House of WACHS

DANCING WITH THE FATES

I find it sad that they didn't really care to factor in Buzz Aldrin's age (80) in yesterday's judging on DWTS. They gave him 4s.

"I remember sitting at home in London watching you on the Moon," Judge Len Goodman said. "Unfortunately, I can't give marks for bravery."

Then why the hell did they invite him on? Because they really thought an 80 year old man could go hoof to hoof with one of the Pussycat Dolls and her meat puppet?  Jesus, Len! Got much colony envy? Now the British want reparations. Where is the end, man?

Big effyou to ABC for mocking this great pioneering patriot. Why not just lure him to the top of a flight of stairs and push him down? Big ratings. "Pushing Old Celebrities Down the Steps." Why not?

Buncha neon assdildos. You'll get old too, fuckers, and I hope your beloved Obama's single payer euthanasia mill gets into high claim denial mode just as you need that ass cancer drug to save your creepy, ungraceful lives.

The good news is that Shannen Doherty couldn't beat Buzz Aldrin in a dancing competition. Ha-ha, fugly. Get your eyes fixed. They're still uneven.

We live in very clear and confusing times. On one hand, we seem to have 2 government agencies for every real or perceived risk or offense known to man. On the other hand, the iPad, a product of free thinking, is selling like government programs!

We live in very clear and confusing times. On one hand, we seem to have 2 government agencies for every real or perceived risk or offense known to man. On the other hand, the iPad, a product of free thinking, is selling like government programs!

Apple seems to have an app for everything, too, but Apple's apps are a googol (sorry, no offense) times more fun. And some are truly FREE! The bad ones are repealed by the obnoxious consumer reviews, and everyone of every color and belief system gets a hack at making it big in the app world if they so choose.

Maybe a lot of people think the iPad IS from the government. There are those morons out there who will defend the wisdom of all government programs by pointing to our roads (which aren't so pleasurable to ride on and hard to use at many points in the day), our schools (a day orphanage for poor and unloved children) and Tang breakfast drink (which I imagine is quite tasty up in space where the only other choice is the toilet bowl for hydration), and of course, the river card--flip it---"well, who do you think invented the internet?"

I know. Thaaaaa government. More accurately, the military, which is an important point since in the days of the DARPAnet, as it was known, the military was separate from most government functions because, unlike most government functions, it was a legitimate function of the government.

Even the military didn't know what to do with it except having it's scientists share info on how to kill people better. It took regular people with specialized knowledge to give us the PC to access this government invented wonder, and only then did it become a thriving bazaar where one can get anything without budging his enlarged prostate.

I don't know which side is winning.

This Was the Wachs Week That Was

USA's oldest death row inmate dies of old age

Sometimes Too often, the justice system looks downright unjust and plain stupid. I don't think that was the original idea of death row. You don't die on it. You die after it.  I don't understand why people think that this de facto life sentence result is more humane and cheaper to produce.

Why is it remotely humane to elevate the life of the killer over those whom he killed? Why should he be subsidized for the rest of his life by the families of people he killed?  And if he doesn't qualify for the ultimate penalty for the ultimate crime, what then is humane about subjecting this poor innocent to the horrors of prison?

How is it that if this animal was executed years ago it would have been MORE expensive? I guess it makes sense like the way to lower our debt is to take on more debt. Right? Something along those lines? It's just not cheaper to the state to keep a guy for 27 years instead of hearing a limited number of appeals to salaried employees and then shooting him up with $10 bucks worth of kill drugs.

I'd like to abolish death row and re-institute just plain death amongst our capital convicts.

Robert Pattinson claims to be allergic to vaginas

The cutie boy who's in all the Twilight movies said this. I don't know if he was goofing or not, but since most of his fans have vaginas and with it the commitment to hysteria that comes with the organ, he might want to brush up on his marketing skills.

I personally like the idea of vaginas, but in practice, so much can go wrong with them. It's very difficult to find an ideal one, and even tougher to hang on to it. So I guess i'm not allergic to vaginas, but I do have my doubts as to their efficacy as a pleasure-giving device.

MAROONED

Today's disturbing photo is me with the fellas from Maroon 5...actually Maroon 2/5ths...or Maroon 40%..that sounds better than Maroon 2. I'm going to send this to my friends in the radio trade papers and websites so I can get a reputation as the morning show host who poses with celebrities from other people's shows.

They were in the radio building today on the other station, Q100. Adam Levine, the lead singer is on the left, and I don't know the Kurt Cobain looking dude's name, so I'll call him Stinky, because he was a little gamy from the road. That's less a smile of joy on my face than one of hypoxia from holding my breath while the staff photog fiddled with some settings on the camera.

Feel free to caption. That's what blogs are 4.

LARRY THE KING

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

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 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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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.

TWEENER WEEK

OK. OK! I've gotten about 2 emails asking what I'm doing during the holiday tweener times, so while I have some spare moments, I thought I'd put up an update.

YESTERDAY:

-I figured out the Bluetooth in my car. Then I called people for the novelty of it.

-I unclogged two drains in my bathroom with Liquid-Plumr. I don't agree with the spelling or the use of the hyphen, but it sure works well. Just don't get any on you.

-I went to Super H to look at the weird Korean foods. I bought an apple, a yogurt, and some rice cakes.

-I called my bank to get another check register sent to me.

"It'll just take a minute to pull up your records."   Why does it take a minute to pull up my records? Don't they have computers? Is there a line to use the computer? Is it an old XT?

-I started to watch The Brothers Solomon starring Will Forte. It made me feel as if I could write a Hollywood script, too. Then a friend called to make me watch C-Span. They were having a debate called "Lesser Known Candidates Debate" where they had on candidates who were not as well known. It made me feel as if I could run for president, too.

There's no video up yet, but they may repeat it. It was held in a library in New Hampshire, and the candidates came across not so much as wackos, but average, unpolished soap boxers who, owing to the fact that they dominated the internet message boards where they hung out, felt they had a shot of taking it to the next level, which naturally is the presidency. Of the ones that made sense, they all either had a speech impediment or hair style that made them unelectable.

-I updated my Garmin GPS map. I've been getting lost with it lately.

-I'm eating Rice Chex now. They are good. 

TOMORROW

-I'm going to speak to my agent about a few things.

-Eat pills

-Lie down and watch "Chuck and Larry Get Married."

AN IGNORANT WORK OF BREATHTAKING GENIUS

There are times when I just have to sit and catch my breath, freshly snatched from my bosom by the sheer genius I've just exhibited.

I am a college dropout, and that's a flattering way of describing my education. In reality, I dropped out in 8th grade. Mentally. I attended 4 more years, and received a diploma, but that's due to low standards and not high achievement.

So there's my daughter, wailing about how she is doomed to a life of dead end jobs and bad men because she can't figure out her advanced trigogeoalchemy for her finals, and her only lifelines are as ignorant as stumps when it comes to anything more advanced than square roots.

"Perhaps I can help," said Daddy in a manner suggesting that I've given Halliburton oil drilling advice in the past.

I might as well have asked her if she would consider rubbing fungus cream on my feet.

"YOU DON'T KNOW THIS!" she screamed. "HOW ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME? GO AWAY!"

"Lar, just..." said my wife. That's code for "you're a moron who doesn't know shit and will only worsen the problem so transport yourself several hundred feet, if not miles, from this room."

Well, the odds were clearly against Wachs, I must say. If I had any hope of doing the things I enjoy doing upstairs in peace today, then I had to solve this problem fast.

I went upstairs to listen to "Holding Out For a Hero."

Came back down.

"Sometimes I go nuts like that when the checkbook won't balance."

The kid looked at me like I had just urinated on the floor.

"What ya gotta do is go back to the beginning of the problem and check the assumptions on all your functions or operations or whatever. Then you'll find the answer."

"YOU KNOW WHAT? JUST GO AWAY. THAT IS NOT HELPING ME AND I'VE GOT TO DO THIS!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!"

OK. Sounds good. Back up the steps.

Top of the steps and I hear:

"...ooooohhh. I'm such a tard. It was staring me in the face. Why'd I do that?"

Yep.

CHRISTMAS LATKES

Mmmmmm! Organic ice cream sandwiches for dessert tonight. Right off the tree. Thank you, God.

I think the word organic, as a marketing phrase, has officially jumped the cruelty-free mako shark fillets in a lime-basil butter.

It even fooled me into believing it was healthier when they just kept it to meats and produce.

"These tomatoes are organic! Grown in a sun-kissed valley from the rich and loamy soil, pulled gently from the vine and on your table that evening. It''l make your hair grow back, lower your heart beat, and make your pecker, ZING!! Ha ha!

Not like those tomatoes over there, the wretches. Grown between the cracks of gritty urban sidewalks, surrounded by chalk outlines, and noise pollution. Then cut down by a machine...a machine!...which takes them when they're still GREEN!

And they go to a factory, where they're spraypainted red, and turn your guts into cancer. GET THEM OUT OF MY FRICKIN SIGHT!"

There's no difference except price, the cost of vanity raising the price of the organic stuff. Oh, and the organic stuff has somebody's poo on it, usually.

But then the marketers got greedy. Now, every product has an organic cousin and it's become meaningless because there is no health benefit to wearing organic shoes, or wearing organic deodorant. That can't possibly work. Body odor is as organic as it gets, and a product that tamps it down is the definition of unnatural. The circle of absurdity is complete.

Ya gotta admire Kosher. It's kept it's integrity through the lo-cal, lite, natural, oat bran, fat free, lo carb, and clear crazes.

No ham means NO! DAMN! HAM!

NO! NEVER!

YOU GAVE 99% OUT THERE

I got this full color brochure in the mail from my bowling league:

These are rings for people who have bowled exceptionally well.

If I bowled a 300, I sure would want a ring. It's impressive.

Hey, why wait? Honestly, I don't have the patience it takes to bowl a 300. League bowling is filled with distractions like drunks, molesters, and truly ugly women, and the 3 games go at a pace where it's hard to get into a groove.

I'm going to call them tomorrow and see if I can get a ring without bowling a 300. My guess is that they will say no and have me arrested for perjury. It's not like bowling has spare integrity they can just throw around. After all, it's a sport where most participants leave with more unburnt calories than when they started.

We'll see.

What I cannot understand is why anyone would buy one of those 299 rings. They also offer 298 rings and the "11-in-a-row" ring, for people who knocked down 1 pin with their last ball.

How much attention in your life are you lacking when you pay 70 bucks to purchase a ring that commemorates your misses?

Can I interest you in this special sock?

Only $30!

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UPDATE:

I called to purchase a ring without bowling 300, and the lady--who was recording the call for quality control--said they verify all claims. No 300, no ring.

I think that maybe the USBC should be in charge of our borders.

HURRY UP AND SCREW! SCREW UP AND HURRY!

Here's a story about a 29-year old grandmother in Quad Cities, IA....the person on the right....uhhh, I think.

Look, I'm all in favor of helping cruel stereotyping disappear from our society, but come on, folks. Help out a little, would ya?  What? You have a lake of semen in the backyard?

Russell Eugene is 1 day old.

His mother is 15.

She fidgets with a bottle of milk as she talks.

Then, sitting up straighter in bed, she asks, “When do you think I can play basketball again? I want to go out for the team at school.”

Oy vey!

New vocabulary word: NEVER. It means, "not ever."

Back at home with her mother and brothers, Celia — wearing pajamas and a do-rag that covers her hair — holds the baby. Her tank top shows off two black tattoos on her arms.

One, which winds down her forearm, reads “Tish,” her mom’s nickname. Another, below her shoulder, reads “Manica Magee,” which is the teen’s rap name.

Leticia told the girl she could get inked if she kept her grades up. They went to Chicago to get it done.

“She earned them,” Leticia said, nodding her head.

It's like watching the Munsters where everything horrific is perfectly normal.

"Oh, Herman. Eddie got a D in math, so I let him dig up the graveyard. Isn't that wonderful?"

"HAWHAWHAW...Lilly, that boy is a chip off the old slab...HAWAHAWHAWHAW."

(house shakes, ceiling tiles and dust fall, never to be replaced)

INCOMPETENT KNIEVEL

What's so great about Evel Knievel? I think he was an asshole.

My dad took me and my brother to the Baltimore Civic Center to watch him jump over the Snake River Canyon, where they had a giant movie screen on which to beam the Pay-Per-View event which absolutely, and without qualification, sucked bus fumes.

My dad spent another $40 bucks over the price of the tickets to keep shoveling snacks in me and a restless little Dr. Mike to keep us busy until this nut got into his rocket and went on his ill-conceived mission.

Idiot. If you're going to use a rocket to go over a canyon, at least get the engineering and physics right so you can make it over. Hard-working Americans paid top dollar to see your droopy dick of a rocket go flaccid into the canyon. Anyone can do that. No doubt the Russians were having quite a chuckle of this display of American "don't know how," and I'm sure it extended the Cold War another decade.

We went home with diarrhea and no thrills. After he acheived ripping off millions of children and their fathers, I remember steam coming out of my dad's ears and hearing words on the way home of whose meanings I wasn't sure, but I felt strongly they were about genitals. He took out a lien for $240 on the Knievel estate to cover the cost of this enormous swindle of people's time and money. Maybe now he can collect.

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.

SOUTHERN COMFORTABLE

The hell with holiday travel. I haven't left my house in 3 days. That's what Thanksgiving is all about. A chance to be openly depressed. The only reason I've showered is to get in some slap and tickle.

This is my first Thanksgiving in my own home in a decade. That's it. No more Thanksgiving travel for me for the next 5 years. If people in my life really like me, they'll show up.

My parents were the only ones who came this year. Not attending my Thanksgiving feast was the first thing my brother and his ex-wife have agreed upon since 2001, if I could brightside it.

My sister went to Jamaica for her father-in-law's wedding, which is OK, unless you consider it part of a continuing pattern of excuses, dating back to the days when I would lure her into the bathroom after I took a huge dump and locked her in with the odor, as to why she can't travel to Georgia more than once a decade. Maybe not a lot of flights here from NY.

Well, more food and fun for me.

Here's our premium quality, tightly cooped, genetically modified, assembly line slaughtered, frozen turkey.

Here's our turkey frying rig out back on the lush green barely legal lawn.

Old Man Pickle Nose prepares a post-breakfast snack. He's a good cook. His secret is aging. He treats every meal as if it could be his last.

We engage in sports.

Happy hour! Fresh guac and chips. I missed out because I was busy

Back to involvement in sports, and the film industry.

The two turkeys! HA! Brown and crispy, the way they serve it in heaven

Crispy potatoes. Don't they look good? Yeah, well, they were.

Crispy asparagus. I actually enjoy the smell my urine gives off after eating these.

Crispy cornbread stuffing. Tastes like manna, photographs like hell.

From scratch pecan/choco pie with a crispy crust and homemade caramel sauce spooged on it. One bite of this delight can supply the caloric needs of 10 children in Darfur for a month. It sure takes the pressure off the job search when you have this pie in the house.

Home made cranberry sauce with crispy bits of caramelized fruit. Oooh, doesn't that look tart and sweet? Yeah, you bet it does. It tastes like an orgasm. This is my contribution. I made it 3 days ago in the slow cooker. My secret is vanilla extract, brown sugar, and a special raisin wine from Spain. That's all I'm saying because I'm thinking of going national with this one day with a franchise chain of cranberry-centric eateries.

Cranny's. We'll even have a play area for kids with a giant cranberry bog they can swim around in after eating their cran-burgers and cran fries, and wash it down with some cranberry soda. We'll have cuddly characters like McDonald's has. Urethra the Clown will play up the cranberry's role in promoting urinary tract health.

Let the feast begin with a crispy turkey wing. The skin is like eating bacon. Turkey that tastes like bacon. Score! It's a club sandwich without those other non-essential ingredients. Fuck off toast, lettuce, cheese, and tomato.

Time for more athletics. Even OMPN is surprised at the ease with which the Falcons take it up the ass repeatedly.

Tea...because it gives the illusion of health.

Good night.

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.

MAKE ME WET

What is it Thursday? Only took me 3 days to recover from the past weekend in Las Vegas. Not bad for going to bed at 1pm last Saturday. After that refreshing nap/sleep it was off to the Palms Hardwood Suite for a 40th birthday party of a pal which lasted until 3am Sunday morning.

I've been to parties that had a basketball court, and I've been to parties in hotel rooms, but never to a party in a hotel room that had a basketball court inside it off the living room.

The entire hotel room is bigger than my home.

I think I did a pretty good job on attire for such a unique event.

The sporty sweater and tasteful jeans say: "I'm eager to have conversation and cocktails."

The sneakers and t-shirt underneath say: "But I'm ready to drain some 3-pointers if necessary."

What are the statistics on hotel rooms being broken into that have their TVs left on? I take it on faith that doing this deters criminals and degenerates, but I'd like to see the numbers to back it up.

I don't think it works if you leave it on any channel. A criminal is not so stupid to think that a Vegas tourist is going to sit in their hotel room on a Saturday night watching the hotel services channel or CNN when all kinds of funs are going on outside, so I put it on ESPN before I set off--LOUD--because it's more plausible that a degenerate gambler could be in the room catching up on college football.

Las Vegas, being a mecca for terrorists looking for a little fun before blowing up some building in the name of Allah, has some of the scrutiniest airport security in the US. The lines are snakes before they get on the plane.

I was detained at McCarren Airport briefly Sunday because the woman with the lip mole and heavy accent at the security bottle neck was confused that the "Lawrence Wachs" on my driver's license, and the "Larry Wachs" on my boarding pass didn't match up.

ME: Larry is a nickname for Lawrence.

HER: Yes, but they are not the same.

ME: It's like Bobby is short for Robert. BTW, you might notice that the face and the last name all match up.

HER: But one says Larry and the other says Lawrence.

LADY BEHIND ME: It's like Robert and Bob.

HER: Is this your wife?

ME: No. She's an American. Everyone knows this.

HER: I am American, too (but she said it like a vampire would).

...and zzzziiip....out comes the nylon barrier. Now, I've gone and done it.

She went to see her supervisor for some guidance on American nomenclature, came back with her tail between her legs, but no apology, and let me proceed for another 23 minutes of line before I could get out of Vegas.

Again, I must ask. Where's the danger in nicknames?

I must say a trip to the desert really gives perspective on the drought situation here in GA. I saw no one in Las Vegas praying for anything but a gambling victory or avoiding an STD. Water was not discussed at all despite the eternal drought outside.

I do believe in the power of prayer and faith. I don't know exactly the chain of events prayer touches off to yield results, but I have a notion that it's similar to the "monkeys with typewriters" effect. If you put enough minds to work meditating on a single problem, somebody's liable to stumble upon a solution.

But the Governor leading a prayer for water is really asinine. What are we?  Whoville? 

Praying for rain is the wrong prayer, too. I'd pray for grass and flowers that don't need rain or for the skies to open up and drop Purell and good red wine on us on Sundays. Maybe war on on Alabama and Florida. As long as we're throwing a Hail Mary, let's aim for the end zone, you people.

As a voter, I'm concerned when an elected leader uses prayer as a first resort to fixing a practical problem. Why vote? Just install gypsy fortune tellers or Creflo Dollar as governor. His rainmaking is legendary.

I could understand if we were being overrun with zombies. When that day comes, I will stand with the Governor, humble before the Lord. I promise you.

But water is everywhere. It's just trapped under regulation and politics. Is it that hard to make the case that an inedible mollusk in Florida is less important than a nice shower and shvitz for 25 minutes? That's what fighting is for. Prayer, in this case, communicates surrender to the obstacles and a neglect of reason.

Oh, wait! It rained a 10th of an inch last night. Sweet vindication from our Father! This drought will be over in just 7 quick years.

Hey governor! I'm tired of walking upright. How about another prayer?

ABSTAINING FROM LOGIC

Here's a nice and stupid headline:

Report: Abstinence programs don't work

Yeah, they do. How does this idea get published? Not doing something results in more of the activity?  Try it sometime. See how many chicks you get preggers when you don't have sex with them. I'm interested.

Of course a program doesn't work if people aren't sticking with it. It's not the program's fault. Do these social scientists blame the treadmill for not being trod upon when someone is obese?

The study found that while abstinence-only efforts appear to have little positive impact, more comprehensive sex education programs were having "positive outcomes" including teenagers "delaying the initiation of sex, reducing the frequency of sex, reducing the number of sexual partners and increasing condom or contraceptive use."

Oy vey! The elusiveness of simplicity. When you give people something for free, they will use more of it. And the more people engage in an activity, the better the odds that something will go awry.

Think of sex as donut holes instead. If the newspaper said, "People eating less holes," you'd rightly conclude that the culprit for this was abstinence from eating donut holes.

And if some expert said, "Well, the reason people are eating less holes is because the government is giving them free liposuction," you'd think him batshit.

Abstinence works. Ya just gotta do it. Or not do it...whatever.

A MOCKERY OF MOCKERY

Genius! NBC is preaching about global warming while my toes are purple from the night cold. They're doing their Green Week, and I guess it must be sound environmental practice to destroy shows so no one will want to see them resulting in energy savings. I think NBC is possibly behind the writer's strike to save paper. Well, I'm with the writers now.

Every goddamn comedy I like, from "Earl" to "The Office" ( I didn't see Scrubs because Zach Braff minces over my every last nerve ending, and since Clooney left, ER is a shell I tell ya), but every show bore the stamp of a corporate memo from some asshole who thought it'd be nifty to pay homage to the ultra-preachy religion of environmentalism by requiring each program to throw environmental grit into it's comedy gears. Bring back "Muslim Week!" Anything.

Hey, broadcasters! Guess what? Environmentalism = shit programming. You want to ruin a TV channel? Find another one. Get some puppets. Put the logo on candy wrappers. Kids don't care. They're stupid and will watch anything. But as an adult, after a hard day of trying to find more work, I want to sit down to some raunchy entertainment, and laugh at it until my bladder has emptied. Why not start "Tom Green Week?" You'd sure win back a lot of people and still get them to think of green.

Even Al Gore showed up to mock himself on 30 Rock, and before you imagine yourself giving a collegial pat on the back to ole Albert for being so open-minded, ask yourself this. What's his deal? He's always popping up on comedy shows to mock his image, yet he's mocking the same rhetoric he makes at serious functions. It's really strange the pretzels that people become when they try to reconcile their politics with their personal behavior.

TODAY'S TOM SAWYER...

...he gets high on you.

And the role is being played by...

JT WU?!?

THE STING OF FAIL

Didja see Bee Movie? It stars Jerry Seinfeld as a cartoon bee.

Jerry Seinfeld should be BEE-headed! Ha! Instant classic!

I hate it when male comedians get married and have kids. They get religion on parenting from their gold-diggers, and then the public has to suffer through the "home movies" stage of their careers, a.k.a. the end.

Seinfeld, listen. You don't see Barney getting lost in parking garages or having masturbation contests. Just do what you do.

The premise of the movie is that bees should have a say in what happens with their honey. Ridiculous. That's like getting a happy ending and demanding a take out box of the mess in case you decide to have a child one day.

I hate bees. I only tolerate them because they make honey, Cheerios, and nasal spray. If it weren't for that, they'd be useless. They'd be like Arabs without oil. Stinging Arabs.

And now, witness the Defensive Bee Dance.

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."

PHONE DUMP

Due to the Halloween being on Wednesday this year, What's Your Story will not be taping this week so that the staff can spend time sorting and eating candy with their loved ones, and harvest the crops at night.

I'd like you to get to know the staff of What's Your Story. I'm not trying to fix you up or anything, just say hey to the people who help me look sexy on internet TV. Here were the only people I managed to sneak up on with my camera phone.

Here's Scott. Scott's job is to make sure that things are funny. He does not have any infections, and always manages to find time to share a warm cup of soup with a friend.

This is Bonnie. Her job is to make sure the production runs smoothly and on time. I still have no idea what she looks like. She won't step out from behind her arms. I don't know how she eats.

Here's Lauren. Her job is to put everyone at ease. See the "L" she's forming with her hand? That's her gang sign. The 17th Street Laurens. Hang out, sip some sizzurp, yo.

While we're at it, let's do a cameraphone dump. It's been awhile.

George Stein recently invited me to his Jewdo matches at Gwinnett Center.

It was very exciting and inspiring to watch, and I left there wanting to grab someone by their lapels and throw them on their back.

This guy was a winner and a loser. Looks like he's dead, but he's not. He won his match, but broke his collarbone. The agony of victory.

Then they lightened the mood with some comedy matchups. Here's a real short guy battling a real tall one. The tall guy won and he got to take home the little guy and eat him for dinner.

Speaking of dining, let me remind restaurants that it's not cool to have reminders of disease around when people are trying to enjoy a hot meal. I know it helps your ego that you are part of something big, but I don't care.

Hey, I'm eating! Restaurants should be limited to one disease only. My vote goes for ALS, which is more appetizing then breast cancer, so go with that for this month.

"Oh, you ought to try J. Christopher's. They really are trying to fight breast cancer." No one recommends restaurants that way. Take it out back. When was the last time a cancer clinic was making flapjacks and bacon in the waiting room?

This truck has an almost Heroes symbol on it. I took this picture because I liked Heroes at the time. This was before it got pointless and hard to follow. I've watched one episode this season and it just wears me out. No rhyme or reason to what's going on. The Cheerleader can heal any wound she suffers and is played by a popular star. No way she ever dies. It's as exciting as the BCS.

The Heroes can do anything, but wind up getting nothing done. It's so frustrating. Are they really aliens? What happens to the world? Who's behind the company? Who gives a shit? It's like a sitcom for paranoids. It would be better if they picked one person with one power and gave him a show. Sure worked for My Favorite Martian.

Would someone tell the good people of Korean descent that words mean things in America? A genre is a category, right? Nail Category? How about Nail Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc? Anything would be better. Nail Wisdom. Nail Schadenfreude. Nail Nail. Nail Her.

Nail Genre? In a town where the women are prone to calling it Nail Jen-ray, anyhow?

Let me shake the phone. That's it. All empty. I'll take some rest now, and have more to say when I awaken.

BORN TO RUN AWAY

A Minnesota woman, Jammin' Jammie Thomas, was caught in the illegal download tuna nets and ordered to pay the recording industry $222,000 for 24 songs. They were that good and rare. Now the internets are safe for the rest of us. Come on, you stupid cow. Is it still 1999 in Minnesota? Jesus.

Here's the problem. The recording industry is run by people, mostly Jewish, who care a lot about money and not as much about recorded music. Don't get me wrong. Jews not only love, but are uniquely gifted in the art of recorded entertainment. Neil Diamond. End of story. Jews simply like money more than music. Which is OK. Yay, money! Yay, Jews!

The problem for these record label people is now no one needs them, so they must resort to desperate measures such as suing people who don't want to do business with them, which makes all Jews look like petty thieves. So, on behalf of all Jews who are rightfully embarrassed by the stereotypical behavior of the record companies, I dedicate this to you.

Why don't you start your own live tour company or something? The recordings are all going to be free very soon because Radiohead and others have just smashed the pricing structure with their hippy-dippy honor system. You can't beat free. No, I won't be spending anything for the new Radiohead album. Why  should I? I don't know if the songs are any good yet. I don't even know who Radiohead is. But it's free.

I also hope that more artists will start acting a little more humble now that technology has forced them to actually do physical labor for a living by touring. Like that overbearing longshoreman bore, Bruce Springsteen. He was spouting off on 60 Minutes and the Today Show again about his stale political views and how it's patriotic to be against everything that America does. He makes Bono look like Rihanna.

BILL A RIGHTS, HOLLA!

"This is a song called 'Living In The Future,' but it's really about what's happening now, right now. It's kind of about how the things that we love about America: the cheeseburgers, french fries, the Yankees batting in Boston.....But over the past six years we've had to add to the American picture: rendition, illegal wiretapping, voter suppression, no habeas corpus, the neglect of our great city New Orleans and the people, an attack on the Constitution ....."

Yeah, that's why America has been such a beacon to the world for hundreds of years. The burgers and the fries. Bush has really kept us from enjoying them what with his illegal wiretaps and voter suppression. Who can eat American food in such an atmosphere? I'm turning orange from all the carrots I'm eating while wondering if my phone is tapped.

Hey, Fonzie, get an update already!  I guess Bruce's busy schedule working construction and attending meetings at the union hall keeps him from getting a fuller picture of the news.

What happened to rock stars who like to have fun and break things? Bruce is all, "We should give more money to the government and, marry homely girls, and mope around because some black guy didn't get a high-paying job and went to war."

Piss off. I'm going to download and listen to Hinder beat up a chick.

DRIVING THE POCKET

Kids making excuses for unsatisfactory school performance already? Why, it's only October!

My child recently uttered these words, and the only thing that kept me from shaking her like a love child in the projects was the understanding that I said the same words once and I was not shaken.

After a tough day at school she says to me, "I'm not going to need to know about physics in real life, so what's the big deal?"

"You don't know that now, and there is a terrific likelihood that you will need it."

"Prove it."

"I can't." So I shook her.

Now, I want to thank these kids from the wrong side of town, whose video I've since reviewed, and now may use to educate my child with practical examples instead of shaking.

Bowling Ball Freak Accident, it's called. It's freakish that a bowling ball would land on your car after you drive in front of it.

I enjoy watching how it collectively dawns on the children that they fucked up against all odds. I love watching the dim notion play across their faces that the word unanimous is not a synonym for wise.

"Hey man, who woulda thought 10 people can all be wrong?"

My rule of thumb is this. If it takes more than 3 people before you find someone who thinks throwing a bowling ball up a ramp at 40mph may have some negative outcomes, then you are hanging with the wrong crowd.

The idea is so poorly thought out, I'm beginning to think that they are some of the most skilled professionals I've ever seen and made this rough basement video to teach the lessons of life to youth like my daughter.

I ask her, "How much money do you think the insurance company will pay for the claim, 'I didn't know a lot about physics?'"

"None."

I'm not asking her to be McGyver, just somebody who can think her way out of avoiding a bowling ball through the roof of her car. Get an "A" in that, and then we'll discuss the fine points.

WACHS UPDATE

My sister dispatches me urgently vis SMS:

Mom just said to [my sister's Filipino live-in] it mustve been ruff 4 your parents to deal w/ Pearl Harbor. OMG!

Does my mom not know Pearl Harbor is in Hawaii? I have enough worries without this. I'll just be willfully ignorant and pretend she thinks my sister's housekeeper was from Hawaii. Why does my sister even have a live-in housekeeper? My sister doesn't do anything except eat and chat and "get involved," whatever that means. No wonder those kids are baffled. At least I know what DVD to get my mom for her birthday.

New Job update: We've had some production delays so the promos won't be up until Monday, and the debut episode has been pushed back one week. Oops! Larry comes too quick again. Back to the golf course for a couple of days. Rodney Ho is still not impressed.

Here's an FYI if you ever bump into me at a carnival or fair, such as next week's Cumming Fair where I will be making an appearance. Turns out it's Ladies, Flash Your Tits Day at the Cumming Fair, and I'll be there to host. If you see me at the Fair, just flash your pretty pair at me and you'll get a prize.

Anyway, just so you know, whatever you do, don't ask me to dress up and get an old-timey photo taken. Ever. I have less than zero desire to get an old-timey photo of myself, because I do not care what I would have looked like in 1884. Take a picture of me in the future so I can assess the mistakes and maybe end it all right in the present moment.

I'm looking for a PGA pro golfer who is interested in seeing how many strokes it would take to hit a golf ball across America. I find it hard to believe anyone hasn't tried this yet. We could just roll tape as you hit the ball across America and then stop into the home of a guy in whose yard your ball landed and happens to collect the stickers found on fruit and makes mosaics of the Grateful Dead with them. That sort of thing. It's a little bit sports, it's a little travelogue, with a little Cops thrown in. You could hit the ball into the woods and stumble upon a dead cheerleader maybe. That sort of thing.

My rough guess is that par would be around 16,000.

I've trained myself to eat before my bowling league starts AND with my right hand only, so my moneymaker, the left hand, doesn't get greasy from the bowling alley-style pizza. Ideally, I should refrain from eating in a bowling alley at all, but that's going to take some time.

Eating while bowling is so filthy. You're touching that ball and god knows where that's been or what the lane mechanic back there is reading or where his pants might be. And then you touch everyone's hand after you make a spare or strike. There's so much congratulating going on in bowling. The message: "We're not that athletic, but we are very much the sportsmen." I hate to pee on their turkey, so I go along with all the skinning and fiving and hand jiving that goes along with knocking down ten pieces of molded plastic with no more than two rolls of a giant ball made of granite. But I think the bowling industry, with all the strides they've made in accurate scoring technology, needs to look into installing some laneside Purell dispensers.

I was flipping through and landed on a Sheryl Crow concert on TV, so I watched for a bit. There are few bigger dimwits on the planet, but I like her songs. And it was in HD, which is my shiny object. I will watch anything HD because I still can't get over it's HDness. Anyway, this enviro-twat predictably launched into intellectual preacher mode and said this:

Sheryl Crow mumbles her mind.

For the techno-challenged and lazy, here's what the funny lady said:

"This song is, ummmmm....Most of you who know me know I think that war is.....stupid...(yaaaay!) I don't think it solves anything, it's all just a big ole mess....People's lives and the environment, and I just think it would be a good idea to think about a woman for president. (yaaaaaaaayyyyyy!) Anyway....this is my anti-war song."

Like she has just one. The rest are all moon and June.

War solves nothing, so we can assume Sheryl still pays a tea tax to England, is interested in eugenics, and has a fine stable of black bucks and nannies on her plantation.

OK, i'll grant you it is a good idea to THINK about a woman for president. Nude. Other than that, no, thank you. I've thought about it. Bad idea. Women are good at a lot of stuff, but it's always embarrassing when Mom comes to school to confront the bullies.

Start dating some guys with two nuts, Blondie.

FLUCKED

Tonight's snacktime cereal is Special K Chocolatey Delight.

This cereal makes me sad. Special K is a dignified cereal for older people who think they are taking nutrition and care of the self seriously. Special K is garbage that carries itself like health food. It's an Afterschool Special behaving like 60 Minutes. 

While it's true that, all else being equal, the hardcore Special K eater will outlive the loyal Lucky Charms eater by 27%, it's neither a hurtful or helpful cereal. It has a nutty, crunchy taste that people of all ages can enjoy while they slopped some emergency calories. It's called Special K, and it was special. Not in the special way we condescend to our handicapped people, but in the special, quiet conservatism that surrounds a cereal represented not by a cartoon mouse on the box, but a bowl of it, pure and simple.

Now Special K has added chocolatey pieces and flake sweeteners. Special K is acting like the senior doing the Electric Slide on the cruise ship.

The taste is excruciatingly mediocre. What do you expect? Chocolatey pieces do not belong in cereal. Period. The secret to good chocolate is it's meltability. The better the melt, the better the flavor. There's no melting here, kids. Not in cold milk.

It's like eating pieces of a BIC pen cut up and dipped in chocolate. A mistake of monumental proportions from the R&D people at Kellogg. These chocolate bits have no shot of melting even in the milk of Satan, and the tip off is that they're called "chocolatey" pieces. Not chocolate. Chocolatey. Kinda like chocolate, but not exactly. This is minstrel chocolate. Mockolate is mocking this chocolate. Some people call that fake.

Fake chocolate is usually made from some petroleum byproduct that NASA discovered and fed to the astronauts to see if they could cap diarrhea while in space, and has a melting point far beyond the typical breakfast cereal environment. Chewing on the chocolate pieces has all the satisfaction of eating wax lips.

Special K. It is for you I weep...but not just yet, because Britney has lost custody of her kids. She was bobbling them and couldn't get her feet in bounds. Possession: Federline, on downers.

I have wet myself in disbelief. And Britney getting the news just after she'd taken the two darlings on a trip to the wild dingo store! That so crazy.

Reaction from Britney was muted. "That how my baby flow."

Meanwhile Federline was ebullient: "NATIONWAAHHHD IS OOOONNN MAH SAAAHHHD...yeeeeuh!

Superior Court Judge Scott M. Gordon ruled that ex-husband Kevin Federline will take custody of Sean 2, and Jayden 1, beginning Wednesday "until further order of the court." The order stemmed from an unspecified oral motion made by Federline's attorneys and was handled in a closed-door hearing.

Apparently these Federline attorneys won the case by pantomiming blow jobs whenever Britney's attorneys spoke. Hell of a strategy planting the slut seed in the judge's mind.

It's sad all the way around. Little Sean Papazao and Jayden Bootay won't be able to roll around unharnessed in the back of the Escalade anymore. Britney will have a tough time getting HD reception since the kids won't be available to wrap in foil and tie to the antenna. Perhaps they'll meet again when Britney is caught sleeping with the boys' high school buddies.

We can take comfort in the fact that since they have hit their heads so many times on Sakrete bags and 50 gallon drums that there's a chance they'll never come to understand the sudden twist of fate and luck (fluck) that has swept their way, although even the pinkest brain would be hard-pressed to detect a coke line's difference between the two ghetto-ized suburbanite parents.

I say give them to Britney so she can finish off their miserable futures. Young males who will never grow with a mother's love and raised by a white rapper; one need not be an actuary to calculate the life span and it's quality for these tots. These are the children of the Clinton generation, and we must cleanse them from our society.

The Spears saga underlines how all too easy it is for ill-equipped people to breed. People who have no skills at all can do it legally. People who can't operate a paper clip can do it. People who don't know what nostrils are can do it. We need to clarify some legislation on the matter. If it were this easy to bleed to death, don't you think laws would be passed?

As the great shemale prophet, Crocker, once pleaded....

Thus spake Crocker, and it has come to pass.

ROAD TO RUINS

I've been on the road on a listening tour of the radio business and here are my preliminary findings:

Carrie Underwood is singing Before He Cheats which is a huge hit for the sexy broad but the more I hear it the more I am offended by it.

"That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
Carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."

I'm put off by the woman's rush to vandalism. Is that called for? All he did was date someone that was not you. Not a pleasant thing, but what did Carrie Underwood do to make him search for loving elsewhere? We are not told.

Carving her name into the leather seats was a poor move in my opinion, and I'd like to hear the follow-up song, "Before She Pleads," detailing how she was jilted by a lesbian in jail while awaiting arraignment on vandalism charges.

The problem with these songs is that there are millions of angry women out there who hear them and whisper "you go girl" under their breath as they mini-van around town with your sugar-buzzed kids driving them nuts, and they get this deranged scenario in their heads that while they're dealing with the kids, you're having a holiday picnic complete with sack races at work. That's why when you come home and she's fishing for a fight, she's likely heard Carrie Underwood sing the prophylactic virtues of crazy.

I think it's a poor choice of song for Miss Underwood who is pretty and sweet and more suited to singing songs about single moms praying to Jesus to drive them to her parents house because she's not good in snow. Before He Cheats is good song, but more suited to that goofy looking Reba McIntire, redneck chick Gretchen Wilson, or some country music she-beast like that who you could see not only getting ditched for a hotter model, but also losing her mind and destroying property as well.

Bucky Covington is another one. He has this single out about what it was like growing up in the 50s but I don't think he's any older than 28. So who is he to say how the good old days were better?

I'm not naive. if you write Before He Cheats, and Carrie Underwood wants to record it, you'd have to be crazy to say no to the cash it's sure to bring in just because it's not a good artistic fit. I'm just saying to all those greedy starving songwriters, it's annoying to listen to.

I have to pee in Spartanburg, so I stop at a gas station in which no toilet is available.

"Ya gotta go over to the Waffle House," says the attendant.

"You don't have a restroom?"

"Naw. They's broken. Gotta go to the Waffle House." Sounds like a scam to sell waffles to me.

"What happened?"

Stupid question on my part because it gives him the opportunity to launch into a spiel about how the development has overwhelmed the sewer system in that town and how the zoning laws need to be changed, ad infinitum, which doesn't explain why the Waffle House next door has working toilets.

I don't have the time to hear a dissertation on smart growth and urban land use from the overnight Kangaroo attendant. So it's onto the BP a mile down the road. Thank god for the soothing voice of Gail Garmin coming to me live on the Nuvi 350 to guide me.

There I find working toilets, but they are occupied by an 8 and a 10 year old with colored Mohawks. Whoa, mom and dad, whoa! How is this going to help them gain a foothold in civil society? I'm going to write a song about these kids. Mohawk Gypsies in the Night...give it a flamenco, Chris Isaak, Doors feel with lots of Munsters-style bass. It'll be a hit, but only if i can get Baltimora to sing it. I don't want look stupid by selling it to the wrong artist.

Back in the car and scan again and the Delilah Show is on one of her 2 million affiliates. Delilah is very soothing, and I like soothing at night. I appreciate her soothing company in the car. Past 9pm I'm the kind of person that doesn't mind a little Air Supply in the car, but that doesn't mean I like a little sperm supply in the trunk. Get that straight.

I'm hearing a long distance dedication from a 32-year old likely virgin network technician with Asperger's  whose speech patterns are similar to Harvey Pekar's friend. Just the Two of Us is his dedication song and I get the feeling it's going out to a woman who has no idea he exists. But that's what radio is for; to be our portable friends who hold up a mirror to our hopes and dreams.

Scan to AM to catch the Braves circle the drain as predicted in these blogs some months ago. A news story comes on about how Nike is making shoes specifically tailored to the Native American foot which are alleged to be different from other races according to the report.

I was unaware that Indians had no access to comfortable sport footwear or that their feet are that much different from my own. Thank god for radio news. My concern is do we really want to open up that discussion in these hyper-sensitive times about the physiological differences amongst  the various races?

We've been down this road with Jimmy The Drunk Snyder, and Al Campanis. Nobody was happy with the outcome. Don't get me wrong. There are significant physiological differences amongst the various ethnic groups, but it's just that there are few people capable of mulling the topic and it's implications without someone getting uncomfortable and keying cars.

Now, a commercial for some local cut rate supermarket that serves the sub-Winn Dixie crowd. Bologna is on sale and the store owner who does his own spots pronounces it "ba loan a" as it reads instead of "baloney" as normal, non-shithead people would say it. It's only "ba loan a" when you're talking about the town in italy or Renee Taylor's husband.

Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" comes on for the 3rd time this trip. I like the song immensely. It reminds of a time when that pain in the ass ingrate Harry Belafonte kept his ludicrous opinions to himself and entertained with pleasant Carribean-tinged melodies.

Scan to something called Charlie FM. I'll say this for Charlie FM. They will never make the mistake of playing Fleetwood Mac after Nick Gilder. Not like that moron Tony FM.

This is a symptom of the larger disease that is rapidly metastasizing into the lymph nodes of the patient called terrestrial radio. What a ridiculous business model. Talent is an asset, not a cost, people. If you want to be in the audio entertainment distribution business past 2012, may I strongly suggest to some analog transmitter owners to put down the free Heinekin at the trade show, and start looking for humans who can build franchises that the masses want, in order to save your enterprise. I should point out that labeling something with an abstract concept is not the same as having a genuine product with real human attributes that create customer loyalty for generations.

You would think that if they were going to go out in this fashion, they would at least put some imagination into the label by having a Disco Stu FM or, in the case of the local Dave FM, at least hire DJs named Dave. People often ask if i'll ever do mornings at Dave FM, and the answer is no, because my name is Larry.

Tell ya what, when I get home, I'm going to the local courthouse and get the forms to change my name to Larry FM. If anybody wants to name their station Larry FM, they'll have to clear it through me. And that'll be rough seeing as how I have some very particular ideas about how Larry FM should sound, and the cost of the rabbi alone to convert the station to Judiasm borders on the obscene.I don't want my name getting hijacked by a monotonous music loop trying to be everyone's Ipod. Nip this problem in the Bud FM.

Scan to a station on the left wing side of the dial playing some beautiful hymnal music. It's well after 11pm now and I'm really looking to relax. The music is so relaxing and inspiring that I'm narcotized by it to the point that I give no mind to four Red Bull and deadline-crazed FedEx semis who speed rape my car as they pass me with ill-regard, or that I'm listening to songs about Jesus on the wildly holy Jewish day of Sukkot.

I've decided that this is the music I want to die to. I don't know what the chances are of one being able to choose the music they hear when they die. It seems to me that window is very slim. But if I do find myself fortunate enough to set my demise to some kind of music, this would be the music I'll be selecting. I'll buy a DiePod and drift off.

Then the scan button finds the local rap station which features more than a few fellas who could use a good dose of Jesus in their lives if you ask me. From what I can decipher of the melody-free grunting, all these hooligans want is to find some money or to take some money or to spend some money. Rappers are the greediest sons a bitches you'd ever want to meet.  If I'm wrong and there is a rap song about earning or investing money, send it along.

The listening portion of my research completed, I arrive at my hotel room that smells slightly like throw up. It's sufficiently masked by a spray disinfectant but it doesn't completely conceal the fact that something once went wrong in this hotel room. Then again, I don't think it's possible to be in a hotel room anywhere where nothing unpleasant has ever happened in it. Too many people out there, myself included, don't take rented property as seriously as their own, and thus feel liberated in doing their fluid letting, binge drinking, gun play and gratuitous mutilation of coeds while in the confines of temporary quarters.

The lobby has a wonderful selection of soft drinks, snacks, dinner portions of Ramen, and low-end frozen foods such as the ironically named Banquet. But it's 12:30 AM in Charlotte, a small Atlanta, but really a giant Duluth, and I must fuel, so I select a Michelina Lite Mangled Green Peppers with Beef and Rice. The box says the meal is a "chef-inspired recipe," and it's a good thing they put that label on there.  Otherwise, I'd have wrongly assumed it was inspired by a fellow in the lumber industry. These meals are rich in anti-anti-oxidants.

Two morons in alternative rock concert t-shirts are talking outside my door about the Chicago Bears QB controversy. Why can't they talk inside the room? They must know from their own experience inside the room that hotel hallway sounds travel far. In fact, I don't think it's possible to hold a conversation in a hotel hallway without 10 rooms at minimum being able to hear you. Oh, and by the way. Grossman should have been benched last year.

I've come up to Charlotte, NC to spend some time with friends and colleagues at the NAB Radio Convention. It's like a shiva house for terrestrial radio. Clearly, something is dead and the people at the convention are rhetorically positive but realistically sad. The discussion groups and panels mirror an industry in free fall and the only real controversy is how long it will be before a radio transmitter and FCC license is worth nothing. The convention wisdom says 20 years. Sounds optimistic to me. I'm probably one of 10 performers in the joint, and the rest are there because they were invited to speak on one of the thin offerings of discussion rooms about content and talent. The business has practically devoted itself to selling selling.

The panel sessions at the NAB Convention are devoted to discussing the finance and ad sales side of the business and hand wringing about the manifold government-inspired dilemmas that have come out of the woodwork to swamp radio operators large and small. There's a room for the FCC indeceny jihad problem. They even had a breakfast with the FCC chairman Kevin Martin in which not a single person asked him the most important question. Why are you regulating our industry to death?

Unlike TV, the bulk of radio's non-musical programming is live, and the costs tied up in staffing and purchasing equipment for an internal watchdog regime are significant in relation to revenues. Even then, there is no guarantee that every F-bomb and S-word will be eradicated by the in house blue pencil squads, resulting in crippling penalties. And with an FCC or Congress unwilling to clarify what specifically is indecent, it's even more difficult to manage the situation properly.

The first to go are those costly and difficult to manage hosts who make up the primary reason these days why most people even bother turning a radio on or buying ad time. The fix must be in. Clearly, the heads of this industry have sold out their 1st Amendment rights in exchange for a short term government fix for their other growing profit-eating woes, such as the ability to prop up dying AM stations by putting them on FM frequencies and getting a few more years of cash flow before both AM and FM go the way of 8mm film.

Ironically, in an adjacent party room another hand-wringing discussion is going on concerning the new royalty fees that another dying greedy industry, the record biz, has proposed for broadcasters. This is getting darkly funny. Here's an industry that has insisted, in the face of better music delivery competition, that it can still be the consumer's #1 choice for music. Now, the music industry wants to tax them to the tune of as much as $7 billion dollars a year for the privilege of playing their previously gratis recordings. That's a fine corner the radio biz has painted itself into. Can't afford to do music, can't afford to do talk. The only solution is to buy some text to voice software and hire a lad to type Dixie Cup jokes and riddles into it for $25 bucks a day.

Other rooms are devoted to discussions on how to plow more millions of dollars into convincing consumers that HD radio, a dead on arrival technology, is worth spending money on despite having no advantage over satellite or the internet. The audio is sketchy, the programming offers nothing unique, and the receivers are big and costly. Good luck with that.

I meet up with my friend and former colleague, Perry Simon, who has won quite a following amongst broadcasters for his insightful and blunt assessments of the business and his spot on predictions of how things will play out in the future. I strongly suggest you read his take on the whole crisis situation, if you're into this topic and wish to get more girls at parties with your media knowledge.

Not that the preceeding paragraphs mean that all is bleak in the House of Wachs. Oh, no. I just signed a contract for my next broadcasting venture, and I will have full details on it within 2 weeks, so check back in often here.

SWASTIKAS IN THE NEWS

Last week's secret ingredient here on Iron Bloggers was, "TASERS!"

This week...Reveal please, President Ahmedinejad...."SWAS-TEE-KAAA."

Fashion chain Zara withdraws swastika handbag

Spanish fashion chain Zara has withdrawn a handbag from its stores after a customer in Britain complained swastikas were embroidered on it.

Zara, owned by the world's second largest fashion retailer Inditex, said it did not know the 39 pound ($78) handbag had green swastikas on its corners.

The bags were made by a supplier in India and inspired by commonly used Hindu symbols, which include the swastika. The original design approved by Zara did not have swastikas on it, Inditex said.

"After the return of one bag we decided to withdraw the whole range," said a spokesman for Inditex, which has more than 3,330 stores in 66 countries.

Oh, we didn't know what they were sewing on our bags. Oh, we didn't know swastikas would upset people. Oh, we're so embarrassed. Oh, now we'll have to sell all these infamous bags on Ebay for 4 times the price.

Everyone relax, will ya? They're not racists. They're just marketers. They're harmless. Just like the guys who sell Che Guevara shirts. Your outrage fattens their profits.

That's the difference between marketing and racism. The marketer puts a swastika on a bag. The racist's handbag is made of real Jewskin.

Police Find Swastika Cut Into Acres Of N.J. Cornfield

I didn't see the newscast of this particular story, but I'd bet a lot of cash that the promos for it say, "Is your corn racist?" at least once.

Not to diminish or trivialize this outrageous act. Obviously, thousands of flying Jews will be upset by it. And maybe the corn just grew that way, and it is racist, and should be burned. I'm glad to live in a society that makes laws against swastikas in corn.

I think it could be a rudimentary maze. After all, the Indians once had a name for corn. They called it "maze." And they harbor such hatred for the Jews who made them villians in all their media presentations. Really makes you wonder....

"IT'S A BOID, I'M TELLING YOU."

THIS STORY IS NOT FUNNY

So, why is everyone laughing?

If I may....

The concept that a 1-minute news story can pack so many cliched human failings into it's slender self is mind-boggling. I'm sure if I counted, there are at least 10 places where I could say "This is my favorite part."

It's really like listening to a good pop song like "Eye of the Tiger." There are so many cool parts to that one, such as  "DUT DUT DUT (Blubblubblubblubblub) DUT DUT DUT.....DOOOOOMMMMMM!"

"He got them drunk. He got them high, and he took advantage of that situation."

"DUT DUT DUT (Blubblubblubblubblub) DUT DUT DUT.....DOOOOOMMMMMM!"

"Investigators found that cellphone in his trailer along with 20 used condoms they think he was keeping as souvenirs."

"DUT DUT DUT (Blubblubblubblubblub) DUT DUT DUT.....DOOOOOMMMMMM!"

"It shouldn't have happened to none of these kids. He needs to be hung."

"DUT DUT DUT (Blubblubblubblubblub) DUT DUT DUT.....DOOOOOMMMMMM!"

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the cream of the fight

Risin' up to the challenge of our rival

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

And he's watchin' us all in the eye of the tiger

Bravo, Action News Channel Team. Emmy!

ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER

Student Tazered at John Kerry Speech

GAINESVILLE - U.S. Sen. John Kerry's speech at the University of Florida came to a dramatic close Monday, shortly after a vocal audience member was hauled off by police and shot with a Tazer gun.

The audience member was preliminarily identified by UF officials as Andrew Meyer, a UF student in the College of Journalism and Communications.

Peteetong Pictures presents "How to Get Tazered."

As I've told many idealistic young people before, here's the downside of being a fierce anti-war advocate. When you're getting beat up, your friends won't lift a finger to help you. They'll stand around and photograph you getting tazered so they can get in the TV spotlight. Not even Kerry wanted the cops to let up.

Always remember, my 14th grade statesmen, that your fellow travelers are people who don't even want to fight the maniacs who blew up the Twin Towers and have vowed to repeat the carnage on our soil. What makes you think they're gonna fight the lesbian, black, and Hispanic campus cops for your right to heckle John Kerry? The odds are steep.

This is not a Coors Light ad where you get to ask a hapless football coach a bunch of gotcha questions about cold-filtered brewing. Still, you'll notice even Bigfoot is allowed into those because he knows how to behave properly.

WACHS AT THE WATER COOLER

What's gone ooooon?!

I received a Bar Mitzvah photo from close friends where one of their sons was wearing dreadlocks. Way to put your best foot forward. How do parents have such little guidance over their kids? Is it too scary to say, "You look filthy and you'll never get a job that way.?" What are they going to do? Kill themselves? Good. Then we can all get some sleep. Dreadlocks are for filthy people with no self-respect. There's a reason they call them dreadlocks. It's because they are dreadful.

What if I sent out Hanumas cards and, in the family photo, my daughter has not shaved her pits or legs for a year and is wearing a New England Patriots bikini? How soon would I be the first person to ever get death threats due to his family holiday card? Very.

We've got a tie game, sport fan! OJ 1-The Man 1.

By the time OJ gets the verdict in his upcoming armed robbery trial, it will be my birthday. So, if you wind up becoming an OJ juror, I would love to have a guilty verdict for my big day. Thanks. If Fred Goldman did his job a long time ago, we wouldn't have to depend on another jury to use some common sense and decency. Thank Hashem Vegas is teeming with retired white people.

What did OJ do this time? He's accused of taking memorabilia that he claims belongs to him. He was in Vegas looking for the real pilferers. Is he guilty? It's not important, my pet. OJ's in jail, he got no bail, and that's the way it goes. Raaawhk!

Here's an excerpt from OJ's new book, "If I Didn't Commit Robbery, Here's What I Would Be Doing."

Page 1

Playing golf.

Page 2

Bowling.

Page 3

Looking for killers.

Page 4

Having sex with white women.

Page 5

Having sex with white woman while the kids are home.

Page 6

Using cocaine.

Page 7

Gambling.

Page 8

Buying stuff.

Page 9

Anonymously taunting the Goldmans on Chowhound.com message boards (...hey, anybody know whatever happened to Mezzaluna in LA? it was my fave.).

Page 10

Cashing my NFL pension check and waving the cash at police.

Page 11

Convincing Sydney that it was Mark Fuhrman who smacked her in the teeth during dinner last night.

I am looking forward.

Let's take a quick glance at Week 2 of the new millenium's greatest NFL trade:

Schaub 36-50, 452yards, 3 TDs. Houston 2-0.

Harrington 33-52, 399 yards,  0 TDs. Falcons 0-2.

Vick--going to jail.

Welp, see ya next owner!

OK, I'm tired. There's been a lot of golf going on and one of the guys wished me a Happy Hannukah and another wished me Happy Rashashasha, and I've got some sunburn and then the medications to quell the sting have made my mind all hairy. I have a lot more to say about things, but it'll have to wait until after I plug into bed and recharge.

THE NEWS HARVEST

Unlike some imitation news jogs out there which pile 50-100 news stories on the unsuspecting reader everyday, the True Original News Jog here at the House of Wachs dot commer, understands that only 2-3 news stories per week are worth paying any attention to. The rest is bullshit and a waste of time.

Some weeks there are no such stories, but this week brings such a harvest that we've had 6 in two days! Roll out the barrel and catch them while you can. In fact, from now on the True Original News Jog title will be retired due to the fact that so many inferior competitors have cheapened the name News Jog.

And now, just in time for Rosh Hashanna and the new fall season, we are pleased to usher in The News Harvest!

Belichick draws $500,000 fine, but avoids suspension

So goes the headline which makes it seem like he got a break, when in reality, Belichick got screwed. If I were Eric Mangina, I'd buy Kevlar before entering Massachusetts. There's your low life right there. Half a million dollars for doing something that every team in the NFL and MLB does as routinely as lining the field. That's like a rapper suing another rapper for calling him the dreaded n-word. Can't compete in real life? Just introduce political correctness into the equation.

I like how Belichick sacked up and took it in stride without apology or commentary. That's a warrior, not a politician.

Stealing another team's signals during a game is not close to cheating. It's expected. Everybody does it. Does that make it right? Yes. It does. It's not cheating if everyone does it.

"Oh, but what if everybody decided to rob banks. Would that make it right? Huh?"

Yes. It would. That would indicate that the societal norm has shifted, making it cool to rob banks. But currently, you'll note only a tiny fraction of the population robs banks. Why? Because it's still wrong. There's no way around it.

The hell with the Falcons. They'll never get this concept. Blank is a politician, not a winner. I'm officially adopting the Pats as my favorite team. If there are any forms I need to fill out let me know, but the great thing about rooting for a team is that you can start whenever you like, so it's official to me. Maybe I'll call the Patriots later to let them know as a courtesy. I'm sure they would love to hear the support from a neutral state in the war between the Yanks.

The only real qualification you need is to declare before the 3rd game of the season. After that is bandwagon jumping.

Robot Maker Builds Artificial Boy

David Hanson has two little Zenos to care for these days. There's his 18-month-old son Zeno, who prattles and smiles as he bounds through his father's cramped office. Then there's the robotic Zeno. It can't speak or walk yet, but has blinking eyes that can track people and a face that captivates with a range of expressions.

At 17 inches tall and 6 pounds, the artificial Zeno is the culmination of five years of work by Hanson and a small group of engineers, designers and programmers at his company, Hanson Robotics. They believe there's an emerging business in the design and sale of lifelike robotic companions, or social robots.

I'm sorry. Did any of you call me? I couldn't hear the phone because the Creepy Alarm is going off in my head.

Shouldn't we be investigating instead of praising the loser who spends his time making mechanical young boys? It's offensive. Besides, the market clearly points to an insatiable demand for mechanical females. Everybody I know wants one.

Rosie O’Donnell: Shocking Revelations in New Book

Rosie O’Donnell used to break her own limbs with either a baseball bat or a wooden hanger when she was a child. This revelation, as well as many about her experiences on "The View" last year, is contained in a new book she’s written due shortly called “Celebrity Detox.”

What a shocker. Nasty fulminating dyke who flogs herself for attention as an adult did same during childhood. Hey Rosie! Bush sucks, but do you think he broke his own bones when he was a kid? I don't see it.

Let me put that headline in better perspective. Ideally, I'd have it read:

Rosie O’Donnell used to break her own limbs with either a baseball bat or a wooden hanger when she was a child, helping her become one of the foremosts experts on American foreign policy and stem cell research.

Rosie forgot to mention the ugly stick, and I think the hanger was used too late in her development to do society any good. Other than that, I hear she's a wonderful husband.

THE REAL ORIGINAL NEWS JOG

Here are some news stories that caught my eye today. I call this, The News Jog! DUN-DUN-DUN!!! I know that other people claim to have the News Jog, but I thought it up originally and mine has a cool music staging at the end of it. DUN-DUN-DUN!!!! That's how people know they have the Real Original News Jog the way it was meant to be done with unabashed prejudice and bigotry.

Top Democrat vows to block possible Bush nominee

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid vowed on Wednesday to block former Solicitor General Theodore Olson from becoming attorney general if President George W. Bush nominates him to replace Alberto Gonzales.

"He's a partisan, and the last thing we need as an attorney general is a partisan," Reid told Reuters in a brief hallway interview on Capitol Hill.

Oh, and what are you, Harry? A neutral referee? May I suppose that when your dominatrix, Hillary,  becomes president, every cabinet post will be filled with Republicans? If I were the president, here's one thing I would do. Well, two things if you count hanging Harry Reid for siding with our enemies at every opportunity. Why not nominate Harry Reid as the new Attorney General, and then pile up his workload with things he hates such as authorizing wiretaps against Al Qaeda? He would wind up fired or resigning in disgrace and humliation. Maybe a suicide in Marcy Park. Show him who's boss, Bush. 

Six dead after big quake in Indonesia

Finally, some good news from that region. Only six people dead! Usually they have 6000 or some ridiculous number in these 3rd and 4th world nations whenever the wind gets above 50mph. Six. Not bad, Indonesia. Making progress. Saved me $50 in Red Cross money. 

          Fast Food Worker Jailed for Making Salty Burger.

A McDonald's worker put too much salt on a Big N' Tasty burger that was served to a Union City police officer who got sick and was briefly hospitalized.

The worker, Kendra Bull, 20, was arrested, handcuffed, charged with reckless conduct at 1:30 a.m. and spent the rest of the night in lock-up. Later Friday morning, after a court hearing, she was released on $1,000 bond.

I wonder what would have happened if the cop ordered a Big 'n Salty, and this gal made it tasty by accident.

The cop's being a dick and the law was grossly misapplied, but I say give him a raise. Seriously, it's irritating enough to be served a fucked up burger, but to be served a fucked-up burger by this..... 

....think of how pissed you'd be. What happened, honey? Someone stab you in the mouth with a tooth and you were distracted from your salting duties? Is it really that difficult to salt meat? Thank you, minimum wage! 

"I think they went too far with it," said Bull, who has worked at the McDonald's on Jonesboro Road for about five months. "If it was too salty, why did [the officer] not just take one bite and throw it away? Why did he take eight bites and finish it and come back later and say it made him sick?"

Because you're an ugly hamster, that's why. Let's review. 

When you look like this, it really is immaterial how good or bad the burger is. The customer has already lost his appetite. So while, yes, Kendra, you are correct that he took enough bites to indicate that excessive salt was not an issue, his hospital visit was more than likely the result of excessive ugliness on the part of the sandwich preparer (you) which put this police officer over the top.

Now, people. I know from personal experience that after getting a sandwich slathered in mayo after I've told the drive-thru shitnozzle 4 times "NO MAYO, Please!" through the Thomas Edison Memorial speaker--what are they making wax cylinders of your order back there?--I'm ready to kill.

Now add a badge and a gun to that feeling, and you'd do something about your salty burger too, if you were a cop. And she only went to jail for a little bit, and it wasn't like she wasn't going to end up there anyway someday soon, because how far can you get in the world of business and commerce with a busted fang hanging from your lip?

I'll tell ya what. The problem is that fucking liberal Mayor McCheese. He's so soft on crime. I hate these pasteurized processed candidates our system gives us.

THE STORY OF OH!

You're looking at a picture of one of my top 3 all-time cereals, Ohs!

Ohs! are an onomatopoetic cereal. I find my self saying "Oh!" everytime I delightedly crunch into a handful. And, as the box claims, they are always a great value at half the price of other extended adolescent cereals on the market.

I'm just a little annoyed by the spelling on the box. Is that an exclamation mark doing double duty as an apostrophe to save space, or an apostrophe trying to pull off an exclamation? It doesn't matter. THERE IS NO APOSTROPHE IN OHS! Dammit.

It's not a possessive. The cereal wasn't invented by Sadaharu Oh or resemble little sculptures of actress Sandra Oh, and the box doesn't belong to the cereal inside in which case it would be spelled OHs' anyway.

It's not a contraction of "Oh is" cereal which would be too conceptual for most sweetened cereal buyers, or "Oh was" cereal which would be gross as it suggests a food product that had been pre-digested by paramecium and maggots. No, it's simply the plural of Oh. One piece of that graham and honey cereal with the oat bits in the middle has been trademarked as an Oh! by the Quaker Oats people, and many of them are called Ohs!.

Oh! By the way, they make computers now that can fit all the graphics properly onto any cereal box.

IT AIN'T MY DAMN CEREAL....

IN THE PATOIS OF THE FATWA

I just got done eating some delicious raisin toast. I had a hankering for it since tennis practice. It really hits the spot when I'm a little down. Tender sweet raisins, nestled into a golden gluten web of egg bread. Oh, my!

I'd like to commemorate September 10th by whining. It's what people were doing a lot of before they woke up the next day. On the 11th, I will be solemn, but the 10th is the day for whining, and I've saved my biggest fattest fatwa for last.

The AJC devoted a huge center chunk of it's front page  and almost an entire inside page to the breaking news that Yogi and Panda's lawyers are doing a swell job pimping for illegal immigration. There was no other news today, except, oh yeah, that Iraq surge report is gonna be a lie when it comes out.

But no case drew more attention than that of VIVA 105.7 FM's "Yogi y Panda." Another Clear Channel morning duo —- 96rock's "Regular Guys" —- secretly taped Yogi and Panda in a bathroom and mocked them on air. Hernan, Taylor & Lee sued. The Regular Guys, whose stance against illegal immigration was a hit with fans, were fired days later.

Hate mail poured into the law firm. "One guy said he hoped we got the Ebola [virus] and died," Taylor said.

I really can't stand this reporter's selective presentation of facts to insinuate that I had anything to do with the hate mail and death threats they received. I have a large and passionate audience. How about the death threats that US citizens along the border receive every day by drug dealers and other opportunistic low-lifes who keep home owners hostage on their own property down there.

I wrote to this jerk.

Brian--

In your puff piece on 9/10 praising the sleazy tactics of the law firm of Hernan, Taylor, and Lee, you neglected to mention that the civil and criminal complaints regarding the bathroom recording of their clients, Juan Tapia and Eduardo Carias (aka, Yogi and Panda), against me and The Regular Guys Show was thrown out of court. The taping and airing of their restroom activities was deemed lawful by the Fulton County DA, and Hernan and Company were not successful in pressing their civil case due in large part to that ruling. Neither case had anything to do with illegal immigration or my on-air stance about it, which was decidedly mixed and fairly presented.

Even after the cases were settled and dismissed, Mr. Hernan knowingly made false statements in a public forum that I had been convicted of a crime that had never been prosecuted, for which he was threatened with sanctions and forced to retract.

While it's true that I was fired from Clear Channel and 96Rock, you may want to note that there was a settlement between Clear Channel and myself, and I came away no worse off then if my contract had simply expired 4 months later. In short, there was no misconduct on my part, yet the mythology continues.

It's a difficult and competitive enough environment in radio today without bearing the burden of the constant omission of what actually happened in that particular case, not to mention the negative innuendo that results when lazy reporters carrying water for a cause fail to report the full story. Richard Jewell was treated better by your paper.

Larry Wachs

His enfeebled, predictable response. 

Larry, I'm sorry you feel our coverage hasn't been fair. And I understand all your points here. But in the context of a story about the law firm, it would simply eat up too much space to describe the full outcome of each case. To do so completely, I would have to get the requisite comment from Taylor saying they had dropped the civil case out of "bigheartedness" (or something like that, I can't remember the exact word he used), then get your take on it. And by the time I've explained all the criminal and civil details, the reader is off on a tangent that really isn't relevant to my story. You'll notice there were several cases mentioned -- that of Fernando Benitez, the day laborers, etc. -- where resolutions weren't explained either. The important point for my story is that these guys are the ones taking these cases on. They win some. They lose some. But getting into the details of each one just wasn't appropriate for this story. That's my take. I hope you understand,

Brian

Yeah, I understand.  YOU HAD ONLY ENOUGH ROOM FOR TWO PAGES OF ASS-KISSING!!! Printing the truth might divert from the shilling for their "Monsters of Anarchy" Tour up and down Buford Highway.

Your figure sucks, too, ya lazy bastard. 

SAVE YOUR ENERGY

"I invite you to embrace Islam. There are no taxes in Islam, but rather there is a limited Zakaat [alms] totaling 2.5 percent."

-Osama, on his new tape, 9/7/07

Starting to like Osama now, aren't you? Yeah me, too.

I didn't know Islam was such a low tax religion. Now that I think about it, if you don't consider totalitarianism a 100% tax on human life, I guess it is better than the US. It all depends on how unconscious you can will yourself.

---

Hey, dude! Going to the big environmental concert with Dave Matthews in Piedmont Park tomorrow?  It's the first concert designed to keep people from getting to it, so I'm not going. That's how much I want to see this concept work. I like the idea of people who use 50 times more energy in one day than I do all year, charging me 100 bucks so I can be lectured by them to use less energy. It's a whole new psycho-sexual category. EM! Enviro-Masochism. One day parents will catch their kids in the bathroom pleasuring themselves to pictures of the Amish.

Ooooo, build that barn, baby. Do it without electricity..yeah....you like that don't you?...you...make....it...so...inconvenient....ahhahhaahh...MMMGHHHIIIJJJJKKKLERRRR!!!

Playing it green for concert could swamp MARTA

For weeks, organizers have sent e-mails warning ticket buyers there will be no venue parking available, and newspaper and radio ads include the car-less admonishment. It could result in the busiest day in MARTA's history, considering Saturday's events also include a Georgia Tech football game, a Braves game and a concert at HiFi Buys Amphitheatre.

I wonder how Dave Matthews and the Allman Brothers are getting to the show. Probably walking or biking from their houses, I'll bet. I'll tell you what if you have a ticket. Get there early, because it's gonna be hard to hear the non-amplified instruments past the first two rows. Perhaps someone will hold a cardboard megaphone in front each instrument and singer. That should help.

If people really cared about the environment, someone could bootleg the show, burn it onto a DVD and send it to me. You'd save a lot of gas.

---

One thing you never see is a villian tell Superman or Batman to go fuck themselves. Never. You would think with all that's at stake in their ambitious plans, and as insane as some of them are, they'd have told Superman or Batman to fuck off once or twice. You would think that an arch-villian would have the means to bribe a cop to claim that Superman tried to have sex with him in the men's room, or buy a copy of Photoshop and retouch a photo to make it look like Aquaman was drinking a girl's pee. Say what you will about The Penguin and his ilk, but at least they were gentleman. 

---

Nike makes the worst products in this weekend athlete's opinion. It seems like they'll slap their name on anything that comes out of a Chinese textile mill that pays two chickens a week. I don't think I'm alone. In the Wall St. Journal they chatted up Christopher Vidal, extended adolescence enthusiast and consultant. 

Christopher Vidal has more than 400 pairs of sneakers crowding his New York City apartment. He makes sure to wear each pair -- if only once.

The 34-year-old Mr. Vidal grew up in Brooklyn in the 1980s and became obsessed with skateboarding and street fashion. When he's picking out a pair of sneakers to wear today, he likes to hark back to that period. He says you can't go wrong with a pair of Nike Air Force One basketball shoes that first came out in 1982 and are now hot items among sneaker aficionados. "This is not a comfortable shoe, but it's become a keepsake," Mr. Vidal says.

My Nike golf bag recently broke. I didn't think a golf bag could break, but this one did.

It's hard to steal a golf bag from a store, so I searched all over my house for the PGA Superstore gift card I received at a tournament for "Furthest From the Pin." The non-Nike bag, after gift card, wound up costing me about 42 bucks. It's the next best thing to stealing really, especially for the nifty features they include on the bag. 

Finally, a label telling everyone where my valuables are so they know not to go in there.

---

OK, I'm going to get some rest. Started a new bowling league this Wednesday, so it's a little hectic around here, and Week 1 of Fantasy Football kicks into high gear on Sunday, and I must rest so that my mind can control the players better as I watch them on TV.

PETEETONG PICTURES PRESENTS

As hinted earlier, here is the latest release from Peteetong Pictures.

Enjoy, "CHILD, PLEASE!"

THE DAY THE GAY CLOWN CRIED

Ohmigod! Jerry Lewis called someone a fag on the Labor Day Telethon!

You mean Jerry Lewis is an over-medicated, obnoxious, old Jew? When did that start?

OK, before everyone goes Imus on the bloated loon, bear in mind the guy helps cripples and I assert that outweighs the damage done by saying the word "fag," whatever that costs society, which is probably close to zero.

Anyway, call me crazy, but this slur may just work after all. The telethon set a new record this year, and it's because everyone is jumping on the new charity craze. Just look!

WHOOPI THE GREEK

Whoopi Goldberg's first day strategy on "The View" was simple. Make people forget about Rosie. Good job, Brownie! Ya done it.

Watch Whoopi defend Michael Vick with the multi-cultural argument that all cultures are good.

Let's attempt the daunting task of untangling and counting all the errors in her statements. One might be tempted to save time by simply counting all her sentences or assume she was talking about a different Michael Vick, and leave it at that, but I've got some time.

"One of the things I haven't heard anybody say is "Ya know...from his background this is not an unusual thing for where he comes from."

This is a lie. Whoopi has heard someone say this. That's why she's repeating it as her own idea. What? You think she's an anthropologist and this happened to be her thesis paper she wrote during songs and commercials on her Lite Rock favorites syndicated morning show? Read on.

"Like cockfighting in Puerto Rico...there are certain things that are indicative to certain parts of our country."

Puerto Rico is not part of our country. The word is indigenous. Not indicative. Indigenous.

Dog-fighting is not indigenous to (or indicative of) any part of our country anymore than being a black lady with a Jewish name and dreadlocks is. Both are fringe outlaw groups that are rejected by most right-thinking Americans.

Joy Behar, with a thin ice tone, asks Whoopie what part of the country she is referring to.

"He's from the South. The Deep South...."

The word deep, in this context, is sanctimonious-speak for "scary." Southeastern VA is not the Deep South, geographically or emotionally. And who uses that term anymore, besides people still living in the 70s? BTW, Prof. Goldberg, dogfighting is illegal here in the Deep South, and it happens everyday in the Deep South Bronx across the river from your studio bubble, which IS indicative of your lack of knowledge of indigenous cultures.

The culture you are looking for is called "ghetto," and it's usually found around run down buildings within big American cities. Rent a car sometime and see if you don't belee me.

"For a lot of people, dogs are sport...and so I just thought it was interesting because it seemed like a light went off in [Vick's] head, when he realized that this was something that the entire country really didn't appreciate..."

Oh, the entire country, except Whoopie, missed that moment when Vick went on TV and said, "Geez, I had no idea this wasn't cool. I'm sorry." Why then, Prof. Goldberg,  did Vick hide the operation from law enforcement? Why did he lie to the NFL? The only light that went off in his head was the federal marshall's flashlight as he was served one night.

Side question. When is that light going to go off in Whoopi's head that Whoopi Goldberg is not appreciated by the entire country, either? Even Vick won't give her herpes. See Elizabeth next to you, Whoopi? She brushes her hair, bathes, puts on some make-up, wears a tight pink blouse to accentuate her excellent breasts. She has on nice accessories, and speaks quietly and thoughtfully. That's how a woman should act. Not like a cross-breed of Miles Davis and the Grinch.

Then, that articulation disorder with earrings, Barbara Walters, asks this loony question:

"So do you think he should not have been sentenced as he was, because, as you say, it goes with the territory?"

Vick will not be sentenced until December and Whoopi never said "it goes with the territory," Barbara. Dummy.

I think Barbara wanted to ask, "Whoopie. Are you saying that Vick should not suffer any consequences for his actions?"

So, why didn't she ask that? Barbara is terrified of black people. That's why.

Whoopi continues:

"If it had been someone from NYC, my feelings would be very different."

Actually, that's a true statement. Whoopi is more concerned with her shining socialist city on a hill getting a bad rap. Dog-killing and animal cruelty is OK with her as long as it perpetuates her favorite myths about the south, and by extension, the racist white people who create the conditions for black people to do bad things down there.

If you view NY through her Whoopi-colored glasses, it is a cultural shrine on par with the great European civilizations of history. No. Wait. Dammit! Manhattan IS a European city that just happens to be on these lowly shores and no matter how many bridges and tunnels you build you can never make NYC part of America.

I gave up when Barbara, who must have prepared herself for Whoopi's debut by incurring a head injury, started relating this to the Jon Benet Ramsey case, and everyone started flapping their gums around the table about one man's trash, etc. At least on Channel 11, Firfer and Cameron are trying to give away ASPCA puppies. They may be dull, but not ignorant.

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.

ALL GUSSIED UP

Meet Gussie, everybody.

Gussie Clementine Jones Succes. She's coming to visit us this weekend from Rochester, NY. The Succes part is the last name of her only husband, Enoch,  a Haitian refugee who used her for a green card and then ran off about 15 years ago.

I met her when I was doing the 10pm-2am shift on the radio in Rochester in 1987. She worked at the now defunct Cadillac Hotel, a place where HIV could have been invented. I think someone was killed there every week. It was the in-spot for the Rochester underbelly. Transients, prostitutes, addicts, winos, pedophiles, abusers, hysterics, morons, homeless, and bad cooks all called the Cadillac home.

Gussie was the night clerk and called the station often to request songs during moments of respite from the mayhem. She was great company at 1am in a small market when nobody worth entertaining is listening.

My wife and I needed a cleaning person since we're both lazy and slobs, and she needed extra money to keep from her "husband" who was always out pissing away their salaries when she was busy working, passing the time with whores and liquor until the greenie came. She kicked him out of the house one night with no clothes on her,  she was so fed up with him. There is an upside to a society that has not yet gone digital.

There was the time I came home to find Gussie naked and stuck in our bathtub. She decided to take a bath between chores, and must have swollen up a bit in the hot bath and couldn't extricate. It didn't help that she weighed 450 pounds, either. I closed my eyes and gamely grabbed her arm as she used a small washcloth as best she could to cover her lady bits. I do hope you're not eating now.

And then there was the time she didn't show up at our apartment until 6 hours after she was supposed to. She fell asleep on the bus and went around the city several times before waking up at 3pm, and getting off at our stop, Rochester's own Pascual Perez.

Hope your Labor Day weekend is just as fun. I think big things are gonna happen for you this September. I can feel it. If Mickey Rooney makes a return appearance on this year's MD telethon, it'll be perfect.

Before I forget, I'd like to pay tribute to Richard Jewell who died the other day at age 44. He was an avid listener to The Regular Guys Show, called in on several occasions, and, like myself, had to endure the cruel joke of being wrongly accused of a crime in public.  I read that he had a heart attack, which is ironic, because during the Olympic Park bombing, of which he was accused, the band entertaining the crowd at the time was Jack Mack and the Heart Attack. That's all I got. Rest in Peace. Mr. Jewell.

USB NETWORK

A HOW viewer named Brandon writes:

Hey Larry,

I don't know if you watched the Monday Night Football game last night, but, I couldn't help but notice the number of references to the "Confederacy".... It made me wonder what they were getting at.

At one point the announcer was referencing Stone Mountain and the "Confederate Heroes" etched into stone.

After another break the golden domed capital was seen as the announcer was talking about how "Georgia was re-admitted to the union and was considered the Confederate Capital of the South and in many respects still is…."

Then, to top it all off, I have to watch Suzy "man face" Kolber asked some no-named mixed raced woman (having no relation to the football game) about whether or not race is the top dominating issue in the Vick debate in Atlanta. WHAT THE EFF? Am I reading too much into this or am I justified?

No Brandon, you are simply reacting to the parallel universe known as the Media Matrix. I'm gonna try to one up Limbaugh and his "Drive By Media" phrase here and coin a new one: The USB Media.

The USB Media. Plug and play. No thought necessary.

"Georgia, Vick, black, crime, punishment, game. Let's plug that into the machine and see what comes out...OK, let's go with the Confederate angle while we're down in Atlanta. That's still fresh."

I don't know. Maybe it's the Google Media. Well, Rush certainly has nothing to fear.

Sports journalists, by and large, are liberals just like their regular news colleagues. Sportswriters yearn to be taken seriously, but are too sophomoric to abandon the world of sports. A casual perusal at the work of Jeff Schultz, Mark Bradley, and Terence Moore in the local paper would classify them as political writers with a sports fetish, never sparing readers the opportunity to read their predictable and dated views of race, class, and sex.

If Title 9 discussions filled arenas and had free eats in the pressbox, you can be sure they'd skip the Super Bowl to cover it.

Meanwhile, the sports fan is cheated. Not only is he not getting any sports information, but also because more important stories are being overlooked by these red-herring chasers.

Look at this video from the recent Falcons-Bengals pre-season skirmish at the GA Dome Monday night.

Chris Mortensen, is busy filling up more airtime beating the dead dog of Vick's future and what it means for America (at least they spared us a Katrina anniversary special and what it means for the welfare stooges in New Orleans).

Look behind him.

Freddie the Falcon is beating the shit out of some kid. I mean hammering the tyke. Revenge of the animals? Was the kid's father a cockfighting Mexican in the MLS? We'll never know because Mort has cruelly turned his back on the incident.

And if what Vick did was so awful, why are these hypocrites criticizing Leona Helmsley for leaving her dog $12 million?

NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING RIGHT WITH THAT

Idaho Senator Larry Craig was recently arrested for soliciting for gay sex in a men's bathroom. What really would have been news if he was trolling for heterosexual companionship in a men's bathroom.

I wasn't at this toilet stall scandal. but the evidence does not look promising for the Idaslut.

From the police report:

. At 1216 hours, Craig tapped his right foot. I recognized this as a signal used by persons wishing to engage in lewd conduct. Craig tapped his toes several times and moves his foot closer to my foot. I moved my foot up and down slowly. . . .

At 1217 hours, I saw Craig swipe his hand under the stall divider for a few seconds. . . . At about 1219 hours, I held my Police Identification in my right hand down by the floor so that Craig could see it. With my left hand near the floor, I pointed toward the exit. Craig responded, "No!"

Photographic evidence of the incident.

...and the fallout, boy.

....Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington filed a complaint with the Senate ethics committee seeking an investigation into whether Craig violated Senate rules by engaging in disorderly conduct.

CREW...a front for J CREW. The fix is in. He'll likely resign in disgrace and stupid Republicans lose another political battle.

Why don't Republican politicians grasp that homosexuality is illegal only when they do it? Come on. You know the memedrill. Republican senator gets caught having fudgy activity, he voted against gay marriage, he's a hypocrite, and hypocrisy is a criminal offense.

Democrat gets caught with a young, buff, corn-rowed male in some roger 10-4. His party is nice to gay people, even have some as pets, so his behavior is tolerable. He probably will gain votes.

It's confusing, I know, and more than a bit unfair, but until we resolve whether homosexuality is good or evil, whether it's a choice or a gene, we're just gonna have to use better judgment in the toilet stalls.

Right now America seems to believe that homosexuality is funny and sad, wrong but OK, a choice that people were born with. That's why we have only half a door on each toilet stall.

THE VACANCY

Feeling superior? View this. This is Miss Teen South Carolina 2007 answering a question from a judge on NBC over the weekend.

Let's take a quick quiz now on what we've just seen.

Q: Recent polls have shown 1/5 of Americans can't locate the US on a world map. Why do you think this is?

A. 1/5 of Americans have the brains of an eggplant.

B. Our schools are underfunded.

C. I personally believe that US Americans are unable to do so because uh, some, uh, people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as and. I believe that they should, uh, our education over here, in the US should help the US, or uh, should help South Africa, and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for our children.

The correct answer is C.

Apparently, there is a PLANET South Carolina as well as a state, and I did not know that.

Really, let's just be generous in this time of need and have federal biologists come down and reclassify her as a flower. She looks pretty, probably smells sweet. Someone will pollinate her and it goes on and on and on.

Don't stop believin' and keep those rims shiny, folks!

---

UPDATE: She's on the Today Show Tuesday morning getting a second crack at the question. Actually, I thought she did a great job explaining how we have no maps because they were sent to The Iraq and The South Africa, so The US has none. Nonetheless, HOW will be taping and analyzing on tomorrow's show.

---

UPDATE ON UPDATE:

I'm wondering if listening to what she's saying makes me a loser. Hmmm. I think it does. I should be setting my alarm for 7am and preparing my special towel to lay on when the Today Show comes on.

OK, thanks.

Carry on.

THE MEATMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE

Vick suspended indefinitely without pay

That's quite a fall from grace there, Ookie, when you're less popular at Virginia Tech than the kid who shot up the entire school last spring. Why is that?

I think it's because most people who claim to love animals are full of shit. They cry about puppies and then sit down to a nice animalfleshburger every lunch and dinner. You don't see people say they love people and then turn around and eat a Mexican, do you? It's irreconcilable.

"Oh, you're wrong. I refuse to eat anything with a face."

Aww. Aren't you a kind soul? Tell me. How'd they make the glue holding your Converse All-Stars together, and how much did the Chinese pay their staff of enslaved capuchin monkeys to apply it to the shoe? How many Dog Suffrage rallies have you attended lately? Oh, and good news, I hear they stopped doing animal testing on deodorant, so it's safe to stop stinking now.

Animal lover, my eye. You're a Noah of convenience.

I like the concept of animals as companions, but I also like the flexibility and options you have with animals that you don't have with your fellow man. You can eat them, force them to do labor for free, let strange children ride them. It's not a problem if they sleep in some pee, or don't get vacations ever.

"Yeah, but Vick killed them to be cruel."

And so... the steak you're eating once belonged to a cow who was really cool about the slaughter thing? That meat was pissed off when it found out it was destined to be killed and eaten by the people who fed it and let it relax and screw for a couple of years on their lawn.

Perhaps you didn't notice when the Croc Hunter bought the alligator farm last year that animals love to kill us for the flimsiest of pretenses. That sting ray wasn't content enough to be on a popular TV program. No, he had to kill the Croc Hunter and become THE MOST FAMOUS STINGRAY IN HISTORY! Jerkoff ray. Greed got you nowhere because now the world HATES YOUR GUTS!

Animals just don't share our sentimental appreciation for the others of nature. If the roles were reversed, and the dogs were training Vick to fight (which is the strategy I emailed his attorneys to take in court, but was ignored), those dogs would be heroes amongst their own kind. German Shepards, Siamese Cats, and the mongoose would all agree that it was righteous to train Mike Vick in the Art of Assassination.

"Ya' ll see my boy Vick, leap over the goal line, whip out that Glock and shoot that motherfucker on the other team in the face? Yo, my dog, that was fucked UP! Daaaammm. Now gimme my money 'cos I trained that bitch."

That's how it would go down in the Reverse Dog Planet. And then there's the world I think about sometimes where birds can bark. It's wild.

Get off your high horses, people. They're tired and hungry.

DON'T GET MAD, GET GLAD

Ya heard?

The Atlanta City Council is considering a ban on the wearing of baggy pants, an activity popular with dangerous and stupid people.

Atlanta Councilman C.T. Martin, says saggy pants are an "epidemic" that are becoming a "major concern."

I've received a huge volume of emails here at the House of Wachs on this hot button issue. Here's a sample from a HOW reader in the Atlanta suburban area:

"Larry, what kind of world is this that allows ghetto youth to parade around town half nude, but I can't wear my white hood to a barbecue with friends?"

Excellent question, and although I understand your outrage at this travesty and your strong desire to see people of rhythm dressed in slacks and white alligator belts, please CONSIDER:

We've been down this road before, in the 80s when we banned the wearing of Viking helmets and large clocks around one's neck.

Remember how many children lost track of time and plunged into drugs and promiscuity?

If you ban baggy pants, how will people be able to tell us that they are dangerous and stupid? Many of them cannot speak or, at best, grunt like animals in order to satisfy their base urges for food, water, and poppin' pussy. This may be our only protection from such desperadoes.

What will Britney Spears' children wear? They didn't choose their womb. We've certainly had enough unwelcome nudity from that family.

Banning baggy pants may stop one slippery slope, but it will certainly start a new one when power mad government officials start banning other things that they don't like. One day we'll all wake up in regret when we realize that they've banned traditions that you or I cherish such as sideways baseball caps, hand jobs on a park bench, and public displays of menorahs.

I propose a solution that is free of government, which then can spend time on the things it does best such as helping single women raise more children.

Why not recruit and pay some of the world's top homosexuals to be seen in public wearing baggy pants and Timberlands? I think you'd see a welcome change of clothing. And think how pleasant it would be to buy some chronic from a lad dressed like Robert Goulet.

WORD!

THE DOG MIXERER

Although the Michael Vick case has been resolved quickly and to the satisfaction of many, it leaves questions still unanswered. Like, what do we do about the people who still love to see dogs fight?

Very little is more fascinating to me than a good dog scrum. I'll stop an important business conversation dead in it's tracks if I look out the window and see two dogs straining at their leashes. I know they're just posturing and the owners will rein 'em in, but for a few seconds, boy, it looks like something really cool is about to start.

The goal of the Vick prosecution was to punish the cruel forced nature of the enterprise, but since dogfighting is a natural thing, here's my proposal for better dogfighting that everyone can feel good about. I don't even want to call it dogfighting, I prefer the more accurate, dogmixing.

1.No training of dogs. Just bring 'em as they are. See what your mutt is made of. Some will be into it, some will not, but at least they have a choice. Just like on the Planet of the Dogs.

2.Prize awards should not be in cash but only in the form of non-negotiable, unbacked by gold, Dave & Buster's-style points to redeem for things such as toasters and DVD players.

3.All dog mixers end when one dog runs away or they have sex with each other.

Simple. We burp the cruelty out and the fun stays in. Dogmixing!

NEVERAMA

According to the internet, this is what I would look like as a Simpson:

Oof. Be careful what you wish for.

BOUNTY, THE DOG HUNTER

Mike Vick made his first good choice in 5 years, and is now a convicted puppy molester after pleading guilty in court today. This should come as welcome news to my pal, Shlomo Jackleg, who was complaining to me that he's sick of the black guys who call up sports radio stations and complain that Vick is receiving unfair treatment due to the color of his skin.

I wondered why he listened to sports stations for such a topic since the Vick case has little to do with sports and, therefore, beyond the grasp of the hosts, who are generally liberal, afraid of upsetting the sports machine upon which they depend, and are as intellectually curious as the dumb jocks they chat up.

Shlomo told me that 2 Live Stews have been squarely in the defense of The Dog Hitler, but I think that's understandable when one realizes that The Stews have their jobs because they are black and are under constant duress to give back to the culture which supports them so fervently.

At least the Stews have an interesting point of view. At Shlomo's insistence, I tuned into a local white-hosted sports show and was rewarded by hearing one of the hosts get fed up with the callers who played the race card and then demand the screener not put those sorts of calls on the air anymore, which was disappointing to me as a listener. Why else would I listen to the show? To hear endless speculation about Vick's future? Who cares what happens to him? He wasn't so great to begin with.

Mike Vick was not prosecuted due to the color of his skin. He was prosecuted because of his culture. That's not necessarily a bad thing. There are good cultures and bad as we've witnessed during our monumental emotional struggle with how to deal with the brown people who have vowed to kill us.

When Imus was persecuted for the color of his skin earlier this year, it resulted in black leaders being forced to confront some of the unfortunate cultural choices made by the people they nominally lead.

"Yes, now that you mention it, Mr.Sharpton, why IS calling women bitches and hoes acceptable to ANYONE?"

Now with this case, we have a golden opportunity to expose these defenders of Michael Vick with a few simple questions instead of denouncing them out of hand and leading to more racial mistrust when something bigger is at stake, such as OJ killing again.

"As a practical matter, what would be the motivation to use race to destroy the career of someone who generated so much revenue for white people?"

"Do you know of any examples of white people in the NFL running dog fight operations but not being pursued?"

"Are you asserting that skin pigment and culture are so intertwined that certain behaviors are not the results of choice, but of nature?"

"Leonard Little of the Rams was convicted of vehicular manslaughter and played afterward. Is he black?"

...for starters.

It's only a matter of time before a talk host asks me to be on his show to discuss and give me full credit for these questions without using them unattributed as if he never read this blog.

SIMPLY DON

Garrett the ex-40 year old intern on TRG Show, and Tim Andrews, have been bugging me to find their archive material in my home so they can create demos and get jobs. As if I don't have a full plate myself trying to reclaim my rightful throne as Atlanta's Greatest Ever Morning Radio Host.

But these two sure know my weaknesses and I caved in to their requests after Garrett offered me a bong that smelled like feet, and Andrews promised me an autographed photo of Jamie Massey (!).

As I was looking through old tapes, I came across a dusty VHS, popped it in the machine, and quickly forgot about Garrett and Tim.

If you are ever in Los Angeles, by all means, take the family to all the famous tourist stops. Taste the flavors of the Farmer's Market. Thrill to the Universal Tour. Stare at the Museum of Tits.

But make sure you set aside time for Don Barris' Ding-Dong Show at the Comedy Store. Every Monday night at 9:30pm, Don, hosts a cast of mentally-ill people as they present their comedy routines.

Mr. Barris was also the man behind the cult classic film Windy City Heat, the culmination of playing an obsessive practical joke on one man, Scary Perry Caravello, a print shop worker with a head injury, for over a decade.

Don discovered Perry during an open mike night, saw how easily angered and flustered he could become and then set about creating an entirely fabricated show business world around him designed to put Perry in situations that will stimulate and capture his explosive anger. Perry believes all the situations are real. All are set-up in great detail by Don.

I found this video greeting Don sent me for my 40th birthday. It's followed by an episode from his public access TV show, "Simply Don-The Public Access Program." I've cut it down and split it up for YouTube uploading. In this episode, Perry discusses the correspondence he's been having with two sexy strippers from Hondo, TX, who enjoy his work on Simply Don-The Public Access Show, unaware that Don has been the author of all the emails. Enjoy and feel the heat!

REVERSE RUDENESS

What is wrong with people? 

Cell phones. So many are still unsure of their proper role in society.

From the confusion about how loud to speak into them, to the appropriate setting for their usage, so many still confuse the possible with the compulsory. I'm sure that when indoor plumbing became the norm, people didn't take that as license to pee anywhere in any building. So what gives?

This morning I was awakened by a confusion of the opposite sort. A reverse rudeness, if you will. My landline phone rang at 8am while I was sleeping off last night's narcotics. Pill Night at the home has been moved to Thursday due to ongoing dental construction projects.

The woman was seeking my wife.

"She's not here. Let me give you her cell #." says I.

"Oh, no. I have it."

Well, then...wh...ah.....I'm speechless.

The point of my wife having a cell phone is so people who want to reach her can bypass me. No one likes the obligatory small-talk with the gatekeeper spouse. That's why anyone has a cell phone. Personal, efficient communication.

"Well, give her a ring on that then. K?"

"That's OK. Can you take a message?

Are you kidding, lady? I'm tired and lying in my own vomit. I haven't written a message for my wife in 15 years.

"Really, you should call her cell phone."

"Is it a good time?"

Oh my fucking god, woman. Again...file this under REASONS WHY THE CELL PHONE WAS INVENTED! There is never a bad time to call a cell phone. There are only bad times to answer it.

"It's a great time. Never better. Goodbye, now."

The day never recovered after that dip. 

Later on, I got busted for buying a child's ticket to "Ratatouille."  The kid with scoliosis working the ticket counter would not listen to my attempts at reasoning. 

"Come on! It's a kid's movie for christ sake. I'm gonna buy popcorn." I know the movie business and used that savvy to indicate that we both knew where the real profits were. 

He would have none of it and remained as steady as his back brace. So I was forced to exchange the ticket for an adult one and wound up with a thick sheaf of paperwork in my back pocket from the multiple transactions that I had to sit on during the whole movie making my back feel like his. How will I explain this to the board? 

Hey, knock it off with the "jew" comments under your breath, OK? I don't understand why movie theaters insist on higher prices for adults. It doesn't cost them any more money to show an adult a film than it does a child. I would contend that showing a film to an adult has less cost, because kids are more likely to put their feet, food, and excrements onto the seating, and then the theater has to bring in a crew to clean it. 

Not that this matters at the Regal Cinema on Medlock Bridge Road, because lately, every theater smells like the nursing home my grandfather was in before he died. The higher up you go in the stadium seating, the funkier it gets. The Buford Twin is probably better smelling. What are people doing in those back rows, and just what are they making shadow puppets with over the end credits? 

They need to clean up their act, because they've lost my "Superbad" business. I'll be waiting for that film by my sweet smelling mailbox when Blockbuster dot com delivers it in about 5 months. Then I will take it into my den where the only human odor is mine, the way I like it. 

Now if I could only get others to show courtesy and not call my home phone while I'm watching. 

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.