This was sent to me by a co-worker, very funny, sounds exaggerated, but very funny.
Beware of Ryan's on Wednesday Nights......
A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards.
It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.
I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
Entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move."
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.
In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed in Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass.
But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing.
She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above.
At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door. The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Welcome to Mubadala's World
It seems that Khaldoon does not have a company email account.
I wonder why that is.
Mmmmm...............
From: Mubadala Development [mailto:gmczapp@cable-lynx.net]
Khaldoon Khalifa Al Mubarak
CEO and Managing Director,
Mubadala Development Company
P.O Box 45005,
Abu Dhabi,
United Arab Emirates
Email: mubadala147@hotmail.com
website: www.mubadala.ae
Dear Sir,
We are seeking the attention of investors, project owners and general business facilitators. Mubadala development company (Mubadala),is a project development and investment organization based in Abu Dhabi - UAE. At the core of our strategy, Mubadala makes long term capital intensive investments to deliver strong financial returns and economic diversification.
Mubadala focuses on number of areas in which it has developed significant competitive advantage, including acquisitions, aerospace/aviation, telecommunication, technology, energy, industry, healthcare, infrastructure, real estate, and hospitality and service ventures.
Mubadala Development Company (Mubadala) is a catalyst for the economic diversification of Abu Dhabi. Established and owned by the Government of UAE, the organization's strategy is built on the management of Long-term, capital-intensive investments that deliver strong financial returns and tangible social benefits for the Emirate.
Mubadala brings together and manages a multi-billion dollar portfolio of local, regional and international investments, which we wish to re-invest through project funding in investment loan to third party investors, project owners and general business facilitators on a 3.5% interest rate per annum on long term investment projects that can generate up to 10% ROI within the period.
We invite all interested project owners and investors - UAE or non- UAE to contact the undersigned for further information on procedures for consideration.
Welcome to Mubadala's World of investment opportunities.
Sincere regards,
Khaldoon Khalifa Al Mubarak
CEO and Managing Director,
Mubadala Development Company
P.O Box 45005,
Abu Dhabi,
United Arab Emirates
Email: mubadala147@hotmail.com
Website: www.mubadala.ae
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
For Marines in Afghanistan: be careful where you fart
The comments following this post referred by DGJ are, as expected, humorous.
In the end this is no different than being at home with your wife, if you are worried about what she thinks, you show her respect by restraint.
My first boss, Frank Haeger used to say....
That is about what I think of the Afghans, they are very quick to complain about how we treat them but they cannot treat their own with nearly the same respect.
For Marines in Afghanistan: be careful where you fart
In the end this is no different than being at home with your wife, if you are worried about what she thinks, you show her respect by restraint.
My first boss, Frank Haeger used to say....
Those girls think their shit doesn't stink, but their farts give them
away.
That is about what I think of the Afghans, they are very quick to complain about how we treat them but they cannot treat their own with nearly the same respect.
For Marines in Afghanistan: be careful where you fart
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Small But Tough
This was sent to me by a coworker earlier today.
People seem to be a little bit more free in Europe to advertise in the manner they wish.
I do not think this would survive the American progressive police.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Red Light
A present from DGJ........
I was sitting at a stoplight yesterday ....minding my own business, waiting on it to turn green.
A carload of young, loud Muslims shouting anti American slogans stopped next to me.
The light changed, the Muslims shook their fists, hit the gas and darted off ahead of me.
Suddenly an 18-wheeler came speeding through and ran directly over their car, crushing it completely.
For several minutes I sat in my car thinking to myself, "Man, that could have been me!"
So, today...bright and early, I went out and got me a job as a truck driver.
I was sitting at a stoplight yesterday ....minding my own business, waiting on it to turn green.
A carload of young, loud Muslims shouting anti American slogans stopped next to me.
The light changed, the Muslims shook their fists, hit the gas and darted off ahead of me.
Suddenly an 18-wheeler came speeding through and ran directly over their car, crushing it completely.
For several minutes I sat in my car thinking to myself, "Man, that could have been me!"
So, today...bright and early, I went out and got me a job as a truck driver.
A Male Fairy Tale
I think my brother has some issues at the moment.....
Once upon a time, a Prince asked a beautiful Princess, "Will you marry me?" The Princess said, "No!!!"
And the Prince lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and dated skinny long-legged broads and hunted and fished and raced cars and went to twin peaks and dated women half his age and drank whiskey, beer and Captain Morgan and never heard complaining and never paid child support or alimony and dated cheerleaders and kept his house and guns and ate spam and potato chips and beans and blew enormous farts and never got cheated on while he was at work and all his friends and family thought he was frikin cool as hell and he had tons of money in the bank and left the toilet seat up.
The End.
And the Prince lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and dated skinny long-legged broads and hunted and fished and raced cars and went to twin peaks and dated women half his age and drank whiskey, beer and Captain Morgan and never heard complaining and never paid child support or alimony and dated cheerleaders and kept his house and guns and ate spam and potato chips and beans and blew enormous farts and never got cheated on while he was at work and all his friends and family thought he was frikin cool as hell and he had tons of money in the bank and left the toilet seat up.
The End.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Language Barrier
Dear Mr. Makkizu,
I really appreciate the offer and I really need the money.
Unfortunately I can't speak Hindi either.
My loss.......
From: Mr. Don Judge Makizu [mailto:bahaaraslan@videobank.it]
Sent: Thursday, August 18, 2011 10:34 PM
Subject: [SPAM]Urgent Matter
Dear Sir,
My name is Mr. Don Judge Makizu, a business consultant based in London, United Kingdom. I got your esteemed contact during my search here for a capable, reliable and trustworthy individual from your country.
My Proposal:
There is a multi-national Wrist Watch and Jewelry manufacturing company based in Belgium that want to come to your country to buy their Raw materials.
I would like you to stand in as a middle man between me and this watch manufacturing multi-national company in Belgium.
I am acting as their consultant. This company will come to India to buy their raw materials in a huge quantity. But the problem I am having with the dealer in India is language hence, I would like you to assist me and be part of this business in India .
Your role is to use Hindi local language to liaise with the local dealer when the company in Belgium will come to India to purchase this materials.
I have tried to talk to the dealer in India but having some language problems.
Please your participation will not hinder you from your original business / activities but you and we will be making huge profits at the end of every supply made to the Belgium Company anytime they visit India.
I await your urgent response.
Best Regards,
Mr. Don Judge Makizu
I really appreciate the offer and I really need the money.
Unfortunately I can't speak Hindi either.
My loss.......
From: Mr. Don Judge Makizu [mailto:bahaaraslan@videobank.it]
Sent: Thursday, August 18, 2011 10:34 PM
Subject: [SPAM]Urgent Matter
Dear Sir,
My name is Mr. Don Judge Makizu, a business consultant based in London, United Kingdom. I got your esteemed contact during my search here for a capable, reliable and trustworthy individual from your country.
My Proposal:
There is a multi-national Wrist Watch and Jewelry manufacturing company based in Belgium that want to come to your country to buy their Raw materials.
I would like you to stand in as a middle man between me and this watch manufacturing multi-national company in Belgium.
I am acting as their consultant. This company will come to India to buy their raw materials in a huge quantity. But the problem I am having with the dealer in India is language hence, I would like you to assist me and be part of this business in India .
Your role is to use Hindi local language to liaise with the local dealer when the company in Belgium will come to India to purchase this materials.
I have tried to talk to the dealer in India but having some language problems.
Please your participation will not hinder you from your original business / activities but you and we will be making huge profits at the end of every supply made to the Belgium Company anytime they visit India.
I await your urgent response.
Best Regards,
Mr. Don Judge Makizu
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Queen's Riddle
Barack Obama met with the Queen of England.
He asked her, "Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?"
"Well," said the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people."
Obama frowned, and then asked, "But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?"
The Queen took a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy; you just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle."
The Queen pushed a button on her intercom. "Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?"
The former Prime Minister, Tony Blair, walked into the room and said, "Yes, your Majesty?"
The Queen smiled and said, "Answer me this please, Tony, your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?"
Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answered, "That would be me."
"Yes! Very good," said the Queen.
Obama went back home to ask Joe Biden, his vice president the same question. "Joe, answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It's not your brother and it's not your sister. Who is it?"
"I'm not sure," said Biden. "Let me get back to you on that one..." He went to his advisors and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer. Finally, he ended up in the men's room and recognized Colin Powell's shoes in the next stall.
Biden asked Powell, "Colin, can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister. Who is it?"
Colin Powell yelled back, "That's easy, it's me!"
Biden smiled, and said, "Thanks!" Then, he went back to speak with Obama. "Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It's Colin Powell!"
Obama got up, stomped over to Biden, and angrily yelled into his face, "No, you idiot! It's Tony Blair!"
He asked her, "Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?"
"Well," said the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people."
Obama frowned, and then asked, "But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?"
The Queen took a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy; you just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle."
The Queen pushed a button on her intercom. "Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?"
The former Prime Minister, Tony Blair, walked into the room and said, "Yes, your Majesty?"
The Queen smiled and said, "Answer me this please, Tony, your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?"
Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answered, "That would be me."
"Yes! Very good," said the Queen.
Obama went back home to ask Joe Biden, his vice president the same question. "Joe, answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It's not your brother and it's not your sister. Who is it?"
"I'm not sure," said Biden. "Let me get back to you on that one..." He went to his advisors and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer. Finally, he ended up in the men's room and recognized Colin Powell's shoes in the next stall.
Biden asked Powell, "Colin, can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister. Who is it?"
Colin Powell yelled back, "That's easy, it's me!"
Biden smiled, and said, "Thanks!" Then, he went back to speak with Obama. "Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It's Colin Powell!"
Obama got up, stomped over to Biden, and angrily yelled into his face, "No, you idiot! It's Tony Blair!"
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Rally protests ICE fingerprint program
Isn't it interesting that in a time when the Department of Homeland Defense is supposed to be streamlining information flow in a manner that allows for better decision making and efficient data sharing, that segments of the population think it proper to resist.
All the Federal government wants to do is access data that is collected from arrests for purpose of identification and joining of parallel objectives. In this case I think the Federal objective is excellent, what they eventually do with it is another matter.
I think I smell a loophole in the HR 87 application.
There were no pictures of the rally which leads me to beleive there were only a handful of folks protesting.
Rally protests ICE fingerprint program ajc.com
All the Federal government wants to do is access data that is collected from arrests for purpose of identification and joining of parallel objectives. In this case I think the Federal objective is excellent, what they eventually do with it is another matter.
I think I smell a loophole in the HR 87 application.
There were no pictures of the rally which leads me to beleive there were only a handful of folks protesting.
Rally protests ICE fingerprint program ajc.com
Monday, August 15, 2011
Get Me One
When you subscribe to liberal blogs, like Dream Activist, you're bound to get some junk mail. If this was seen in my house, I wouldn't be getting any for a while.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Obama Has No Clue What To Do With Himself | The Weekly Standard
This made me think of Huey Lewis and News song.
Morning Jay: Obama Has No Clue What To Do With Himself The Weekly Standard
Morning Jay: Obama Has No Clue What To Do With Himself The Weekly Standard
Franken Calls for Oversight of Ratings Agencies
I am not sure how to digest this, but my immediate impression is that the Senate stonewalls budgets that the agencies suggest are required to maintain a bond rating, the Senate approves a budget that has commonly known to have illusory (fake) cost reductions, the agencies react by lowering the ratings.
Essentially, Congress was told what the reaction would be, the Senate and President called their bluff and Standard & Poor's reacted as they predicted by lowering the rating.
Reaction, blame Standard & Poor's, make them pay for having the audacity to keep their promises.
This is kind of like student blaming the professor for failing a project turned in in crayon.
Franken Calls for Oversight of Ratings Agencies
Essentially, Congress was told what the reaction would be, the Senate and President called their bluff and Standard & Poor's reacted as they predicted by lowering the rating.
Reaction, blame Standard & Poor's, make them pay for having the audacity to keep their promises.
This is kind of like student blaming the professor for failing a project turned in in crayon.
Franken Calls for Oversight of Ratings Agencies
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
This is Rich
Follow the link in the title.
The Treasury Secretary of the United States lecturing European nations to get their fiscal house in order. This fool can't get his personal life in order let alone his department of government.
Here is a hint Timmy, people do not listen to the advice of failures.
This is a man who like his boss, ignores the reality of his own vast ineptitude.
If I were say, a German, I would be regretting that love fest thrown to the now President Obama during the last campaign.
You could also say that Geithner learned at the hand of the master, remember how POTUS threw Isreal under the bus earlier this summer.
The Treasury Secretary of the United States lecturing European nations to get their fiscal house in order. This fool can't get his personal life in order let alone his department of government.
Here is a hint Timmy, people do not listen to the advice of failures.
This is a man who like his boss, ignores the reality of his own vast ineptitude.
If I were say, a German, I would be regretting that love fest thrown to the now President Obama during the last campaign.
You could also say that Geithner learned at the hand of the master, remember how POTUS threw Isreal under the bus earlier this summer.
Voters Still Express More Confidence in Tea Party Than in Congress
You would never know this if you listened to MSNBC or John Kerry.
Voters Still Express More Confidence in Tea Party Than in Congress
Voters Still Express More Confidence in Tea Party Than in Congress
Debt Free America Act HR-4646
This came to me in one of these alarming emails with a trail.
Claiming to be verified on Snopes.
It, per the link, is real but unlikely to ever see a vote.
To tag this onto our President is less than fair, it is just the proposal of a Pennsylvanian like Georgian Cynthia McKinney.
snopes.com: Debt Free America Act
Claiming to be verified on Snopes.
It, per the link, is real but unlikely to ever see a vote.
To tag this onto our President is less than fair, it is just the proposal of a Pennsylvanian like Georgian Cynthia McKinney.
snopes.com: Debt Free America Act
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The People You Can Meet At A Bar
From DGJ....
Thanks.
Two women were sitting next to each other at a bar. After a while, one looks at the other and says, 'I can't help but think, from listening to you, that you're from Ireland.'
The other woman responds proudly, 'Yes, indeed I am!'
The first one says, 'So am I! And where about in Ireland are ya from?'
The other woman answers, 'From Dublin, I am.'
The first one responds, 'Oh Lordy-be...me too!! And what street did you live on in Dublin?'
The other woman says, 'A lovely little area on the west end...Warbury Street in the old central part of town.'
The first one says, 'Ah Faith, 'tis a small world. So did I! And what school did ya go to?'
The other woman answers, 'Well now, I went to Holy Heart of Mary.'
The first one gets really excited and says, 'And did I...as well! Tell me, what year did you graduate?'
The other woman answers, 'Well, now, let's see. I graduated in '64.'
The first woman exclaims, 'The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us now! Imagine our good luck at winding up in the same pub tonight! Can hardly believe it. I graduated from Holy Heart of Mary in 1964 me self!'
About this time, Michael walks into the bar, sits down, and orders a beer.
Brian, the bartender, walks over to Michael shaking his head and mutters, 'It's going to be a long night tonight.'
Michael asks, 'Why do you say that, Brian?'
Brian answers, 'The Murphy twins are drunk again.'
Thanks.
Two women were sitting next to each other at a bar. After a while, one looks at the other and says, 'I can't help but think, from listening to you, that you're from Ireland.'
The other woman responds proudly, 'Yes, indeed I am!'
The first one says, 'So am I! And where about in Ireland are ya from?'
The other woman answers, 'From Dublin, I am.'
The first one responds, 'Oh Lordy-be...me too!! And what street did you live on in Dublin?'
The other woman says, 'A lovely little area on the west end...Warbury Street in the old central part of town.'
The first one says, 'Ah Faith, 'tis a small world. So did I! And what school did ya go to?'
The other woman answers, 'Well now, I went to Holy Heart of Mary.'
The first one gets really excited and says, 'And did I...as well! Tell me, what year did you graduate?'
The other woman answers, 'Well, now, let's see. I graduated in '64.'
The first woman exclaims, 'The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us now! Imagine our good luck at winding up in the same pub tonight! Can hardly believe it. I graduated from Holy Heart of Mary in 1964 me self!'
About this time, Michael walks into the bar, sits down, and orders a beer.
Brian, the bartender, walks over to Michael shaking his head and mutters, 'It's going to be a long night tonight.'
Michael asks, 'Why do you say that, Brian?'
Brian answers, 'The Murphy twins are drunk again.'
Democratic leader accuses GOP of ‘purging' white Democrats | ajc.com
The local race card gets applied when all that is happening is ugly politics.
This is a pendulum that swings both ways.
No doubt here that in the future the Democrats will gerrymander things to their advantage.
The race card complaint is an unfair method of keeping constituency on point.
Democratic leader accuses GOP of ‘purging' white Democrats ajc.com
This is a pendulum that swings both ways.
No doubt here that in the future the Democrats will gerrymander things to their advantage.
The race card complaint is an unfair method of keeping constituency on point.
Democratic leader accuses GOP of ‘purging' white Democrats ajc.com
Monday, August 8, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Horseman, Pass By
Years ago while watching one of my favorite movies, Hud, I learned that the movie was adapted from a book written by Larry McMurtry. This is the same author the created the foundations for the movie legends of Terms of Endearment, Lonesome Dove, The Evening Star and The Last Picture Show. He is also the father of an emerging country singer James McMurtry.
A good story, first published in 1961, about post WWII life in south Texas. Narrated by the grandson Lonnie Bannon, the owner of a cattle ranch, his grandfather Homer Bannon is an old school, deeply moral man in his mid-eighties. Misfortune besets them in the form of hoof and mouth disease, the government wants and does put the whole well bred herd down to protect the industry. The book concentrates on the the crushing reality of a man's life's work being killed before his eyes, and how that crushes the spirit of a proud cowboy. The proud cowboy is a source of pride and worship for Lonnie and when Homer meets his terrible end, the boy is adrift.
The character of Hud, immortalized by Paul Newman, is a bit of an enigma in the book, serving only to increase the tension of each moment his s a part of. True also in the movie, but differently the book does not concentrate there, but on the human tragedy.
Another difference between the book and movie is how the movie describes the manner of Lonnie's father's death, the book does not go there at all, leaving it to the imagination or lack therof the reader.
This is a short book, only about 175 pages. I picked it up, used, on Amazon for less than 5$.
I strongly recommend.
Thanks.
More
A good story, first published in 1961, about post WWII life in south Texas. Narrated by the grandson Lonnie Bannon, the owner of a cattle ranch, his grandfather Homer Bannon is an old school, deeply moral man in his mid-eighties. Misfortune besets them in the form of hoof and mouth disease, the government wants and does put the whole well bred herd down to protect the industry. The book concentrates on the the crushing reality of a man's life's work being killed before his eyes, and how that crushes the spirit of a proud cowboy. The proud cowboy is a source of pride and worship for Lonnie and when Homer meets his terrible end, the boy is adrift.
The character of Hud, immortalized by Paul Newman, is a bit of an enigma in the book, serving only to increase the tension of each moment his s a part of. True also in the movie, but differently the book does not concentrate there, but on the human tragedy.
Another difference between the book and movie is how the movie describes the manner of Lonnie's father's death, the book does not go there at all, leaving it to the imagination or lack therof the reader.
This is a short book, only about 175 pages. I picked it up, used, on Amazon for less than 5$.
I strongly recommend.
Thanks.
More
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Obama's only policy
Our President seems determined to do the wrong thing in the middle east.
See how he treats his allies?
And does not act against the aggessors?
This is the behavior of a man that favors the ideology of our enemies.
He cannot help it.
Caroline B. Glick: Obama's only policy
See how he treats his allies?
And does not act against the aggessors?
This is the behavior of a man that favors the ideology of our enemies.
He cannot help it.
Caroline B. Glick: Obama's only policy
Friday, August 5, 2011
White Bread
This is not good news for peanut butter and jelly lovers like me.
Going to have to pay more attention.
Follow the limk in the title.
Going to have to pay more attention.
Follow the limk in the title.
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