi. Jenny might be a flake but she has the best taste in women, eh?
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
The Ridiculous and the Sublime:
The Sanctity of Marriage & Survivor Tonight!
Jeeze, for someone like Bush who did all that election year gay bashing under the guise of protecting the sanctity of marriage, he totally violated that sanctity when he tried to neutralize the marital rights of Michael Schiavo and turn the decision making process about removing his wife's feeding tube over to her mommy and daddy.
Anyone who fails to grasp the sheer gall and duplicity of Bush in this situation is, simply put, a fucking imbecile.
Michael Schiavo stuck with his wife for 15 years after she entered a near vegetative state, falling ill due to unchecked bulimia. He has a right to decide, he's her legal next of kin and he stuck by her long enough.
Even the polls say (by more than 80%) Bush was wrong to sign the bill that Congress was wrong to introduce.
It's a personal matter, you DC clowns.
Tonight on Survivor, something's gotta give. We all know by now, the Ulong tribe sucks harder than a Republican on a speed date with Jeff Guckert/Gannon.
Non-swimming Ibrehem, who should have been tossed overboard last week, was spared by the stew eating Koror tribe, leaving the few remaining imbeciles on Ulong to give frequent-challenge winner and our favorite superfreak Angie the boot instead of that redneck, aardvark-faced loser, James.
The only justice was the dual tribal council, where Koror got to do to Willard what he'd been doing to them this whole time.
No merge tonight, friends.
Instead, James will try to save his own pasty gooseflesh by aggressively reminding Ibe that he was once, twice, three times no matey during the last diving & fetching challenge.
Then Ibrehem, a Muslim, will tell the camera that Allah akbarred his ass last week and saved him from getting the boot. It's a God thang- only his God is that Allah guy and James is a Jesus fan, I betcha.
Then a typhoon threatens and Janu gets to have a slight breakdown, exacerbated by the camera lens up her nose. Nothing to see here folks, it's all smoke and no fire, move on.
Reward challenge goes to Koror. They can afford to toy with Ulong and make them think they'll win the Immunity challenge. But Koror will win that again, too.
Why? Because Ulong sucks harder than...oh right, you already heard that one.
And although Ibe deserves to get his ass kicked off- those grimy wet boxer briefs that display James's family rhinestones all too clearly, combined with a face that looks like he's been sniffing dirty kitty litter, will get James the final boot.
Allah Akbar, baby!
The Sanctity of Marriage & Survivor Tonight!
Jeeze, for someone like Bush who did all that election year gay bashing under the guise of protecting the sanctity of marriage, he totally violated that sanctity when he tried to neutralize the marital rights of Michael Schiavo and turn the decision making process about removing his wife's feeding tube over to her mommy and daddy.
Anyone who fails to grasp the sheer gall and duplicity of Bush in this situation is, simply put, a fucking imbecile.
Michael Schiavo stuck with his wife for 15 years after she entered a near vegetative state, falling ill due to unchecked bulimia. He has a right to decide, he's her legal next of kin and he stuck by her long enough.
Even the polls say (by more than 80%) Bush was wrong to sign the bill that Congress was wrong to introduce.
It's a personal matter, you DC clowns.
Tonight on Survivor, something's gotta give. We all know by now, the Ulong tribe sucks harder than a Republican on a speed date with Jeff Guckert/Gannon.
Non-swimming Ibrehem, who should have been tossed overboard last week, was spared by the stew eating Koror tribe, leaving the few remaining imbeciles on Ulong to give frequent-challenge winner and our favorite superfreak Angie the boot instead of that redneck, aardvark-faced loser, James.
The only justice was the dual tribal council, where Koror got to do to Willard what he'd been doing to them this whole time.
No merge tonight, friends.
Instead, James will try to save his own pasty gooseflesh by aggressively reminding Ibe that he was once, twice, three times no matey during the last diving & fetching challenge.
Then Ibrehem, a Muslim, will tell the camera that Allah akbarred his ass last week and saved him from getting the boot. It's a God thang- only his God is that Allah guy and James is a Jesus fan, I betcha.
Then a typhoon threatens and Janu gets to have a slight breakdown, exacerbated by the camera lens up her nose. Nothing to see here folks, it's all smoke and no fire, move on.
Reward challenge goes to Koror. They can afford to toy with Ulong and make them think they'll win the Immunity challenge. But Koror will win that again, too.
Why? Because Ulong sucks harder than...oh right, you already heard that one.
And although Ibe deserves to get his ass kicked off- those grimy wet boxer briefs that display James's family rhinestones all too clearly, combined with a face that looks like he's been sniffing dirty kitty litter, will get James the final boot.
Allah Akbar, baby!
The Bush Legacy
One thing I can say for George W. Bush- he created the best truth-avoidance phrase in modern history:
"I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
I saw a snippet of Mark "Shrek" McGwier's testimony before Congress in their ultra important steroid investigation.
Senator: "Mr. Mc Gwier, did you use performance enhancing drugs?"
Gwier: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Sen: Is that a yes?
McG: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Sen: Wait. Are you avoiding the question I just asked?
McG: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
An entire generation of slackers can now use that phrase with confidence. It worked for the president and that's good enough for everyone.
Hillary Clinton: "Bill, have you been cheating on me again?"
Bill Clinton: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
International Tribunal Judge: "Osama Bin Laden, you are charged with masterminding the 9/11 attacks, how do you plead?"
OBL: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Class Action Lawsuit Plaintiff's Attorney: "As the Chairman of the National Rifle Association, is it fair to say your association has influenced the proliferation of weapons that have caused the United States' homicide rate to be the highest in the world?"
NRA Chairman: "We don't want to talk about the past; we made some mistakes and we learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Reporter: Martha Stewart, you are out of jail and have paid your debt to society. Do you regret the actions that caused you to be convicted and imprisoned?
Martha Stewart: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Karen Zipdrive: Clyde, as the owner of the Blog "BarCodeKing Is Going Postal," you made so many incorrect claims and inaccurate political predictions, you had to ditch it and start a new one. Was it because the Blog had become a constant reminder of how much Bush has fucked-up things and how wrong you've been for years now?
Clyde: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
One thing I can say for George W. Bush- he created the best truth-avoidance phrase in modern history:
"I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
I saw a snippet of Mark "Shrek" McGwier's testimony before Congress in their ultra important steroid investigation.
Senator: "Mr. Mc Gwier, did you use performance enhancing drugs?"
Gwier: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Sen: Is that a yes?
McG: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Sen: Wait. Are you avoiding the question I just asked?
McG: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
An entire generation of slackers can now use that phrase with confidence. It worked for the president and that's good enough for everyone.
Hillary Clinton: "Bill, have you been cheating on me again?"
Bill Clinton: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
International Tribunal Judge: "Osama Bin Laden, you are charged with masterminding the 9/11 attacks, how do you plead?"
OBL: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Class Action Lawsuit Plaintiff's Attorney: "As the Chairman of the National Rifle Association, is it fair to say your association has influenced the proliferation of weapons that have caused the United States' homicide rate to be the highest in the world?"
NRA Chairman: "We don't want to talk about the past; we made some mistakes and we learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Reporter: Martha Stewart, you are out of jail and have paid your debt to society. Do you regret the actions that caused you to be convicted and imprisoned?
Martha Stewart: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Karen Zipdrive: Clyde, as the owner of the Blog "BarCodeKing Is Going Postal," you made so many incorrect claims and inaccurate political predictions, you had to ditch it and start a new one. Was it because the Blog had become a constant reminder of how much Bush has fucked-up things and how wrong you've been for years now?
Clyde: "I don't want to talk about the past; I made some mistakes and I learned from them, and that's the bottom line."
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Other Laws Bush Can Enact
Since Bush has spread democracy all over the Middle East and caused flowers and sweets to rain down upon all the Islamic peoples in spite of their non-Christian souls ending up in hell after all, I am predicting what new laws he'll create:
• No more HBO or Showtime cussing unless subscribers pay the GOP a special sin fee of $5,000 per household per year. Nudity will cost an extra $5,000. Gay nudity: $100,000 a year.
• No more condoms manufactured or sold in America. If people want to fornicate without benefit of marriage, they should have to face the consequences of creating precious life or catching AIDS. That'll teach 'em.
• Three strikes and you're dead. No more mandatory prison sentences for thrice convicted felons, now you commit that third crime and you face execution. You had two chances.
• Confess or else. If you trust in democracy, you must trust in the authority that protects it.
If you are arrested and don't admit you committed the crime, it's okay for the police to use any means to get you to 'fess up because they must be trusted to arrest only guilty people.
• God's children first. No more hate crimes laws to protect perverts, gimps or Godless sinners. If you are an Islamic queer, limping down the street and offending Christians with your disgusting choices, don't whine if you get your ass kicked, you faggot camel humper.
• No more welfare checks. Get off your lazy ass and work. If you are handicapped, such as legless or armless, the government will issue you one (1) lazy susan you can sit on so you can sell Chicklets to passersby on the sidewalk. You can beg for the money to buy Chicklets, they are cheap enough.
• No more AIDS research funding or Medicare. You get AIDS from having nasty sex and using illegal drugs. It's your fault, you figure out what to do about it.
• Baseball will be mandatory for all boys in all schools. It builds character. Girls can take classes in home economics, as long as their fathers pay for their little aprons and such.
• No more political arguing on TV. We won, get over it. We have a mandate which gave us political capital and we will spend it any goddamned way we want. We are called leaders because we lead and you follow. It's very simple, and if you went to Yale like Bush did on a legacy admission, you'd get it, you big stupid.
• No more voting machines on election day. We know you want us in office protecting you, let's not pretend you don't.
• Rockets to Mars funding. All Americans must donate 75¢ per day to fund a rockets to Mars program. Rockets are cool and God wants us to be on Mars first.
• No more presidential term limits. Bush will leave when he's done. Stop being whiny about it, cry baby. Bush knows what's good for all of us because he takes his marching orders from his boss, Jesus H. Christ.
Since Bush has spread democracy all over the Middle East and caused flowers and sweets to rain down upon all the Islamic peoples in spite of their non-Christian souls ending up in hell after all, I am predicting what new laws he'll create:
• No more HBO or Showtime cussing unless subscribers pay the GOP a special sin fee of $5,000 per household per year. Nudity will cost an extra $5,000. Gay nudity: $100,000 a year.
• No more condoms manufactured or sold in America. If people want to fornicate without benefit of marriage, they should have to face the consequences of creating precious life or catching AIDS. That'll teach 'em.
• Three strikes and you're dead. No more mandatory prison sentences for thrice convicted felons, now you commit that third crime and you face execution. You had two chances.
• Confess or else. If you trust in democracy, you must trust in the authority that protects it.
If you are arrested and don't admit you committed the crime, it's okay for the police to use any means to get you to 'fess up because they must be trusted to arrest only guilty people.
• God's children first. No more hate crimes laws to protect perverts, gimps or Godless sinners. If you are an Islamic queer, limping down the street and offending Christians with your disgusting choices, don't whine if you get your ass kicked, you faggot camel humper.
• No more welfare checks. Get off your lazy ass and work. If you are handicapped, such as legless or armless, the government will issue you one (1) lazy susan you can sit on so you can sell Chicklets to passersby on the sidewalk. You can beg for the money to buy Chicklets, they are cheap enough.
• No more AIDS research funding or Medicare. You get AIDS from having nasty sex and using illegal drugs. It's your fault, you figure out what to do about it.
• Baseball will be mandatory for all boys in all schools. It builds character. Girls can take classes in home economics, as long as their fathers pay for their little aprons and such.
• No more political arguing on TV. We won, get over it. We have a mandate which gave us political capital and we will spend it any goddamned way we want. We are called leaders because we lead and you follow. It's very simple, and if you went to Yale like Bush did on a legacy admission, you'd get it, you big stupid.
• No more voting machines on election day. We know you want us in office protecting you, let's not pretend you don't.
• Rockets to Mars funding. All Americans must donate 75¢ per day to fund a rockets to Mars program. Rockets are cool and God wants us to be on Mars first.
• No more presidential term limits. Bush will leave when he's done. Stop being whiny about it, cry baby. Bush knows what's good for all of us because he takes his marching orders from his boss, Jesus H. Christ.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Slip Sliding Away
Last time I visited Canada, my American dollar was worth about 1.60 loonies.
My sister just returned from Banff and when I asked her how she liked that extraordinary exchange rate, she said she got the impression the Canadian dollar was worth more than the U.S. buck.
The exchange rate has slipped from $1USD to $1.25 CAD.
The lowest octane gasoline in America is now hovering at $2 a gallon. In oil-rich Texas.
My utility and water bills both have risen dramatically in the last year.
Our government is borrowing from Communist China and Japan to finance Bush's record deficit.
Fed Chairman Alan Greenspan has warned of the dire consequences of such deficit spending.
As of today, Bush has spent $171,300,000+ on the war in Iraq.
He has no exit strategy.
More than 1,500 American souls have been lost in the war, and tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi lives lost to date.
Iraqi prisoners have been tortured and murdered by American guards.
Bin Laden is still at large and the Bush regime continues to enjoy a cordial relationship with Saudi Arabia, the Home of the 911 Terrorists.
The chief architect of the Iraqi boondoggle, Paul Wolfowitz, has been promoted to leader of the World Bank.
Rep. Tom DeLay, the head of the GOP majority in the Congress, has been under enormous scrutiny for his wide assortment of criminal activities. Rules have been changed in Congress to accommodate the sheer weight of the charges, allowing him to stay in office regardless of what happens next, short of conviction.
So...what is Bush focused on these days?
A woman on a feeding tube in Florida.
Baseball players shooting performance enhancing drugs into their glutes.
Last time I visited Canada, my American dollar was worth about 1.60 loonies.
My sister just returned from Banff and when I asked her how she liked that extraordinary exchange rate, she said she got the impression the Canadian dollar was worth more than the U.S. buck.
The exchange rate has slipped from $1USD to $1.25 CAD.
The lowest octane gasoline in America is now hovering at $2 a gallon. In oil-rich Texas.
My utility and water bills both have risen dramatically in the last year.
Our government is borrowing from Communist China and Japan to finance Bush's record deficit.
Fed Chairman Alan Greenspan has warned of the dire consequences of such deficit spending.
As of today, Bush has spent $171,300,000+ on the war in Iraq.
He has no exit strategy.
More than 1,500 American souls have been lost in the war, and tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi lives lost to date.
Iraqi prisoners have been tortured and murdered by American guards.
Bin Laden is still at large and the Bush regime continues to enjoy a cordial relationship with Saudi Arabia, the Home of the 911 Terrorists.
The chief architect of the Iraqi boondoggle, Paul Wolfowitz, has been promoted to leader of the World Bank.
Rep. Tom DeLay, the head of the GOP majority in the Congress, has been under enormous scrutiny for his wide assortment of criminal activities. Rules have been changed in Congress to accommodate the sheer weight of the charges, allowing him to stay in office regardless of what happens next, short of conviction.
So...what is Bush focused on these days?
A woman on a feeding tube in Florida.
Baseball players shooting performance enhancing drugs into their glutes.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
The L Word, Let's Review
Wow, that was one of the best episodes ever.
Gee, Tina got a huge Peabody Grant and Bette got stiffed. What a surprise.
And Tina seems to have also gotten a pretty good shot at Helena Peabody herself. Shock!
And Jenny's haircut has made her- dare I say it- a better actress. The bagel scene was almost good.
And Dana--who knew she'd be such a top?
And what about the creepy video guys? Please don't let those dumb girls sign releases (they will).
Talk to me.
Wow, that was one of the best episodes ever.
Gee, Tina got a huge Peabody Grant and Bette got stiffed. What a surprise.
And Tina seems to have also gotten a pretty good shot at Helena Peabody herself. Shock!
And Jenny's haircut has made her- dare I say it- a better actress. The bagel scene was almost good.
And Dana--who knew she'd be such a top?
And what about the creepy video guys? Please don't let those dumb girls sign releases (they will).
Talk to me.
Ouch! Damn it!
Last week, I saw a report on which fast food restaurants were cleanest and dirtiest.
To my shock, Jack in the Box was #1 in great health reports across the nation.
I guess the botulism scandal from years ago must have gotten them in gear. I haven't been to a JITB but maybe once since then. The idea of tainted meat always turned my stomach too much to go near the place.
But, with their #1 rating in mind, I saw an appetizing JITB ad for their ciabatta burger this afternoon and decided to go for it.
I don't eat much fast food, but when I do I usually order the smallest burger they have.
This time I ordered the big ciabatta burger.
My belly now looks like I am six months pregnant and I feel kind of woozy.
I had to cut it in half to get a grip on it. I could have split it three ways but there was nobody here, so I ate the whole damn thing.
Never again, even though it was pretty tasty. No wonder Americans are so damn fat.
My stationary bike is calling out to me. She says I owe her odometer 10 miles.
Last week, I saw a report on which fast food restaurants were cleanest and dirtiest.
To my shock, Jack in the Box was #1 in great health reports across the nation.
I guess the botulism scandal from years ago must have gotten them in gear. I haven't been to a JITB but maybe once since then. The idea of tainted meat always turned my stomach too much to go near the place.
But, with their #1 rating in mind, I saw an appetizing JITB ad for their ciabatta burger this afternoon and decided to go for it.
I don't eat much fast food, but when I do I usually order the smallest burger they have.
This time I ordered the big ciabatta burger.
My belly now looks like I am six months pregnant and I feel kind of woozy.
I had to cut it in half to get a grip on it. I could have split it three ways but there was nobody here, so I ate the whole damn thing.
Never again, even though it was pretty tasty. No wonder Americans are so damn fat.
My stationary bike is calling out to me. She says I owe her odometer 10 miles.
Oh, What a Night
San Antonio is the epicenter of the world's best Tex-Mex cuisine.
Last night, however, I went to a trendy, upscale Mexican restaurant I won't even bother to mention to attend a birthday party for a friend of mine's husband.
The food was just awful.
I got a combo platter and the enchilada sauce was dark, acrid and too hot, the beans were too chili powdered, the inedible guacamole was spiked with horribly hot peppers, and the taco was good but entirely too skimpy.
But gee, what a lovely, colorful room. And the waitress? 100% Anglo. Half a million Hispanics in town and our waitress was a Trinity University coed named Amanda or Chloe.
All of it was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Plus, someone I barely know was sitting across from me, pretending to be an opinionated Republican, just to yank my chain.
And the old lady to my right smelled like she'd dived into a vat of softened Camay soap and stewed in it for so long, I could smell her coming from the front door.
Between the bad food, the faux Republican making incendiary remarks that made my eye tic and the stinky, cheap soap lady to my right, I wanted to crawl away, gagging.
At the end of dinner when I went to pay up and bolt to my car, a sudden downpour kept me pressed against the front door, weighing the pros and cons of making a run for it and ruining my brown Joseph Seibel nubuck walking shoes, or having to remain captive with the old Camay soap lady pressed against my back and getting that stink embedded in my shirt.
I bolted.
Eighteen hours later, I can still smell that horrible soap. I think it burnt my nasal cilia.
But it's okay, because the indigestion from that paint removing enchilada sauce is a great distraction.
San Antonio is the epicenter of the world's best Tex-Mex cuisine.
Last night, however, I went to a trendy, upscale Mexican restaurant I won't even bother to mention to attend a birthday party for a friend of mine's husband.
The food was just awful.
I got a combo platter and the enchilada sauce was dark, acrid and too hot, the beans were too chili powdered, the inedible guacamole was spiked with horribly hot peppers, and the taco was good but entirely too skimpy.
But gee, what a lovely, colorful room. And the waitress? 100% Anglo. Half a million Hispanics in town and our waitress was a Trinity University coed named Amanda or Chloe.
All of it was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Plus, someone I barely know was sitting across from me, pretending to be an opinionated Republican, just to yank my chain.
And the old lady to my right smelled like she'd dived into a vat of softened Camay soap and stewed in it for so long, I could smell her coming from the front door.
Between the bad food, the faux Republican making incendiary remarks that made my eye tic and the stinky, cheap soap lady to my right, I wanted to crawl away, gagging.
At the end of dinner when I went to pay up and bolt to my car, a sudden downpour kept me pressed against the front door, weighing the pros and cons of making a run for it and ruining my brown Joseph Seibel nubuck walking shoes, or having to remain captive with the old Camay soap lady pressed against my back and getting that stink embedded in my shirt.
I bolted.
Eighteen hours later, I can still smell that horrible soap. I think it burnt my nasal cilia.
But it's okay, because the indigestion from that paint removing enchilada sauce is a great distraction.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Pulp News Update
• "MARCH 15--Michael Jackson 'doesn't really qualify as a pedophile. He's really just this regressed 10-year-old.'- Dr. Stanley Katz, Los Angeles child psychologist..."
Yeah right, a regressed 10-year old, twice-divorced, father of three, multi millionaire 46-year-old with an astoundingly freakish plastic surgery fetish and an estate designed around thrilling hunky little boys. Uh huh.
• By now, we all know Mary Kay LaTourneau and her baby daddy Vili Fualaau are getting hitched on April 16. I just spied their wish list at the Macy's bridal registry.
Besides wanting every piece of china made by Villeroy & Boch in the lively green and yellow "Twist Alea" pattern, they also want assorted glassware and a $250 Kitchenaid mixer.
With the public as crazy as it is, they quickly had all their Macy's requests granted, so on they went to Tiffany's bridal registry, where they registered their requests for formal china and stemware. Get this- if they receive everything they requested from Tiffany's, their china, glassware and assorted houseware total will be more than $6,300.
That includes a platinum rimmed china service for 10, 10 wine glasses at $60 each, 12 champagne flutes at $25 each, a set of $335 salt and pepper shakers, and let's not forget the $235 cheese serving set.
If that's not enough, they also registered at Crate & Barrel, where they ordered a few more thousand bucks worth of flatware, knives, bakeware and 10 of every glass ever know to hold any alcoholic beverage in history.
I have to wonder how all that kitchen stuff will fit in a double wide.
Or maybe they plan to open a bar- with her teaching career shot and Vily being all of 22 now.
Is white trash still white trash if one of them's Samoan?
• Bill Cosby beat charges that he drugged and sexually molested at his estate in Pennsylvania a young woman he was said to be mentoring. Lawyers said the plaintiff took almost a year to report the assault, which contributed to prosecutors declining to file charges against Cosby.
Oh yeah? Well, my old friend Nancy went to high school with a girl who grew up to be a Playboy Bunny. Nancy and her bunny friend have always had one of those "same time next year" love affairs going, and the bunny told her years ago that she had given a very horny Cosby some of her own brand of Jell-O puddin'.
Who'd lie about screwing him? It's not like he's Usher, for Chrissake. Eeuuuwww.
• I don't know about you, but I am so relieved that rapper 50 Cent has settled his feud with his protege rapper The Game. Both Mr. Cent and Mr. Game are admitted former drug dealers and both have survived gunshot wounds.
Mr. Cent is known for his brilliant romance rap lyrics, such as:
You can hum all you want to
Cum all you want to
But I ain't gon' want you
If nobody wants you
You like the smiles n the dimples on my face
BITCH that's a bullet wound I ain't MASE!
50 Cent skip the bullshit, you fuckin' tonight
I got some dro, got some henny
We can go and get right
I ain't never been arrested for nothing domestic
But I ain't gon' lie I'll punch a bitch in the eye
Look, don't play games with me baby
The temptation, the wait, is driving me crazy
Come on give me some ass girl... WHAT UP!
I don't wanna make love
I just wanna fuck
I'm only in town tonight
If you give me some head
Tony, give you some head
A'ight
Cause I ain't giving you no head, bitch
Tony, Tony be on that freaky shit
My nigga Tony give you some fucking head though
Nada Mean
That's why the bitches love Tony, Ha Ha
A'ight now, Sha let's get to some hard shit!
Not to be outdone, Mr. Game also waxes eloquently in his love songs:
Gangsta Gangsta that's already evident.
Nigga wit a Attitude, check, check my residence.
Whether I'm Crip or Blood, Homie, that's irrelevant.
I'm with the D-O-C, there's nobody better then the west coast felon when he on that lowrider
Bike pedaling, Somebody tell Eazy they still yellin' it.
I'm with ya homie Doc Dre on the television while these niggas moving peanuts like a elephant.
I'm on cars like spinnin' rims.
I'm in a class all by myself like the brown Eminem.
Not to down Eminem I fuck black bitches, fuck white bitches, nigga I like bitches.
Them half and half Alicia Keys dyke bitches.
If the head right, I might Air Nike bitches.
Or put 'em on a track like Just Blaze, I look down on hoes and look up to Dre, cause ain't...
No More Fun and Games.
That's the news from Pulp Friction.
A'ighty, then.
• "MARCH 15--Michael Jackson 'doesn't really qualify as a pedophile. He's really just this regressed 10-year-old.'- Dr. Stanley Katz, Los Angeles child psychologist..."
Yeah right, a regressed 10-year old, twice-divorced, father of three, multi millionaire 46-year-old with an astoundingly freakish plastic surgery fetish and an estate designed around thrilling hunky little boys. Uh huh.
• By now, we all know Mary Kay LaTourneau and her baby daddy Vili Fualaau are getting hitched on April 16. I just spied their wish list at the Macy's bridal registry.
Besides wanting every piece of china made by Villeroy & Boch in the lively green and yellow "Twist Alea" pattern, they also want assorted glassware and a $250 Kitchenaid mixer.
With the public as crazy as it is, they quickly had all their Macy's requests granted, so on they went to Tiffany's bridal registry, where they registered their requests for formal china and stemware. Get this- if they receive everything they requested from Tiffany's, their china, glassware and assorted houseware total will be more than $6,300.
That includes a platinum rimmed china service for 10, 10 wine glasses at $60 each, 12 champagne flutes at $25 each, a set of $335 salt and pepper shakers, and let's not forget the $235 cheese serving set.
If that's not enough, they also registered at Crate & Barrel, where they ordered a few more thousand bucks worth of flatware, knives, bakeware and 10 of every glass ever know to hold any alcoholic beverage in history.
I have to wonder how all that kitchen stuff will fit in a double wide.
Or maybe they plan to open a bar- with her teaching career shot and Vily being all of 22 now.
Is white trash still white trash if one of them's Samoan?
• Bill Cosby beat charges that he drugged and sexually molested at his estate in Pennsylvania a young woman he was said to be mentoring. Lawyers said the plaintiff took almost a year to report the assault, which contributed to prosecutors declining to file charges against Cosby.
Oh yeah? Well, my old friend Nancy went to high school with a girl who grew up to be a Playboy Bunny. Nancy and her bunny friend have always had one of those "same time next year" love affairs going, and the bunny told her years ago that she had given a very horny Cosby some of her own brand of Jell-O puddin'.
Who'd lie about screwing him? It's not like he's Usher, for Chrissake. Eeuuuwww.
• I don't know about you, but I am so relieved that rapper 50 Cent has settled his feud with his protege rapper The Game. Both Mr. Cent and Mr. Game are admitted former drug dealers and both have survived gunshot wounds.
Mr. Cent is known for his brilliant romance rap lyrics, such as:
You can hum all you want to
Cum all you want to
But I ain't gon' want you
If nobody wants you
You like the smiles n the dimples on my face
BITCH that's a bullet wound I ain't MASE!
50 Cent skip the bullshit, you fuckin' tonight
I got some dro, got some henny
We can go and get right
I ain't never been arrested for nothing domestic
But I ain't gon' lie I'll punch a bitch in the eye
Look, don't play games with me baby
The temptation, the wait, is driving me crazy
Come on give me some ass girl... WHAT UP!
I don't wanna make love
I just wanna fuck
I'm only in town tonight
If you give me some head
Tony, give you some head
A'ight
Cause I ain't giving you no head, bitch
Tony, Tony be on that freaky shit
My nigga Tony give you some fucking head though
Nada Mean
That's why the bitches love Tony, Ha Ha
A'ight now, Sha let's get to some hard shit!
Not to be outdone, Mr. Game also waxes eloquently in his love songs:
Gangsta Gangsta that's already evident.
Nigga wit a Attitude, check, check my residence.
Whether I'm Crip or Blood, Homie, that's irrelevant.
I'm with the D-O-C, there's nobody better then the west coast felon when he on that lowrider
Bike pedaling, Somebody tell Eazy they still yellin' it.
I'm with ya homie Doc Dre on the television while these niggas moving peanuts like a elephant.
I'm on cars like spinnin' rims.
I'm in a class all by myself like the brown Eminem.
Not to down Eminem I fuck black bitches, fuck white bitches, nigga I like bitches.
Them half and half Alicia Keys dyke bitches.
If the head right, I might Air Nike bitches.
Or put 'em on a track like Just Blaze, I look down on hoes and look up to Dre, cause ain't...
No More Fun and Games.
That's the news from Pulp Friction.
A'ighty, then.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Steroids?
What the fuck is our government doing, wasting time on steroid hearings?
Who cares what pro ball players do or don't do?
Bush still is apparently trying to land his dream job as baseball commissioner, and he must have leaned on the legislature to hold these costly, time wasting hearings.
Haven't they got a thousand more relevant things to look into?
Ridding pro sports of steroid abuse is simple- team owners and managers should test and screen their athletes and deal with the results as they wish.
The GOP stands for less government, my ass.
What the fuck is our government doing, wasting time on steroid hearings?
Who cares what pro ball players do or don't do?
Bush still is apparently trying to land his dream job as baseball commissioner, and he must have leaned on the legislature to hold these costly, time wasting hearings.
Haven't they got a thousand more relevant things to look into?
Ridding pro sports of steroid abuse is simple- team owners and managers should test and screen their athletes and deal with the results as they wish.
The GOP stands for less government, my ass.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Happy St. Patrick's Day
There was a time I'd take a day like this and turn it into a night of drunkenness- up to and including drinking traditional, disgusting green beer between shots of Jamieson's Irish whisky.
In San Antonio, they dye the San Antonio River green on St. Patrick's Day. I especially like that the river is green to begin with, so you can't tell a bit of difference.
San Antonio is a drinking, partying town, so St. Patrick's Day is just one more excuse to go to excess.
They even advertise a St. Paddy's Day pub crawl near the Riverwalk, so people can stagger from bar to bar before they get in their cars to drive home.
First it's Pat O'Brien's, then to Durty Nelly's Irish Pub, then to Swig Martini Bar, then over to Polyester's, then to Mad Dog's Pub.
If that's not enough, they advertise drink specials all over town. Buy a beer for a buck at Sanchez Ice House. Buy it for $3 a pint at the Blue Star. The Blanco tavern sells mixed drinks for 2 bucks.
Why, even Jacala, the famous Mexican restaurant near my house, is selling giant schooners of green beer and green margaritas for two bucks each.
I'm not into drinking a lot this St. Patrick's Day.
Instead, I plan make a nice corned beef roast, some red potatoes and a little coleslaw (just so we can say we had cabbage). My big brother is coming to town to help me do some household electrical work, so we won't be slugging down beer between whisky shots while we mess with hot wires.
Unless my sister comes over- then all bets are off.
There was a time I'd take a day like this and turn it into a night of drunkenness- up to and including drinking traditional, disgusting green beer between shots of Jamieson's Irish whisky.
In San Antonio, they dye the San Antonio River green on St. Patrick's Day. I especially like that the river is green to begin with, so you can't tell a bit of difference.
San Antonio is a drinking, partying town, so St. Patrick's Day is just one more excuse to go to excess.
They even advertise a St. Paddy's Day pub crawl near the Riverwalk, so people can stagger from bar to bar before they get in their cars to drive home.
First it's Pat O'Brien's, then to Durty Nelly's Irish Pub, then to Swig Martini Bar, then over to Polyester's, then to Mad Dog's Pub.
If that's not enough, they advertise drink specials all over town. Buy a beer for a buck at Sanchez Ice House. Buy it for $3 a pint at the Blue Star. The Blanco tavern sells mixed drinks for 2 bucks.
Why, even Jacala, the famous Mexican restaurant near my house, is selling giant schooners of green beer and green margaritas for two bucks each.
I'm not into drinking a lot this St. Patrick's Day.
Instead, I plan make a nice corned beef roast, some red potatoes and a little coleslaw (just so we can say we had cabbage). My big brother is coming to town to help me do some household electrical work, so we won't be slugging down beer between whisky shots while we mess with hot wires.
Unless my sister comes over- then all bets are off.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Survivor Tonight
Survivor has been moved to the next two Wednesdays to accommodate the NCAA playoffs.
My picks for getting the ax tonight:
Worthless Willard or Jarhead James.
After Survivor, switch on over to The West Wing, where my friend Robin will be portraying a reporter, asking Senator Santos a question from the media crowd.
Your picks?
Survivor has been moved to the next two Wednesdays to accommodate the NCAA playoffs.
My picks for getting the ax tonight:
Worthless Willard or Jarhead James.
After Survivor, switch on over to The West Wing, where my friend Robin will be portraying a reporter, asking Senator Santos a question from the media crowd.
Your picks?
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
A New Gig
I just got a new offer to do standup- this time for a Cancer Awareness thing for a local hospital.
It's this summer, in June.
Outdoors.
In the blistering Texas sun.
Oh, good, while I'm making wisecracks about endometrial cancer, I'll be getting skin cancer.
(rimshot)
They signed me up for 30 minutes. Ha!
I said I'd do 10. Fifteen, tops. I figure I can throw in 5 minutes of sweat jokes alone.
I just got a new offer to do standup- this time for a Cancer Awareness thing for a local hospital.
It's this summer, in June.
Outdoors.
In the blistering Texas sun.
Oh, good, while I'm making wisecracks about endometrial cancer, I'll be getting skin cancer.
(rimshot)
They signed me up for 30 minutes. Ha!
I said I'd do 10. Fifteen, tops. I figure I can throw in 5 minutes of sweat jokes alone.
Cheer Me Up, Please
I have a backache and not enough work to do right now.
While I have faith I will soon have fresh new assignments and projects to work on, today I am feeling a little puny and need to laugh.
It's drizzly and chilly outside, so that's not helping, either.
Tell me a joke or a funny story.
The winner gets a Blog full of haiku, all about them or any subject they request.
I have a backache and not enough work to do right now.
While I have faith I will soon have fresh new assignments and projects to work on, today I am feeling a little puny and need to laugh.
It's drizzly and chilly outside, so that's not helping, either.
Tell me a joke or a funny story.
The winner gets a Blog full of haiku, all about them or any subject they request.
The L Word Foreshadowing
Oh, I get it.
Tina was last seen busily writing a grant proposal to help children.
Helena Peabody is the new, lesbian head of the Peabody Foundation, which prior to Helena had been funding lots of arts grants-especially to the California Arts Center, which Bette heads.
Helena and Bette didn't exactly hit it off in New York, in fact Helena blew Bette off when her kids arrived at her office. Helena said she preferred to fund social programs rather than arts programs.
So Tina applies to the Peabody Foundation, Helena flies out to meet her, finds her pregnant and lesbian, falls in immediate love, then Bette runs into them and >>BAM<<.
That explains why Helena appears in The L Word poster this season.
How conveeeenient.
Oh, I get it.
Tina was last seen busily writing a grant proposal to help children.
Helena Peabody is the new, lesbian head of the Peabody Foundation, which prior to Helena had been funding lots of arts grants-especially to the California Arts Center, which Bette heads.
Helena and Bette didn't exactly hit it off in New York, in fact Helena blew Bette off when her kids arrived at her office. Helena said she preferred to fund social programs rather than arts programs.
So Tina applies to the Peabody Foundation, Helena flies out to meet her, finds her pregnant and lesbian, falls in immediate love, then Bette runs into them and >>BAM<<.
That explains why Helena appears in The L Word poster this season.
How conveeeenient.
Monday, March 14, 2005
The Contender and The L Word
I am totally hooked on The Contender, especially after last night's grudge match between the cocky Lebanese pretty boy and the guy who had to face his fears and fight him. You can guess who won.
As for The L Word, I was pretty creeped out that Shane and Jenny would allow a straight guy to rent out the garage apartment in the back, but then I stopped to think how a straight guy who was in art school studying video used to live in the studio behind my lover and me back in my Venice Beach days.
We used to party with him all the time, until one day he thought he'd let himself in our back door, come up the stairs and visit us in our bedroom. We politely threw him out and he politely left, but the friendship was diminished in the process.
Anyway, I hope this storyline comes and goes pretty fast- it makes me uncomfortable to think of cameras being hidden in their bedrooms.
Would someone please fix Shane's hair? She looks like one of those hairless Chihuahuas who always wins the Ugliest Dog contest because of a few stray strands sticking out all over its head.
Tina's lawyer went from hot to creepy when she tried to put the moves on Tina and didn't pick up on the "get the fuck away from me" vibes fast enough. Plus, the lawyer dresses kinda like my dad and that was not exactly a turn on, either.
And Bette, so downtrodden and forlorn over losing Tina, she had to find solace in the thighs of some hot babe she picked up in a NYC lesbian bar. What a depressing whore.
And Dana kissing Alice at the amusement park? Sure.
You know when the highlight of the show was Jenny getting a haircut, this was not the best episode of the series. Still, hope springs eternal.
What were your takes on this episode?
I am totally hooked on The Contender, especially after last night's grudge match between the cocky Lebanese pretty boy and the guy who had to face his fears and fight him. You can guess who won.
As for The L Word, I was pretty creeped out that Shane and Jenny would allow a straight guy to rent out the garage apartment in the back, but then I stopped to think how a straight guy who was in art school studying video used to live in the studio behind my lover and me back in my Venice Beach days.
We used to party with him all the time, until one day he thought he'd let himself in our back door, come up the stairs and visit us in our bedroom. We politely threw him out and he politely left, but the friendship was diminished in the process.
Anyway, I hope this storyline comes and goes pretty fast- it makes me uncomfortable to think of cameras being hidden in their bedrooms.
Would someone please fix Shane's hair? She looks like one of those hairless Chihuahuas who always wins the Ugliest Dog contest because of a few stray strands sticking out all over its head.
Tina's lawyer went from hot to creepy when she tried to put the moves on Tina and didn't pick up on the "get the fuck away from me" vibes fast enough. Plus, the lawyer dresses kinda like my dad and that was not exactly a turn on, either.
And Bette, so downtrodden and forlorn over losing Tina, she had to find solace in the thighs of some hot babe she picked up in a NYC lesbian bar. What a depressing whore.
And Dana kissing Alice at the amusement park? Sure.
You know when the highlight of the show was Jenny getting a haircut, this was not the best episode of the series. Still, hope springs eternal.
What were your takes on this episode?
Friday, March 11, 2005
The Reality TV Trifecta
Last night, everything went as it should on every show produced by Mark Burnett.
On Survivor, that shiftless, lazy, no-account Kim got the boot. In the immunity challenge, the redneck got his ass kicked twice by the homosexual. All was well.
On The Apprentice, that sexist, blabbermouth, asshole John got the boot. Young Chris showed some guts in the boardroom, hunkering down and arguing with the grown-ups when his ass was on the line.
Afterwards, NBC aired Burnett's newest show, The Contender, which usually airs on Sunday night.
I wasn't sold on the concept but I watched it and loved it. It's about boxing, a sport I find curiously appealing for reasons I cannot explain. The show ends in a 5-round boxing match between characters that are (so far) easy to love and root for. I must have had tears well up in my eyes at least five times during the show, which for me equals a program worth watching.
Has anyone watched The Contender? What's your take on it?
Last night, everything went as it should on every show produced by Mark Burnett.
On Survivor, that shiftless, lazy, no-account Kim got the boot. In the immunity challenge, the redneck got his ass kicked twice by the homosexual. All was well.
On The Apprentice, that sexist, blabbermouth, asshole John got the boot. Young Chris showed some guts in the boardroom, hunkering down and arguing with the grown-ups when his ass was on the line.
Afterwards, NBC aired Burnett's newest show, The Contender, which usually airs on Sunday night.
I wasn't sold on the concept but I watched it and loved it. It's about boxing, a sport I find curiously appealing for reasons I cannot explain. The show ends in a 5-round boxing match between characters that are (so far) easy to love and root for. I must have had tears well up in my eyes at least five times during the show, which for me equals a program worth watching.
Has anyone watched The Contender? What's your take on it?
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Michael Jackson: Beyond Insane?
Hoo boy. Today in the Michael Jackson pedophilia trial, his accuser took the stand for his first full day of testimony.
Jackson showed up late for court, hair uncombed, no makeup, limping in wearing bright blue, patterned pajama bottoms with his little coat and tie. His lawyer claimed he had an intense backache and said he was late because he was at the hospital.
A few days ago, he was at the hospital ER for "flu-like symptoms."
An elderly lady who was in the ER complaining of heart pains the same time Jackson arrived was shuttled to another, smaller exam room and abandoned momentarily while the staff fussed over Jackson's alleged sniffles. The lady died and her family is suing the hospital for neglect.
In past courtroom appearances, Jackson has used crutches to assist him in walking after an alleged spider bite, and has called in sick because of debilitating headcolds, flu, migraine headaches, everything except for menstrual cramps.
He calls himself a real life Peter Pan. His estate is even named Neverland.
Somehow, I can't imagine Peter Pan being into hard-core Internet porn, video tapes and magazines.
I can't see Peter Pan paying out more than $20 million in settlement money to various kids in the past to avoid prosecution for sexual abuse of a minor.
I can't see Peter Pan passing out soda cans filled with wine, or walking around in front of young boys while he's in the nude, sporting a full erection.
Let's face it, folks, this guy is not only warped and living in a $750 millionaire's fantasy world, he's also a pedophile who needs either some long-term, in-house psychiatric treatment or a prison sentence.
I don't care how great his earlier music was.
I don't care that seeing him do the moonwalk on TV was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.
I don't care that his fans consider him a 10-year-old locked in a 46-year-old man's body.
When 10-year-olds fool with each others' genitalia, it's called childhood curiosity and it's a normal part of childhood.
When a grown man does it with a kid, it's called pedophilia, it's a felony and the perp needs to be prosecuted, convicted and sentenced.
Jackson shouldn't worry if he's found guilty. If he really is Peter Pan, he can just fly, fly away from his prison cell.
If he's not, then he's gonna hate being on the receiving end of the same kind of "love" he gave his young victims.
Hoo boy. Today in the Michael Jackson pedophilia trial, his accuser took the stand for his first full day of testimony.
Jackson showed up late for court, hair uncombed, no makeup, limping in wearing bright blue, patterned pajama bottoms with his little coat and tie. His lawyer claimed he had an intense backache and said he was late because he was at the hospital.
A few days ago, he was at the hospital ER for "flu-like symptoms."
An elderly lady who was in the ER complaining of heart pains the same time Jackson arrived was shuttled to another, smaller exam room and abandoned momentarily while the staff fussed over Jackson's alleged sniffles. The lady died and her family is suing the hospital for neglect.
In past courtroom appearances, Jackson has used crutches to assist him in walking after an alleged spider bite, and has called in sick because of debilitating headcolds, flu, migraine headaches, everything except for menstrual cramps.
He calls himself a real life Peter Pan. His estate is even named Neverland.
Somehow, I can't imagine Peter Pan being into hard-core Internet porn, video tapes and magazines.
I can't see Peter Pan paying out more than $20 million in settlement money to various kids in the past to avoid prosecution for sexual abuse of a minor.
I can't see Peter Pan passing out soda cans filled with wine, or walking around in front of young boys while he's in the nude, sporting a full erection.
Let's face it, folks, this guy is not only warped and living in a $750 millionaire's fantasy world, he's also a pedophile who needs either some long-term, in-house psychiatric treatment or a prison sentence.
I don't care how great his earlier music was.
I don't care that seeing him do the moonwalk on TV was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.
I don't care that his fans consider him a 10-year-old locked in a 46-year-old man's body.
When 10-year-olds fool with each others' genitalia, it's called childhood curiosity and it's a normal part of childhood.
When a grown man does it with a kid, it's called pedophilia, it's a felony and the perp needs to be prosecuted, convicted and sentenced.
Jackson shouldn't worry if he's found guilty. If he really is Peter Pan, he can just fly, fly away from his prison cell.
If he's not, then he's gonna hate being on the receiving end of the same kind of "love" he gave his young victims.
Good-bye, Dan Rather
As we know, some nasty, right-wing con artists transferred facts about George W. Bush's draft dodging from real documents to phony ones and fobbed them off on CBS.
The content of the documents was never disputed- Bush was a cowardly draft dodger who used his daddy's influence to avoid even the cushy, National Guard duty he was given.
By providing CBS forged documents that contained scathingly true facts about Bush's military records, the forgeries became the story, and once again that scoundrel escaped media scrutiny and accountability.
Dan Rather took the fall for the caper, and last night he fell on the sword.
The same venomous spin doctors who've branded a veteran journalist like Rather a hack created a strong, resolute hero out of a spoiled, drug and alcohol addled frat boy with an overblown sense of entitlement and a low IQ.
Paybacks, however, can be a bitch.
I look forward to Rather's tell-all book about Bush– which is surely on the drawing board by now.
Bush and his sniveling puppetmasters may have won the battle, but an unfettered, angry Dan Rather might well win the war.
Go get 'em, Dan.
As we know, some nasty, right-wing con artists transferred facts about George W. Bush's draft dodging from real documents to phony ones and fobbed them off on CBS.
The content of the documents was never disputed- Bush was a cowardly draft dodger who used his daddy's influence to avoid even the cushy, National Guard duty he was given.
By providing CBS forged documents that contained scathingly true facts about Bush's military records, the forgeries became the story, and once again that scoundrel escaped media scrutiny and accountability.
Dan Rather took the fall for the caper, and last night he fell on the sword.
The same venomous spin doctors who've branded a veteran journalist like Rather a hack created a strong, resolute hero out of a spoiled, drug and alcohol addled frat boy with an overblown sense of entitlement and a low IQ.
Paybacks, however, can be a bitch.
I look forward to Rather's tell-all book about Bush– which is surely on the drawing board by now.
Bush and his sniveling puppetmasters may have won the battle, but an unfettered, angry Dan Rather might well win the war.
Go get 'em, Dan.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
I Think It's Intentional
More and more, I am convinced that George W. Bush is an agent of some hostile foreign nation, planted to fuck up our nation's reputation as much as he can within the next four years.
Case in point, his nominee to be our next United Nations representative, John Bolton.
Bolton is a Jesse Helms protege, whose basic philosophy about America's role on the global stage is this: "We are better than all of you, so go fuck yourselves."
Want to know more about this arrogant clown?
See for yourself!
If Bush was sincere about wanting to mend global fences after his first reign of international faux pas, slights, arrogance and bluster- he's sure as hell not showing it by trying to foist off this Bolton character on the UN.
We'd be better off with Michael Bolton as the nominee.
More and more, I am convinced that George W. Bush is an agent of some hostile foreign nation, planted to fuck up our nation's reputation as much as he can within the next four years.
Case in point, his nominee to be our next United Nations representative, John Bolton.
Bolton is a Jesse Helms protege, whose basic philosophy about America's role on the global stage is this: "We are better than all of you, so go fuck yourselves."
Want to know more about this arrogant clown?
See for yourself!
If Bush was sincere about wanting to mend global fences after his first reign of international faux pas, slights, arrogance and bluster- he's sure as hell not showing it by trying to foist off this Bolton character on the UN.
We'd be better off with Michael Bolton as the nominee.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Fat Actress and The L Word
Yikes.
I was hoping the debut of Kirsty Alley's new Showtime series, "Fat Actress" would be funny along the lines of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," but I found myself feeling halfway between embarrassed and sorry for her.
The seduction scene, where the black man was feeding her all sorts of fattening crap from the fridge while she begged like a dog was so damned demeaning-- then when he started smacking her "juicy, fat ass"...
No, that was just wrong.
Everyone knows that Hollywood is vicious toward fat women actors, but to see someone who once had such a successful career pander to that ugly truth was nothing short of pathetic.
Her weight gain was significant enough to indicate some kind of deep, emotional trauma.
I felt sad for her that she's had to make light of whatever it was and make herself the huge butt of the joke just to get back on TV.
I thought the show was degrading and painful to watch.
The L Word, however, brought me out of the fat actress doldrums.
That horrid, social climbing bitch Tonya reminds me of about a million aspiring actresses I met in L.A. when I lived there in my 20's.
I recall one night my friend Tony and I were at Peanuts, a major lesbian bar in Hollywood.
Near our table was an insufferable starlet who kept mentioning in a stage voice that she was slated to do a national Mc Donald's TV commercial the next day. She was exactly like Tonya, even looked like her.
Alas, while Tony and I were on the crowded dance floor, he was flailing his arms around a tad too exuberantly and accidentally tagged Tonya Mc Donald smack dab in the eye socket with his elbow.
The bruise started forming immediately, and by the time we left, Tonya was sporting a shiner that looked like she'd pissed off O.J. Simpson after he'd smoked some crack.
Getting back to The L Word, the business dinner Tonya railroaded Dana into was so believably sickening, it made me glad I left L.A.
But the real joy was the Planet's grand opening scene, with Pam Grier singing. She's so fine- I have always loved that Foxy Brown.
Not only that, my friend Rebecca from Vancouver was an extra in that scene, playing a patron in a blue tank top. I was in hog heaven watching that scene.
And poor Bette!
I love how the script writers are just beating the emotional shit out of that prissy little cheater. She's almost at the point where she's so beaten down I could start liking her and rooting for her to get Tina back.
But not with Tina's totally hot new lawyer sniffing around.
I have a hunch that lawyer's gonna be a little more than Tina's Lamaze partner. I mean, that much was pretty obvious, eh?
As for Jenny- let's all pause and say a silent prayer that we never have to endure a kissing scene between her and that hideous monstrosity Sandra Bernhardt. Her camel-like mouth is simply the most unkissable looking mess in the history of lesbianism, and her booze and drug hardened personality is even worse.
Ugh. Does anyone actually like her?
Yikes.
I was hoping the debut of Kirsty Alley's new Showtime series, "Fat Actress" would be funny along the lines of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," but I found myself feeling halfway between embarrassed and sorry for her.
The seduction scene, where the black man was feeding her all sorts of fattening crap from the fridge while she begged like a dog was so damned demeaning-- then when he started smacking her "juicy, fat ass"...
No, that was just wrong.
Everyone knows that Hollywood is vicious toward fat women actors, but to see someone who once had such a successful career pander to that ugly truth was nothing short of pathetic.
Her weight gain was significant enough to indicate some kind of deep, emotional trauma.
I felt sad for her that she's had to make light of whatever it was and make herself the huge butt of the joke just to get back on TV.
I thought the show was degrading and painful to watch.
The L Word, however, brought me out of the fat actress doldrums.
That horrid, social climbing bitch Tonya reminds me of about a million aspiring actresses I met in L.A. when I lived there in my 20's.
I recall one night my friend Tony and I were at Peanuts, a major lesbian bar in Hollywood.
Near our table was an insufferable starlet who kept mentioning in a stage voice that she was slated to do a national Mc Donald's TV commercial the next day. She was exactly like Tonya, even looked like her.
Alas, while Tony and I were on the crowded dance floor, he was flailing his arms around a tad too exuberantly and accidentally tagged Tonya Mc Donald smack dab in the eye socket with his elbow.
The bruise started forming immediately, and by the time we left, Tonya was sporting a shiner that looked like she'd pissed off O.J. Simpson after he'd smoked some crack.
Getting back to The L Word, the business dinner Tonya railroaded Dana into was so believably sickening, it made me glad I left L.A.
But the real joy was the Planet's grand opening scene, with Pam Grier singing. She's so fine- I have always loved that Foxy Brown.
Not only that, my friend Rebecca from Vancouver was an extra in that scene, playing a patron in a blue tank top. I was in hog heaven watching that scene.
And poor Bette!
I love how the script writers are just beating the emotional shit out of that prissy little cheater. She's almost at the point where she's so beaten down I could start liking her and rooting for her to get Tina back.
But not with Tina's totally hot new lawyer sniffing around.
I have a hunch that lawyer's gonna be a little more than Tina's Lamaze partner. I mean, that much was pretty obvious, eh?
As for Jenny- let's all pause and say a silent prayer that we never have to endure a kissing scene between her and that hideous monstrosity Sandra Bernhardt. Her camel-like mouth is simply the most unkissable looking mess in the history of lesbianism, and her booze and drug hardened personality is even worse.
Ugh. Does anyone actually like her?
Monday, March 07, 2005
How It Went Last Night
Last night went pretty damn well overall, if I do say so myself.
We managed to raise more than $1,000 for the candidate, so that made me feel great since I was the only act of the night.
The evening was filled with lots of good and a little not so good...
There was no stage, just a cavernous, mirror-surrounded dance floor with several 2-foot square, floor-to-ceiling posts that conveniently obstructed the view for many. That was not so good.
The microphone was wireless, which was good. When I walked around with it, however, it made sputtering and popping noises or gave shrill feedback, which was not so good.
The had a sensational spotlight, which was good, except it was mounted on a wall not the ceiling, so when they aimed it at me, the sideways light was totally, utterly blinding, which was not so good. I simply refused to stand there with the glare in my eyes, which was good for me, but not so good for the audience.
The crowd was great and numbered well over 100, which was good. They were spread all over the bar, some a good 150 feet from the "stage," which was not so good because it felt like I was playing to a far smaller group than I was.
In the audience were some truly babeolicious women, which was great. Also in attendance were at least half a dozen women with whom I'd had previous carnal knowledge, so that was very flattering that they still like me at least enough to plunk down ten bucks to hear me yammer.
The few people I absolutely did not want to see there did not show up. A public thanks goes out to both of them for the courtesy.
I was quite tense once I got there, so I downed a double shot of tequila, which helped so much I was loose enough to politely accept the low dose Valium a friend offered me, which I popped at once- shortly before the show began.
While I didn't collapse on stage, I may have loosened up a tad too much.
Having gotten as loose as possible, but still maintaining the basic ability to function, I did find myself having to refer to my 3x5 card outline a tad too often, and in the darkish light I fear I lingered longer than I should have in scanning the card for the next segment.
It's the curse of the freshman comic- I made a note to myself to improve on that immediately.
I got a lot of laughs, some hearty guffaws, a smattering of applause after some of the lines, many back pats and several drink offers afterwards.
All in all, it was a pretty amazing evening.
Thanks again to my Bloggy friends who helped push me forward. You were often just as helpful as my real-time friends in getting me up for the event, and for that I am grateful.
Last night went pretty damn well overall, if I do say so myself.
We managed to raise more than $1,000 for the candidate, so that made me feel great since I was the only act of the night.
The evening was filled with lots of good and a little not so good...
There was no stage, just a cavernous, mirror-surrounded dance floor with several 2-foot square, floor-to-ceiling posts that conveniently obstructed the view for many. That was not so good.
The microphone was wireless, which was good. When I walked around with it, however, it made sputtering and popping noises or gave shrill feedback, which was not so good.
The had a sensational spotlight, which was good, except it was mounted on a wall not the ceiling, so when they aimed it at me, the sideways light was totally, utterly blinding, which was not so good. I simply refused to stand there with the glare in my eyes, which was good for me, but not so good for the audience.
The crowd was great and numbered well over 100, which was good. They were spread all over the bar, some a good 150 feet from the "stage," which was not so good because it felt like I was playing to a far smaller group than I was.
In the audience were some truly babeolicious women, which was great. Also in attendance were at least half a dozen women with whom I'd had previous carnal knowledge, so that was very flattering that they still like me at least enough to plunk down ten bucks to hear me yammer.
The few people I absolutely did not want to see there did not show up. A public thanks goes out to both of them for the courtesy.
I was quite tense once I got there, so I downed a double shot of tequila, which helped so much I was loose enough to politely accept the low dose Valium a friend offered me, which I popped at once- shortly before the show began.
While I didn't collapse on stage, I may have loosened up a tad too much.
Having gotten as loose as possible, but still maintaining the basic ability to function, I did find myself having to refer to my 3x5 card outline a tad too often, and in the darkish light I fear I lingered longer than I should have in scanning the card for the next segment.
It's the curse of the freshman comic- I made a note to myself to improve on that immediately.
I got a lot of laughs, some hearty guffaws, a smattering of applause after some of the lines, many back pats and several drink offers afterwards.
All in all, it was a pretty amazing evening.
Thanks again to my Bloggy friends who helped push me forward. You were often just as helpful as my real-time friends in getting me up for the event, and for that I am grateful.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Circumventing the System
A court ordered gag order prohibits The Tonight Show's Host Jay Leno from further wisecracking in his opening monologues about Michael Jackson, so Leno hired actor Brad Garrett as a comedian surrogate to tell his Michael Jackson jokes for him.
Good for him.
These days, I applaud anyone who makes an effort to get around the kind of stifling censorship inspired by Ventriloquist Karl Rove and his wacky dummy George W.
Here's one of the jokes Leno wrote that Garrett delivered:
"They said this trial will probably last six months, although Michael Jackson asked for some time off to entertain the troops. OK, they're Cub Scout troops, but they're still troops."
Wow. I'll bet Michael Jackson had to down a couple of Diet Coke cans filled with Jesus Juice to get over that zinger.
But the judge is right- we mustn't abridge a billionaire "alleged" pedophile's right to a fair trial.
Huh. Calling Michael Jackson an "alleged pedophile" is like calling George W. Bush an "alleged dimwit."
A court ordered gag order prohibits The Tonight Show's Host Jay Leno from further wisecracking in his opening monologues about Michael Jackson, so Leno hired actor Brad Garrett as a comedian surrogate to tell his Michael Jackson jokes for him.
Good for him.
These days, I applaud anyone who makes an effort to get around the kind of stifling censorship inspired by Ventriloquist Karl Rove and his wacky dummy George W.
Here's one of the jokes Leno wrote that Garrett delivered:
"They said this trial will probably last six months, although Michael Jackson asked for some time off to entertain the troops. OK, they're Cub Scout troops, but they're still troops."
Wow. I'll bet Michael Jackson had to down a couple of Diet Coke cans filled with Jesus Juice to get over that zinger.
But the judge is right- we mustn't abridge a billionaire "alleged" pedophile's right to a fair trial.
Huh. Calling Michael Jackson an "alleged pedophile" is like calling George W. Bush an "alleged dimwit."
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Countdown to Zero Hour, or is it D-Day?
I Forget.
I've been getting myself into the comedy zone since yesterday, trying every trick in the book to get ready for tomorrow night's show.
I am not at the nervous stage yet, I am too dazed to be nervous.
Why, oh why, didn't I think to say I'd make a comedic speech rather than do standup?
That way, I could have just read the whole damn thing instead of trying to salvage what meager memory cells I have left and force myself to memorize a half hour or more of running shtick.
Between my incessant pot smoking in the 70's and my recent bout with this dastardly, memory sucking menopause, I have about the same memory capacity now as my first computer: 512K.
To illustrate what that means, I just left my desk to turn on the stereo in the other room, forgot to turn it on and brought back some fresh 3x5 cards to my desk instead.
I forget why I brought them, since I already had a fresh stack on my desk.
I made coffee this morning and forgot about it until 40 minutes ago. Then I put it in the microwave to warm it up and forgot that, too.
Now that I have a cup of coffee on my desk, it's gone cold because I keep forgetting to drink it.
Being compulsive, I broke up the act into an intro, then decided on logical segues from one topic to the next, then added the big finish. I wrote it all down in a black and white speckled composition book.
Then I wrote everything on numbered, color coded 3x5 cards, thinking I could slide them in my coat pocket to use as crib sheets.
Trouble is, the stack was roughly two inches thick, which would make an unsightly pocket bulge on stage, and be too unwieldy to sift through unobtrusively.
So, I pared the stack down by abbreviating and writing smaller, ending up with just 10 cards.
Trouble is, now the writing is too small to read and the stack is still too big to hide in my pocket.
By then, I started finding all over the house random cocktail napkins, envelopes, grocery receipts, matchbooks and gum wrappers with gags written on them. Every room in the house had at least a few little cryptic slips of paper with something scribbled on them.
Then I started to panic because some of them were not funny in the least.
I started obsessing.
I said to myself, "Shit, if I thought that was funny then, how do I know the stuff I think is funny now is actually funny?"
After that, I cleared my mind with some basic meditation techniques, which worked so well I started thinking of new stuff that I had to write down immediately, lest I exceed my 512K cache.
That leads to having to find places to wedge in the new material, which leads to having to rewrite the ten 3x5 cards in even smaller lettering to accommodate the new stuff.
But since the writing is already too small to read on what will be a darkish stage, there's no point in redoing the cards to accommodate even more stuff.
So, here's what I decided:
I'm going to wing it. No notes. No reminders.
I may just go completely off the script and start jabbering about whatever pops into my head.
If it flops miserably, I'll just say it was a performance art piece that dealt with the existential futility of trying to be funny for the sake of self aggrandizement and material greed.
That way, I can pretend to be a deep intellectual who's too worldly to be easily understood by a room full of drunk people.
The snobby audience members in turn will try to save face and pretend they got the esoteric joke and praise me for being so hilarious and avant garde.
But some will be pissed that they wasted $10 on some hoity toity, showoff inna-leck-chual who wasn't even a damn bit funny.
That in turn will spark lively debates between the martini drinking pseudo intellectuals and the longneck swilling shitkicker chicks with the mullet haircuts.
Meanwhile, I'll be driving home with pockets filled with cash.
Hell, it's better than standing there and saying, "Sorry, y'all, I forgot what I was gonna say."
I Forget.
I've been getting myself into the comedy zone since yesterday, trying every trick in the book to get ready for tomorrow night's show.
I am not at the nervous stage yet, I am too dazed to be nervous.
Why, oh why, didn't I think to say I'd make a comedic speech rather than do standup?
That way, I could have just read the whole damn thing instead of trying to salvage what meager memory cells I have left and force myself to memorize a half hour or more of running shtick.
Between my incessant pot smoking in the 70's and my recent bout with this dastardly, memory sucking menopause, I have about the same memory capacity now as my first computer: 512K.
To illustrate what that means, I just left my desk to turn on the stereo in the other room, forgot to turn it on and brought back some fresh 3x5 cards to my desk instead.
I forget why I brought them, since I already had a fresh stack on my desk.
I made coffee this morning and forgot about it until 40 minutes ago. Then I put it in the microwave to warm it up and forgot that, too.
Now that I have a cup of coffee on my desk, it's gone cold because I keep forgetting to drink it.
Being compulsive, I broke up the act into an intro, then decided on logical segues from one topic to the next, then added the big finish. I wrote it all down in a black and white speckled composition book.
Then I wrote everything on numbered, color coded 3x5 cards, thinking I could slide them in my coat pocket to use as crib sheets.
Trouble is, the stack was roughly two inches thick, which would make an unsightly pocket bulge on stage, and be too unwieldy to sift through unobtrusively.
So, I pared the stack down by abbreviating and writing smaller, ending up with just 10 cards.
Trouble is, now the writing is too small to read and the stack is still too big to hide in my pocket.
By then, I started finding all over the house random cocktail napkins, envelopes, grocery receipts, matchbooks and gum wrappers with gags written on them. Every room in the house had at least a few little cryptic slips of paper with something scribbled on them.
Then I started to panic because some of them were not funny in the least.
I started obsessing.
I said to myself, "Shit, if I thought that was funny then, how do I know the stuff I think is funny now is actually funny?"
After that, I cleared my mind with some basic meditation techniques, which worked so well I started thinking of new stuff that I had to write down immediately, lest I exceed my 512K cache.
That leads to having to find places to wedge in the new material, which leads to having to rewrite the ten 3x5 cards in even smaller lettering to accommodate the new stuff.
But since the writing is already too small to read on what will be a darkish stage, there's no point in redoing the cards to accommodate even more stuff.
So, here's what I decided:
I'm going to wing it. No notes. No reminders.
I may just go completely off the script and start jabbering about whatever pops into my head.
If it flops miserably, I'll just say it was a performance art piece that dealt with the existential futility of trying to be funny for the sake of self aggrandizement and material greed.
That way, I can pretend to be a deep intellectual who's too worldly to be easily understood by a room full of drunk people.
The snobby audience members in turn will try to save face and pretend they got the esoteric joke and praise me for being so hilarious and avant garde.
But some will be pissed that they wasted $10 on some hoity toity, showoff inna-leck-chual who wasn't even a damn bit funny.
That in turn will spark lively debates between the martini drinking pseudo intellectuals and the longneck swilling shitkicker chicks with the mullet haircuts.
Meanwhile, I'll be driving home with pockets filled with cash.
Hell, it's better than standing there and saying, "Sorry, y'all, I forgot what I was gonna say."
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Survivor Tonight!
Rumor has it, Ashlee wasn't booted last week because the tribe hated her, she asked to go home and the producers made it seem like a legit boot to save face.
So far, quitters have included Osten the black Adonis/pussy; Sue, the truckdrivin' mama who quit the All-stars after Dick Hatch rubbed his Richard against her; and All-star Jenna Morasca- who sensed her dying mother was dying and ran back home days before her death.
If they recruited fewer model/actor wannabes and more Ruperts and Sandras who'd bite the head off a snake to win, there'd be less of this weinerization.
Look for some shark eatin' tonight.
Watch Kim and Jeff suck face while Deliverance extra James alternates between voyeuristic jacking off and whining about their juicy alliance. So exhausted from their nocturnal (e)missions, K&J aren't doing their fair share of chores. Bitching ensues.
Watch Katie and Caryn square off in a classic bitchfest, with the bossy lawyer (Caryn) getting a faceful of Katie's "you are not the boss of me" diatribe.
While Jeff takes a break from fondling Kim's ass, he hurts his foot and can't compete well in the immunity challenge. Ruh ro.
Meanwhile, our favorite SuperFreak Angie continues to kick ass.
Reward: Ulong
Immunity: Koror
Booted: Jeff
Your picks?
Rumor has it, Ashlee wasn't booted last week because the tribe hated her, she asked to go home and the producers made it seem like a legit boot to save face.
So far, quitters have included Osten the black Adonis/pussy; Sue, the truckdrivin' mama who quit the All-stars after Dick Hatch rubbed his Richard against her; and All-star Jenna Morasca- who sensed her dying mother was dying and ran back home days before her death.
If they recruited fewer model/actor wannabes and more Ruperts and Sandras who'd bite the head off a snake to win, there'd be less of this weinerization.
Look for some shark eatin' tonight.
Watch Kim and Jeff suck face while Deliverance extra James alternates between voyeuristic jacking off and whining about their juicy alliance. So exhausted from their nocturnal (e)missions, K&J aren't doing their fair share of chores. Bitching ensues.
Watch Katie and Caryn square off in a classic bitchfest, with the bossy lawyer (Caryn) getting a faceful of Katie's "you are not the boss of me" diatribe.
While Jeff takes a break from fondling Kim's ass, he hurts his foot and can't compete well in the immunity challenge. Ruh ro.
Meanwhile, our favorite SuperFreak Angie continues to kick ass.
Reward: Ulong
Immunity: Koror
Booted: Jeff
Your picks?
Opinion Poll
1. If a woman is ever-so-slightly over 50 but still very perky, and she wears a navy blazer over a white, long sleeved cotton shirt, should she tuck the shirt in or leave it out?
2. What if that same women wanted to wear faded jeans with that ensemble? Which ones, faded ones or faded ones with slight holes forming in the knees?
3. What shoes would you select for that outfit?
Thank you.
1. If a woman is ever-so-slightly over 50 but still very perky, and she wears a navy blazer over a white, long sleeved cotton shirt, should she tuck the shirt in or leave it out?
2. What if that same women wanted to wear faded jeans with that ensemble? Which ones, faded ones or faded ones with slight holes forming in the knees?
3. What shoes would you select for that outfit?
Thank you.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
A Free Sample
Here's a joke I wrote this morning before I got out of bed. Tell me what you think.
Considering how hard-line the GOP has been against gays, you gotta wonder why they have so many closet queens in their party.
I mean, they have Rick Perry as Governor of Texas, Miss Ken Mehlman running the RNC, Scott Mc Clellan as White House Press Secretary and this Jeff Gannon, the reporter by day and gay hooker by night, in the press corps...
I haven't seen this many faggots since the Fabric Barn had their big blowout sale!
Here's a joke I wrote this morning before I got out of bed. Tell me what you think.
Considering how hard-line the GOP has been against gays, you gotta wonder why they have so many closet queens in their party.
I mean, they have Rick Perry as Governor of Texas, Miss Ken Mehlman running the RNC, Scott Mc Clellan as White House Press Secretary and this Jeff Gannon, the reporter by day and gay hooker by night, in the press corps...
I haven't seen this many faggots since the Fabric Barn had their big blowout sale!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Migas
It occurred to me this morning while I was corresponding with Aviva, my ex in Montreal, not everyone outside of Texas knows what migas are.
They are delicious and everyone should have the recipe. So here it is. Serves 2.
4 eggs
1/2 to 1 cup coarsely broken tortilla chips
1/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 T sliced green onions
1 diced avocado
Salsa to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
Scramble eggs and add chips to eggs while they are cooking.
Put eggs on a plate, sprinkle with cheese, then onions, then salsa, then decorate with avocado chunks.
It occurred to me this morning while I was corresponding with Aviva, my ex in Montreal, not everyone outside of Texas knows what migas are.
They are delicious and everyone should have the recipe. So here it is. Serves 2.
4 eggs
1/2 to 1 cup coarsely broken tortilla chips
1/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 T sliced green onions
1 diced avocado
Salsa to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
Scramble eggs and add chips to eggs while they are cooking.
Put eggs on a plate, sprinkle with cheese, then onions, then salsa, then decorate with avocado chunks.
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