Sunday November 24 - Saturday November 30, 2013
Unfair. Unbalanced. Funny.
No nudity, just graphic negligence through exposed opinions... The naked truth about the way life is for regular every-day people through the eyes of our writers...
And as hilarious as the truth can be. -True story.
Check out Max Tweedy's "LIST OF 10"! It's a must read!
FRONT PAGE NEWS STORY:
WE APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE WHILE WE ARE RE-BOOTING, REGROUPING & REORGINIZING OUR BUSINESS STRUCTURE...
We will have a few new writers and we're sad to say that a couple have left us for other opportunities. In the meantime, we apologize for any inconveniencecaused by our prolonged absence.
All that really means is we will be back online bigger, better and more bad ass than ever before.
Thank you for your loyalty!
COUNT-DOWN TO THIRTY-FIVE
Snip-it by: Chucky T.
I just realized that a few days ago was the 6 month count-down to turning 35. I tried to say that number out-loud and my tongue went numb and a drooled a little like I just left the dentist after a root canal. That means in 6 months I'll be as close to 40 as I am 30. I'll be in that demographic box above the 18-34 range ... Whatever that is, because I never really paid attention to it. I'm complaining; I...'m thankful for still being here and having the chance to enter that new realm of not the 18-34 yr old "section".
Turning 30 was hard enough. I was depressed for months. I'm not really sure why - possibly because that meant I had to figure out how to mature the inner-child that still resides in my soul. How am I suppose to dress, speak, act and what activities need to change were all relative concerns. Would I lose my sex drive and suddenly want to take up gardening and watching the Travel channel? I didn't know. But now, as I look back, I realize that although my responsibilities have gradually changed and increased, my heart and mind are still, always shall be who I have always been - and that's when I realized some of us never grow up - we just grow older. But to be young is to feel young and I don't know about you, but I hurt my back just sleeping last night. It's a good thing my brain still feels young. I'm not a big fan of watching Wheel of Fortune or eating tomatoes. Although, I don't mind a slice on my burger. Just as long as you don't expect me to garden and grow my own. I can't even water house plants on a regular basis.
For now I'll just keep calling the 30's the new 20's and when I get to 40 in 5 1/2 years then I'll worry about if I need the little blue pill or get the urge to can beans, grow tomatoes and watch boring television shows.
- Chucky T
Fool Me Once, Shame On You.
Fool Me 2 to 7 Times, Leave Me The Heck Alone.
column by: Abbott
Throughout my life, just like you, I have been fooled by people who I trusted or just expected to tell me the truth. So, finally, when I found out the truth about a lot of things it made me confused a minute, then disappointed and finally mad to the point where I like I wanted to write them down.
For instance or i.e. (that stands for ‘for example’) like the first time I saw a naked man and woman on television wiggling around together and my mother told me they were hugging and didn’t eat their vegetables when they were children, so as punishment they couldn’t wear any clothes.
Or when I thought ‘mno’ was one letter in the alphabet.
And there’s that time I was told that Santa Claus could see everything I did, no matter what, so I was afraid to use public bathrooms in fear of being arrested and accused of showing my private parts to other children in my kindergarten class, like that man did one time when I was playing at the park. I was only five. I was too young for a broken life of crime.
Wrong! (To the exposure part. But the fear of Santa watching me did give me a bladder infection for holding it too long.)
It didn’t stop as I got older and more educated, either. Like when my first girlfriend said she didn’t like anybody else, or my coach said I could play with a broken arm, or the mechanic telling me it’s probably just a damaged radiator cap.
The human world continues to try and fool us every day, but that is capitalism for you, or communism too for all my ignorant brainwashed people out there.
Here is a list of some things or people that I don’t think really exist. If these things, or people, do exist I never saw them, met them, or heard of someone who actually had proof that these things, people or places are actually real.
* GettingA 4 year degree in just 4 years. (and I’m not talking about Theater, Art History or Accounting. I’m talking about a degree that you can actually use in life to make a living).
* Smart Government. EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!! CALM DOWN I SAID!!!! You have to understand that there are more important things to do than Economic Recovery... We have to attack the moon first and next we have to raise troops for the invasion of the moon.... where nobody lives to see if there's water on it... SEE, that's more important! You're just gonna have to accept it. Quit yer bitch'n! You're a grown-up, I'm sure you can understand.
(Just because smart people work in government doesn’t mean they make smart decisions. I have a Bachelor Arts Degree, but that doesn’t mean I’m making smart choices with my finances, or remember where I left my children.. uh… I mean “keys” yesterday).
* Space. (I ain’t never been to space! I’m not going neither. The only way we see outer space is from pictures and video. How do we know it’s real, for real? Have you ever met anybody who has been in space? The people that supposedly have gone to space don’t seem to last very long. They all disappear, die, get kidnapped by disgruntled lovers or “can’t talk about it” except for what we already know about it).
* Mexico. (If there really is a ‘Mexico’ then why aren’t the ‘Mexicans’ actually in ‘Mexico’? I‘m looking at one right now, while he does my yard work, and I’m currently in North Carolina, unless this is actually Caroline de Norte and somebody lied to me about this being The United States).
* Normal Female Drivers. (Every female I ever rode somewhere with, that was cut off by another driver, always thought it was another girl who almost caused them to be an accident. Hey girls, if you don’t want this stereotype than stop living up to it and degrading yourself by saying “I knew it was some stupid bitch!” as you give her the finger while you pass her on a double yellow line going 70 mph in a school zone).
* Recycled Products. (I guess you feel good separating your cans from your newspapers, only to have the person in charge of your waste to throw it away later, but at least you feel like you are helping the environment. Sure, you know recycled products are real because you know a guy who knows a guy who gives it to someone else to recycle… yeah. I’ll show you recycled: this book is recycled because you gave it to a friend to read and they gave it back to you and before long it will be a wall decoration, a fire log, or to hide nude pictures of your neighbor’s wife inside. That’s REAL recycling.)
* Current, Up To Date Computer Technology. (Leave it at that. I just bought this computer last Tuesday and It’s already outdated.)
* Canadians. (That is just a plot by the government to get rid of having to worry about a larger population. ‘Canadians’ verbally sound just like people from Michigan, Wisconsin, North Dakota, Montana and Washington State. How do you know that once settlers crossed an imaginary line that the United States didn’t say: “Out of Bounds! You’re disqualified!” Now less people were the responsibilities of the United States - like many French immigrants and people with weird accents. Canada doesn’t exist, it’s a just tax break. We don’t have to pay them government funding or listen to their complaints. It‘s like after-school detention - you’re technically on school property but you have no rights and nobody cares that you are there).
* Job Security. (I don’t care that you have work related insurance, daycare or a 401K. Try keeping your job until retirement, that’s what is impressive - not your salary).
* PORN STARS. (What is a “Porn Star”? With modern technology the use of a video camera, a willing participant, a few blank DVDs and the internet, I guess either there a millions of “porn stars” or there is no such thing, at least not any more. But if a porn star is like being a movie star who gets the good roles, a rock star who gives great performances, or an a pro athlete like a football or basketball star who scores a lot - then maybe I know a few porn stars - they just never videotaped some of their best work. There’s really no award, trophy or money saved for retirement for them to have. I guess, in the end, they have a nice collection of empty medicine bottles to remember their ‘porn star’ days. So either way we all, mostly, have become porn stars or they just don’t exist. Wow, I think that just killed some of your dreams - and made the rest of you feel special).
All of this is a lot like believing, in my heart, that the bottled water I drink was bottled in a factory that was imported from the cleanest of natural springs and still purified before it is bottled and sent down my esophagus. When actually, in reality, it’s a bunch a dudes filling recycled bottles in a bathtub on the 4th floor and an old apartment building somewhere of Santa Monica Blvd and then transported to a place in Utah where they print the label and sell it as Georgia peach water. (that’s why it has a slight yellow color - peaches.)
Well, this just about wraps up this chapter. I just really feel taken advantage of and now I want to go wallow in self-piety and then climb in the shower and turn the cold water on to wash the stank off my clothes and my body. So remember the next time you try to fool me: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me 2 - 7 times, or more, leave me the hell alone…
(*Editor's note: We are not responsible for anything C.F. Abbott says. These are matters of opinions that are not true, and meant only for your entertainment.)
What’s in a News... Knews(?)... *sigh* - Information?
column by: Chucky T
Like every morning, I find myself waking up and staggering to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, while on my way I grab the remote and turn the television on as I continue walking towards the kitchen while I listen to the news in the background.
After standing in the kitchen in a moment of half consciousness while I wait for the coffee - I then make my cup of coffee and proceed to my home office where I turn on my computer and my homepage of Yahoo! appears on my screen – thus where I start to scroll through the Yahoo! news and then I move on to MSNBC while FOX news continues to blast down the hall in the empty living room. As I scroll through MSNBC or Yahoo! to see what stories may be different. I turn the television off before I leave the house as news scrolls at the bottom of the picture while the reporter talks about completely a different news story…. On my way to work I turn on – you guessed it – news talk radio / sports / or even the weather radio station to find out what is happening in the world of people, sports and weather. I might stop to get breakfast or gas on my way out for the day and pass by the newspapers neatly folded on check-out counter tops or in news bins. The news is all around us.
Suddenly one day I realized one day that I’m overwhelmed with so much news that when something actually happens I am immune to it until I hear a real person talking about it.
“North Korea did what?” I ask later on that day as I overhear co-workers talking of the possibility of some sort of conflict that could arise at any moment now. Then, suddenly, as if it was news to me, that’s when I realized… I should know this... I should know the news since the news is constantly bombarding our brains. Although, that’s the problem – there’s too much of it.
Like Advil and anti-biotic medicine, I have become immune to the news. I listen to it, I watch it, I see it, but ask me what’s going on in the world and the only thing I can come up with as an answer is that Justin Bieber has a pet monkey. Wait – what? I don’t even know one word to a Justin Bieber song – all I know is that this spoiled brat has a monkey that he tried to take on vacation with him. How do I know that? I have no idea. I have no idea why that stands out in my mind. Then I think to myself “is there anything else I can tell myself that I know from the news?” Yes, but I don’t think it is news-related… I can tell you that Mexican food in Mexico is called food and that the new G.I. Joe was bad, but don’t ask me what is happening in North Korea though because all I can suddenly do is think of funny scenes from *M*A*S*H* like when Hawkeye does that one thing that involves… is that why I have the sudden urge lately to watch *M*A*S*H* reruns. Because I hear “Korea” and instead of “knowing the news” I think old TV shows – because I am immune to anything that involves useful information because there’s too much of it and instead of learning anything important my brain overloads and crashes….. Please wait while the rest of my thoughts are loading….. Please be patient…. Loading…… I’m sorry I am experiencing technical difficulties. Would you like to send this error report? - I’ve lost my concentration.
by: Chucky T
For those of us who are old enough to remember and relate to the financial "good days" of the past... When jobs were abundant, worries were anything but financial security and loans were as easy as a rebounding intoxicated college freshman we can appreciate what we have, what we still have and even that which we no longer have. (Too many "have's" - some would argue there's never enough) In today's world the definition of success is much different than what the average American would perceive to be 4 - 10 years ago. Which, to me, is much better now as far as value and ethics are concerned. We have been forced back to appreciate success for what it really is and not that what the 90's and 00's had perceived the definition of "success" through mutation of the meaning into something less valuable than what it really means. Success is not money, power or prestige.
Success is being happy, fortunate and blessed through family, friends and life. Money may seem as if it can give you wonderful times, but precious time with family, waking up happy and loving your job, and enjoying just having the chance to be alive cannot be bought with wealth.
You can replicated the idea of happiness through "financial" success, but no one will ever be able to duplicate, in its true entirety, the complete feeling of being "successful" through family and friends as the real thing. This, I believe, through all its downturns in the economy has brought us back to the true meaning of "success"... Which is "what ever you wish it to be". You may be hurting financially, but just remember that money comes and goes, but memories through happy times with family, friends and even your job (which might not pay very well) is what defines success in today’s world. You are more fortunate than you realize, you just have to open your mind to see what is already in and around you.
MOVIE REVIEW BEFORE WE EVEN GET TO SEE THE MOVIE:
G.I. Joe: Retaliation
+ More Ninja Action
Introduction by: Abbott
I'm in my early thirties. I grew up playing with Transformers, GI JOE and all the good stuff from back in the day when "toys were toys" and fads didn't change year - to - year. They lasted.
Now that Transformers has entertainemned my childhood for 3 times (with a 4th installment on the way) and GI JOE #2 will be out March 29. How can anyone not say that if you were born in the late 70's - early 80's it wasn't best time to be a child, EVER. It was. Yuou know. Older kids gonna hate - younger kids just don;t know what they missed. Although now with these movie franchises I am glad that people of all ages can enjoy what I enjoyed a a pre-school / kindergartener / early elemtentary school in the mid-late eighties. We had it better. Damn the ipads, internet games, youtube and Facebook. There was never a more golden age than that of my generations time.
We came into the world after the great wars, free love revolution and economic disaster of the 1970's - and then went on to be adults in the most facsinationg revolutionary age of all - he digital Revolution.
Now as adults we get to play with all the cool toys of the future while holding on to warm memories of our childhhod - unless you're a crack head or meth addict - well, then you're probably not reading this anyways.
So... in conclusion all I have to say is: NOTHING - Just silence. Ninjas deserve your silence... especially when they're as awesome as Snake-Eyes and Storm Shadow.
Have a great week.
When Applying For Jobs Online Make Sure the Money Is Worth the Nude Photography
column by: Abbott
It came to my attention a few days ago, as I realized that my career was no more than that of any college graduate, or actor, and that I had now assumed the role of the struggling, starving career - minded individual who once thought I would conquer the world and push the old, slow, unexcited people out of my way and show them some real talent…
But so far, I’m the one being pushed out of the way, ignored, or maybe I just picked the wrong jobs to apply for at the moment.
I have never responded to a job listing on the internet, until now. When I say that, I am not implying that I am above and beyond the call of any of the online job posting websites, not at all, I just get weird about who reads these email replies and what may result in this. Will my personal email fall into the hands of sexual stimulus medicine promoters pumping my email full to the max with unwanted, uncontrollable spam that won't go away for 4 - 6 hours without consulting a computer doctor?
Just curious, you never know...
Now, as for my professional and correct response to a job posting, at least on line, not knowing who’s eyeballs are on the other end of the wire, I write only as follows:
I was a history major in college, and had to write many scripts after college when I was a student at Film School. Which, if you understand my reference is that having been a history major I was required to write many, many long, dull, ancient papers that were anywhere from 5 to 20 pages long any given time. Which by the time I graduated my work was history: dull, old and in the past with no results - only to be repeated by others that came after me and suffered the same fate:
Lesson number 1 - 99, back to 1: History repeats itself, constantly.
Attention to detail was very important in my history papers and most effectively when I was a film student. You had to make sure that all sentences, lines, and conversation made sense in order to relay your message. You couldn't have a man telling a woman: "I want to dog your pants." (That’s just inappropriate.) When the correct sentence was supposed to read: "I want to walk your dog...." unless he was a foreigner from like Uzbekistan or Canada - somewhere far away like those places.
At least a local paper’s classified has a number and an address of a business that most are familiar with and not a random coded email address that, so far after 117 job postings online, they have only offered me a chance to stuff envelopes or pose for nude photography, and hey, thanks for the compliment on my figure, but if they are asking me to pose nude, I figure they haven't seen my figure, or else they wouldn't ask…..
P.S. Happy Holiday, Happy Birthday, or whatever is coming up in your life, depending on when you are reading this, and yeah that’s all you’re going to get from me this year, I’m just as dumb as my NEW YORK Stock Broker. He’s the only one getting a present from me this year.
But we’ll cover holidays and birthdays and investment ideas later on in the year. It’s real interesting, trust me, you’ll want to read those columns and articles of this website too, for your own safety.
And, oh, by the way: DEAR HARVARD EDUCATED STOCK BROKER, Here is a gift of freedom from me. YOU’RE FIRED!
Snip-it by: Chucky T (himself)
French fries are the slutty food of the fast food world. They're cheap, they are shared by two or more people, nobody actually wants them until they see them and then they can't resist. They are always around more french fries... They make you feel happy, but then you pay for it in the long run and wish you had never had them. Slutty fries, you are so hard to resist... My will power is obliterated.
Inebriated or not. He’s back!
Snip-it by: C.F. Abbott
Hello ChuckyT.com readers. It’s been too long! I have missed all of you… Mostly.
The other night through the depths of my soul came my imagination, which had been hiding for some time somewhere between the edge of insanity and nowhere, and from that moment my imagination seemed to project images of purely shocking moments as I watched speechless as I thought my mind beamed images of the most shocking moments that one could say of another… and then I realized it was only YouTube. Here, speechless as one can be, is something I wish to share with you. Never be mad at another’s ignorance. Only their inability to understand that champagne causes hallucinations and should be banned from gas stations. (That’s where I shop for high-end luxury goods).
I think I might post a video every week and let you decide if you think it’s hilarious, rude, or just so plain shocking you have no idea what to do, but don’t laugh or else you’ll probably burn in hell, or at least get sunburned this year at the beach. Karma’s a bitch. I should know, I went to high school with her. Here’s the video. I don’t know what else to say…. I’m speechless (minus all that stuff I just wrote).
column by: Max Tweedy
The bloody day that was February 14, 1929 on the cold, prohibition era streets of Chicago can hardly compare to what happened on February 14, 2013 on the globally warmed, semi-safe streets of Fort Mill, SC. Back in ’29 Capone’s South Side Italian gang were in a vicious battle with Bugs Moran’s North Side Irishmen for control of the bootlegging territory. Just a few days ago in Fort Mill, it was my gullible pregnant wife and I entrenched with the slick timeshare cronies hashing it out for control of our vacation money. Guess who won?
If you’ve always immediately thrown away all those fliers you receive in the mail, promising free roundtrip airfare to anywhere in the continental U.S. if you’ll call the number listed on the ticket, then good for you, you’re not missing out on anything. Unless of course, you really enjoy wasting an evening listening to their spiel and trying to acquire your promised tickets that you probably won’t receive. Some companies promise mp3 players and laptops, some coax you in with meals and show tickets, while others use airfare and hotel stays to get you in the door. Anyway you look at it, you better bring your financial and emotional bullet-proof vest for the barrage of high pressure bullet points coming your way.
The Mrs. and I have been lured to a condo unit, buffet room, and an office building by all of the mentioned attractions. The first time was in Gatlinburg, TN where we were promised a steak dinner and a hotel stay. We were newlyweds on vacation and the saleslady had my wife in tears and almost guilted into buying a vacation timeshare we would never use. We barely made it out of that one alive and I was on damage control afterwards for awhile. However, we did earn a free hot dog lunch and a steak dinner for our efforts but had a hard time enjoying our food because of the emotional upheaval that was the result of the “ninety minute” presentation. I believe it was Kelly Clarkson who said “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and I think she was on to something because the next time in Hawaii went somewhat better. We received another free meal and show tickets for resisting the grimy timeshare salesman down there. So you can imagine my wife’s excitement when a day before Valentine’s Day this year I told her I called the number on the free airfare ticket flier in the mail and signed us up for a presentation for the following evening. I should probably mention the brilliant idea of attending all of the other presentations belonged to me also. I guess I enjoy banging my head against the wall like this kid...
This time we were ready though, after becoming battle hardened by all the other attacks. There’s something a little scary about a pregnant woman who’s getting comfortable with herself. You know how most pregnant women tend to get certain super powers like super smell or taste, or if you’re lucky super horny. My wife missed out on those but was blessed with super persuasion powers. She’s normally extremely patient and non-confrontational, but the pregnancy has brought out a side of her I never knew existed. She’s become the woman version of the most interesting man in the world from the Dos Equis commercials. “She has inside jokes with strangers. Her charm is so contagious, vaccines have been created for it. Anytime she goes for a swim, dolphins appear. The pheromones she secretes have been known to affect people miles away, in a slight, but measurable way.” You get the picture. So before we walked into the office building, I suggested I would super lowball the salesperson and then she would shut him down with some pregnant talk when he brought the supervisor over to try and work with us on making our travel dreams come true. I had forgotten for a moment about her superpower so I figured I would end up fighting them off again and apologizing to her for the rest of my life for bringing her to another one of these ambushes, especially on Valentine’s Day. So neither I nor the poor sales guys ever saw it coming. It was as if we were Capone’s gang dressed like cops and just mowed Bugs’ men down with our Tommy guns. After the presentation, they separated our herd into just couples and started going to work on us with their super if you buy-today-only promotions and scripted bullet points. Not only did we deflect their front line’s advances with the super-low-ball-tease technique to get the manager over to the table quickly, but when he arrived my wife engaged her super power and not only shut him down with baby-on-the-way talk, but flipped the script on him, and convinced him to buy the 1973 Jeep Commando that I had been reluctant to let go of for the last several months. For twice what I was asking for it! After I picked my jaw up off the floor and she claimed her free rose, chocolates, drinks, and airfare, we smoothly walked down the strip for a candlelight dinner leaving them to clean up the aftermath of this Valentine’s Day massacre. As we sat down at our table, I had to ask “Who are you and what just happened back there?” with amazement. “I’ll have the chicken marsala and he’ll have the nachos with extra sour cream, thanks” she instructed the waiter. “You just wait until we get home; I’m not done with you yet…” I had never been so terrified and turned on at the same time. I wish I could say I learned my lesson that night but we’re headed to Vegas with our free airfare and I’m scouring the internet for some presentations to check out when we get there. So to all the timeshare salesmen “Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, ‘cuz Max Tweedy and his pregnant wife are coming for you!” If you have any good timeshare presentation stories, hit us up at firstname.lastname@example.org Thanks!
CSI: Happy Ending
Column by: Max Tweedy
As I walked out the door on my way to work at six-thirty this past Wednesday morning, I was about eight feet from my car when I noticed the driver’s side door was slightly open. Several thoughts then passed through my noodle.
Obviously, the first thought was: Which one of my crazy exes is messing with me this month? Probably Kayla, she did seem upset after she conveniently ran into me at the grocery store and I reminded her about the restraining order.
Thought Two: Maybe it’s one of the good-kind-of-crazy exes and she’s still in there waiting on me to play seven minutes in heaven with her. Or better yet, Kim Kardashian has finally come to her senses and looked me up.
After I came down from that cloud, I was retracing my steps from the previous night. It has been a while since my last drink or drug, right? Man, I don’t want to have to pick up another white chip.
Thought Four: By this time, I had noticed my wife’s trunk and driver’s side door was slightly open as well, so maybe there was a little B&E action happening in the neighborhood last night.
Sure enough, someone (not ruling out an ex or someone else that needs a white chip) had broken into our cars and jacked my Pioneer radio and our GPS. “Praise the Lord!” I exclaimed. That deck had been giving me problems ever since I got it and that GPS was about five years old and the maps were all out-dated. “Good thing I got that Snoopy insurance, charge it to the gang!” I then went back in, explained the situation to my good- kind-of-crazy wife and left for work. The best part was they didn’t bust any windows getting into our rides! So I placed the call to the police on my quiet ride in to work and they told me to just call back on my way home so an officer could meet me out at the house to file a report. I then began quizzing the girls at work as to their whereabouts last night between the hours of 9 p.m. – 5 a.m. and if they had witnesses that could attest to their stories. No good leads there. All day at work I was daydreaming about the new stereo I was going to purchase with Charlie Brown’s money and looking up reviews on the newest GPS devices on the market. I followed the cops’ orders and called after work and around the time the officers arrived, I had decided what new toys to acquire.
“Good news sir, we have suspects in custody and they had a lot of stolen property. Can you describe your stereo and GPS?” asked the officer. After describing the stolen items, I learned they were indeed waiting at the station on the other side of town and could be picked up the following day. “Well what’s the good news then?” I mumbled since my Christmas-in-February dreams had just been stomped out. You win again Charlie Brown, you win again. “Excuse me sir?” asked the cop. “Nothing, glad you caught the perps,” I stated coolly since I have watched COPS on TV (so I can keep up with my family) and am familiar with their lingo. The officer then explained, “Normally we don’t catch the criminals and you don’t see your stuff again. But since we did, we would like to try building a strong case against the suspects. This means the CSI van will be coming by to crime-scene your driveway and do their thing.” By this time there were four cops standing around in the driveway and I said “Cool,” to which one replied, “Yeah, like the TV show,” to which I replied “I hope they don’t find a bunch of semen.” It got a little chuckle out of the younger officer but the others didn’t seem too interested. After that bombed, I walked back toward the house and wondered ‘maybe they thought I meant my semen instead of the suspect’s semen.’ Surely they knew I was talking about the suspect, but maybe not since it was just a simple B&E. Should I go back and tell them whose semen I was referring to? No, I better not give them any reason to start a new investigation causing them to enter the house and check into my browsing history.
An hour later two CSI vans showed up and three attractive lady officers got out and start snapping pictures and dusting for prints. Being the willing-to-help kinda guy I am, I asked them a few background questions and also if they needed my prints or a sample of my baby batter to check against anything they found in the car. “No thanks sir, we’ve got all we need. Thanks for your cooperation,” the lady CSI agent-in-charge stated with a look of disapproval. “They didn’t need a sample,” I sadly told my wife when I went back inside. “Well, I do,” she said using her sexy voice.
The happy end!
Ravens “Nevermore”, Still People Hear More on the News About Lindsay Lohan Than They Do About Chris Kyle’s HEROIC Life and His Tragic Death... Which Reminds Me: Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez Should Just Draw Straws on a Murder-Suicide Pact and Save Us From Having To Hear About Them Breaking Up and Getting Back Together Again.
Column by: Abbott
"But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore." – Edgar Allan Poe
Crangrats to the Baltimore Ravens on a job almost not-well done! It was like a Civil War out there. Two score and seven years ago our NFL fore-bearers brought forth on this continent a new pro-bowl. Conceived out of the love of the game and dedicated to TV commercials. Now we just recently (yesterday night) were engaged in a great Civil War-like superbowl, testing whether or not this bowl may prove self evident that all the best commercials are during this game. (and the half-time shows are slowing regaining their reputation).
Can you imagine what these people had to go through emotionally? A mother torn between having two sons on opposing sides as brother against brother conflict reigned and both knew only one could ultimately be victorious in the end. Guys from all over the country facing off against others who shared the same cultures, spoke the same language and lived in the same nation. Sweat and blood decorated the field while anxious hearts raced as the black guys were placed on the front lines while the white guys sat safely on the bench. An American Civil Sport.
Now, as I digress from “civil” wars, sports and words – we come to the slow anit-Darwinism (de-evolution) to the white-trash of the celebrity world person of the year: Lindsay Lohan. Who cares? She is in the news often for being in court – out of court – in court – out of court – her movie is bad, her behavior was disturbing on set and back in court again….
To the free press of America: There’s a hell of a lot more going on in the world – even in entertainment news… Why do you keep telling us every little detail of this person? Do you want to entertain us with things that don’t matter? You do? Okay then put something on which I actually enjoy that would normally be boring but isn’t – Such as Duck Dynasty. They make everything entertaining. Do me a favor: If they ever go to court or make a real horrible movie or wreck their car or steal a necklace or go to court, again, then PLEASE TELL US! They are way more exciting than her.
Now to the serious matter.
What really does matter, however tragic it may be, is the story of Chris Kyle’s life and death.
Mr. Kyle (I call him that because he deserves it) was a young man who was a Navy SEAL sniper. He served four tours in the middle east and was married with two children. Never mind if you’re a bored child who smokes weed and lives off grandpa’s trust fund and have nothing else to do but protest that he was a sniper who killed 150 of the enemy. If you have a problem with that then get a job and start earning your own paycheck and support a family as he did. I look at it in this way: That he killed 150 terrorist that now are no longer here to try to kill me, my family or my friends.
Chris, you are a hero.
He was a true American hero. He was a patriot. He did what many of you (not all) are too lazy or scared to do. He put his life on the line to serve his country. Ultimately when he put his time into helping a veteran suffering from PTSD re-acclimate to civilian life – it cost him his own life.
Mr. Kyle is not just a hero for serving in the military, but for serving his fellow soldiers and citizens. That’s who should be in the news. More people like him and less of the other.
Which brings me to my final point to complain about: “Biebomez”
I’ll give you a moment to process that word after everything else.
(A moment) ………………………………………… Beiber and Gomez.
Like an ADHD dog playing in the living jumping on and off the sofa/couch. These two bubble children are on again, off again, on again, off again, on – off –on off – on –off – accused of beating his bodyguard – on again, off again, on again – Oh my Lord give me something to beat myself in the head, because running as fast as I can into a wall didn’t knock me out long enough!
Between the “Biebomez” and Taylor Swift’s own relationship issues: Don’t be surprised if your 13 year old children break up with their boyfriends/girlfriends 27 times before the end of the 8 grade school year and then want to go on a trip to Fiji or skiing in Aspen because they think that’s what you’re supposed to do every time you get back together.
If you’re an actual grown-up and your girlfriend does that to you then she doesn’t watch grown-up shows and thinks she’s still young and you need to call that relationship quits. I’m serious. You can’t afford to go to the Caribbean every time she gets pissed off at you for making a “face” that you didn’t actually do, but she says you did, so apparently you did.
At least you’re reading this instead of watching something stupid on TV. See, that makes you a winner just like the Ravens. Sorry Edgar Allan Poe, but not everything is gloomy. Look on the bright side – L.L. must find you inspirational, she seems to be following in your footsteps. Minus your creative talent for writing poetry and actually accomplishing something other than – well, you know.
*** Check out our Sports Column Page for a warning guide on who NOT to watch the Superbowl with this year... or any other year. ***
Don’t Drink and Har-Bowl
column by Max Tweedy
The guys I was watching the divisional finals with… let me try that again. I was watching the game while the other guys at our friend’s house were deciding lottery picks for next years fantasy football draft and arguing over trade allowances, buy-ins, and all the other extremely important decisions that need to be made before the 2013-14 NFL season. However, it got eerily quiet as time ran out and the Ravens celebrated their victory and we sensed what was about to happen. Even though we were a pro-Ravens or maybe more of an anti-Patriot crowd, we were not looking forward to the media circus of Har-Bowl mania that will be shoved down our throats for the next two weeks. “Jim was the stronger speller but John was always better at coloring,” is what one of the guys guessed Mom Harbaugh would be saying while being interviewed by some sports reporter. There’s no telling how many news producers are offering her and Papa Harbaugh thousands of dollars for baby pics and juicy stories of the brothers in their younger days. John has already made a prank call to a radio show that had his mother on and tried to get her to say that she always favored Jim, which is probably true since Jim is the younger one. Jim, to this day, can be seen with a Sharpie around his neck on the sidelines because he’s still trying to prove that he’s just as good at coloring as his older brother John. Another interesting fact about Jim that I learned last week was that he really likes to eat cake during the game and gets pretty impatient and upset with the refs if he doesn’t get it; Check it out thanks to the BLR staff on YouTube.
Wouldn’t it be awesome if the Bad Lip Reading team had its own channel and you could watch the game, a little delayed of course, while they bad lip read for everyone throughout? A man can dream, but until then, at least ask the tough questions in the interviews: “Who’s had more escorts, which kind of porn is each into, which brother’s tramp stamp is cooler, who makes the best appletini?” That would grab some ratings, but I guess we’ll have to hear about each of their ascents to coaching success and how they don’t want it to be about them but about their players… BORING. Not me though. I think I’ll watch “Duck Dynasty” and “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo” reruns until Sunday night and then most likely black out before the game starts, come to in a different state three days later in a Wal-Mart parking lot wondering where I am and how I got to be assistant manager. Probably slept my way up the ladder, just hope I wrapped it up this time, don’t want to get burned like I did after Super Bowl XLIV down in Miami after the Saints won it all and I lost a part of me that I can never get back. My “buddies” said her Adam’s apple looked a little suspect, but me and my pal Jagermeister don’t have time to mess with such details. Did I mention it would get a little awkward?
"Dear you (everyone)",
Column by: Chucky T.
Throughout our lives we will always face hard choices, and we will also be left wondering at times why we do not even have choices to make. Life is difficult, but part of it is determined by our surrounding, our parents, job opportunities, but mostly it is molded and determined by how we handle the events in our lives, good or bad; the way we decide if we are going to be guided by what we feel we cannot control or we have to step up, take the wheel and drive towards our destiny.
Some people do not believe in destiny, fate or whatever you may also wish to call it. My feeling is that destiny, be it real or not, is what WE do with our lives regardless if it is spectacular. Raising a child - who has a child, who invents the cure for cancer, may be the link you have.
We all want self-satisfaction, more than anything we all just need a good job that pays the bills and makes us feel happy and proud to wake up every morning and go to work - that is most important now, but I say just don't think about it for the moment.... Some of the best things in my life have come when I least expected it, and although searching for your purpose is not a bad idea, sometimes we are not always meant to find our purpose as much as it is meant to find us.
For every day that the sun rises - it is another day for you to be one step closer to success - and one day wiser from mistakes. Don't look to a computer for an answer as to what you should do with your life - look to what you already have and say: "How can I make what I already have work better for me?"
Life isn't always about "us" - sometimes it's about those we meet along the way. Although, without us, the story may have never been complete or happen in the way it did.
Feel free to continue looking for a purpose in your life, but remember, some wrong turns ended up being the right way; we just never knew it at the time... Give it time, be patient. Know that you are not alone in your quest for answers.
Remember to smile, because each day you wake up is another day to give it your best.
The book of your life has yet to be completed... Don't try to write the happy ending too early.
- Chucky T.
Wiener and the Poo
Column by: Max Tweedy
I love my little wiener. Actually it’s an average size wiener, maybe even a little big for his age. The sentiment is also shared by wife who loves to cuddle up to the little big guy and play with him.
The wiener referred to here is our dachshund Buddy Love (shame on you for thinking otherwise) and he’s been a part of our family for eleven years now but is starting unfortunately to show his old age. Dachshunds, being low riders by nature, love to root around and were bred to hunt badgers in their prime. Buddy Love was the runt of his litter and one of those dogs that is constantly starving. I can’t get the food in his bowl before he’s inhaled it, thrown it back up, then eaten the spewage. So he’s always watching out for low hanging fruit like a piece of chocolate on the table or gum in my wife’s purse. Another favorite pastime is dragging the wife’s panties out of the hamper and munching on them every morning after we leave for work. He’s also been known to eat some things that he really shouldn’t if you know what I’m saying (number 2's).
We were living in a one-bedroom condo right after we got married and decided it was time to remodel the 30-year-old bathroom. Realizing we would be without a toilet for a few days, we had to game plan for when nature calls. Number ones weren’t really an issue because we had several options and some coverage outside around the grounds of our neighborhood. There is a Harris Teeter right across the street for number two purposes. We didn’t know our neighbors quite well enough to ask for that kind of favor for a few days. Which begs the question, when do you know your neighbors good enough to ask for squatting privileges while your one bathroom is being remodeled?
Being a regular guy and growing up near the woods, I have plenty of experience being out of range of indoor plumbing and have used nature’s toilet paper (leaves) to handle my business. Some when the morning constitution called, I took a little TP out to a row of cedar trees where I could hide between them and the 7-foot brick wall that blocks the traffic view. Things went smoothly, I ran back in to get the morning started, fixed some breakfast, fed Buddy Love and he was begging to go outside. The wife is not a morning person and love to sleep in, so she did just that, not having the slightest idea the rude awakening she was about to receive.
Buddy and I started out, with me checking my phone and not paying to much attention to my dog who’s on his leash, when I turn to look and we’re where I just was a little earlier and Buddy is chowing down on shoo shoo. He’d gotten down one log and started on another when I yanked him away and started freaking out trying not to make eye contact with him either as it took our friendship to a really weird level. I tried to forget about it and we finished our walk and went back inside to really get our day started. But Buddy has that cute habit anytime we come back inside of getting a little loving burst of energy and running around and wanting to play. So upon entering he got his post walk treat as usual, bounded for the bedroom where we have a platform bed that he can easily jump on and cuddle with us, and it’s about this time the memory of his recent steamy snack came flooding back.
Our condo was pretty small and he was already crossing the threshold to the bedroom when the thought came from the shoulder angel ‘I need to stop him or he might get to my wife’ but then the louder more convincing shoulder devil said ‘let’s see how this plays out.’ During the time I was listening to both arguments, Buddy Love had already hopped right up on the bed and began licking my sleeping beauty of a wife all over her face to wake her up. “No, Stop Buddy!” I yelled but the damage was done. That was followed by “Uh, morning honey, you may want to wash your face pretty soon, Buddy just went Godzilla on my poo during his walk.” She stomped off to the kitchen sink giving me stink eye as she passed and washed up, came back to punch me and I accepted it without comment, knowing this was going to fun to tell people about later.
Gotta love your wiener!
What would Caesar Say About Thanksgiving?
Quick Snip-it by: Chucky T.
Soon families will gather inside their kitchens to compete against their friends, neighbors and in-laws (from past Thanksgivings) in a chaos of smoke to claim the title of Turkey King or Queen, by defeating their foe across town in a blaze of burning turkey and casseroles.
Staring each other down like warriors at the river's edge as they proclaim, "Here I abandon peace for war! (Having the family come to them this year instead of the in-laws)... Food, it is I follow! From now on taste is our judge. Hail, Thanksgiving! We who are about to bake and eat, salute you..."
I don't know if Caesar would have said that, but Shakespear couldn't have done better, if I may say so myself.
GUEST COLUMNIST MAX TWEEDY IS BACK AGAIN!
Thanks to the readers for their opinions, both good and bad, for all your unsolicited emails about Max Tweedy’s first Column. Luckily the good greatly outnumbered the bad responses and either way… you’re reading the website. THANK YOU. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is again, this time with his column about “Family Feud”.
- Chucky T.
Column by: Max Tweedy
The concept of family feud is a great one. Two families, teaming up, to compete with one another by answering popular survey questions that Americans were polled about. It turns out though that there is another kind of feud that is sparked inside the homes of viewers who get caught in the crosshairs of inflammatory questions that arise on the show.
Case in point, my wife and I were watching a recent episode with Steve Harvey as the host who I have to say is the best host of that show so far. The question of the first round was “What do you do if you go to a public restroom and there’s no toilet paper?” That is a serious question that we should ask ourselves more often and maybe should be covered in Homeroom somewhere in middle school or high school even(but not at home by your parents because parents shouldn’t have to teach poo scenarios or sex ed to their own children). So do you use a paper towel, no wipe at all, use your hand, wash it off in the sink? All of which were correct responses to the survey question! You may want to be more careful next time you’re in the public restroom and there’s no toilet paper since there’s a good chance someone has made one or more of these decisions.
But the next question is where it got intense, because as soon as Steve Harvey slyly asked “What do guys not want to think about while they’re making whoopee?” I knew I was headed down a slippery slope because my ever so loving and curious wife was sitting right next to me wrapped up in the show along with myself. My first instinct was to change the channel but that would have sent up red flags more than facing the music. I was trying to think of answers to the question and keep it result focused, but knowing in the back of my mind that I was sensing some awkward questions from the spouse in the near future. So I got a couple correct, like your mother and work, and then the first team strikes out and the second team capitalizes to earn the point with the response of ‘your wife’(second most popular answer!).
I can more readily sympathize with the tsunami victims because at that moment I could not only see but feel the wave coming and there was nowhere to go. “Hey babe, what do you think about while we’re making whoopee?” asks my wife. Sometimes brutal honesty can be more brutal than honest. “Well there are several characters that make appearances, some real, some imaginary, some exes, some just for a few seconds, some have reoccurring roles…” And as I look over to see her jaw dropping and a single tear welling up in her right eye, I immediately realize that I created an even bigger tsunami that has turned towards her, I had to say “Just kidding baby, you know you’re all I think about while we ‘dooz’ it.”
This is when being a sarcastic goof can work to your favor because to this day she wasn’t sure if I was just making that first part up just to get a rise out of her or if I was serious and then trying to play it off.
Probably the best way to find out would to be ask one hundred Americans to take part in a survey and have the top 3 answers on the board.
Craving Bananas in the Big Apple
Column by: Max Tweedy
During my last trip to New York City the spouse was around 11 weeks pregnant, with our first child, and sent me out from our hotel around 10:30 pm to hunt down some bananas as that was her craving for the moment.
Being an adventurer and a husband of the year quarter-finalist, I set out down 28 to the nearest deli on a mission. After a minute walk, the bananas were found and purchased so I returned to our trendy, barely lit hotel which had DJ Huggy Bear spinning in the lobby that night. As I walked back in, Salt n Pepa was on blast causing me to take a seat by myself in the lobby to groove for a few tracks before heading back to my pregnant wife with the bananas.
As Huggy Bear transitioned to some De La Soul a cute petit blonde young lady sat down in the chair to my left. She seemed a little nervous and had some four inch glittery heels on her feet so being the southern gentleman that my mother raised me to be, I spoke up and said “Nice shoes” to which she replied “Thanks! Bananas, that’s kinky.” That freaky comment led to an explanation of why I had bananas on my person in the hotel lobby and it also increased my interest in what else she had to say and she didn’t let me down. For the next five to ten minutes, I just had to ask a follow up question or two while she first opened up and started to mention her failed pregnancies and cravings during her career as an adult film star and then her stint with Charlie Sheen while he was breaking down in front of the nation. My interest was peaked to say the least, and I’m not sure if it was maybe cocaine or that she just needed to dump on a stranger, but she continued to go on about how her ex-boyfriend, a blood diamond dealer, just happened to be staying at the hotel also and that she was later heading over to one of her favorite NBA star’s place to hook-up and then see what would happen from there. Being from a small southern town, this was a first for me, and I was starting to wonder a little too much about where this might be heading and then luckily, her ex comes walking out of the elevator and she gets up to go greet him with a hug and I took the opportunity to take the bananas and head back to the 11 floor where my hungry wife was innocently waiting for me and some fruit.
The elevator ride was a long one since I was trying to figure how to frame this story to my extremely loving yet hormonally overdosed wife. I had been married long enough to know I had to lay it out there right away to remain transparent and avoid a really sketchy situation later, but I didn’t want to seem too excited and at the same time it’s hard to downplay that one too much or it seems like you’re up to something. And to boot, anytime I smile, I have a Grinch that stole Christmas grin, which makes it nearly impossible for people to take me seriously and not suspect me of some kind of shenanigans.
Taking all this into consideration, what I should have said was “Honey you’re not going to believe this” and explain the story in a sense of wonderment and incredulousness of a random bizarre encounter that didn’t do anything for me physically or emotionally. Instead, the thirteen year old boy inside of me won out and I blurted out with that Grinch grin “I just met a porn star and I think she liked me!”
I then went on to insist we look her up to verify her stories and it turns out she wasn’t making stuff up. I was wondering if this was the right time to maybe mention that we could invite her up to the room and she and my wife could meet and probably want to get a little ménage started. But as I looked over at my beautiful wife who I adore, and who also is a stuffer and non-confrontational, I could tell that she was pushing her night nausea aside and had begun to ask herself a lot questions about what is going here. She’s doing her best not to grab the nearest sharp object and take this experience to the next level, so I start trying to go into the calming, let’s discuss this, let me try that again mode.
Thankfully, the nausea was strong enough to distract her for the most part and I was able to dig myself out of the hole for the moment. I was a little nervous about going to sleep that night and could tell this wasn’t the end of this, and as of today(two months later), it is still not the end of it. However, I’ve been distracting her with several other shenanigans so I believe she’s almost let go of that one…
- Max Tweedy
Jobless Millionaires, Deadly Sandwiches & Poop in the Driveway.
column by: Chucky T
It occurred to me the other morning as I was watching the news while sipping on my coffee and eating a bagel that I one day wanted to have children to love, provide for, teach all that I know and help them to grow to be a better person than myself. Then, I suddenly realized that this was probably along the line of why my parents wanted to have children and hope that my life and the lives of all the people in my generation made a better mark on the world than they did in their time. Are they disappointed? Probably.
In my parents’ generation they protested everything. Many people in their generation listened to classic 60’s and 70’s rock, dressed like hippies and some were pot smokers, who went to college and later became stiff technological robots who had no value of the dollar bill. Their original plan was to change the world for the better by “peace, love & harmony” and while they did promote peace throughout most of the seventies and eighties and made love and listened to great musical harmony (I for one am a big 70's Southern rock fan) they also lived in the era of greed, horrible aerobic work-out clothes big hair and expansive credit card debt. (Also known as the 80’s).
Then the 90’s came along and we toned it down to “Whatever” attitudes, grunge clothes, casual dining and the internet. Were we progressing as a society while my generation entered the scholastic challenge of middle school and/or high school? It sure seemed that way.
When the 21 century rolled around it was time for everyone to go to college, get a good job, take out a mortgage we couldn’t afford (our parents said it would work out for us) and white people and black people said "hello” in the morning because we lived next door in the same white-collar, middle-class, family-starter suburb.
Then one day, out of the blue, in the post-modern world of the high-tech future known as the second (2nd) decade of the 21 century – after the horrific events of 9/11 began to cool in our brains and the war in Iraq had come to a close and the war in Afghanistan began to wind down… something happened…
No, not the sinking economy – that had been going on for four years by this point. Something else happened. I no longer felt ashamed that my generation wasn’t as good as the previous one but began to think that the previous generation was responsible for my generation being such complete morons when it came to money, social relationships, sexual responsibility and government.
After wondering if my parents were disappointed in my generation I realized that there is no way on God’s still somewhat green earth that we could be a disappointment in their eyes when we were born from their bodies, educated by their wisdom and learned our skills from their own education. We were just like them, except with a laptop and iPhone. Complete idiots... "Version 2.0"
Here’s my proof: An ABC report by Lyneka Little | ABC News – says…
A new report shows that some 2,400 millionaires received unemployment insurance benefits during the economic downturn, a number that has caught the attention of politicians who funded extensions of benefits for up to 99 weeks as the economy crumbled.
In 2009, 2,362 millionaires received unemployment benefits, down from 2,840 the year prior, according to a study from the Congressional Research Service, a non-partisan arm of U.S. Congress that provides policy and legal analysis. Of the 2,362 more than 1,000 receiving unemployment benefits had a household adjusted gross income of $1.5 million in 2009.
The report titled "Receipt of Unemployment Insurance by Higher-Income Unemployed Workers" found that 0.02 percent of tax filers that received unemployment benefits in 2009 were millionaires. A total of $20.8 million in unemployment benefits went to this group.
"It sounds scandalous when you hear that millionaires are going to collect unemployment insurance," Bill Frenzel, guest scholar at the Brookings Institute and former Republican member of Congress, told ABC News."On the other hand, millionaires get unemployed too and have made payments into the unemployment insurance."
Most of these people are not my age. If your under 33 and making a million and went on welfare – then – whatever. I give up. Most of these people are in their 40’s – 60’s.
See my point? Next topic: Deadly Sandwiches.
Fox news reported 10/02/12 on a man who supposedly attacked his wife with a sandwich during an argument. This man, in his 50’s, shoved a sandwich in his wife’s face during a screaming match and she called the police and had him arrested for assault with a deadly sandwich. Do you think they have grown children who learned from their every move? More than likely.
See my point? Which brings me the circle of life in my point #3 in how we are not any different and once I have kids to just hope for the best:
I was walking my dog this morning. One is five years old and potty-trained and the other is 10 months old and we’re still working on that – among a few other things.
I was outside walking down the driveway with my five year old dog to the bushes to poop. After a while of sniffing around she led me back to the driveway where she proceeded to poop right there in the paved driveway. I should have quickly said “No! We don’t do that there! You know better!”
… But I didn’t. I just watched as she pooped on the driveway and felt very disappointed in my “Child” (dog). I can’t really blame her. She learned everything from watching me.
- Chucky T
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