House of Wachs

WOULD IT HURT TO WRITE ONCE IN A WHILE?

My daughter emailed me this photo. Subject line of the email: a picture of your lover

She takes great pictures that kid, but I could enjoy them just as well without the sass, thanks, young 'un.

Here's Jeff tipping another one of Webb's sneaky off-speed sinkers. Jeff Francoeur was one of the few Braves that Brandon Webb of the D-Bags handled easily today as the Braves win! 7-3. 

The snap was taken with a little Lumix camera because that's all she needed being so close and all. Front row in those new SunTrust Club at Turner Field Seats I got from an immensely supportive manager at work. I believe this birthday was the one in which I lived more like a pasha than any other in Larry Wachs history. It's certainly an upgrade from the dark days of 2006 where I watched a lady drive into a river in upstate NY as we were headed to a funeral on May 26th of that year. At least it was a cool day outside.

And it shattered my streak of bad birthdays in even numbered years as chronicled here. I've even gotten three of the five things I wished for last year.

Readers, make sure you blow out ALLthe candles on YOUR birthday cake. Give a good blow, and don't miss a single one. If all you've got is a cake on your birthday, well, you still have a shot at a better life. This is Larry, of The Regular Guys Show, here to tell you, wishes do come true,  and please help support the fight against birthday candle apathy. Blow them out, not off.

Pateetong!

The SunTrust Club is built in right behind home plate where the camera well used to be. They've replaced it with a restaurant/bar with high quality fresh ingredients and highback cushioned seats. The new section is only 3-4 rows and goes dugout to dugout.  It's as if a big yacht backed into Turner Field somehow. Anything you want, when you want it, brought to your seat, which costs $300 for the evening, so bring a bag next time!

I would seriously consider taking 3 of these seats for my own in lieu of some pay. Think of the savings and perks.

I wouldn't have to pay for a meal at all for 82 days a year.

I'd be sitting with famous and rich people.

The players see you from the on deck circle every at bat for a few weeks and you become like family to them.

Before you know it, Jeff is in the on deck circle, I'm busy making business deals with Turner and Comcast executives, and he shouts, "Hey, Wachs. Let's get some beers after the game."

Well, that impresses the executives so, that the deals are pretty much a matter of signing on the dotted line at that point. Awesomely sweet!

I'm 47, why do you ask?

EARLY 20TH CENTURY NAMING

In today's AJC obituaries:

SOME TIME FOR REMARKS

There was Michelle Obama on TV, boldly telling America that she was proud of us for the first time and that saying her husband's middle name of "Hussein" is off limits. Bitch, who do you think you are?

Why can't Barack Hussein Osama control his wife? Why can't Bill Clinton?  My wife decides to start her own morning show after I'm done? BAM!

Another entitlement junkie we got here with this Obama chick. She's learned nothing from the fall of Hillary the Inevitable.

Insinuating that Barack Obama has ties to our enemies by publicly saying his middle name "Hussein," is off limits. However, insinuating that John McCain had an affair with lobbyists, and may not be eligible for the presidency because he was born in Panama is fair game.

And what's the penalty for not obeying? A scolding from people I intensely dislike?

After careful consideration, I have decided to continue my referring to Barack Obama as "Hussein Osama." Oh, it'll be rough withstanding the mocking and withering stares of people who are scared of Democrats, but I think I'll be able to pull through.

Is this how Obama would handle international affairs? Will he scold our enemies for not playing fair with nothing to back it up?

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I also sat in wonderment and some embarrassment as one of Clinton Racing's top drivers, John Lewis of GA, pulled some Shake and Bake by announcing he was going to throw his Superdelegate cape over Barack Obama.

Even the reporter was astonished at his assertion that changing allegiances from the Clintons was harder than walking in protest at Selma, AL in the 60s.

What a remarkable statement he's making. Walking over a bridge in the 1960s in Alabama knowing you will get your ass kicked by the force of law, is easier than screwing over the Clintons? I would think just the opposite.

Does that mean the Clintons are meaner than the crackers who bashed in Lewis' head in the 60s in Alabama?

God help John Lewis if the Clinton's somehow win.

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The glorious news is that Jamie-Lynn Spears, known as 'the normal Spears' on account of her only being pregnant at 16, has passed her GED. That's Grade Equivalency Diploma for people in Roswell. At least the grad party was top shelf with all the GEDers getting it on courtesy of their ultra cool parents with their condoms at the ready.

My money was on STD or IUD before GED. Despite this setback, I'm going to wager that DVD is in her future.

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I heard overheard two classics this weekend.

At a dull party with good food several nights ago, (WTF has "couples showers?" That is way beyond what decent society requires.) I sat with the other men who didn't want to be there while we smoked and ate and talked about war and golf while staring at "Wedding Crashers" on TBS.

The scene on the screen during a lull in conversation was a montage of Vince Vaughn and his buddy Owen Wilson making out with all these chicks they meet at weddings.

A 75-year old guy said to me, "They're just bangin' everybody, aren't they?"

Yes, they are. Classic.

The other one was with Southside Steve on the golf course. Steve was bitching about how Eric always mocks him and he was particularly harsh the other day during one of his many mistakes. He said he felt like he was a Jew being brought to the showers by the constant persecution of Eric the Nazi, but it came out like this:

"I felt like a Jewish person being dragged into the bathrooms."

Classic.

UNLAXING

Look at that, will ya? It's me and my new honey snookums. My new side piece. Me and Mara Davis from DAVE FM gettin' it on at the Funny Farm Comedy Club in Roswello where we were making the social scene for the first time as a couple.

Where's her left arm? Gentlemen don't discuss...but I will.

Nah, you know what? I'm gonna be a gentleman and make this flame last a good long while.

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On the Wachs Water Watch....Due to recent storms in the Johns Creek area, the drought is over as far as I'm concerned. Long onanistic showers are back in vogue amongst the glitterati of the JC.

I attribute this sudden growth in water resources to another thing. The big road signs telling us to save water.

I was driving down GA141 to work one recent rainy morning, and there it was in big bright letters so one could see it through the driving rain.

GA GOVERNOR'S ORDERS. CONSERVE WATER! - % * 7<#

Which is helpful when you're driving, because it reminds you to shut off the faucet in your car.

While conservation is nice and all, I'm a supply-sider by nature, and feel we really need to focus more on making it rain. Government prayer was a great start, don't get me wrong, but I think we should go back to burning trash in the yard and leaded gasoline. It sure rained like fuck back in those days.

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Speaking of resources, I'd like to remind the Shell on P'tree in front of Channel 2, that if you must insist on charging 3.50/gallon for gas, at least put some damn paper in your receipt machine. Or improve your snack and drink offerings to offset the cost of gas.

People don't realize the real benefit of a big retail outlet in front of a gas pump. Lower gas prices. What does Wal-Mart care if they're losing money on their gas? As long as it brings in carloads of giant cheap people willing to stop in the store to gorge themselves on overpriced carbs and buy the 6 packs of jeans and the 100 pack of adult diapers it'll take to contain their output.

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It's Friday night. Winding down. It's Pill Night, of course. A tradition resurrected for my latest go-round with the 4 bells lifestyle. The valium is starting to work, so I better knock out one more observation about my week...let's see...

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Yeah. I almost forgot that today was Leap Day, so I'd like to give a little nod to this rarest of days.

The Leap Year was invented years ago by scientists and calendar officials to adjust our calendars to solar reality. Calendars, it turns out, are just rough estimates of a year, and we seem to lose a couple of hours each year. This can get out of hand pretty fast, as you can guess. If not checked, we'd be having snow in June in most of the country, Summer vacation would be in January, and breakfast would be for dinner.

The Leap Day fixes all that so we have a reliable year with few surprises along the way.

And you know what? I think it's great. I really feel like today was the day that we're all back on track. We're gonna do it now, with hope and change and opportunity.

McFadden and Whitehead! Sing!

"Aiiiiinn't noooo stop pin us noooooowww...WE'RE ON THE MOVE!"

LARRY THE KING

OK, fuck it. I changed my mind. Man's prerogative. My last post brought nothing but negative reaction and embarrassment. Burger King brought back the Whopper.

I will post when I get the chance, and right now I have the chance. Rejoice.

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In Whole Foods I saw a magazine with big fat Paula Deen on the cover. What is healthy about her cooking? Organic lard?

Why is it that Whole Foods doesn't carry People Magazine at their checkout stands? What religion are they running in there that gossip and humor are in the same category as trans-fats?

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Everytime I jog past this one house in my neighborhood, a crazed poodle (I think it's Korean owned which explains the neuroses) leaps out of the bushes and acts like an asshole toward me. It can't go very far or else it's electronic collar zaps it. Ethically, I have no problem teasing the dog so it shocks itself over and over again until it learns. Get some manners crazy poodle!

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On the news, I heard a reporter give the grim story of how an inner city youth named DeAnthony was killed in some inner city mischief. I can't help but think that his name had a little something to do with the fact that he was DeAnthonized. When you name your kid in the negative such as DeAnthony, or UnShawn, or Nochelle, you have to understand that you are putting a target on their back. Henceforth, I am calling my daughter, Proretha.

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At the QT one recent morning:

CLERK: 53 cents is your change. Come on back.

He left the register to go to the back room of the store, so I followed him. Maybe I won a prize for being a polite customer.

CLERK: WTF are you doing back here?

ME: You told me to come back.

Turns out that's what they tell people to make them return to the store in the future.

We had a good laugh about the mix-up and he invited me to sit on the milk crates with him and look at a copy of Juggs magazine he stole from the rack up front.

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Police station cars outside of bars on the theory that dangerous drivers will be leaving the parking lots late at night. That may be true, but my experience of late is that more dangerous drivers are leaving hospitals than bars and nightclubs. Twice in the past two weeks, I've swerved to avoid women crying as they leave the hospital. God knows what goes on in there, but it makes them lose control of themselves. Women, disease, driving. That's a deadly cocktail, friends.

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Hey, Gator fans who get Georgia plates with the Gator logo. I'm buying a pack of Sharpies to keep in the car. Just lettin' ya know. Isn't it enough that you steal our water? You want a Florida tag? Move to GODDAM FLORIDA!!!

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Billy Ray Cyrus recently apologized for his daughter, Hannah Montana, not wearing seatbelts in her movie...in 3D yet!!! I appreciate the sentiment, but I can handle this.

Well, Daddy. Hannah Montana doesn't wear seat belts. (LOUD BELT NOISE ON KID'S ASS)

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Here's a photo of Gary Coleman getting married.

Gross!

The gays must be really pissed. It's really rubbing their noses in it when this marriage can occur but their's cannot.

FORWARD THINKING

I want to make it clear that I did not make the classic mistake of celebrating 2008. I merely kissed 2007 goodbye. There's a huge difference.

Here's me last year.

Look at that. FOOL! Celebrating a year that hadn't begun and would prove to suck. Well, no more. I am never again going to celebrate a year I haven't lived yet starting with this one. As far as I'm concerned, the jury is out on 2008. No. The jury hasn't even been seated yet.

And for those of you who stubbornly cling to the idea of celebrating a year at it's beginning, think about this. What if you die this year? You've already gone on record as having endorsed this year as a good one. Dumb. Really dumb.

We went to see some friends in Charleston, SC. I've some cool pictures to post as soon as I can dig the SD card out of the seat cushions in my car.

Their house was on a beautiful private island accessible only by boat to residents and their confirmed guests. Transport on the island is by golf cart or feet. The gimmick here is the closeness and harmony with the environment. Strict building codes and absolutely no retail.

That means, of course, you have to pretty much storyboard your next couple of days before you take a 12-mile boat ride back to civilization just to get to your car. And it's not like you get a discount for regressing so. In fact, all the residents and home owners paid quite the hefty premium for the remoteness and oneness of it all. Environmentalism is so cumbersome, inefficient, almost masochistic. You work your ass off for years to earn all this money and then blow it on a spread where you can watch birds and grass and trees like you can anywhere, but just less comfortably. I don't see it. All that cash to pretend you're a shipwreck survivor.

I like nature, but it's kind of boring after awhile. That's why they have cable channels. They sift through all the nature out there for the good stuff to film and show on TV. That way, you get some nature in ya, and can get some work done. That was the tacit bargain struck centuries ago between the rural and city people. Some of us will need to work in buildings with our minds.

Then I get home and glance at the WSJ which is reeling about the $100 a barrel oil, and how the US economy is in turmoil over this. Yeah, no kidding. Being environmentally friendly is hideously, obscenely expensive. The return on investment is poor. I've read several analyses that say roughly the same thing. We have enough oil in the ground obtainable at current technology to last 100 years at $1 a gallon. Plenty of time for Mother Necessity to help us discover new human sustaining technologies. So let's cut that shit out in '08.

Some good news on the '08 front. Hillary Clinton loses the first round pretty badly. Third place behind John Fagwards and Barack O Carter. You just know she's screaming at someone tonight and making Bill look more and more like a hero for cheating on her. I won't be the first or last with my analysis on this matter, but arguably the clearest. She lost because she's ugly and mean. Nothing anyone can do at this point to change this. She's certainly in it for the long haul because of her money, connections, and willingness to murder, but America will not vote for her. Nice.

On the other hand, if the GOP keeps handing I Hate Huckabee victories in the early going, your pal Wachs may be forced to take a hard look at Ms. Cynthia McKinney with the Green Party. At least with her, she'll do something to get herself impeached, and we can start fresh. Who's her running mate? Bobby Petrino? I'm in.

What else to catch up on? Oh, yeah. I got yelled at by a wedding DJ last week for watching the Patriots/Giants game instead of participating on the dance floor. Look, jackleg. You spin the MP3s and let me worry how to entertain myself. Weddings are for women and their friends. I participated plenty, but weddings end for me when dessert is served.

Even my wife, despite her frenzy to escape her roots and marry into my family fortune, soberly understood the implications for her special day and worked with me in scheduling our wedding for a day when no major sporting events would distract from our union of love. Unfortunately, the SF earthquake of '89 delayed the World Series to our day, but at least we made an effort and that Series sucked and no one cared when it returned.

Beyond that though,  what kind of man tells other men, who are GUESTS, and are ENJOYING THEMSELVES, watching one of the most MEMORABLE FOOTBALL GAMES OF THE DECADE, to stop? John Kerry risked all of his political cred demanding this game be put on three networks as the Constitution says, so we're almost obligated to watch. This DJ must be paid per boogie...or he's a fem.

Saw two movies that have Oscar buzz all over them. Juno was a pleasant disappointment. It came within a pregnant teen's belly hair of being unbearable with dialogue that made "Clerks" seem natural. The soundtrack has convinced me that, from now on,  the word "indie" is to be used as an insult for people who are consciously quirky. Then I saw "No Country For Old Men" which is a good movie with a shitty ending. You will love it and then you will hate it as I did.

Tiffany Fallon was just fired from Celebrity Apprentice. That hurts. I know she still wants me and my brother,  Dr. Mike, in a threesome with me watching from a closet. Now I can't watch her every week. I feel like NBC has done something terribly wrong, and I've emailed them to bring her back and set Omarosa on fire as she deserves. I'd love to see Trump say to her, "You're on fire!"

I swear, as soon as I find a foolproof alibi for the night when Rascal Flatts' bus goes over a cliff due to the brake lines being cut, she will be my next wife. I almost had her several years ago, after I photoshopped a penis on her picture and showed it to Keith Brooking, who believed it was real and immediately broke up with her. But by the time I saw her again, she had already hooked up with the band.

Tiffany was the was the first to get fired, too. Double pain. She failed to make a lot of money selling hot dogs apparently, and Trump admonished her, being a Playmate of the Year and all,  for not calling up Hugh Hefner and asking for $10,000 for a hot dog.

"He's my good friend," says Trump. "He would have done it for charity, my good friend would have. He would have given you $100,000, I'll bet my good friend would have. Did you know I'm good friends with an aging pornographer? You should have called him. He's a friend."

Well, as a friend, you probably know that Hef doesn't give a Tiffany Fallon $100,000 for a charity hot dog unless it's his weiner being wrapped in her buns out of charity for him being 90 and snorting Viagra.

So Trumpy fired her for being too shy and sweet and being too grossed out by Hugh Hefner. All the things that give me a boner, he hates, that Trump. He could never be my good friend.

Much more later, friends.

DIVERSE DISCRIMINATION

International Night at my daughter's school. I tell my girls it won't be fun. They don't listen.

First, we get there late and miss the International Foods Bazaar featuring homemade, indigenous treats, and I'm hungry. So hungry I almost ate 2 hour old unregulated Ethiopian food right out of some lady's crockpot.

It looked iffy, so I exercised restraint and went to a vending machine. There was a commotion around the corner. The International Rainbow of Diversity stage show was about to begin.

The show docket has the place buzzing. International dancing by the children and a lecture about the religion of Diversity by Bill Nigut! Who knew America was such a wonderful place? Everywhere around the world. They comin' to America!

Bill was a reporter for Channel 2 locally for a long time, and I've had him on my radio show. He at first strikes you as a nice guy, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is well-intentioned and means no harm. But the reality is that he wears thin after repeated meetings as he reveals himself to be the stereotypically dingy, guilt-ridden, uptight, Jewish liberal amongst whom I grew up, but without a well-developed humor gene.

He came to preach to us how race is not a big deal, but, it's A BIG DEAL!!!!!!

Due to the doctrines of Diversity, the seating is Who Concert style. Whose bright idea was it to make a restless crowd, filled with people from cultures where pushing and shoving are the norm, wait outside locked doors for 20 minutes? Of course, once inside, despite an obvious 2-1 ratio of people to seats, many feel it necessary to save seats for their same-skinded friends so they can sit together and learn about Diversity. We're packed in like political prisoners in a soccer stadium awaiting re-education. The hectoring begins only 25 minutes late, which is on time in the DPT (Diverse People's Time).

"I used to be on TV news for many years," Mr. Nigut, the Troy McClure of political correctness, tells the fidgety audience dressed in their hot, uncomfortable, and stupid looking native attire. "But it wasn't enough. I wanted to make MORE of a difference."

I guess he was frustrated in TV because of all those damn conservatives he worked with in the news room. Must have been hell, Bill.

How do you make more of a difference? Act crazier? I don't see any other way short of running for office. Bill is not running for office. He's running a guilt museum in Atlanta now and giving speeches to gullible school children about their skin color. He might as well molest them for all the good he's doing them.

"Let me tell you,  9/11 changed the world forever," he says.

This 9/11 of which you speak. Tell me more.

According to Bill, 9/11 was bad. But it was bad because it made the world more suspicious of Muslims.

OK. no. yeah. but. wait. like. and. such as. anyway. What about the Trade Center and all that?

"The vast majority......" he begins.

That's all I hear. I'm frying at this obnoxious waste of tax dollars.

The asininity of this idea is so profound that it should be a candidate for the first free speech to be made illegal. How does a guy get so selfish that he will roll his entire country under the bus so he can be viewed as a moral paragon? Then this ass-kissing coward stands there and basks in the applause from all the Islamics in the audience who saved seats to be near each other and talk in another tongue.

But it's NOT ENOUGH! Always seeking to make more of a difference,  Bill then leads this great, blatant, pandering cheer where he mentions every religion and geo-political skin tone he can think of and exhorts each minority group to cheer for itself.

And that's when I took the last hinge off this fragile jerk's door without saying a word.

He continues his apologetic speech. "Ya see, I grew up in an all-white school..."

I clapped a lame little clap. Yay!  My turn to be special.

This makes Bill stop. He turns and points in the general area of where I'm sitting. He's upset at this non-consensual race-cheering.

"Ya know, if that's your thought process, I don't want you in here," he scolds. So much for diversity of opinion...and to hell with humor. Hey, this was fun, Bill.

My wife digs her heel into my foot.

"You're starting a race riot in here." she hisses. And my foot is the brake?

So with everyone--Bill, the audience, me, and my family--all in agreement,  we cut out of the Remains of the International Day and head to our favorite Indian restaurant where they treat us like goddamn royalty.

BYE'ERS REMORSE

An increasing number of people I speak with on the phone have some sort of nifty little sign-off before they hang up.

One guy I know says, "Cheers!" because it's his favorite show.

Another guy I know says, "Rock on!" because he admires the music of David Essex.

More people have a simple and snappy "later tater" or "Bingo!"--something of that genre.

I tried out a few sign-offs of my own for a time.

"That was hot. Lemme go clean myself up," was a fave, but you know what? It just wasn't me, so I dialed it down a bit, and now I end most calls with a comfortable "take 'er slow pardner."

My goal is to eventually not do a sign-off at all when I use the phone. If I can pull it off, It'll be a great time saver.

If you added up the minutes you spent telling people goodbye, and the lead-up to goodbye, where you give a brief recap of the conversation...

"...so I guess I'll see you in the morning in the lobby of the clinic. Oh, hey...don't forget to bring your half of the money. Righty-O. mmmmmbye-bye."

...it probably adds up to a good month out of each year. A whole month that could be spent on more productive things, such as getting to traffic court on time, or being part of a focus group, is spent on gently weaning ultra-sensitive people off a forgettable chat with you.

When I'm done saying what I have to say and hearing what I have to hear, I'd like to, ideally, just  hang up immediately. No cheery sign-off. No drama. Here's a fictitious example:

(ring)

A FICTITIOUS FRIEND: Hello?

ME: Is this my man, 7?

FICTITIOUS FRIEND: Yeah.

ME: This is 0254. How much for 25 CDs?

FICTITIOUS FRIEND: 2 dollars

ME: Are you nuts? 2 dollars for 25 CDs?

FICITIOUS FRIEND: These are chart-toppers, brah. You in the record club or you out the record club?

ME: In.

(click)

In command. So un-needy. No weaknesses. That CD vendor will think twice before messing around and shorting me any bags of CDs.

I don't do it much because I haven't worked up the emotional courage it takes to hang up abruptly on people when the meat of the conversation is through and they want to start in with the conversational sorbet.  Particularly family members.  They would totally misinterpret my hang-up, thinking I was going to berate them when I arrived home, and it wouldn't save anytime because they'd only call back and ask in a quivering voice, "Is everything OK?"

You know those Cingular TV commercials where one party loses the call and the other person gets the wrong impression? They are my worst nightmare. One look at Debbie Clemens' eyes, and I'm screaming at the TV, "No, Roger, she DOESN'T  want you to play! God DAMN!" That poor woman. All that money and alone. Straight to the refrigerator for some Tylenol PM and Limoncello, or else I'm getting no sleep that night.

I'll be honest. I'm looking up at Everest here in my quest. Even the toughest Marine says, "Over."

UM.....NOW WHAT?

Genarlow Wilson is free...to do what now?  What exactly are we celebrating?

He was convicted and sentenced to 10 years in prison for having oral sex with a 15 year-old. He was a minor, too, so according to the prevailing winds, that makes it OK.  Served three years before the bleeding hearts and his attorney named BJ got him out.

Do you think he'll be getting anymore blow jobs from anyone under 18 from now on? It's hard to say. The only real lesson he's seemed to draw from this is that a justice system that seeks to protect naive minors from sexual predation is one to be ridiculed.

What message are the 15 year old girls getting from this outcome? Reporters aren't asking. They are too busy celebrating this great victory over morality.

The news media has framed this case as that of a young black man unfairly hassled by a backward Christian view of morality imposed on all of us forward thinkers, by a troglodyte state that is embarrassing to live in because it's not enlightened like NY and California, places where the cost of living is low, the air is clean, and everyone gets along.

From the AJC:

Wilson, who served nearly three years of a 10-year sentence, may be the most extreme example of a teenager entrapped by the state's regressive sex laws.

As opposed to the progressive sex laws that they have in North Utopia where anyone with pubic hair can partake of sex without any consequence. I've gotta update my Garmin because I can't find it on these maps.

Is it of the Dark Ages to create obstacles for males to get blow jobs from 15 year old girls? 

But Wilson is not the only young offender caught in a maze of draconian sex laws. Many young people are trapped on the state sex offender registry for nonviolent and consensual sex acts as teens.

Kind of a shot in the dark, but wasn't the sex offender registry voted into federal law by almost unanimous margins in both houses of Congress and signed by the President in 1996? Wasn't there ample time to put in a provision to excuse minor horny teens such as Genarlow? We had a president who could empathize.

According to your liberal reporter, our sex laws are not just regressive, but  "draconian," too. Let's make a sentence out of that view but substitute regressive and draconian with their synonyms. Repeat after me.

It is backward and excessive to punish minors for having sex with 15 year olds.

What do you think? Put your politics to the side. I don't care what party you belong to. It's not relevant.

Do you feel comfortable about having your 15 year old give blow jobs? What progress is going to come of that? That's how you got your high-paying job, right?

I've seen the cool and non-confrontational parents hand out the birth control devices. The results have been uniformly awful.

It's just basic. It doesn't take a degree. You could be getting lucky behind the school in lieu of attending class and still understand this. The more a behavior is subsidized, the more of it there will be. In practical terms, giving a birth control device to a minor is also giving them permission to do it more. Go to Vegas and see what your odds of losing are the more you play.

Contrary to pop belief, adulthood is not conferred on minors by encouraging risky behaviors as physical maturity approaches. Adulthood is achieved by learning the art of restraint and self-control. Picking your moments and knowing there will be plenty of chances to shine.

I'm going to side with Draco on this one.

SPIFF RIFT

They fired Spiff today from WGST. It's bizarre. They kept Randy but fired Spiff. Can you believe that? I'll bet the Mexicans got him fired because they thought his name was Spic.

That's just wrong and stupid, but let's remember with whom we are dealing. I don't know if it's accurate, but I heard a reason given was that he was not serious enough for the format. Just what they need more of on talk radio. More deadly seriousness.

I like Spiff a lot. Randy, too, but he wasn't fired, so let's focus. Spiff was always fun to have on the show. He knew what to do.

I never saw him uptight. He never acted offended or victimized by our humor. Always humble, never blue, yet razor sharp. He made me laugh usually.

This is really starting to sound like an obituary, so that's it. He's alive and I'm officially against the Spiff firing. Spiff, give me a holler if you're reading this because I don't have your email.

Hey, watch this!

I'm assuming it's not satire despite the goofy clothes, the camera mugging, and the accents, and they're doing a good job of making me want to go out and get the product, because from the looks of it, I can be like The Cheerleader on Heroes and never have to worry about injury again. And I'm going to have to be worry free if I'm wearing short skirts and a protective coating on my knees.

But at the end of the demo, the host says, "Don't try this at home."

Why would he say such a thing? He spends 3 minutes showing us how the product works, then at the end he's saying it's not? I'm confused. Why else would I buy orange putty? Although when I was 13, now that I think about it, I used to take Silly Putty and put it over my dick to make it look fuller. But it was flesh colored. Sorry, protective orange putty. You lost a sale.

Michael Jackson has Lupus

Is any blond boy safe around this monster?

Dang it! The creepy alarm just went off. Probably just a leaf. Let me check what's going on and I'll catch you later.