Sharing knowledge with you, the reader

Once again it's time to share with you some of the things I've learned in life. Some of the things I haven't learned include how to find a woman with whom to grow old; how to earn a livable wage; and how to take care of my body. But I'm not going to dwell on negatives today.

What I've learned

-There isn't a human emotion, regardless of how nuanced and complex, that can't be trivialized and cheapened by the music of Phil Collins.

-No matter what hour of the day you visit a White Castle, at least one person in the restaurant would end your life at the slightest provocation.

-If a menacing redneck says "I'd hate to have to kick your ass," rest assured there's nothing more he'd rather do.

-People grow rather attached to their collectible plates from the Franklin Mint and don't appreciate it when a large, tall, drunk person, say...defecates on one.

-When a girlfriend tells you she'd like you to be more decisive, don't say "I've decided which one of your sisters I'd rather bang."

-Never argue with a man standing on a streetcorner reading from the Book of Revelations.

-If there's a long, long line at the Barber Shop but an old barber wearing a bad hairpiece has an open chair, pick up a year-old magazine and wait with everyone else.

-Ladies, if you go out on a date with a man who wears a "Git R Done" t-shirt, he will impregnate you even if you don't have sex with him. It's the way they repopulate their species, girls; there's nothing you can do about it. And if the shirt is sleeveless, you're having twins.

-Releasing a popular album in 1982 and being able to moonwalk does not make up for being a child molester.

-All of your heroes are whores.

Well, I don't want to overwhelm anyone with too much knowledge, so I'll save the rest for a later date.

Happy (bitch encounter at Starbucks) Holidays

I was at the mall on Monday, late afternoon, and I decided to try to give myself a little holiday spirit by drinking an eggnog latte from Starbucks. I realize this seems like a superficial way to get in the mood for Christmas, but it was the best I could do on such short notice. I don't have children and I work at a liquor store, so seasonal cheer doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to others. I'm sorry, okay?

Anyway, a fake blonde woman and her fake blonde teenage daughter ordered their drinks before me. I paid for my eggnog latte and moved over to wait patiently for the finished product.

A few minutes later I hear: "Grande eggnog latte at the bar." I assume it belongs to Goldilocks and/or her hellish spawn, but they both shake their heads "No" so I walk up to claim my holiday spirit-giving elixir.

My hand is almost around the "Holiday edition" red cup when the woman hisses at me, "WE WERE FIRST."

"Did you order an eggnog latte?" I asked.

She replied, "NO."

"Well then, do you mind if I have this one?"

I took the drink and didn't throw it in her face, melting her botoxed cheeks in the process, but I really wanted to. Holiday cheer my ass. I guess I'll have to turn to my old friend bourbon.

Celebrities Against Racism

Celebrities crack me up. I guess having everyone up your ass all day and night can lead to a nasty case of hubris, but sometimes they defy logic with their sense of self-importance.

When Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic tirade was revealed, Rob Schneider took out a full page ad in variety saying he would never work in a film with Mel Gibson. This is the Rob Schneider from such films as The Hot Chick and The Animal. When the fuck was he going to work with Mel Gibson? Was Mel scheduled to direct the last installment of the Deuce Bigalo trilogy? Was Rob Schneider going to play an evil druglord in Lethal Weapon 5? Shut up and make your horrible films, Rob. We know Mel Gibson is a Jew-hating fuck. We don't need your c-list input.

Hey, I'd like to announce publicly that I'm not going to date Jessica Alba because Fantastic Four was such a pile of shit. Ooh, I'm really taking a stand here.

The latest example of Celebrities Against Racism comes from Jamie Foxx. He threatened to beat up Michael Richards for his racist rant at a Los Angeles comedy club. Obviously, what Richards said (and what Mel said) was ignorant and stupid, but Jamie Foxx is just a fucking doucebag.

Is Jamie going to take time out from his busy schedule of thinking he's Ray Charles to fight racism one bigot at a time? Is he going to stop wearing sunglasses indoors long enough to pound every hater in America? Why stop at Kramer? Shouldn't Jamie be going after Mark Fehrman? What about Senator (until January) George Allen? Shouldn't he risk a lengthy prison sentence by punching a sitting U.S. Senator? If he's that serious about beating up the racists, he'll burst into the next joint session of Congress and give Allen a C-Span-televised ass whuppin'.

Sir Ben Kingsley won an Oscar, but he doesn't think he's Ghandi. He doesn't make public appearances or appear on Kayne West CDs as Ghandi. Tom Hanks hasn't played Forrest Gump since the film was completed. Why is Jamie Foxx still milking this Ray Charles thing? Oh, it's because he's an arrogant ass, that's why. Yes, Michael Richards is probably a racist, but that doesn't excuse Jamie Foxx from being a bully and a self-obsessed prick.

A god damn shame

I have seen the worst website on earth that doesn't involve snuff films or child pornography. It is www.petsinuniform.com

Quite simply, a pathetic person sends his/her pet photo to these charlatans and they send back an image of the animal in full military costume.

Please, if you have enough money to pay for this bizarre service, mail the cash instead to a worthy charity. Then kill yourself.

This is about a gazillion kinds of wrong. It could lead to awkward moments at family gatherings:

Grizzled uncle: "Oh, that uniform your hamster is pictured in? I was wearing one just like that when I had my legs blown off."

Clueless tramp: "Doesn't Mr. Squiggles look precious?"

I guess this is what our military men and women have been fighting for all of these generations; so vile scavengers of human stupidity can profit from such an empty endeavor.

"Well, my dog didn't exactly storm the beach at Normandy as much as he scampered upon it."

Imagine a soldier coming home from three duties in Iraq to see a photo of the family feline wearing his uniform.

"Do you like the picture of Morris, honey?"

"Yeah. He kind of reminds me of that Roberts kid before he got shot in the face."

STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!

Thanksgiving Ramblings

I think it's cruel to outfit the turkey with a miniature pilgrim hat before chopping his head off with an axe, but cake is good. Everyone likes cake.

-This year, since my brother and sister-in-law are still in Vegas and my aunt and uncle are in Florida, my mom, my cousin and I went to the fabulous Claudia Sander's Dinner House in Shelbyville, KY to eat their Thanksgiving Buffet. Someone said they were going to serve 2,000 people today. And you think you have dishes to clean.

-Since my brother doesn't have a blog, I'm going to tell the story of his worst Thanksgiving experience. One year he had just taken a job in Ohio; he was new to town and didn't know a soul. Since he had to work late on Wednesday and early on Friday, coming home for Thanksgiving wasn't much of an option.

He ended up eating Thanksgiving dinner, alone, at a Ponderosa "steakhouse" in Chillicothe, Ohio. He lived in nearby Waverly, Ohio, but all of the restaurants there were closed, so he had to drive to dine in such opulence. For those unfamiliar with the Ponderosa chain, it's a discount steak place not exactly known for turkey and all the fixin's.

In my brother's words: "The desperation in the restaurant was thick, my friend. I would have committed suicide, but I couldn't slit my wrist with the provided plastic spork." I'm sure he's having a better time today.

-Last Thanksgiving I ate lunch at a Fatburger in the Green Valley Ranch casino. I blogged about it and everything.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope no matter where life has you this year, you're spending Thanksgiving with people who care about you.

UPDATE: Perhaps I spoke too soon. I just got off the phone with my brother. The turkey he pre-ordered from Von's Supermarket was rancid when he cut into it, so he's spending Thanksgiving afternoon driving around Vegas looking for a bird that won't kill everyone who eats it.

Apparently, I'm Hill Folk

Last night I was talking to a new friend of mine from Chicago, and the conversation was going fairly well...until she more or less told me I talk like a hillbilly.

There are people in Louisville who have much more pronounced accents than mine, but she wasn't talking to any of them. Everything I said, no matter how witty and urbane, registered in her ears as the cornpone mumblings of Jethro Bodine with a mouthful of grits.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. A very nice blogger from Los Angeles implied that my voice was straight out of a lost episode of Hee Haw. When I lived in Las Vegas I was often treated like someone who just enjoyed coitus with his sister.

All of this has led me to do a serious amount of soul searching. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't anything I can do, short of adopting a phony non-regional accent, to quell the judgments regarding my sophistication or lack thereof.

And I'm embracing it. There's moonshine fermenting in the breezeway as we speak, y'all; as far as you know. I'll be regaling you folks with tales from the coal mine, the general store, the swimmin' hole down past the main road, the Dairy Queen where the girl with the cleft palate works, the Jiffy Lube that takes chickens as payment, and Cousin Merl's Bait Shop and Christian Bookstore. Yeeehah!!!

Well, maybe not. Perhaps I'll purchase a voice modification device for my phone, one that'll give me the rich flowing baritone of a professional newsreader. I'm not giving up my bourbon or fried fish sandwiches, though. No matter what.

A Fat Guy's Fast Food Primer

When it comes to dining out, I'd much rather eat at a nice locally-owned restaurant; or order pizza. However, sometimes I'm in a hurry, funds are low, and I need something quick and relatively cheap. No, I'm not talking about girls directly to your room 24/7. I'm talking about fast food. This, based on years of stuffing my face, is my incomplete guide to fast food establishments. Average is boring, so I'm only naming the best and the worst places.

Awesome

In n Out Burger - By far the best, but they only operate in California, Nevada, and Arizona. It's a crime that they deny their tasty goodness to the other 47 states. Selfish bastards.

Chic-Fil-A - Holy shit, this is good chicken. All other chicken sandwiches suck root compared to this.

Sonic - A step below the first two, but great nonetheless. They have girls who skate out to your car, and the ones in small Southern towns will blow you for some Crystal Meth.

White Castle - I don't know if I've ever been inside a White Castle while sober, but when your taste buds are wearing beer goggles this place might just save your miserable life.

Fucking Terrible

Hardee's/Carl's Jr. - For whatever reason this crap palace has a different name on the west coast, but apocalypse on a bun by any other name is still deadly.

Taco Bell - This may cause some controversy, but I think Taco Bell is horrible. I hate that they invented the word "melty" to describe their culinary ass-rapes.

Jack in the Box - They have funny commercials to make people forget that their e coli burgers killed several children in 1993. E coli turning kid's brains to liquid is the second worst thing to happen in '93, right behind the first album from Candlebox.

Long John Silver's - Everything on the menu at this place tastes exactly the same. Even the soft drinks are coated in a thick English-style batter.

The Playstation 3 Disciples

This isn't the Holy Grail, although you would think so based on the attention it has received lately.

For those of you with jobs and/or a family, it's the Playstation 3. Dude, it's like the Playstation 2 only totally better.

On the way to work Thursday morning I stopped at the nearest Starbucks, which happens to be located inside a Target (They're building a Starbucks in the back seat of my car, but it won't have it's grand opening until the first of the year). I saw a bunch of young unemployable layabouts sitting outside of the main entrance, in the rain.

"Hmm," I thought to myself, "Target must be the exclusive vendor for Phish reunion tickets."

NO....according to the incredulous Starbucks employee, these jobless warts on the scrote of society were waiting until the Playstation 3 went on sale at 8am EST the next day.

Damn, it must be nice to not have a job (or have a job that lets you take a week off for nothing) and still be able to afford a six hundred dollar toy.

I thought about "accidentally" driving my car into their line, but I saw Scared Straight when I was a kid, so no way I'm going to prison. If I had the money, I would have just walked to the front of the line at 7:59 Friday morning. What would they have done? Their mystical powers are useless in the real world.

OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!

This is officially the most disturbing thing I've ever heard. According to published reports, O.J. Simpson has written a book entitled If I Did It, in which he describes, "hypothetically", the brutal murder of his ex-wife and Ron Goldman. People who've read excerpts say the descriptions of the murders are unusually gruesome and detailed, as if they were written by, say, the person who actually committed the murders. And here's the punchline: He was paid $3.5 million dollars to write this book.

He also plans to discuss the book and his "hypothetical" descriptions of the murders on a two-night special to be aired on FOX.

This is the motherfucking end of civilization as we know it! This piece of unspeakable filth is being paid more than most people will see in two lifetimes to basically confess to almost chopping a woman's head off. It isn't enough that he got away with killing two people and spends most of his miserable life on a golf course (no doubt still looking for the real killers). Now he's being rewarded for it.

What have we become as a society? I give up. I officially turn my back on civilization. I'm going to disappear into the forest and try to live on berries and edible flowers. I'll either lose a lot of weight or get fatally mauled by a bear. Either way, I won't have to deal with this O.J. Simpson fiasco.

Hey, since nothing is sacred and behavior which was once punishable by death is now richly rewarded, can we look forward to these confessional books?

-Yeah, I Raped the Bitch by Kobe Bryant

-How to Tap that Young Ass by Michael Jackson

Hey, why not? Let's give people money to act like savages. Didn't Robert Blake get away with shooting his wife in the head? Where's his big payday? Granted, a bullet to the melon isn't going to sell as many books as turning someone into a human pez dispenser, so how about a cool $2 million? If you need me, I'll be living in a hollow tree making cookies with the Keebler Elves.

Borat: Not for everyone

On Monday afternoon I saw the Borat movie. I like a Monday matinee because it's cheaper and the theatre is mercifully free of douchebag teenagers having loud cell phone conversations and finger-banging one another in the aisles.

There weren't a lot of people in the theatre, so I took notice of a trio of moviegoers who came in right before the previews started. They were a couple in their sixties and a woman I'm going to assume was the mother of one of them.

Why oh why did they choose an R-rated comedy as their movie of choice? These people should have been at a bingo hall or a shuffleboard tournament, not watching a man brag that his sister was "the number four prostitute in all of Kazakhstan."

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in stunned silence as Borat expressed his love of rape and his hatred of Jews, the three of them got up and left. Of course, they walked so slowly they were exposed to about twenty additional minutes of the film, but they eventually escaped to most likely yell at an employee in that insufferable old person way.

I'd like to think they were there because a prankster recommended the film. "Yeah, take Nana to see Borat. I think Matlock and the Diagnosis, Murder dude are in it. And then go get some Thai food. It's nice and bland, just the way she likes it."

Hey, I'll admit I'm too old for a lot of movies. I'm too old to see any film which features the following:

-a group of teenagers "serving" another group of teenagers.

-a subculture based on driving like a complete ass.

-a small town girl who moves to the big city because, damn it, she needs to DANCE.

-the senseless (and plotless) torture of other human beings for the sick amusement of stupid people.

-a starring role from Lindsay Lohan, Hillary Duff, or Lindsay Lohan. Sorry, she's so awful I had to mention her twice.

-a young couple from different backgrounds/races/socio-economic groups try to keep their love together in the face of overwhelming resentment from family and friends.

There are others, but that's enough for now.

Childhood Memories

When I was a child my favorite fast food restaurant wasn't McDonald's or Burger King or even Kentucky Fried Chicken. My favorite place to eat was Burger Chef. At one time Burger Chef was the second largest hamburger chain in the United States. Unfortunately, their parent company fell on hard times and had to liquidate its most valuable assets, their restaurants. Most Burger Chefs closed in the '80s, with the very last one closing for good in 1996.

This picture, which I found on the internets, is of a sign for the very Burger Chef I used to frequent, located on Eastern Parkway in Louisville. The White Castle restaurant in the background is still open.

I loved Burger Chef. They had their Fun Meal years before McDonald's had the Happy Meal. Apparently the Fun Meal toys that promoted the first Star Wars movie are worth a small fortune.

This isn't a great post but this picture brought back a flood of pleasant memories. What are the places that remind you of your childhood? Come on, share with us...

Yes, that is an employee in a Snoopy outfit standing by the side of the road, waving at passing cars.

Here's to you, grizzled shop-keep

When I was a teenager, I remember going to Chicago one summer. We went to a gift shop near Wrigley Field to buy some useless trinkets and assorted touristy crap. The old man who owned the place was a complete grind; he followed everyone around and shot dirty looks if you stayed in one place for too long. If a patron picked something up he'd say "Hey, are you going to buy that? Staring at it doesn't pay my bills." I remember at the time thinking he was a total dickface.

However, after years of working retail, I've reconsidered my position. I think that store owner had the right idea. Sure, he went too far by being rude, but I'm willing to bet he wasn't that bad as a young man; that his heart was hardened by years of relying on the American public for his livelihood. Gandhi would have been an asshole after a few decades of dealing with customers.

What made him right was his unwillingness to take any shit from people. Oh, I wish I had the power to throw people out of a retail establishment. If any of those fuckers even LOOKED at me funny, they'd be out on their ass.

Today at work, someone dropped a bottle of red wine. While we were mopping it up, an old lady rolled her shopping cart right through it. "Oh, did someone spill some wine?" she asked while her feet were in a puddle of mop water. She was too lazy to walk around the spill.

The old store owner would have screamed "Get the fuck out of my store, you stupid bitch!!" And that's the way it should be!!! I'm tired of "The customer is always right." WRONG. Sometimes the customer is a thoughtless pouch of fuck run-off who should be tossed out on the streets. Why should human garbage be treated the same as good, decent people?

If I owned a business, any business, there would be ground rules:

-No checks. If you even attempt to write a check...get the fuck out!

-No body odor. If you smell like a wombat's vagina...get the fuck out!

-No insulting my workers. If your name's not Don Rickles, and you insult my people...get the fuck out!

-No haggling over the price. This isn't a swap meet. Pay the set price or...get the fuck out!

-Do not say you can get a product cheaper at a competing store that's twenty miles away. Get the fuck out and drive through rush hour traffic to save fifty cents. I don't care.

These rules are just a start, of course. Customers are always finding new and different ways to annoy me.

Oops, she's available again...

Britney Spears made the best decision of her life the other day; at least the best decision since she chose to wear a Catholic school girl outfit in the "...Baby One More Time" video. She decided to dump KFed and get back to the business of making really shitty music. Good for her!

While performing in Chicago last night, Kevin Federline reportedly said "You know I'm a free man, right, ladies? You wanna dance with a pimp?" I call upon all real pimps to kill him immediately.

On second thought, he's a talentless douchebag who spends the money of a worthless whore, so maybe he is a pimp after all.

Anyone who attends a Kevin Federline concert should have their intestines sucked out of their rectum with an industrial strength vaccum. He probably impregnated every female in the first three rows just by leering at them insipidly. And any woman who actually has sex with him should have her vagina sewn shut.

Okay, I'll make an exception for Britney. Her camel toe in this picture is hypnotizing me. I want to do its bidding. I want to build statues in its honor. I want to sacrifice virgins in its name and kill the fatted calf upon its return.

This decision can only help Britney's career. It kind of brings a person down to be married to the most useless human being in recorded history. For Federline, the gravy train just left the station. I wonder what demand there is for a wannabe ganster with delusions of grandeur?

Maybe I can make an introduction that will help him in his new career:

"KFed, glory hole; glory hole, KFed."

Hey, Anne, why the long face?

Anne Northup, Republican Congressman from Kentucky's 3rd District, which includes Louisville, was defeated last night by challenger John Yarmuth.

While I thought it was amusing that a horse face represented the town where the Kentucky Derby is held, I'm glad Anne and her dirty campaign tricks are a thing of the past.

Also, this defeat will allow her more time to spend with our son, Todd Junior.

Thank God It's Over

I voted Tuesday afternoon, and although the polls have just closed in the east, I'm prepared to declare a winner: ME! Because I'm free from being bombarded with campaign ads. For the past two months, I've had the worst aspects of human nature highlighted in prime time. Negative messages that speak to me like I'm brain dead are not a way to get me enthused about the political process.




This is a bi-partisan hatred I'm talking about, folks. These people should be ashamed of themselves and we should be ashamed for allowing it to happen. Negative ads are produced because they work.

I'm a Democrat but I don't really think some freshman Republican Congressman from Indiana is responsible for Mark Foley (Yes, since I live across the river from Indiana, I have to see their bullshit, too). But come on, a Democratic challenger from Kentucky doesn't want Bin Laden to rule the world. Really, he doesn't. If you think he does, please kill
yourself.



I was also upset when a Republican with no military experience guestioned the patriotism of his opponent, a retired army colonel. He stole that trick from Cheney and Rumsfeld. In case you forgot, Cheney received a physical deferment from the military because he had a defective vagina.





There was some joy this election day, however. I work at a liquor store, and in accordance with Kentucky state law, no alcohol can be served or sold while the polls are open. Isn't that the dumbest law ever? But standing in our customer-less store putting away deliveries while disappointed alcoholics beat on the door demanding to be let in, despite the numerous signs saying we can't open until 6, fills me with unbridled joy. Go away, social parasites! I like to drink, but I can wait till 6 and so can you, you god damned rummies. One guy yelled at me as I walked to my car at the end of the day. "I drove here from (some godforsaken dry county). Since when have you been closed on election day?"

I ignored him. I wanted to say "Since Daniel Cunting Boone wrote the fucking law, hillbilly." But his alcohol deprivation was punishment enough.

Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer

Midget stripper Tiny Tina is coming to Louisville's Deja Vu strip club. I couldn't find a picture of Tiny Tina, but I did find Britney Spears partying with two midgets who may or may not be in the adult entertainment industry.

I was seriously thinking of going to Deja Vu, just to see an honest-to-god freak show along with the usual compliment of titties.

I ultimately decided against it, because I don't want every redneck in town to take a camera phone picture of Tiny Tina standing next to me. The freak show didn't seem so appealing when it occurred to me that I would be one of the freaks.

I also thought it would kind of mess with Tiny Tina's mind if I walked up to her, but how do you shock a little person who takes her clothes off for a living and has most likely done porn? A midget who's been double-penetrated by men in leather hoods isn't going to be distressed by some cornfed cracker who's as tall as an NBA shooting guard.

Good luck in your chosen profession, Tiny Tina. You're more than just a stripper; you're a living, breathing curiosity. Perhaps upon your death you'll be immortalized at a Ripley's Believe it or Not museum. A girl can always dream...

The Day the West Virginians Came to Town

It isn't every day that a native Kentuckian such as myself, who grew up in a neighborhood full of hicks, is absolutely flabbergasted by a level of hillbilliness rarely seen in civilized society. But then again, it isn't every day that thousands of West Virginians come to town.

The liquor store where I work is near several hotels and an interstate, so fans in town for the West Virginia-Louisville game flocked there in droves. All day long peckerwoods in Mountaineer garb bought all of our cheapest whiskey and vodka. I'm sorry, but I hate people from West Virginia. One guy, who seemed to be covered in soot and whose eyes were so close together he could have worn a monicle as eyeglasses, was sporting a sweatshirt that didn't cover the final one-third of his stomach. Thanks for that visual image, Cleofus.

Last year, when the game was in Morgantown, WV, my friend went and said the locals celebrated their win by burning couches in the street. Yes, they set fire to furniture. In public. They also threw beer on and spat at Louisville fans. These are some classy people.

If anyone from West Virginia is reading this and you aren't a couch burning white trash hillcunt, I suggest you move. And if you are a typical West Virginia fan, it's nice that you have someone who'll read this blog to your illiterate ass.

In case you think this is sour grapes, Louisville beat West Virginia 44-34 to remain unbeaten. And if any couches were torched in celebration, it was done with a sense of irony.

My extremist views

Moderation, I'm convinced, is not the answer for the problems we face. I've decided to embrace extremism. Only through my seemingly insane agenda will we as a society be able to survive. I'm also a fan of hyperbole, in case you haven't noticed. When I'm the undisputed king of the whole cunting world (my official title), these are a few of the ideas I'll be promoting.

mandatory abortion
No, not for everyone; don't be stupid. Who will pay the taxes that provide my obscene salary if we wipe out the entire populace? Quite simply, I decide who has an abortion against her will; so be nice to me, potential childbearers.
Relax, I'm only going to use this if Anne Coulter becomes pregnant.

marriage for gays only
I saw a dreadful political ad the other day wherein a dreadful Congressman accused his semi-dreadful opponent of "voting against traditional marriage." That gave me an idea... I'm actually going to do away with marriage between a man and a woman; only same-sex unions from now on. Why? Because I'm fucking sick of people asking me why I'm not married yet. Soon, if I have my way, I'll be able to respond "Because I'm not gay, that's why."

cock-shaped cigarettes
Smoke 'em if you got 'em, America; but that cigarette dangling from your mouth will soon look exactly like a penis. Guys, how cool will you look taking a long draw from a filtered pecker? And for those of you who love the cock, look how small it is.

death penalty by shovel
All criminals sentenced to death will meet their end from the swift, unmerciful justice of a shovel. However, if the sentence is reversed after the suspect has been killed, then the person or persons responsible for his false conviction (stupid jury, crooked lawyer, incompetent judge) will also be put to death. My guess is this will pretty much spell an end to the death penalty in all but the most clear-cut cases.

if you think we should stay in Iraq, you're going there
Are you convinced we should stay the course in Iraq? Then you won't mind going there to fight (and possibly die) so some of our long-suffering troops can come home. Even if you do mind, you're going anyway, or you'll be shot in the head in front of your family. Those of you who think the troops should come home will be allowed to "Nelson" our newest non-volunteer cannon fodder.

And to think I was going to settle for being a mere Congressman. This is much better! Just the other day I was on a ship and I ran to the front and shouted "I'm the undisputed king of the whole cunting world!" I'm never allowed to take a Carnival Cruise again.