Please note, the ice cream man will not stop for you in the middle of the road:
Also, I present you with the creepiest ice cream… vehicle… ever. (Language warning.)
My first thought one seeing that… thing… was a line from Tango and Cash: “Who holds the pink slip? Satan?” My second thought was “that song, it will be in my nightmares, forever.” (The fact that I just got finished watching End of Days didn’t help, either…)
(H/T both videos iOwnTheWorld)
Forgive, dear readers, my poor showing
My absence you might pin on snowing
Not here in Florida
That’s for the rest of ya-
Down here the wind insists on blowing!
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!
Via The Firearms Blog, Lucky Gunner is running a contest for bloggers– to win 1,000 rounds of .380 ACP.
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…
Okay, so… I think I forgot to write anything today. Crap. Okay, summary of why I forgot.
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?
“Scott Brown has banned any Tea Party affiliates from his Facebook Page.”
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…
I need some advice. I, err… (shifts uncomfortably in chair) I’m getting back into dating after taking a break for a few *mumbles*. I need advice as to when the young lady gets inducted into the family– you know, the people who know I carry. On the one hand, I’d rather not leave a string of angry females who know I pack in my wake, but I’d also like to be able to relax and not do the “packing heat hug” all the time. Just sayin’. I also intend to avoid this situation at all costs. (I think it’d be hard for me to conceal I’m a hunter and gun owner, what with the antlers on the wall and the AR on the rack directly above the bed…)
So… thoughts?
Yeah… it seems I have a case of the Mondays. I have family over as company, my mojo has left, and well, my rage-o-meter is pegged on MURDER-DEATH-KILL. So, see ya’ll next week– maybe explosions on the 4th will bring my muse back.
Have you ever wondered what a vulture being hit by a wind turbine looks like? Well, wonder no more– it looks like this:
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)
Robb has a post pointing to a song called “Don’t try to take my gun” by Joe Bear. (Good country song, great message.)
Via a comment on another website, I found Lance Truscott Morrison– a Deputy Sheriff who does music. Pretty good stuff.
Scene: bar interior, nighttime. A woman waves at a guy dressed as a Snickers bar, and is then tackled by her girlfriend, who is dressed as a sumo wrestler. At the far end of the bar, two men wearing brush hats and drinking Fosters slam their drinks down, stand up, and shoot each other in the buttocks. A woman stands up from one of the tables and begins yelling “But Arizona doesn’t have a border with Mexico!“ Two friends are sharing a meal in one of the booths when several people wearing lab coats come in, grab one of them and drags them away. A gentleman wearing a three-piece suit, narrow tie and holding a lit cigarette walks into view.
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.
