House of Wachs

PROTECT YOUR NUT

A colleague emailed me these propheticesque words yesterday:

McCain beats Hillary 53% to 47% in the general election. His victory will come down to Independents who perceive him as a truth-teller compared to the legacy of the Clintons.

I like Romney but the Repubs, when given a choice, will always give it to the next guy in line- and it doesn't hurt that the next guy in line ain't a Mormon.

I fear two things this year. McCain getting the GOP nomination. This will lead to a Hillary Clinton victory in my view. 

So actually, I'm only afraid of one thing. A Clinton victory. At least I've cut my worries by 50%, and it's not even February.

I've already taken some steps to protect myself  in case of such a dire occurence that a known rapist uses his straw wife to get a 3rd term, and none of them include moving to Europe as those cowardly weasels on the left promised back in 2000 and still haven't done, much to virtually everyone's annoyance in America.

I'm going to blackmail my brother, a top surgeon, who has stated to me that he intends to vote this mess into office and even campaign for her/him. I believe his group is Surgeons Against Salaries.

I know a lot about my brother. I have a lot of dirt on him going back to the time when we were 8 and 7, and he came up with the plan to poison the neighborhood retard, a 10 year old who told us he was friends with Hitler. The tard/bully promised that one call would have us both dead by morning.

The point is, I've got a lot of dirt on my brother and I may have to use it to secure free, off-the-grid healthcare for me and my family in perpetuity. I suggest you start keeping tabs on your favorite physician immediately. Hire a PI now, or wait in a year-long line for your prostate bleeding problems later. It's up to you. Economics don't bend to politics.

I'm also looking into being a pot dealer to secure some cash to send off shore. I wouldn't want be a cocaine dealer because they are more violent and ruthless given the nature of the commodity they are peddling. Pot dealers are probably a more friendly bunch given the tranquilizing properties of their product. Still, I'm only in the listening tour stages of my research into this venture.

Then again, I just may rob drug dealers like Omar on The Wire. He makes a pretty good living and can afford to go to the Carribean for vacations, although I would go with a woman.

Now would be a great time to head over to Buford Highway to establish an alternative identity from the many ID providers that have been helping the American-Mexican community for so many years. It comes in handy when you need to drive to work everyday instead of the alternate days that come with an environmentally safe administration.

Another thing that puzzles me is what is it about Mormonism that makes people think America won't vote for one for president. I don't see anything controversial about them.

A Mormon president wouldn't be all hopped up on caffeine like all the others. What's wrong with that? Maybe he'll get more rest and have time to relax and think about the issues more clearly instead of being twitchy from colas and coffee.

I'm voting for Romney in the primary because he's white. Why not?  I think America is ready for a really white president, and Mormons are the whitest of white people.

Romney. He's my wigger!*

_{*Until a Jewish candidate comes along.}

ISSUES AND NO ANSWERS

The Omaha mall shooting. Let's see...

From the woman who took the gunman into her home after he was booted from his.

He was depressed, and he had always been depressed," [Debora Mauroka-Kovac] said. "But he looked like he was getting better."

So much for her judgment. Put her on the 9th Circuit.

From USA Today:

The shooting happened not long after President Bush left Omaha, where he had arrived for a fundraiser.

...which has absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand. But thanks for the update, pressie. How could I possibly make an informed opinion without your aid?

Besides the violence and it's utter pointlessness, the thing that scares people most is the realization that, despite the relatively safe, free, and orderly country we've got going, we also have millions of irrational time bombs walking around who cannot find comfort in living.

As much as we find great parlor sport in our pop psychology---"Oh, he has issues"-- and debate and formulate policies to prevent future such incidents, we know full well that even the greatest minds in the world still have only a rudimentary knowledge of the human mind in it's functions and dysfunctions. You're on your own.

I don't know what the local laws are in Omaha, and I'm sure the swiftness made self-defense moot, but I'm surprised that someone in an entire mall during the busy season didn't attempt to fire back. Is that a function of panic or legal culture? Probably both.

PEOPLE PEOPLE

I'm not a people person. I'm a person who is interested in people. There's a difference. The former is immersive, the latter is coldly observant.

That's why I read..."PEOPLE!"

A whole magazine filled with...PEOPLE! Pages and pages of....PEOPLE! doing stupid things.

Carrie Underwood has bad luck with guys? No, the problem is that guys have no luck with her. Put out, sweetie. In Oklahoma, serial dating will drop you on the social ladder. I get that. But not where you are, now.  Just do it.

Jeeeesusssss, take my leeeeeegs!

Spread them wiiiide a paaaaart.

Thank you.

Kanye's mom makes me weep. She just wanted to look nice without having to exercise and diet and all that bother, and she chose a quack based on the recommendation of Queen Oprah of Tennessee. Now she's dead. I don't think she chose wisely, but I don't think her choices demand a death sentence.

Even in the hands of a skilled practitioner, lipo is barbaric. All this medical technology at our disposal and we're still shoving vacuum sticks in people to thin 'em out like cavemen poking an ant hill. Lipo has encouraged the consumption of more calories, not less.

Celine Dion thinks that's her son? That's because she's a robot built in the 90s on an old operating system which had issues with gender recognition. She was about to be recalled and rebuilt when Titanic hit it big, and they let the recall slide because she was needed in Vegas by her anxious financial backers.

That is actually the world's first asexual childbot built by Texas Instruments. Excuse me. My fail. It is the first asexual childbot built on a LINUX platform, and it shares a plug with their golf cart at night in the garage.

I did a double take on this one. First, LACI Peterson was missing, and her husband was the suspect. Now we have STACY Peterson missing and her husband is the suspect.

I'd hate to be Kacey Peterson right now.

If that's your name, RUN, HONEY! Drive to Cincinnati on a snow white Christmas Eve and stay there.

YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK

Here's a real annoying comment on a previous entry here at the HOW from a couple days ago. This one.

See the picture of the chupacabra with the snaggle tooth? Here's what "Danny"--probably a clever alias--said about that photo.

That tooth on the right has Wachs written on over it.....ROFLMAO

First of all, it doesn't. I'll get to that in a moment.

Second of all, even if your comment was true, "DANNY," it is highly unlikely that it rises to the level of humor where anyone would roll about the floor as if he were consumed with flame, and laughing hard enough for his glutes to fail.

It's more like ROFTBMOA. Rolling On Floor Being My Own Audience, a.k.a .masturbation.

As for the first part, 99% of the Wachs Teeth Project is finished. Here are the results of that trial.

Yeahhhhh, ran out of budget before the nose hairs. Sorry. Next payday perhaps.

No photoshopping here, folks. Just 100% hand blown porcelain from Peru where orphan children blow on tubes as Mayan dwarf artisans shape the tooth. Not too shabby.

My wife tongue-kissed me...voluntarily...for the first time in 27 years! Now I will burn all prints of The Greenskeeper and erase all memory of my old teeth. Oh, happy day! There IS some joy in Yidville. Mighty Wachsy has glammed out.

PAPA'S GOT A BRAND NEW GRILL

In pain.

Took drugs.

Can't think for long bursts.

Teeth got done today.

Temps put in.

Before (w/special guest, corn)

During

Now.

Ahhh, much sexier.

Oh, I got a new job, too.

No, not with The Pogues.

I'll tell you about it later.

The new look mouth will come in handy.

I'm excited.

Read this to keep you occupied.

Be back soon.

In pain.

GUT INSTINCTS

I went to Quizno's and the line, already slowed by the language barrier and the sandwich maker trainee on the job, slowed even further by a request from the conscious consumer in front of me inquiring if the political refugee behind the counter might have any fat free cheese available?

Fat free cheese. On a sub piled high with smoked meats and secret sauces on a honey wheat roll, in a place where chips are a side dish and a juicy, meaty prime rib sandwich with au jus, onions, and cheese is a top seller.

Where do people get the idea that Quizno's is a healthy food place?

Just because something is assembled and toasted before your eyes doesn't mean it's better for you. It's just more recently assembled, that's all. What nutritional value that has is not known by man.

I'll bet if McDonalds started to let people see them fry the burgers to order, many people would come to believe that McDs is a healthier place to eat despite not changing the caloric content one tasty iota.

I know some people who are pissed that McDonalds doesn't allow them to buy rare burgers. Isn't there enough for your antibodies to do as it is? Is it even possible for matheticians to calculate the amount of time a McDonald's burger could be on a griddle and still wind up rare?

Subway is not a health food store, either. Let me explode that myth. Just because that fat-ass Jared says it helped him lose weight, don't be fooled. What Jared doesn't tell you is that he could have eaten just two pieces of Popeye's chicken every meal for a year and lost weight he was so heavy. Subway has some lean items, but it's not medicinal.

Let's review. Quizno's. Not a health food store. Fast food. Not a health food store. It's fast. It's fun. It's comforting. But it's not a healthy lifestyle. Stop asking for fat-free cheese, you. It slows the line down and makes you look foolish. Go home. I'm trying to buy my family a snack.

Then my mother called to complain about my father.

"Your father almost burned down the kitchen today."

I'm sure.

"OK, I give up. Why?"

"He was making chicken wings."

I have to give my mom credit on this one. Their kitchen at the beach is tiny, and why the hell does he have to MAKE chicken wings there instead of going out and buying some from one of the 80,000 junk food merchants that line the beachfront highway covering 3 states, as any sane person would do?

It would be inaccurate to say that niether of them misses a meal. While it's true, it's more accurate to say that none of their waking minutes misses a meal. They're like a test couple for some misbegotten Ronco product that never saw a store shelf. Meal-A-Minute! The amazing new funnel that helps you eat every minute of the day!

Then George Stein called because my wife got a speeding ticket and it turns out that this is a death penalty case--Clayton County. They're cracking' the whip down there and I can't say I blame 'em---so we need his help. But I was on the bowl, so I called him back.

"Who takes a crap at 6pm?"

"I just did."

"I read an article in Prevention Magazine that says the best time to go is in the morning."

"What is that supposed to prevent?"

"I don't know. It said it's just a better time."

Well, my apologies to the poop schedulers at Prevention Magazine for being such a maverick, but I go when my belly tells me, morning, noon, or night. Here's an article idea for you. It prevents me from crapping my pants, and that's all the prevention I need.

MITT'S GAINER

Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney stopped into a NH diner to speak with elderly meat loaf eaters about health care. He was confronted by a waitress there, who despite being obese, rude, and stupid had a lot of interesting things to say.

Hey, I've got an idea.

I will pay for that womans health insurance if I can come over there every Friday at 2 and punch her in the vagina.

America wins. Arf, arf.

Here's the impression I'm under. The president has nothing to do with your health care. He's not a doctor. And that's lucky for you.

Because if he was, I'm sure he'd insist you run laps. He'd tell you to lose 700 pounds, brush your teeth at least 3 times a week, and lose the cuddly fur from your upper lip.

I don't think you'd like him very much.

So...read some books, get a better job, and get better health care. Because no one will work on your body for free.

Now, then. Get me some pie, and make it snappy....and I want it hot.

Romney did a good job of handling that oaf, but I don't like this Romney for President idea. First, that previous sentence marked the 5th time in a row I've typed his name as "Romeny" first before correcting it. I can't get the hang of that typing move and I don't want to. He's too pleather to lead America and he's from Massachusetts where people speak with an irritating accent and are ugly and lazy. They can't even say the word car correctly.

That whole appearance in the restaurant was a complete waste of time. Jesus!

STATE OF THE ART

I hate to state this publicly for fear of incurring the wrath of my hot-tempered and sexy dermatologist who reads this, but sometimes the risk of skin cancer is worth improving one's physical appearance. It happens so rarely for me to get positive feedback on my appearance, but now I've got a really nice glow to my skin after a week.5 at the beach and a couple of hours of being with a senior citizen in a porn shop. My neighbors are buzzing about my savage tan.

Side note to my hot-tempered, sexy dermatologist--the tan is only on my limbs. My torso and other clothing covered parts are still fish belly white as per your instructions.

I plan on pursuing a pro-tanning agenda that includes extending the current color level until at least the time my teethwork is finished about a month from now. Oh, how I wish it was done already. What a combo. I'm so excited.

Next time Aunt Bunny calls my parents offering to fix up a Wachs boy with actress Ellen Barkin as she did last week, it'll be me, and not the swarthy, Tunisian-inspired look of my brother Dr. Mike, who despite a weight gain of about 20 pounds in the last year, still can open doors with just a smile, while I still need the aid of attorneys and doctors.

Much to his credit, Dr. Mike kept his integrity by refusing the temptation of Barkin up her 52-year old Hollywood tree just because she's a movie star.

"I've already got a wife and girlfriend. It's enough," he explained to my mom, the pimp, who, by the way, has come up with a great cure for sciatica...leaning against the dishwasher! It really works.

Only 7 more days until Phase 1-Bleaching commences. By September, I'll be going to Kohl's to purchase my robe, pipe, and slippers at their annual Half Off Back-To-School Sale, and hosting wine tastings at my condo with a jazz combo playing in the corner. Look out ladies! I've been watching "Big Love" on HBO lately and getting some big ideas.

It is certainly an antidote for the frustrating act of trying to find meaningful work in the radio business circa 2007, where the idea that skillfully produced entertainment can compete for listeners and revenue hasn't quite caught fire just yet. Here's an interesting email I got from a very talented former colleague:

Wachs--

You still jobless too? I can't seem to find the right gig. In the meantime, I am getting incredibly muscular and I plan to use the muscles for good. My original plan was to use them for evil. Then I saw the new Harry Potter movie and good beats evil. How much can you bench? This is the part of the day where I usually send a half assed tape and resume to Idaho or some other Godforsaken place. But today, I am going to start an internet rumor about Lindsay Lohan. If you happen to hear on the streets that Lohan has seven nipples, then you know who the source is. I have pictures.

I work in a warehouse now. I'm a captain of industry.

Hope all is well,

**SENDER REDACTED**

My response:

I am not jobless. Recently, I helped my wife complete a slide show for our neighborhood swim team. The pay was minimal. Actually, it was zero. Actually, I have yet to be reimbursed by the homeowner's association for the $35 of materials it cost me. So, yeah. I'm not jobless. I'm paying to work. But it's still work, and that makes me a worker. It puts me, too, on the side of good, and not evil.

I admire greatly your work ethic and I will do my level best to help spread this fresh Lohan rumor. In fact, if you read about it on TMZ, Defamer, or Drudge, then you can smile knowing that the juice I have with my industry contacts is still flowing. Perhaps you saw the fruits of my recent work floating the rumors that Lance Bass is gay, and Paris Hilton went to jail, neither of which are true, but generally accepted as true by most people. And get this...I happen to know who Ellen Barkin is dating!!!

I saw that the program manager of our former hangout,**STATION CALL LETTERS REDACTED**, has posted a job for producer of **SHOW NAME REDACTED***, which is odd, due to the fact that they have no shortage of producers on that show, and even their producers have producers.

You may want to apply, but my experience tells me that this job is designed solely to be a conduit of information back to the PD on how to get rid of **SHOW NAME REDACTED**, and their negative return on investment. A mole, if you will, inside a show that lacks no producers. Once that show has been dismissed, you will be discarded. But it's probably worth a good 7 months of pay, not to mention the perks of being able to wear nipple clamps, eat freshly made host turds, and jack off into a cup and eat it, while the hosts whine to the press and their agent about what misunderstood victims they are....all on the air, in the name of great morning radio in **MARKET REDACTED**, the nation's number **MARKET SIZE REDACTED** market.

In the meantime, keep your pimp muscles strong.

So as you see, I have now become a haven of comfort for the similarly afflicted. It's like being a homeless advocate only with less odor. I will accept this burden, and invite other talented radio people in or out of the business currently to seek counsel. I will soothe you. Come bask in my glow.

WACHS BEACH DIARIES '07--CHAPTER 3

Even though the eyes roll when it's said, it is nonetheless true. Peace and quiet focuses the mind like nothing else. If you don't fear your thoughts, it's the only elixir for regrouping. There is a shortage of that here what with 13 people in our vacation group scattered over 3 buildings. One third of the group is teenage girls, which means our group rolls as smooth as a flat tire, and as noisily. Therefore, I have fallen behind in the Wachs Beach Diaries as the ridiculous conversations and multi-lateral bickerings continue well into 2200 hours.

My hot Jappy sister and Mee-Maw Wachs are having a heated discussion by the kitchen. Let's listen:

"Mom. How come you didn't answer your cell phone before? I called you like three times"

"I couldn't answer the phone. I was in a hardware store."

"Were you trying on welding helmets?

"Nancy! Their policy is no cellphones in the store."

"What? Are they landing planes in there?"

"No!....They just don't want them ringing in there."

"I don't understand. Who is incensed at cellphones ringing in a store that sells noisy things? And why would you even pay attention to such an asinine policy? And what are you doing in a hardware store? You can barely walk!"

"Naaaance...ya know what? I don't want to talk about it."

That means "I lost."

Dr. Mike is not a teenage girl, but just as disconcerting. He's becoming less conservative with age. It concerns me at his age that his ethos is still "Why wouldn't a guy?" and believes "because" is a reason.

However, his golf swing today didn't have the same fly-every-hazard, never-say-layup daring. The course we played was a little ridiculous. War Admiral was the name of it, the fairways formerly roamed and grazed upon by the famous racehorse of the 30s of the same name, who was later upset by the even more famous Seabiscuit.

It's a nice place with a Ruth's Chris in the clubhouse, but the course strikes me as the product of an ailment afflicting every sector of the entertainment industry--creating something more out of a desire to impress fellow professionals than the customer.

This course looked like it was designed by status seeking course architects trying to outdo other designers as the most gimmicky and clever. It had giant swales and pot bunkers in the middle of the fairway. It's corruption of principle pure and simple when you build a golf course for the middlebrow hacker that doesn't reward a fairway tee shot of 280 down the center. Worse, my brother-in-law bisected the fairway once, landed on some gimmicky eyebrow shaped ridge, and it kicked near a hazard. A good shot penalized. Ridiculous. We're not on the tour.

I figured Dr. Mike was intimidated by the course layout.

"Nope. It was my back."

I had forgotten that Dr. Mike's club bravado landed him in the surgical ward, this time on the patient side of the scalpel. Last year, he torqued into a big drive and ruptured a disc. Even Tiger admitted on TV that his putting sucked this week because he couldn't shake the memory of the US Open's greens from three weeks earlier, which were quicker than a teenage boy with his best friend's mom. It's not surprising a ruptured disc on a golf swing would conservatize even the most devil-may-care amateur.

"I had this 23-year old nurse come in after surgery and ask me how my pain level was, scale of 1-10. I said 6. She shot me up with Dilaudid. It's the best drug ever invented. Then she petted my hand and said if it got above a 5 again, she would have to give me more. She comes back a couple of hours later and asks what my pain level is. It was about a 3 at that point, but I said 6. She's 23 and petting my arm and Dilaudid is the best drug ever. Why wouldn't a guy? If I could have, I would have had a drip of it in one arm and a drip of viagra in the other and pressed that call button until I came or went.

"Meanwhile, the room is starting to turn blue and a bright blue disc is closing around me. They had to revive me because I got so relaxed I stopped breathing."

"So, you started dying?"

"Yep," with that detached M.D. cool. "It wasn't scary at all like they say in movies. I really wouldn't have minded going at that point."

"Are you glad you're here now?" Somebody needed to pay the Ruth's Chris check, and if he didn't really care too much for life, why wouldn't a guy pick up the check?

"Of course. I don't want to die. I'm just saying it was very pleasant at the time. More pleasant than anything going on."

"Do you believe in god now?"

"No. That's bullshit. I just saw a blue disc."

"What if that was god's blue disc?"

"That was all in my mind."

"How do you know?"

"Because no one else in the room saw the blue disc."

"Who invented the mechanism that gives you one last moment of extreme pleasure before you die?"

"No one. It just happens that way. That's science."

Yes, brimming with inquiry. At least his golf swing is slowing down a bit. Perhaps the rest is coming. You just don't shake the blue disc.

BENOIT BALLS UP

I noticed that most of the individually wrapped Lindt chocolate balls at the checkout desk of Borders have been squished by unsupervised hands. If I were the Border's manager, I would review the security video and match up receipts with the timeline, find the addresses of the miscreants, and throw all the coffee shop trash on their lawn after work. And I would put up a sign next to the candies outlining this procedure explicitly so they know what's going on when they wake up and find Seattle's Once Best covering their lawn jockeys. How do you think Giuliani cleaned up NY? Same thing. The idle hands which are permitted without comment to squish the chocolate balls, will invariably test the limits upward until someone is damaged. Laugh now, but save some of that energy for picking up all the knocked over bookmarks.

This wrestler murder/suicide outrage has got me so emotional I haven't been able to speak for days. The idea that a whole family is just wiped out in an instant.... Even a small one takes years of work to put together and maintain. Man, that's hard to take.

I was listening to the radio this morning on the way to the foot doctor as the local practioners of poorly prepared commentary tried to tackle this problem of rampaging wrestlers. The need to blame and make logic of just plain crazy is always a fun struggle to listen to.

The 99Xcrement morning crew took the position that the wrestler killing his family was a sick thing. I took the position that the sick thing is that they have jobs and I don't. The celebrity dirt journalism segment informed us that the son had a rare generic disorder. So rare, yet, so routine.

"Your son has a rare generic disorder. It's called "That Thingy." I'm so sorry."

"But doctor, is there a cure?"

"Yes, but not yet."

Those lads are in good company in the medical news business, though. This bulletin just flashed across my screen from no less an authoritative source than the Associated Press:

LOS ANGELES - Comedian Richard Jeni, who shot himself to death in March, had a history of mental illness...

How about that? You don't say? Well, I'll be. Right out of left field.

Serving suggestion: You might want to start institutionalizing people again before the streets fill with more homeless, and wrestlers and comedians start wiping out their families epidemic-style.

Alright...OK...I know...It would interfere with their rights to...to...be a danger to themselves and us all.  Ya don't have to get all snippy. Just a thought. Keep the borders wide open too while you're at it. What's the harm? 

"Hey. Bentwand wasn't crazy, he was on steroids."

Hmmm. OK, but aren't 102% of wrestlers on steroids? How many kill their whole family in a premeditated act? 

"He was anguished over his handicapped son."

Well, who isn't? It's not an easy thing, but this is not the 1400s. Plenty of people cope with severely handicapped children, and do so with less income, I might add. Last I checked, the government has fallen all over itself to make sure we live in a handi-capable world. Check your paystub and see how much is taken out for people who can't. I kick myself daily for not investing in the ramps and handicapped parking space contracting business in the late 80s when I had the chance.

Even in today's Wall St. Journal, (might need to subscribe, Ace) right in the middle of the front page.... 

Babes Among Elders: Nursing-Home Kids

COMMERCE, Ga. -- Ronnie Rivera, a 15-year-old in braided pigtails, sits in a wheelchair in a narrow hallway of Hill Haven senior-citizen nursing home.

Right here in the same state as where a high income narcissist and his apologists claimed his son's situation was so impossible he had no other choice than to flip the board and end the game, children and teens are using Medicaid to lawfully occupy space in a nursing home. 

It's not a great solution, but it beats being put into a sleeperhold at home by Crazy Calhoun at age 7.

Now as we go on, doctors will be arrested for handing out scary stuff in bottles, Roe V. Wade will be scrutinized for it's role in our filicidal culture, and your old friend, TV violence, will pay us another pre-election visit. Nowhere will people be calling for the building of more insane asylums. That's too crazy. Are you nuts?