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 The bad ones are repealed by the obnoxious consumer reviews, and everyone of every color and belief system gets a hack at making it big in the app world if they so choose.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.

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)

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.

FUGLE

Hello Larry Wachs,

It has come to our attention that invalid clicks have been generated on the Google ads on your site(s). In the future, we may adjust your payment for any days during which invalid clicks occurred in order to properly credit advertisers for any invalid activity.

As a reminder, any method of generating invalid clicks is strictly prohibited. Invalid clicks include but are not limited to any clicks that are generated through the use of robots, automated clicking tools, manual clicks by a publisher on the publisher's own web pages, or a publisher encouraging others to click on his ads.

If you are clicking on the ads on your web pages for testing purposes, please note that clicking on your own ads or encouraging others to do so for any reason is prohibited, due to the potential for inflation of advertiser costs. Please be assured that there is no need to test the ads on your site, as our specialists review all of our ads to ensure that they meet Google's advertising standards.

If you have any questions, please feel free to reply to this email. We will be happy to help in any way we can.

Sincerely,

The Google Team

---

Dear Google Team--

I don't think we've met, yet you seem to know my name but I don't know yours. I'd like to know, who exactly is on the Google Team these days? I'm the kind of person who likes to know the person he's working with. I'm a person person. I've run your ads for several months now, and I still don't know who's on my team. So give me some names, and I can better respond to your important memos about the way I run my business.

Here's the thing I'd like to know. If you can defraud advertisers, why can't I?

I don't know a single person who has ever clicked on a Google ad on their favorite blog and bought something. I don't think it's happened more than seldom, whatever that raw number happens to be.

You've successfully defrauded billions of dollars from advertisers who think they're reaching millions of "the young people" who use the internet when anybody who breathes has conditioned their brain to ignore Google Ads. Brilliant! But I want my taste. After all, I've earned it by bringing stellar fun to a loyal fan base of readers almost everyday for several years and doing it all by myself without the aid of writers, choreographers, and IT professionals. Wanna meet Team Wachs?

That's right. Ten fingers on top of two hands, attached to two arms, and two shoulders, upon which rests one creative and talented head. That's my flow chart, y'all!Disregard the shirt, feet, and pants. They don't do shit around here. They are a pain in the ass and I told them several times to get out of the picture, but they wouldn't listen. My nose does more work than they do.

Anyway, I work hard for my shit, and I don't need to be pushed around by some anonymous monopolists calling the kettle evil. Here's what I'm going to do, Google Team. I'm going to amp up my clicking campaign to even greater heights, and I won't rest until I make $50,000 in Google clicks. You've made billions on the bandwidth of little guys like me, the affiliates who make a penny a day, if anything, and probably spend $100 a month on the care and feeding of your eyeball mines. Why else the fuck would I host your cluttery, irritating ads on my site if not to make a buck? What difference does it make why people click on your ads as long as they do it? I don't use anything artificial. Why don't you pick on the click farms your own size?

Now you're trying to rig the FCC auction for the broadband bandwidth coming up soon. Net neutrality, my ass! You just want a free ride on someone else's network. I'm no slave. I'm too white and too proud.

So, readers...I say, click the shit out of those ads to the left. Click them until your carpal tendons ball up and shrivel your hand, like Kurt Cobain's penis on his wedding night. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick and don't stop until Google sends me a check for $50,000, and then I will stop this activity immediately by banning Google Ads and all things Google from this website. Then I'll get me a free Gmail account, a new PO Box, new checking account, and a mustache, and start all over again until I WINNNNN!!!!!!

Bringle it, Google! Let's see who bans whom first. Remember the story of David and Goliath? Sure you do. But do you remember the story of Izzy and Goliath? No. That's the story of the schmuck who fought Goliath a week before David did. He got his ass kicked and the Bible ignored him. Izzy was a never wazzy.

What's it gonna be? David or Izzy?

Sincerely,

The FUgle Team

DREAM GIG

As you know, in times where extra cash flow is necessary, I will not hesitate to utilize my blue star status on Ebay to make a little extra cash. Today is one of those times.

I found out in the paper where the gummint was selling off the confiscated items taken from passengers and terrorists at the airport, so I took a trip down there.

Luckily, the fans were cooling the air down to a comfortable 94 degrees in the aluminum government warehouse on top of a concrete slab in East Scary. Inside, I found bins of scissors:

corkscrews....

And plenty of Swiss Army-style knives. I suppose for a second it's still a possibility, 6 years after 9/11, that someone could take down an entire plane, maybe even a country with any of these devices.

I put a bunch of knives in my confiscated shopping buggy that some homeless guy tried to get on an airplane once. I put a couple more in my pocket to make sure I had enough. Stealing it one more time won't make any moral difference. Please.

I also saw some dangerous half-drunk water bottles, but I couldn't get the machine that separates the spit from the water to work, so I'm not offering them for sale just yet.

I'll give you $5 for this bag of knives," I said to the government customer service representative with the fun blouse and the button that read, "Axe me about welfare!"

$5? Sheeeeeeee. You wanna get me fired by my boss? You need to pay $7."

Welll...OK!

Wouldn't that be schweet to own one? Some even have their toothpicks intact. Double schweet!

Well, you can own one with my special Ebay auction...LARRY'S GRAB BAG O' KNIVES!!"

HELP WANTED

I'll bet she do.

SCIENCE!

How is it that it takes a film studio about 3 hours after a premiere to determine whether a movie stays or goes, a TV network knows within 3 weeks the fate of their new programs, but it takes a radio company 3 years and then maybe just one more quarter to determine whether something DOA will suddenly catch fire? The head. It is on auto-shake.

If that is not enough necksercise for you, CSPI, the Center for Science in the Public Interest, the research and development arm of the Center for Cash Hungry Attorneys With No Discernible Plaintiffs has successfully threatened Kellogg's to back off of using Shrek and other cuddly characters in their ads for cereal.

Science. That's a word that means when you figure that cereals with sugar and cuddly characters endorsing them have been around since before the word obesity was invented, then maybe cereal characters should be thrown out as a suspect in child obesity cases. Science. It can tell you exactly how many households have obese children with incomes over $10 a year make purchasing decisions for the family.

Meanwhile....

If you doubt for a second that porn is completely accepted in the mainstream of American life for people under 30, catch the next ad for AXE Body Spray, or, if you're not a fan of "Adult Swim," "Scrubs" or "Kyle XY," as I am, click here to see.

Their current marketing campaign is summed up by the simple slogan, "Bom Chick a Wah Wah," which is the phonetic pronunciation of a classic guitar lick played during porn scenes. Does this work at all if the target audience doesn't know much about porn?

Big Cologne has always marketed it's products as lady magnets. But they drew the line at what would happen after you got the ladies by the nose. Hai Karate showed adult men fending off (and punching!) horny women in the 60s. Even Hai Karate men had traditional ethical and moral boundaries and they were enforced with a haymaker, if necessary.

The Old Spice Guy attracted women hanging about the wharf, but even they went off into the soft-focused distance, perhaps to a cozy chowder restaurant with a fireplace for some romance. He had a shot, but not a certainty.

"Bom Chick a Wah Wah." Whoa! The Axe people are betting the sex farm that their target audience of 16-30 knows plenty about porn, even it's musical conventions, thus guaranteeing them an encounter with women so sexually aggressive that one sniff of AXE will overcome any gestures of romance or self-defense by the wearer to create a real life porn scene. The floor may even sprout shag carpeting.

Keep chasing Tony the Tiger. He's a problem.

HITTING BELOW THE INVOICE

Since I lease my cars, I've made a lot of deals and have done a lot of research into car buying over the past decade. Recently, I leased my newest car largely over the phone. Thumbs up to the folks at Jim Ellis Mazda in Cobb for not screwing around and wasting my time with the usual assortment of tricks to entice ignoramuses to buy their vehicles. Selling at or below invoice these days means the dealer has made about $2000 profit on a car instead of $3000.

That's the most prevalent trick to deal with more internet-savvy buyers. After getting the "best price," most people can be counted on to let their guard down in the Finance Room and get all that savings tacked back on in the blink of an eye. I don't begrudge car dealers making as much profit as they can, but it's not incumbent upon me, the consumer, to accept it. Some people hate car-buying because of the haggling. Those are people doomed to drive Saturns the rest of their lives and pay way more than they should after all.

Even when the guy at Jim Ellis sheared away hundreds of dollars of nonsense and ate all sorts of pure profit centers on the car, he was still smiling and as satisfied as I was. It's no mystery why. Through factory holdbacks and incentive bonuses for x number of cars a month, there is plenty of profit for the dealer. So, despite showing a loss of a couple grand to the invoice observer, everyone is happy.

But now I'm mad, because I've stumbled onto a profit center recently that's never disclosed and a surefire extra few hundred in cash for every car leased if my hunch is correct. It's flat out fraudulent, and when I turn in one particular vehicle (not the Mazda) in a few months, there is going to be a battle royale on the lot or in the court. Likely both. I'd call Clark Howard, but I lost his home number when I changed phones and agents. Clark, give me a call, because this is juicy. Then again, never mind. You've got enough fame and credit. It's my time.

Driving 2500 miles as I did all last week during my CBS/ABC audition/meet and greet tour affords a man all sorts of time to observe and think. Drive in a car long enough and you'll find all sorts of new ways to keep yourself from taking a nap on the wrong side of the yellow line. Did you know that thirteen white stripes on a highway equals 1/10th of a mile? Did you know that Kentucky and Tennessee are the only two states with Krystal AND White Castle? Yep. It's all true. 

It's why I like having my GPS Nav system on in the car even when I know the way. It kills some of the pain of time on the road by constantly updating you on how far you have to go and how much time it'll take. It's fun to watch yourself drive, and it beats drinking. In South Carolina last Sunday morning, at the tail end of the trip, I had run out of things to think about. After hearing "Wasted" by Carrie Underwood and "Glamorous" by Fergie....

"Daddy, why does she spell out the word glamorous in the song?"

"Because her fans are stupid...and it makes it less of a ripoff of Sheila E."

"How do they know she's spelling it correctly?"

"They trust her with the groove, and so, the spelling."

....for the 9th and 10th times respectively, off went the radio, and I stared slack-jawed at the GPS counting down the miles until I could unpack and listen to all the problems at home I missed in the past week.

I noticed that a mile marked on the GPS didn't match my odometer's mile. Not even close. Checked it every mile for the next 20. Same results. For every mile driven, my odometer accuses me of driving 1.07 miles. That may not seem like a big deal, but let's multiply 7% by the 44,000 miles I have on my car, and you'll see that I have been charged with driving more than 3000 miles than I actually have. Now let's take that number to the car dealership where I'm charged 10 cents a mile for every mile over my limit. At lease end, I could owe at least another $300 if my driving patterns hold.

There are ways to avoid this fee such as selling the car outright to Carmax and not paying the mileage fee. They pay the highest prices of anyone for your used car, I've found, but still, they know what the residual value is and how to use the odometer against you to justify a payout under the residual as happened to me a month ago. I saved $500 dollars by doing so, but it's like justifying ass rape by saying that only the tip went in. Then they turn around and sell the car for as much as $7000 profit.

I could've sold the car privately, but my wife doesn't want strange people coming to the house. Is that worth not making $3000 on the car? No, but arguing about it is not worth losing handjob privileges for 6 months.

And of course, by taking delivery of one of this brand's 2008 vehicles, they will most likely waive any and all dispositive fees, as they have in the past, but it's still wrong and it's still fraudulent.  Is it on purpose or accidental? I don't know, but I wonder, of all the on-board computers, how many are off by 7%? Would a 7% margin of error be tolerable in, for example, the fuel injection and valve timing computers? Is it tolerable at all in a computer that determines how much more money can be made off a car lease?

If you have a GPS in your car or know of a track with an exact mile marked off, and can test this hunch, please contact me with your findings. Include your name, email address, methodology used, and make, model, and year of your car. I'd like to hear from auto people, too. Whether you sell, auction, service, rehab, build, or test them, I'm interested in your knowledge in this matter. If you're black and notice this same odometer problem on your car, I'd really like to hear from you, because then we can get some real traction going with the whole racism angle.

I'll continue looking further into this scandal whether Corporate America likes it or not. 

SHOW BUSINESS FOR DUMMIES

I was an extra all day yesterday in Tyler Perry's new movie filming in Decatur. Tyler Perry is the dude from Atlanta who usually dresses up like a lady and makes these low-budget films for upscale black women that make huge profits. In this one, he's dressed as a man. In one scene, it was my job to walk behind him as he and his buddies are getting drunk in a bar and discussing how to kill their wives.

Janet Jackson is cast in this movie, but these scenes did not involve her so she was not there. Thank goodness, because I vowed several years ago that if I ever saw her, I would punch her in her stupid right tit for indirectly causing me to get fired from the radio. Since her non-appearance made the point moot, I could concentrate on my craft.

I put my best effort into the role of extra, even though I'll likely only get a couple of seconds of blurry screen time, if at all, and my $75 paycheck has already been spent on drugs and pornography. But that's what being a pro is all about. You do your best even when no one is looking. You execute your skills at the same level, despite the small size of the paycheck. No doubt I was the best extra there on that day, and one day I will get noticed and be back in the limelight again. But for now, I must sit still and wallow in the amateurism that surrounds me.

Another scene had me placed at a table in the bar with my "date;" this young stick with tits who works otherwise as a health club tour guide. Yeah. What's that?

"No I don't sell memberships."

"Do you train people?"

"No, I just give them a tour."

Best I can reckon is she's a health club fluffer. Gets potential male members all excited. She plants in their head the prospect of them coming in to the gym with their new memberships and seeing her everyday, slinking across the floor from machine to machine with the vague promise that if they work out hard enough and get nice muscles, they will have an opportunity to fornicate with her. 

During our 4 hours together at the table, sipping on NA beer and white grape juice mixed with Arizona iced tea, we chatted about a lot of topics such as the color of her panties, whether she was wearing any panties, the size of her panties, the cup size of her bra, the size of my private jet, what I would do to her on the private jet. But I did all of this only when the cameras were rolling. It was my character that I created. The bald rich creep who is dating his daughter's best friend from college. 

She totally didn't get what I was doing, and asked one of the production assistants if she could switch tables. The answer of course was no, because it would ruin the continuity. So she sat there and sulked and pouted when I tried to discuss interesting topics during downtime, such as the Fired Judges Scandal that's brewing, and the Sub-Prime Mortgage Lender Crisis. 

Pretty girls just seem to find out early, how to open doors with just a smile. Yet It's weird how that same girl, who in her real life spends a lot of time and effort manipulating men into buying gym memberships they'll forget about after 6 months, goes on a movie set where acting is now encouraged and expected, and she can't deal with it. Amateur. You can't hide your lying eyes. And your smile...well, that's a thin disguise. 

There's this country song I hear on the radio once in awhile and it annoys the shit out of me. It's called "Me and God." I don't mind the sentiment, because I think the world would be a better place if more people talked to their invisible friends. The grammar is correct too, because in the song, the phrase "me and god" comes as the object of every sentence, so it makes sense. 

No, what really carves a swastika in my forehead is the hypocrisy of the song "Me and God." If this singer was really into god the way he says. If he and god are really best buddies, shouldn't he be putting god first? "God and Me." There's a pecking order around here. You're a country hick. He's a god. He's first. You're not. If I were a religious person, I'd shout "blasphemer!" or "money changer!" or something outraged like that. 

One country station in town does something else I find not just irritating, but puzzling. 

Sometimes companies do irritating things such as putting their products in plastic clamshells welded shut that require you to lose a limb while accessing the product inside, but I understand the reasoning behind it. After the Tylenol scare of the 80s, companies went nuts with their safety packaging to ensure that no one could poison their patent meds and food ever again. And then came the rash of memory card poisonings in the late 90s, where people died from eating poisoned memory cards, and the packaging on those got nuts, too. We're at the point now that it's unthinkable to ask people to open a box without a detailed list of instructions. 

OK, but this country station is irritating without validity. They advertise their morning show on a billboard with pictures of the two hosts. What's the reasoning behind this? Unless they are very hot--and these two are not, in my opinion--I fail to see how you can do anything but lose listeners after their ideal mental images are shattered forever. Cornpone Calhoun and Mindy look exactly how I didn't picture them. I want to listen less. 

Here's some free advice from an expert, radio stations. No ratings advantage accrues to the cast of a radio show when people see giant pictures of them on the highway.

God, is that a cliche of lazy marketing. I think the listeners are well aware that human beings of mediocre to poor physicality quite probably belong to those voices they hear in the morning. The magic happens when they can suspend disbelief. That suspension is suspended once people can see what's going on in the kitchen. 

The only exception to this rule is if the radio host has a glaring physical deformity. I once worked with a guy who was missing his left eye. That's the guy you want on a billboard for your station. 

"Hey that guy is missing his eye. I gotta tune in to see how that went down." Big ratings. 

DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND COULD COOK LIKE ME?

Damn. I fell asleep in the middle of watching The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll last night. It's American Idol as produced by the Mafia. The set is even designed like a New Jersey strip club.

I drifted off where Chelsea or somebody was in an argument with another girl over forgetting lines to a song. That's a pretty hard thing to do since most of the songs are "my hump my hump...hump my lady lumps" types and nursery rhymy disco melodies. It's like forgetting how to chew food. So if anyone knows what happened, drop me a line. Who was made to hang up their boa last night?

Meanwhile this Sandgina Malakar on American Idol keeps hanging on despite having less stage presence and likability than William Hung, and I'm getting fed up with it. Why doesn't he just become a girl and get it over with? He wants to be one. I rest only because I know that no producer of a show of that caliber will let this go on for very long despite what the merry pranksters at various websites are trying to do. That's right, they will cheat to make sure that Sandygina gets kicked off the show and soon, no matter the vote. Why wouldn't they? Who's gonna know?

I'll tell you what, though. If the untenable does happen and Sandgina does make it past either of the two good black female singing women, you can blame the Quiz Show Scandals of the 50s for that. Damn do-gooders got their panties in a wad that some shows were rigged for better drama. Who's hurt? No one. Even the loser gets free parting gifts and lots of sexual attention for being famous from TV.

They've shut down payola and plugola so a guy can't make some extra bucks anymore. Now everything has to be petty corruption free, so Americans won't be misled that they are watching something exciting. This leads to the distinct possibility that in a couple of months American youth will vote as their idol a scared teenager who doesn't even know what sex he wants to be.

I'm going back to watch Pussycat Dolls again next week. They know what they are...and they like it.

Some notes from last week's road trip....

I want to thank the DOTs of both NC and Virginia for reminding me on their jumbotron signs over the highway to reset my clock forward and change the batteries on my smoke alarm. Thanks, but what does this have to do with DRIVING? I wonder if they are preparing a "Pay your taxes" sign for mid-April. I'd like to request a Christmas shopping days countdown around Thanksgiving.

Bumper sticker: "I love my credit union." Everyone loves something, I guess.

I don't like credit and I don't like unions, and that's why I park my big cash legal settlements in a regular bank. I've never used a credit union ever, but I know people who swear by them. They must have better snack items in the lobby. My Wachovia barely has furniture in it. However,  there's one every block, and it's really just day care for cash so I never go in. Just use the ole computer box and send portions of it flying off to some Japanese people every month.

Aside from a blatant bumper sticker show of affection, the best way to spot a credit union person is at the grocery store checkout, where you will find them in their natural habitat. At the front of the line writing checks and waiting for them to be approved while everyone else with an ATM or credit card waits with melting frozen food.

According to the announcer on Sirius Radio's Classic Vinyl channel (16, I believe), the music they play on that channel "liberated a generation." I must disagree. It actually entrapped 4 generations with brain dead ideas, such as "war is wrong," "guns are bad," "pesticides are evil," "poor people are the best." Unless you are talking about the music they played at abortion clinics after 1973. That music certainly did help liberate several generations from having to bear any of the burdens of life.

I keep getting called by a recording from East Paulding High School telling me my son was absent from school today. I appreciate the heads up and I'm glad you're looking out for the safety of my children, except I don't have a son or anything that resides in  Paulding County, so take my number off your list.

If they call again, I will post the number here so readers can have a good time with it.  I can't find it now. It scrolled off my received call list after another day of fielding calls from friendly car dealers who won't give me the price quote I requested on the internet. Exactly one salesman out of 10 has bothered so far to do what I axed and give me detailed price quotes on the cars I'm interested in. The rest have been variations on,"Looking forward to meeting you. We do have the car you're looking for. Come in anytime." Very helpful. I wasn't sure if you had any cars left or you were open anymore. Thanks for the note.

Here's an interesting tidbit of data about me I just discovered while trying to find the East Paulding number. I've cumulatively talked on my current cell phone for 342 hours, 47 minutes, 52 seconds. That compresses to two weeks of non-stop talking. How interesting and meaningless is that at the same time?

Peteetong! y'all.

AN INCONVENIENT WAISTLINE

How much did you raise for MD this year, Jerry? Oopsie! Wrong caption.

Congrats to Al Gore on receiving the Oscar for his role in "Norbit." He must be in hog heaven. He was clearly overjoyed at the victory, but only because he thought he won Oscar Meyer.

Bravo to you Mr. Almost President! Mr. Vice President to the President of Vice!  And thanks for saving the planet. Looks like you've been biking to work everyday. And to think, his wife is the one with the name Tipper. Wonder what she weighs?

And all the big stars there tonight, standing and worshipping the King of Beasts. Like Rashida Jones of "The Office," who was on SNL the night before in NY, and then back straightaway to LA on the next flight out to be in the audience for the Oscars in LA the very next evening, to cheer on Al Gore after burning through 80,000 gallons of jet fuel for the privilege.

The only real problem I have with his film is the title. The Global Warming Religion isn't an inconvenient truth at all. It's very convenient. It's a convenient way for people who got kicked out of their Arts Magnet School to appear knowledgable about science. It's a convenient way to assuage one's guilt over being wealthy. It's a convenient way to make people forget you're a guy who's not president even though he got more votes than the other guy. And it's a super convenient way to keep from the inconvenience of exercise and dietary restraint. And that's comforting to a man who looks like he's known nothing but convenience every second of his life.

Maybe my memory is fading, but didn't Hollywood despise the Gores for a stretch? How they chilled speech for artists by imposing their right-wing fascist ratings system on music? Well, turns out protecting children from Cyndi Lauper was a good idea, after all. So now all the Hollywood Hippies love him because he has an impressive track record for saving people, and after you've practiced your rescuing chops on children, well, it's only natural that you should be called to the bigs.

SAVE. OUR. EARTH.

Start by dropping about 100 lbs. Ooh! my aching crust. You're killing me down here, Al.

MELISSA WORTH

NEXT WEEK ON....DULUTH!

SELL ME, LARRY

I think I just avoided a good rogering on this Tickle Me Elmo deal. I bought two of them for $70 each back in September after reading of scattered incidents of violence on the Drudge Report. As you know, since then, the market and holiday violence levels for Tickle Me Elmo have been disappointing, and the big markups are being taken by the PSP and Nintendo thugs, like my mom. I am just one of hundreds of people trying to unload their Tickle Me Elmos this Christmas.

What to do? My heritage-based grasp of economics says the solution is easy. Hold the mother of all Tickle Me Elmo auctions.

My philosophy is simple. Most of the other people selling Tickle Me Elmo are unclean and vile people who don't care much about you...just your money.

The difference with this auction is huge. This is what's known in Ebay circles as a "premium auction." I've gone all out to make sure that your bidding experience is worth every penny.

First, I want your child to have a great Christmas, so I'm starting the auction at just $1. This is for a new, never opened Tickle Me Elmo (TMX) 10th Anniversary Edition. No reserve, either. That's for greedy people.

Second, since the Christmas bidding/buying season is very busy and tumultuous, I've thrown in an 8-pack of Publix spring water in addition to the Tickle Me Elmo. Publix water is famous for it's triple filtering and reverse osmosis procedures that make it crisp and refreshing every single sip. That's right, win the doll, get your drink on.

Third, shipping fees will only be $10.

And finally, I'm throwing in a pitcure of me, the seller, to remember the good times you had here on Ebay, Christmas 2006.

So let's recap. Tickle Me Elmo + the 8-pack of delicious Publix spring water + a picture of me, your seller + cheap shipping fees + good times and memories. Beat that other sellers! You can't and you know it, you loathsome animals.

Click here for a very special Tickle Me Elmo Ebay Auction. You won't regret it.

TIP OF THE MIND

So Hillary Clinton is running for president. Never saw that coming. She's not going to win, anyway. I know 3 NYers who voted for her as senator, but say they don't want her as president. Chuckle if you care to, but three real people is more than most political reporters talk to in a year.

It's amazing that she gets any votes given that her voice and speech patterns would mark her as an outcast in the real world. I guess if you believe that one should keep their enemies closer than their friends, NYers did the right thing by electing her senator twice. Keep her busy for a few years where you can see her. Let her win a few hands at pinochle, and then drop her in the river when the order is given.

America isn't ready for a hot female president much less a shrill old hump who makes Margeret Thatcher look like the chick who does the Toyota Mall of Georgia ads.

There will be a time for a female president, but Americans aren't just ready yet to destroy everything that's right in America by giving over the presidency to people who behave like hairdressers. It will be close between the Muslims and women as to who gets the presidency first, but I'm going to have to say women will win this race. Of course, that will lead directly to our first Muslim cleric as president. Hopefully, I will have died by then.

Will someone at Wachovia please get some damn deposit envelopes to the ATM machines! I went to 3 Wachovias before finding one lousy envelope to stick my meager deposit in so that my baby can have a nice Hanumas this year. I want an email explaining why this practice has to occur. I know you're reading this in between fucking people over. I'll bet the first person I hear from will be some lady who's thinking about everything but making the customer happy.

Can't you hire some jackass to drive around each Sunday to make sure all the ATMs have deposit envelopes handy? Hell I'll do it if you waive all my service charges and overdrafts for life. Can I use another sort of envelope of the same size? Until I get some answers, I'll just have to rely on the 20 extra envelopes I took at the 3rd stop.

The outrage industry continues to churn at a pace just behind the rest of the nation's economy. In Arizona, Racist Cop is opening a franchise in Tempe.

Ariz. cop had black men rap away ticket

Sat Dec 2, 7:07 AM ET

TEMPE, Ariz. - City leaders have apologized after a program on Tempe's cable channel showed a white police officer telling two black men they could get out of a littering ticket by performing a rap.

Tempe Mayor Hugh Hallman and Police Chief Tom Ryff apologized for the show Thursday and suspended its future production after black community leaders voiced outrage and disappointment.

Yeah, they expected a good beat down. Not that much money in suing cops who start impromptu minstrel shows.

"I accept responsibility for the actions of my staff and apologize to any members of our community who have been offended," Ryff said during a news conference Friday.

This never happens in Reno.

The segment appeared on "Tempe StreetBeat," a program produced by police in the Phoenix suburb that followed several officers on patrol. It shows Sgt. Chuck Schoville pulling over two men in August in a mall parking lot.

He first asks for a name and ID from the driver and then asks the two men if they know how much the fine is for littering.

The officer then tells the men that they can avoid getting a littering ticket "if the two of you just do a little rap about — what do you want to do a rap about? Littering? About the dangers of littering."

The two men agree, and each performs a short rap, laughing afterward.

Leaders of chapters of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and the National Action Network expressed outrage and demanded that the city act.

Right. Better the cop should just ticket them for littering and use it as a flimsy pretext to search the car for guns, drugs, and planted guns and drugs, and then beat them with a shovel until they slip quietly off to jail for a couple of nights. Making them rap and letting them go. What was this cop thinking?

Furthermore, given what happened here in the ATL last week, what with the gun-toting granny in one of the worst drug neighborhoods in America getting killed after shooting some cops on a warrant, and in NY, where some cops shot a some thugs 50 times, and the ensuing knee jerk for police head on a serving dish, perhaps we should rope off the zip codes of high police animosity and withhold all legal assistance until they work it out themselves. Let these communities that are quick to disparage the police draw up their own laws and enforcement. They've already done most of the work, anyway. Announce a date, and build a wall around them. No one leaves, and no one enters until they figure it out or kill each other.

All I know is they tried it on "The Wire," and it worked. Chuckle if you must, but watching a fictional show about inner city crime is more than some journalists do all year.

MONSTER HOUSE

I was perusing some real estate websites because I may have to move soon to keep at my stupid, but high-paying career.

It's scary out there. Not just the costs of houses in areas where teens don't get pregnant, but also the realtors themselves.

Would you buy a house from this cat? Would you want him knowing your address and floorplan? Not me. He looks hungry for human flesh. Didn't he used to host Bowling for Dollars?

And this guy is out there, too.

Bio:

I am originally from Pueblo, Colorado, which is about 100 miles south of Denver and just below Colorado Springs. After High School and later four years in the United States Navy I moved to Atlanta in August 1989 to work in the Airline industry. I was hired and worked for 18 months as flight attendant with Eastern Airlines until the company closed operations in January 1991.

In August of 1992 I received a certification for massage therapy. I was self-employed for the first time in my life. After rubbing sore muscles for 11 years I knew I was ready for a change of career. My desire was to remain independent and yet do something where I could still provide a high level of service to clients, while having fun, meeting and working with exceptional people.

Oy! Talk about your hard sell. Why not just put a picture of your junk on your business card?

HOSTILE FOR THE HOLIDAYS

Since September, when I bought two Tickle Me Elmos to cash in on Ebay holiday mania, I've been looking for headlines that told of violence in retail outlets as a bellwether of the Christmas black market. Good news is there were about 5 reports this weekend.

Some mental plegic in Milwaukee got his face smashed into a pole as a horde of toy scalpers rushed the doors of a local Target.

In Tyson's Corner, VA, police pepper-sprayed Circuit City customers who got unruly. Not to criticize the cops, but I think it's more appropriate to taser unruly Circuit Citizens.

Then in Kentucky, a rapist was caught in line at a Target there. Idiot. Everyone knows Xbox has all the good rape games.

The bad news in all this is, for me, that none of these incidents were incited by Elmo. It's all the PS3 idiots. I missed the market. What a horrible year I'm having. As of this writing, PS3s are averaging $1150 on Ebay, and TMX is topping out at around $80. My profit margin on TMX, if a gullible wind blows my way, is going to be about 1%. PS3, had I pitched a tent, would have yielded 110%. Niiiiice. At least I can say I gave 110%....up.

I'll wait another week to put up my Tickle Me Elmo auctions. That'll give me time to go out and start a fight at a Walgreen's next Friday in the name of Elmo. Start generating some profit-making headlines. I miss my new friends at the jail.

From what I can gather no one actually plays with the PS3. They just use them for this nationwide ponzi scheme until someone is left holding the bag on December 25th, and that poor schmuck really has no choice but to use the thing. Doesn't matter how many rapists they catch in line, someone always gets it in the end.

Another skill I wish I had. I could make a lot of money or meet wealthy chicks if I could do this.

LARRY LARGELY

My job search is going better than anticipated, but at the risk of alienating a lot of people, I’d have to honestly say that Checkers on Peachtree Industrial Blvd. is making a huge mistake by rejecting my recent application. There’s no doubt that paying $50 an hour is a bit of a bump from what they are used to paying their staff of food service professionals, but I’m worth it.

First, I speak English, and although that’s a scarce commodity in Corporate America, there’s still a need for English-speaking talent in the workplace. Soon, I predict it will be a must for any business which wants to succeed in America to have people on their staff who speak English.

Second, I don’t have false pride. You read all the time about media bias and elitism, but you have no idea how much contempt even low level media people have for others. I’m talking about board operators, webmasters, promo people, GMs, music pickers, boom operators, stunt boys…people who have very little social or economic impact themselves on their chosen industry, yet feel empowered by their media jobs to routinely broadside people who make food, sell things, and drive trucks. Except for the occasional illegal gardner uprising, they show little compassion for people who build and maintain families through unglamorous occupations.

Third, I am funny and interesting. This matters more than companies let on. People who dread their workplace and colleagues are not nearly as productive as people who go to work looking forward to speaking with me. It’s true that this can and has created conflicts amongst the women who find me very sexy and men who admire my bold character and are frustrated by their inability to be my friend, but with good Darwinian management, a company can turn this into an asset.

Fourth, I learn things I don’t know, very quickly. Take Atlanta, for example. When The Regular Guys Show first came to town 8 years ago, with nothing but a couple of logo shirts and some broken Hollywood dreams, I knew nothing about getting ahead in the ratings. There I was, the first week of work, staring up at the giants of the landscape: Fram, Baron, Barnes, McKee, Shapiro, Kimmer, Cameron, Hughes, Locke, and thinking, “how in the hell?” Were it not for my abilities as a student and the schooling and tutelage of my mentor, Prof. Eric Von Haessler, I don’t think I would have even made it to the new millennium, much less become one of Atlanta’s top 5 Jews.

Fifthly, I am nothing if not adaptable and flexible. My skills include drumming pop songs, jogging to stay trim, writing porn reviews, slow cooking meat, throwing almost 80mph, and selling routine items on Ebay at premium prices, in addition to my enormous talents in the realm of spoken word broadcasting. So, chew on all that, Checkers! I could have worked both drive-thrus simultaneously, too and saved you some cash. Now, I’ll just take it elsewhere.

THE ELMO ARCHIPELAGO

Yes, sir, it's true. The Regular Guys Show is currently under investigation again. I can't tell you the details, but I it has nothing to do with gayness, children, drugs, or MySpace.

Things are mighty difficult in the world of Big Radio these days. Despite great denials, satellites, cell phones, the Ipod, and stock options have already made significant inroads into the livelihood of those inside the shack with the big stick on the roof. I'm personally going to take advantage of an invite from a local pack of wild dogs to hang with them for a weekend and see how they do it. Cunning and ruthlessness are valuable tools, and I aim to get me a set.

"Satellite is having severe growing pains. They won't be a factor for sometime yet," says your pal in the tie in the Shitty Coffee Room. Who's he kidding, standing there in his Men's Warehouse suit, that he wears only on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Mondays, and was dry-cleaned as recently as the 21st century? Ask him how that Saturn is driving after 84,000 miles. That new music arrangement is certainly gonna change everything. And he's from the Spanish language station!

Well, we can wish the world was an endless cherry sundae or we can have a backup plan, which I do. Actually, I have a lot of backup plans. Finding one that works is the problem.

• The Kabox-America's #1 Kabob Preperation Aid. Rejected.
• The 80MPH Challenge. Failed.
• Wife getting job. In turnaround.
• Not eating for a year. Failed.
• Insulting people on the street corner with a tip jar. Suspended.

So I turn to the blackest of markets, the in-demand Christmas Toy market. I have two Tickle Me Elmo 10th Anniversary dolls in my possession and my goal is to price gouge them to some poor divorced soul seeking to buy their child's love during Christmas.

I don't know if the market is real yet. I do know that the company that makes Tickle Me Elmo has created an artificial shortage, complete with the quotes from great Americans, such as Pro Tourist Ramona Keys, who are outraged at the unfairness of capitalism.

Parents outraged by limited Elmo dolls (see?) 

NEW YORK, Sept. 21 (UPI) -- U.S. parents were incensed this week after area stores offered limited amounts of the new TMX Elmo doll, which has exceeded expectations since its release.

"I feel deceived," tourist Ramona Keys said Wednesday outside of the New York locale. "They sold out too quick."

You're right, Ramona. You have been had. Limited does not mean none.

I have only seen one other report thus far in the 3 weeks since the toy was released to big box stores across the Red States of America

FIGHT OVER NEW TICKLE ME ELMO DOLL TURNS DANGEROUS

Up until that point, the fight was friendly and safe.

I suspect this may be the work of a very cunning and ruthless toy executive paying street bums to duke it out in stores for $20 a fight. My calls to 911 seeking comment and followup on these reports have not been returned cooperatively. Maybe it's early yet for Christmas Toy Fight Season. Still my anxiety grows.

Please feel free to forward to the ole' email bucket any stories you may come across in the coming weeks, whether on the net or personal experience,  that links Tickle Me Elmo dolls to retail violence so that I can time my sale for maximum profit. I figure a story a week would be enough to convince me to sell later rather than earlier, without fear of holding the bag on an overhyped and overpriced box of sweatshop labor. Thank you.

IT TAKES A SQUIRREL...

Who says children's books have to be heavy-handed and infantile to get their political points across?

The official website of "Why Mommy is a Democrat."

If you're a fan of Herblock, but can't afford a newspaper or internet connection, this is the book for you. And lord knows, children need to pick a political party ASAP because, before you know it, they'll be 18 and not know what to do.

The knob job who wrote this will be on later this week to explain to us why mommy gave him a vagina for Christmas when he was 5.

We had storytime on the show today with more to come tomorrow. Here are some pages so you can follow along:

Next week, "Why Daddy Has A Girlfriend and Never Comes Home."

FRANKLY SPEAKING

I'm back from vacation. Sorry it took awhile, but I've been busy and recovering from watching TV dramas with shaky, handheld cameras. First, apologies to my wife for killing a roach with her night cream container, or whatever the hell that goop is. I'll buy you another if there's too much roach on the bottom. I'm sure the stuff in the container is extracted from equally chilling things. I even read that most perfumes that ladies wear use ocelot piss or something to make them smell right.

I come back to town to find that Jeff Francoeur has gotten engaged. It's not jealousy when I say this was not a move I recommend.  Don't get me wrong. I think he's a good man and a well-raised person from good stock and heritage, but I wouldn't recommend marriage to anyone under 30 who is surrounded by as much uh...passion...as he must be. I sometimes like to go to Turner Field just to watch BP and leave. That's where you learn far more about baseball than anyplace else. Even batboys get the once over from the stiletto-heeled investors in the stands, I've noticed. Contrary to the common propaganda, there is a clear connection between sperm levels and concentration in the male animal.

Computer resellers use this principle all the time to dupe unwary computer consumers into buying something that is not what it seems. They boast how much memory their boxes have and imply that they'll process like the wind with their newest "Fatboy" chip. And then they tout the unbelievable price savings after you package the magic new box with an eye-popping monitor with colors never before seen by humans. Then you get it home and it's all clogged with offers for Tunisia On-Line and Buddy Communicator Helper Assistant and Homework Wizard Blaster for the Kids, as if some dude is cheap and dopey enough to buy a computer that he'll share with his family.

Worst of all, that great block of memory is "shared" by the video monitor, if you're not paying attention, and there you are--stuck with a new computer that runs like the old machine within 2 months of purchase. All that money and effort, and your programs have to share attention with the monitor, degrading the performance of both.

Maybe Jeff thinks that this is a good way to forestall such problems in future trips to the plate. Dance with the one that brung ya. Calm down. Strengthen character. All I'm saying is, if he and the Braves are happy with 25 homers a year instead of 40, hitting .260 instead of .300, knocking in 85 RBI instead of 120, and he has a nice gal, some decent endorsements, and good investment instincts, then I'd like to raise a toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Francouer and best wishes for the long and fulfilling marriage that Mr. and Mrs. Wachs enjoy.

But wait until you retire to have kids. Oy!

WHO YOU CALLIN' DUMMY, DUMMY?

Is Ben Roethlisberger a dumbass? This observer notes:

-Not wearing a helmet is legal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

-Ben was observing all applicable road safety laws.

-The lady driving the car he hit may have been at fault.

So, yeah. Roethlisberger IS a big fuckin' stupid steroid laced ape because those things don't matter at all.

Look dummy, you are worth more money to more people than any 20 normal humans combined. You are not a PERSON. You are a PRODUCT. You asked for it. Now step up into something besides the pocket and be a man. Put a bucket on that neck ornament of yours and be glad the Steelers don't have a "You Broke It? You Bought It." policy. Stop being such a rebel. If we wanted a guy with a big neck to ponder Constitutional matters, we'll call Ann Coulter.

Anybody in Pittsburgh know the number of that woman who hit Ben? I want to buy her car. OK. How about scraping the blood off the street and sending me some? I'll split the Ebay with you.

BE OUR GUEST

Today, RG.com, in conjunction with the INS, HUD, and the White House, starts it's Guest Blogger Program. Today's Guest Blogger is MJ Pyro.

----------

[In these days] of illegal Mexican protests, and the assertion of rights they simply do not have, I wanted to provide you guys with visual evidence of why Americans should oppose the Mexican invasion. I have lived in my house since before the house next door was even built 15 years ago. My current neighbors are Mexican.  They moved in about 3 years ago.  The previous owners were Mexican also. (What are the odds?)   

This is their backyard complete with weeds, trash, and more junk than you can imagine, or that I can photograph.

As you can see, they treat their property as if it were a junkyard.  The main guy (I’ll explain momentarily) works construction and he parks all of his shit in the back, along with all of his scaffolding and work materials.  Understand, this is a corner lot also, so everyone can see it. They have kids.  This is the kind of shit that goes on in their cage.

   

You cannot imagine the noise when this type of activity is going on.  It gives new meaning to the phrase Mexican jumping beans.  My Leyland Cypress trees cannot grow fast enough. This is the driveway.  Notice how it is filled with cars, none being inside the garage.

 

Why? Well, with at least 2 families, or at the very least, extended relatives living in the 3 bedroom house, I suspect that it has been converted into another bedroom, so they never open the garage door. I could describe incident after incident that has occurred with these people over the last 3 years, but the email would be too long. Simply put, they don’t understand our way of life.  It’s a cultural thing, but it is important for all of us to understand.  So to all my fellow Americans, I say this.  The next time you hear a politician dumb down an issue with a political slogan “we need them to do jobs Americans won’t do”, understand the consequences of what your bleeding hearts are advocating.

Very good job, MJ. 

Cars parked all over? Check. 

Half a backboard? Check. 

Tilty trampoline? Check.

Noisy kids in mullets and gentrified rap wear? Check. 

However, your problem has little to do with illegal immigration. The yard pictured could easily be found in College Park, one of the D-villes, or Chambodia, as easily as it could be found in Lawrenceville or Roswell, or whereever it is you photographed these. Are they illegals? Good shot. But I'd say these folks are doing just fine assimilating into the redneck fabric of America.

No, my friend, you have a looming eminent domain problem.

Sell. Move. Now. Before they drop a Walmart on the whole neighborhood.

THE CONTINUING CLICHE

The loser in me decides to spend some minutes in front of the 2006 NFL Draft between innings of the Braves flailing futilely at the Mets. Michael Irvin is stoned out of his gourd. He's laughing, uncontrollably at times, at absolutely nothing. The others on the panel go pale and try to ignore him, but it's difficult when he's falling out and back-slapping his nearest colleagues. They all have that, "What is that negro smoking?" look on their faces.

The only one who seems to be amused by Irvin's euphoria is Mel Kiper, Jr. For one, Mel is seated a couple of analysts down from Irvin, using Chris Mortensen as his Irvin prophylactic, and, two, the behavior masks another year of Mel inaccurately projecting the draft. With people like Michael Irvin to distract, one can make quite a living at the otherwise useless art of projecting pro sports drafts. He smirks a knowing smirk having seen it all hundreds of times going to the scary high school around the corner from me in 1970s Baltimore. His parents must not have had the smarts like mine to get him out of that school district before it was too late. Caring about football so passionately was probably a life-saving move on the young Kiper's part. I'll bet the bussed ones called him "Kiker" a lot at Northwestern High.

The scroll at the bottom catches me up on the Top 10 No. 1 picks of the draft. Can anyone tell me the origin of the name D'Brickashaw? Another grand collusion of cultural, phonetic, and grammatical disconnects rampant amongst the fatherless segment of our society. Now I'm laughing like Michael Irvin, and I apologize for accusing him of marijuana use...although I'm probably right.

Tomorrow is Latino Lent around our beleaguered nation, in which they are giving up everything, except spitting in our faces, for an entire day! What a sacrifice. In all probability, the people who claim to be purchasing nothing will be stealing it instead.

Wonder what the outcry would be tomorrow if a retailer decided to help out a little with a "No Mexicans Allowed" sign in their store window. What if Walmart announced that they were checking people for ID before allowing them to shop on May 1st? Do you think they would be seen as an amigo to the cause? No, I think it's best if all retailers realized that people in this country illegally, reserve the right to tell legal businesses how they must treat their worst customers.

BLAME MEXICO

The less I read the paper or watch TV news, the calmer I am. TV news teaches us to panic. We've had a gas price spike every 6 months or so for the last 6 years, and everytime, we get the culture of panic egging us on to turn against common sense.

The caption reads: Marcus Andrews of Fairburn pumps gas at the Race Trac in Fairburn on Friday. Andrews drives to the College Park MARTA station to travel to Atlanta for work.

And just who is to blame for this egregious display of coping and personal responsibility? Bush, Exxon, War, Bush, Chevron, government, Cheney, Manny, Moe, Jack? How about ole Marcus himself? If we're going to hand out blame for our collective inability to come to grips with the reality of gas prices, how about at least start with the guy who wears a Michael Vick outfit to work? How much does that pay?

TV MAKES YOU FAT AND STUPID AND IRRADIATES YOUR SPERM

If you want to see what's happening in America these days, there's no better snapshot than a supermarket. All of your neighbor's habits and dramas are revealed. After this simple primer you will become so good at insinuating what a person's innermost secrets are, that I will be forced to buy a smoked plexiglass grocery buggy to use at the store. I always make it a point to peek into the buggies that pass. Those aren't just grocery items in there. Those are clues. See the eye drops and Twix? Drug addict. See the low carb yogurt and Triscuits? Slut. Who's gettin' it on? Pretend to be earnestly comparing sunscreens, but all the while keeping an eye on the condom aisle.  If they go over to frozen foods and the bags of salad afterward..Ka-ching! Horny and divorced.

Check out the bench in front of the prescriptions booth. Relatively healthy people, such as myself, who occasionally swindle a lawyer-shy doctor into overprescribing pain meds and cough syrup for a runny nose, kill the prescription wait time by bouncing giddily about the store to purchase a good beer and pizza to go with the drugs.  It's the real sickos that stick by the bench, morosely pondering where it all went wrong, in no mood for samples of  Nestle's new Injectable Cookie Dough. I feel bad for them, and it's times like these that I wish I were magical and could heal them with a touch of a finger in exchange for some free landscaping or debt relief. That would be great.

Witness first hand the minimum wage forcing employers to hire more and more deeply inconsistent workers. Deli lady, what good are plastic food handling gloves if you yawn into and handle money with them? Do you think it's to protect your nails?

We are also an alarmingly infantilized bunch. Our life expectency should bust through 80 soon, despite the best efforts of terrorists and trans-fats, yet our collective emotional growth is still stuck at about 20 and declining.

Don't believe me? Ask the cuddly Publix shark.

YAY! Sharks like fruits and veggies, too. Throw Richard Simmons and Terri Schaivo into the ocean! YAY!

Or Fannie, the ceiling fan duster.

Or, the publishers of

I've always thought breeding is way too easy as it stands without a volume of this sort right next to the book of Secrets of the Pillsbury Bake-Off.  People who are incapable of doing anything else engage in breeding with a stunning casualness. We need fewer Reproducing for Retards instruction manuals and more breeding laws. If people were catching on fire this easily, don't you think laws would be passed? 

Is there no topic too sacred for the Dummies? Apparently, Iran has gotten a hold of "Enriching Uranium for Dummies." Good idea. Maybe the bomb they send over will spawn more great works of literature in the future like "Pregnancy for Two-Headed, 13-Fingered, Prehensile-Tailed Dummies."

Tinker with that 1st amendment while you're under the hood. God help us all. I'll be over at the prescription bench, praying with the other relief seekers.

CHUPA CHUPS

Garrett the 40-year old intern got robbed yesterday by the mierdaradors attending the Declaration of War Against America at Plaza de Estupido on Buford Highway here in Aztlanta, GA.. So if anyone believes the news when they try to portray these invaders as peaceful peasants looking for an even break, than I've got the Cynthia McKinney Bridge to sell you. Is it asking too much to leave the Chupacabra alone?

It's especially galling when we have a $1000 reward, amnesty if you will, for the person who returns Garrett's stolen recorder, and the rabble rousers not more than three sheetrocks away at 105.7 down the hall won't let Garrett on the air to beam his message to their listeners, one of whom is clearly the thief.

Once again, it is up to me, the hapless American legal citizen to defend his personal Alamo:

Hey todos usted mexicano sucio. Uno de usted haba que comía bastardos robó el registrador de Garrett cuando él cubría su festival de la criminalidad en su traje de Chupacabra el lunes. Tenemos una recompensa $1000 por la vuelta segura del registrador, ningunas preguntas hechas. Sin embargo, si le encontramos antes de que consigamos el registrador detrás, le emplearemos para el trabajo de la pintura y después no le pagaremos cuando se hace. Tan consiga legal y consiga a ese registrador de mierda de nuevo a nosotros la respiración del taco.

THE STUPID WILL ATTEMPT TO STEAL THE INHERITANCE OF THE EARTH

Kristi, a listener with a top position with a top corporation, sends along this observation:

Just as I was beginning to wonder about Clear Channel's marketing strategy, they finally seem to get something right. I love the commercials far more than the current billboard campaign, which is a tad "boring" compared to prior ads. One thing I question is the placement of the billboards--driving down Tara Blvd (a.k.a. Rosa Parks Blvd), I wonder if Clear Channel is targeting those 2 potential black listeners with the numerous Regular Guys billboards I've seen in Clayton County? Do they not realize that Clayton's current demographics do not exactly represent TRG "listener material"?

Perhaps, but as I've stated before, the "Turn in your Race Card" promotion still stands. Any listener that publicly renounces the absurd Frank Ski and Tom Joyner Shows as poison to the black community with their Wayne Williams-supporting, Jesse Jackson celebrating, OJ-excusing, hate/blame whitey attitudes, and switches to the Regular Guys Show^TM will be rewarded....although the billboards don't really say that do they? I'll look into putting that up there.

See the attached, one billboard off Tara did catch my eye--it is positioned directly over one of Tara's numerous "spas"--probably accidentally so, but clever nonetheless. Clear Channel could actually take a lesson or two from the Spa's catchy ad gimmicks. Notice the giant, somewhat phallic-shaped blow-up cylinder with none other than a HAND on top, pointing to the spa! Now, this is what I call brilliant marketing! Just thought you might like to pass this lesson in Marketing 101 along to the "powers that be."

Why do you think our billboard is positioned "on top?" And you failed to notice that we are also by the auto parts store, another business that sells lubrication to men. We're in Marketing 102 if you need us.

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Anyone still reeling economically from Friday's illegal "strike?"

Man, I hope they don't do that again. Oooh! How will my car ever become clean again? Who will I have to watch like a hawk so they don't miss the obvious bird shit stains missed by the machine? Oh, how will I ever get through the day without dodging ladders on the road and uninsured motorists doing 50 in the fast lane? Who will be there to throw their diarrhea covered pants in the QT garbage can? Dear me.

My only sympathies go to Mexicans. Every other illegal protesting on Friday's show went to great pains to point out that they were NOT Mexicans.

Hey, we may be illegal, but we ain't Mexican! Harsh getting rolled under the van by other ignoramuses.

Simply put, you can choose to call them illegals or wetbacks or undocumented workers. I call them all, Mexican or other, dumbasses. Let's be blunt. When you break into someone's house, you don't complain about the quality of food in the fridge or the black level of the plasma screen you're removing for personal use. That's just dumbass.

Whither the dumbass? The dumbass is someone who is just a shade over retarded. They are not slow enough to qualify for government largesse, yet not swift enough to swim the currents of free markets to the shores of success. What do we do with our second-rate people if not grind them for food? Only a dumbass would think that this country would cease to run if we couldn't get our strawberries in a timely manner.

And you politicians keep on raising the minimum wage so we pay more for less productivity. Dumbasses are not limited to brown. What's wrong with paying a dude a buck an hour if that's what he's worth at that particular time?

Instead of agitating for unearned respect, you few protestin' folks who can read this ought to thank your lucky stars that someone around here doesn't get the idea to pass a law tomorrow that makes you motherfuckers work for free. Our miscalculation last time was forcing people to come here and not letting them leave if they didn't like it. This time we may have more backers.

WHITE SUNDAY

There's about a millimeter of snow accumulation in my back yard. It's rare that it falls here, rarer that it sticks, my winter wonderland will be gone in 2 hours time, and in less than 30 days, the daytime temps here will be consistently in the 60s and 70s. In NY and MD this morning where most of my family lives:

Other than a considerable (at least 10X) raise in salary, I can't imagine living in the northeast again. What would be the point of that? Bad weather half the year, high taxes, Democrats, terrorists running around, small, old crappy houses that cost twice as much, schools run by Stalinists.

Two years ago, during my radio gulag, I interviewed at a station in Philadelphia. I couldn't sleep the night before, nervous that I would actually get the job and have to live in Philly. Looking back, I think I subtly torpedoed my chances in the interview. Maybe it was when I mentioned that I'd like to feature a different porn star each week and convert them to Christ, and then take some calls.

"New York's got the best of everything, yo."

It's also got the worst of lots more. Must I give up the pleasance of Georgia just for a slightly better slice of pizza and a crack at seeing "Brokeback Mountain" before the rest of country? Umm....

SU-SU-SUDACARE

I got a reply to my email from, Sudacare, a division of Pfizer, the people who make Shower Soothers, one of the finest bathroom products known to man.

It was disappointing. As disappointing as Shower Soothers are soothing. I got a form letter and a booklet of "money-saving" coupons. Not free coupons. Money-saving. And not a single one of them was for Shower Soothers.

Sudacare. Interesting brand name. Comes from Sudafed, which is the brand name for pseudoephedrine which was the key ingredient in the product until the meth heads forced the realFeds to step in.

But the brand name continues and has spawned another brand name in Sudacare for an entire line of cough and cold products. Now it's a marketer's purposeful misspelling of pseudo care. Makes sense. They fake caring.

I called the company.

A Tiny Investment

I bought a small ad on the Million Dollar Home Page. The profits should start rolling in now. See if you can find it.

This guy's a genius.

I may not be.

STERNONOMICS

Quite a few people have asked me of late what I think of the Era of Satellite Stern that begins in a couple of weeks. It's a lot to chew on, but ultimately, I don't see it working out well for anyone but Stern. Sirius got Bababooeyed.

This feels kind of like when Herschel Walker went to the USFL, but with more porn. It worked out for Herschel and no one else. Stern is no half jew. He tripled his salary by convincing a company that he would be a hero if he lost only 70% of his daily audience. Yarmulkes off to that! Hail the King of all Employer-Paid Benefits.

Happy working retirement, Howard.  The 1st Amendment is in safe hands now.

FAMILY NOTICES

-Happy Birthday Dr. Mike of "I've Got a Rash" fame, and my brother. He is 43.

-My sister and her unholy matrimony of convenience has lasted 11 years to this date as well.

-My Nephew, Charlie, who always greets me with a nice "STUPID FUCKING IDIOT," whenever we meet, has lasted to 5 as of yesterday.