Now, we certainly don’t raise a fuss,
Much less yammer like a stupid cuss
Like the dolts on the TV
Who’ve let loose their wee-wee-
They insist that we leave on a bus!

This truly is extraordinary
They think us quite daft to tarry
But they should know by now
That ’til it kills a cow
The wind can be drowned with Chuck Berry!

Me, dear readers, don’t be quick to judge
No need to fill your drawers with fudge
As a matter of fact,
You’re seen as shy of tact
If from the hurricane bash you budge!

But now that will be enough of that-
I must continue our little chat
About things various
Challenges before us
Like how we must stop the Congress stat.

On second thought, let’s not go there now,
I’d rather behind a old mule plow-
Least then I could harass
Or even command the ass!
But I feel my blood boiling, so chao!

No, that’s not an error– one thousand rounds.  To put this in perspective, I currently have 595 rounds of .380 ACP in my ammo bunker.  (And it’s a mix– Sellier & Bellot, Winchester, Aguila, Speer, RWS, Fiocchi and even some of the old Santa Barbara Toledo Spanish mil-surp stuff.)  1,000 rounds means I could stop hunting ammo… I’ll never go boom-less again…

Doctor’s Trip: Since September of 2009, I’ve lost 35 pounds, 4 1/2 inches off my stomach (not my waist, my belly), my BMI has come down 6 points, and my percentage of body fat has come down almost 10 points.  Problem was that the medicine I was on was beginning to lose effectiveness on me.  Solution?  Switch meds to one that acts more like caffeine… and is 1/6 the cost.

Housework:  Imagine 300, but the Persians are dust bunnies.  That’s what it looked like under my computer desk.  Hours of cleaning later, and it looks good.  Heck, the room even smells better.  (Before you think I exaggerate, as I was typing this, one of the housemates walked in and said “The room even smells better!”)  Now, all I have to do is organize my DVDs, which means new racks… and shelve the books, which means new shelves…  Well, I do have another month before classes start…

Writing: I’m still working on a bunch of stuff, short stories and the like.  The one I keep referring to has gained a life of its own– I intended it to be a small toss-out… then I started looking into it, doing research… now I’ve got almost 5,000 words of research, plus papers I’ve read to see how plausible the story line was.  Then the site I chose for the story popped up in the news… for something eerily similar to what I had just written.

The hardest writing I’m doing right now is my own profile.  How can I describe myself in x words or less (and y words or more, natch)?  I have a hard time writing a resume, and that’s hard facts… how am I supposed to write a self-selling fluff piece… on myself?

If only there were a quote about betrayal from some libertarian-esque science fiction TV series I could use here to great ironic and comedic effect.

Why is it always the shitty politicians who have the beautiful female offspring? Bush, Kerry, Brown, Pelosi…

So… thoughts?

Just imagine– a few million of these, and we can rid of all those nasty oil rigs in the Gulf!

(H/T I Own The World)

Via a comment on another website, I found Lance Truscott Morrison– a Deputy Sheriff who does music.  Pretty good stuff.

Rod Serling: You’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of good and evil but of morons; a journey into a monstrous land whose boundaries are that of stupidity — Next stop, the Nannystate World.

Geographically Illiterate Woman: Oh… My… Gawd… is that a LIT CIGARETTE?  You MONSTER, put that out!  (Begins mock coughing)  Oh noes, I’m gettin’ CAN-SUH!

RS: (Puts cigarette in mouth and takes a drag) You have got to be kidding me.  Less than 35 years, and it’s come down to this?  What’s next, you gonna tell me that we elected some henpecked college boy as President?

Everyone in the bar breaks eye contact and begins shifting in their chairs.  The bartender lifts the remote and turns the T.V. to CNN, where an Obama speech is on.

RS: And I thought Nixon was bad.

Now, most of us can (probably) tell where the stanzas used in the trailer come from.  (Hint: not Glenn Beck.)  The writers at The Huffer’s Postings The Huffing Post?  Not so much.  After many statements of how poor a poet Beck was, a few lone conservative voices in the wilderness informed the “educated” Left that the lines were not Beck’s… but Rudyard Kipling’s.

Oops.

Google, motherf… oh wait, I’ve already said that.  Seriously, two minutes with Google will save you from a lot of mocking on the Internet.  But that begs the question: can leftists who use Google stay leftists?  And more importantly– has anybody on the left read Kipling’s “Tommy”?

To add insult to injury, if you’re a part of the dead-tree media, who do you get to review a book by one of the more popular commentators in T.V. right now?  A guy that hates him!  At this point, I’m just going to sit back at pop some popcorn and watch the express plow into the Volkswagen Beetle sitting in the railroad crossing.