Monday, December 28, 2009

Seh seh seh SEVENTEEN???

17 years ago yesterday, Kim and I, having just finished a 36 hour stint of breathing, pushing and swearing, welcomed Christopher into our lives. In fairness, Kim did all the pushing and swearing while I did my best at breathing (with some serious bad breath judging by the demand from Kim for me to chomp on a Tic Tac before I get back in her face for the breathing). And now, 17 years later, we look at our car driving, sushi eating, football playing, joke cracking, sleep loving son and can only begin to wonder just where those 17 years have gone. Chris is the second grader who amused the staff at St. Michael School when he reported that he had learned about John the Bastard in religion class. It was at that moment when we knew it was time to get his ass into the public school system. And it only got better in public school… We still have his journal where he proudly wrote in his 8 year old scratch that his goal for third grade was to be “average” and where, just days later, he wrote that he wanted to change his name to Ben because it was short and easy to spell. (No, I am not making this shit up.) Really??? He’s 17 now??? Is that him, looking me directly in the eye and NOT standing on a chair? Can’t be possible….

Can it be possible that it was 10 years ago when I wrote this letter to Chris? I guess it really was that long ago. I thought about this letter yesterday when we were celebrating Chris’ birthday by giving him a CD player for his car. I thought it might be a good time to drag it out of the cobwebs because it still has relevance today.

Your life to this point has been very busy, hasn’t it? For a few years now, your Saturdays have been filled with karate, soccer, baseball and skiing. Pretty soon, you will be suiting up for your first year of Pop Warner football. You tell me now that you want to play basketball next winter. Mom and I are very happy that you have so many interests. But there are times when we wonder if we are doing right by you. You will not understand this letter today, but I am writing it so that I will stay attuned to what is most important – that is, allowing you a chance to be a kid and making sure you have fun while playing your games.

It gives me great pride to watch you play your games with all the spirit and zest of a child. Nothing will ever shake the image of you running with all your heart and might to your new position at second base. I want to be sure to remember that this is supposed to be primarily about your smiles and secondarily about my pride.

I know that I bug you about doing things the “right” way, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for yelling “two hands” every time you catch the ball with one hand. I am sorry for making you play one inning on a day when you did not want to play at all. I am sorry for bragging to everyone I know about how well you throw the ball when I should be telling everyone I know how happy you are to be throwing that ball. Most of all, I am sorry for wanting you to do well for the benefit of my ego.

As your father, I owe it to you to give you every chance to be a kid. And I owe it to you to let you make mistakes without worrying about how I will react. I will try my best to sit quietly on the sidelines and watch you try your best to have fun. But I also promise to stand and cheer when you are in the game and giving it your all. I promise to drive you to games for as long as you want to play. And I promise to stay home and hang out on days when you do not want to play. And if at any point you have just had enough of all this stuff, I promise to accept it, move on and go out for pizza to celebrate your free time.

All I ask from you is one favor: If I start to have difficulty keeping these promises, sit me down and remind me, “Dad, I’m a kid and I just like to play.”

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

It's My Holiday Dammit!

Having just finished another hour of demolition derby along the sawdust covered aisles of Market Basket, wreaking havoc against bluehairs and hot moms alike, I push my cart loaded with two weeks worth of bounty toward my car. Like a cheetah stalking its prey, a salty mini-van with a fukkin Honor Student bumper sticker creeps behind me, keeping enough distance between my slowly strolling feet and its front bumper so as not to arouse suspicion, looking to pounce on my parking space. But the joke is on this soccer mom – my F-150 is one aisle over and I make a hard right between the parked cars, laughing to myself about pissing off yet another pain in the ass. I can almost hear the swearing… heee-fukkin-heee. People… quit yer stalking behavior and find yourself a spot at the far end of the lot… you need the exercise anyway.

Christmastime is nigh (always wanted to use that term and sound all fancy and shit) and be you Christian or Jew or Agnostic or a Yankee fan, we wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS! To those of you who are offended by my holiday, I plan to use this space to educate you on some of our more glorious Christmas traditions. When you are finished reading, you are most assuredly going to be heading out to your local Christian place of worship and fill out a “I Wanna Celebrate Christmas Too” application.

You must first get it through your thick offendable skull that Christmas is not only a religious holiday. I know it has its origins in the birth of a baby boy in Bethlehem to a woman who, by all accounts never once did the horizontal hay ride. A miracle for sure and I am not one to deny that the birth of Jesus is the reason for the season. (By the way, I would appreciate it that if you do go to your local Christian place of worship, you don't tell them about my "horizontal hay ride" comment).

Oh the perks: Celebrate Christmas and you will receive full Santa privileges, including the waiver that allows you to lie to your children for an entire month and a half about the existence of a guy who cares if they are naughty or nice. This guy flies around the world in an oversized sled being pulled by 8 (9 on those foggy Christmas eves) flying reindeer. He comes down chimneys with a bag of toys and leaves all kinds of good shit for just two cookies and a glass of milk. Don’t worry if you don’t have a chimney or even a rooftop (ya can’t land a sleigh on a teepee for crying out loud), this fat old guy finds a way in.

Celebrate Christmas and you also are free to participate in Yankee Swaps on what seems like a daily basis. The Yankee Swap is a traditional, non-religious game that encourages you to take presents out of the hands of family, friends and co-workers only to give them a gift you think sucks ass. How's that for spirit?

As a part of this holiday, you will also be free to study and memorize the entire scripts of A Christmas Story and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation with pride. Ralphie and Randy, Cousin Eddie and Bumpus’dogs will become honorary members of your family. And of course, there is the cast of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer: Bumble, Yukon Kornelius, the misfit dentist wannabe and that freaky lion king with wings. But nothing warms the heart more than the voice of the Colonel Sanders look-a-like of a snowman singing Holly Jolly Christmas!!

Well, I am running out of space – plus, it is December 23rd and I need to get my ass to the mall. No, I am not going to be shopping. I am going to spend all afternoon carrying department store bags around the parking lot, trying to see just how far a desperate parker will follow me. Hoping to set a record. Wish me luck! And Merry Christmas!

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Raise a Parting Glass To Snickers

11 years ago this February, I met my best friend. That’s how the saying goes, right? He was 8 weeks old and weighed in at 12 pounds. Chris had just turned 6 years old and he had a new playmate who would just keep running back to him with the tennis ball. Jessica was 4 and spent many months using the couch and kitchen chairs for her refuge from the overly hyperactive puppy who showed up one day and invaded her life. By the way, I mean terrorized in a harmless, puppy kinda way with a quick and sloppy tongue as the primary weapon of destruction. We called him Snickers back then because of his chocolate color and (yes, I’m this warped) because he had nuts. We thought for a few brief seconds about changing his name to Milky Way when we had him neutered (no more nuts, get it?), but that never came to pass. He was a Snickers through and through. Over the years, the frightened Jessica and the amused Christopher took Snickers in as their brother.

An undeniable presence in our home and in our family for the past eleven years, the memories will live with us forever. For those of you who have crossed the threshold into our home, you understand what this obnoxious, crotch sniffing, biscuit begging oaf meant to us. I am sitting here today and thinking back on our boy - the same good boy who would stand at the edge of the yard, held back by a monstrous 1 foot garden fence bordering newly planted flowers. We could almost read his mind as he would stepdance at the fence, itching to find a way over it… “I sure wish I could jump over this big giant fence that barely comes up to my chest.”

We have had many visitors and our share of big parties. And one thing is for sure - Snickers had his favorite people…. Butch, Donna, Ray and Diane… the “cookie people.” Snickers loved all company. But these four people held a special place in his heart… never would these dog spoilers darken our doorway without a cookie in their pocket or in their hand. His excitement level would be so high, spontaneous combustion would not have been a surprise. I would be remiss if I were not to mention Eileen down the street and her years of capturing Snickers after he would escape the yard and go on patrol along Hill Street. Eileen's trick and Snickers' weakness? One gently rolled slice of deli baloney. A quick wave of the tasty treat out her screen door and Snickers would be distracted just long enough for the prison guards to catch up to him.

Thinking back, it seems we have more than our share of funny memories. From the moment he was neutered, Snickers developed a twisted fetish for any blanket or pillow that would find its way to the floor, often humping the hell out of it until he could barely walk away. I would often joke that after a love session with his doggie bed, he walked around with the legs of a newborn giraffe.

Last night, we laid down with Snickers with the knowledge that it would be his last night with us. Despite a killer disease running through his body, he will only know love and happiness. And that is how it will be forever.
After today, the gate to our yard will be open, no longer with a reason to keep it closed. It is open to let him run free. Our boy will be gone from our house but never from our home! Godspeed Snickers… say hello to Nipper and Freida for me.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

This Far From Being In Playing Shape!

The passage of time and the inevitable “getting older” has finally caught up to me and delivered one hell of a dick punch! That pain in the ass little voice in my head started yapping at me last week… get off the couch! Put down the beer! Fahcrissake, Tivo Big Bang Theory and do something healthy. Word to the wise (and to the dumbasses as well) – you can’t just show up at a basketball court after three years of ball scratching and deck sitting and expect to walk out an hour later feeling like a million bucks. I don’t care what they say – there is no way that me running up and down an 84 foot court for 20 minutes is healthy. But off I went last night to the local Rec center to play ball with the best players on the north side of 35 that Hudson has to offer; a crop of guys still holding onto their 1988 Air Jordans and donning the latest in neoprene wraps and protective braces. After 5 minutes of action, there was more wheezing than a nursing home musical chairs tournament. And that doesn’t include the other guys. And one of these nitwits thought it would be a good idea to invite his 18 year old, faster than lightning son to play. Good news was that he was my teammate. The bad news is that he is obviously used to playing with other 18 year olds - fuck, by the time I could grab a rebound and look up, this shit was already down court looking for an outlet pass from me… hardy fahkin har… the joke was on Junior. It took all my energy to leap the 3 inches to get the rebound – to throw a full court pass immediately after was akin to asking Tiger to take a week off from sex… wasn’t gonna happen. And there was the play where I hauled ass down the floor to keep up with him… I got ahead and he fed me a perfect bounce pass for the lefty layup. Of course, had I still owned an 18 year old pair of hands, I would have caught the fahkin pass.

So thanks to that little voice telling me to do something healthy, I nearly killed myself. But I guess it will keep me busy on Tuesday nights until Sons of Anarchy starts up again next season.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

It's Not Trespassing - They Let Me In!!

Through the misty fog on a cool Autumn night, I strolled through the gates and approached the two unsuspecting agents who stood stoicly with the security of the most powerful man in the free world resting squarely on their shoulders. Dressed sharply in my Life is Good tshirt, khaki shorts and mandals, I informed the security detail that I was at the White House on official business. "We need to see your credentials, sir," the beer-bellied agent said. I showed them my Blockbuster Video membership card and a letter from Mrs. Croak, my third grade teacher. "Go right ahead in, Mr. Blockbuster. The President is upstairs, just past the two drunk agents passed out in the hall. He keeps the key under the planter. Have a great night."

Okay... so that did not really happen, at least to me. But what the hell did happen last week? How the fahk did two attention seeking nitwits weasel their way into a White House State Dinner? Seriously, I cannot even get into the freakin' Hudson Fish & Game club for crying out loud. We can spend hours debating whether or not Blondie and her Middle Eastern boyfriend should be prosecuted, but why waste our time? Bottom line is that they pulled a fast one (or probably more like a slow one) on the alleged tightest security detail in the world. I have three words for that.... Heee Fahkin Hee!

But I am also here to tell you that this is not the first time someone has crashed the Presidential presence. It may not be as well publicized, but I have been known to hang with President Obie and his peeps from time to time. It's really not that hard, as you have all learned last week. I remember the time I told the guy at the door of the United Nations that I was from some small country that had just been liberated and that my seat was being held at the main table, next to BHO and Hillary - Note to TMZ: I'll take 5 mill for the picture.

And I'll never forget the time Obie and I were hanging out on the stage of that fundraiser, checking out some smoking ass in a red dress. Oh mama Obama!!!!

Perhaps one of my most bestest moments was hanging around in the Rose Garden with a big giant head, chugging beeahs and swapping stripper stories with the Pres and the Vice Pres during the infamous beer summit. This day was just a bunch of good ol' boys being boys... lots of belching, ball scratching and arguing about golf. Good times for all.

Last spring, the G20 Summit was held in dahntahn Pittsburgh. Since I have family in the 'burgh, I made a beeline to the front door, flashed my Steeler fan club card and was quickly whisked into the room like royalty. After dinner, all the big wigs got together for a group photo. That's me giving the thumbs up standing next to Obie. We tried to look serious, but the guy with the table cloth on his head was passing gas like a full service attendant.....whooooo
So to the hot blonde and her party crashing partner who think they did it first - nuh uh you didn't!

Who Dat?? Jezzus Kryst Who Da Fuk Waz Dat?

It was about 10:50 last night when I turned away from ESPN and that gawd awful, kick in the nuts of a football game. I couldn't take anymore of the Saints receivers and Drew Aint No Bledsoe making the Pats d-backs look like Pop Warner minimum play kids. [For the uninformed, a minimum play kid is that kid who gets on the field for his 8 plays every game and then spends the rest of the game on the sidelines, eating cookies and knocking on his cup to show everyone it does not hurt]

Before I get to the game, did I see that correctly last night? Has our President now taken to making commercials? Gimme a freakin' break please. Catching a pass from Drew Brees on the White House lawn, mixed in with other NFL players and a bunch of rugrat kids. I get it... the United Way is a wonderful charity, but how freakin' whorish of our President to find more television exposure! Apparently, he does not like Peyton Manning hogging all the NFL commercial time, huh?

So back to last night's Bourbon Street Beatdown! What happened to the statement game from the Pats? Oh, they made a fahkin statement alright - it went like this: "To Whom It May Concern: We would like to state that our defensive backs couldn't cover a fahkin text book in September."

The first sign of trouble was that piss-poor INT from TB12 right into the hands of a guy who just two weeks ago was raking leaves on Sundays. Wasted that balls to the wall punt return by Wes and gave the ball back to Breezy and the whole night went south! Brandon Merri-go-round forgot page one of the defensive playbook and gifted 7 points - looking at Devry Henderson's face afterward, he was saying the same thing everyone in New England was saying - "I have no idea where the defense was, man..." Tip to Merriweather - on a corner blitz, the safety gets the man left alone!!! PAGE FUKKIN ONE!!!!!! Arrghhh... 38-17 and with cleat marks all over their nutsacks, that plane ride home last night must have been a piss fest!

I guess we all understand now why Billy Boy decided to go for it on 4th and 2 against the Dolts... I don't want to hear Bruschi or any other all done defensive player bitching about the coach not trusting the defense... last night was enough proof for me. Hell, I am in full support of onsides kicks after every score from here on out.

Well, thank the football gawds for making the AFC East a shitful division! We still have a 2 game lead and are in the drivers seat for the AFC East title - but any playoff games will most likely be on the road - Tiger Woods has a better chance of beating his wife than the Pats beating a home team.

Hey, it's not all bad you know and I would hate to leave you filled with negativity... Welcome to Bright Side Station! Bony Maroney is running like a man possessed these days - bowled over another defensive back last night. Still a few too many dance steps for my liking, but much better than early in the year. Brady is still a top quarterback and will be fine. No worries there my friends. And let's not forget... we still get the Raiders' top pick in June...>WOOOO FUKKIN HOOOO!!!! Out for now - on my way to the Oval Office to sit in on a meeting with the Secretary of Defense and pose for pictures in front of the Afghan war map! Wish me luck!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Happy Turkey Day with 8AM Beers and Little Dickies

Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across the dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.

Ahhhh… Thanksgiving! That time of year to be with family and friends, to strap on the feed bag and chow down like Augustus Gloop at an all-you-can-eat buffett. A time for pickling the liver and drinking more than Teddy Kennedy at an open bar. Thanksgiving is a time for 8am beers and free tavern breakfasts (can’t beat runny scrambled eggs, burnt toast and uncooked home fries washed down with a cold Budweiser). It is a time for quality high school football at 10am and shitful NFL games the rest of the day (Come on, do we REALLY have to watch the fahkin’ Cowboys and Lions every fahkin year?). Thanksgiving is a time sneaking into the kitchen to steal some turkey skin before dinner is served and for throwing dinner rolls across the room when someone says “Pass the rolls.” It is a time for making excuses for younger brothers who are passed out upstairs because of too many 8am beers and it is a time for doing Prairie Fire shots with friends (First one to take a beer chaser is a pussy!).

But above all, it is a time for the ENTIRE family to be together – and this year we will be doing it right!!!

As long as I can remember, the fourth Thursday of every November has been my favorite day of the year. I think I can trace it back to that first Thanksgiving dinner when I learned that my grandfather, he of the bottle of Black Label and shot of Canadian Club, had more comic talent than Richard Pryor when he WAS on crack. Every year, without fail, Grampy would pick up one of those small boiled onions that my mother would make just for him. He would give the onion a squeeze until the center would protrude out in a way that would look like.. well….use your imagination. Put it this way, to this day, a bowl of boiled onions on our Thanksgiving table is still called a bowl of “little dickies.” Every year, he would perform the same trick that would make his two adolescent grandsons laugh our asses off and cause us to worship him more every year. Yeah, Grampy was one of a kind!

Thanksgiving is also a time for saying prayers over our food. I know it's hard to believe, but for the other 364 days, I stuff my face with reckless abandon with food and drink that has been unblessed by the hands of God - and sometimes that food is really freakin good! Thanksgiving grace in our family is handled by my brother-in-law, Deacon Roland. Yep, that’s right – our family brings in a professional to handle grace – trust me, we need all the experts and direct lines we can get. I will say that Roland has never been able to get through a Thanksgiving grace without someone (ahem… Kimberly and Andrew..) giggling and snorting like someone had just farted in church. Last year, Roland said his Thanksgiving prayers in Floriday with Mickey and Minnie. That left us to our own devices for the pre-meal ritual. Check it out....

Thanksgiving also used to be the day when it became acceptable for radio stations to play Christmas music. But now that that day has been pushed back to November fahkin First, the only remaining musical significance of the holiday is the hourly playing of Alice’s Restaurant on local radio stations. Because there really are no songs about eating turkey with Pilgrims and Indians, we get nineteen minutes of quirky guitar and folksy speech from Arlo Guthrie about war and peace and garbage and call it a Thanksgiving song. Hmmm… whatever

So Happy Thanksgiving to you all – enjoy your 8am beers, your morning football games, your turkey, your little dickies and most of all, your family!! See you on the other side…. This dumb ass might actually do the Black Friday thing… swore I never would… but I’m afraid I might… somebody fahkin’ shoot me please.

That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Set the Wayback Machine Mr. Peabody

TGIFF - love that extra F! Home from work today, apparently just to watch the rain fall out of the sky. Was hoping for a nice fall day to kick off my birthday weekend in style... but instead it's a soggy mountain breakdown. With my 43rd birthday just two days away, Sherman and Mr. Peabody showed up today with their Wayback Machine and whisked me back to the age of 31, when I last had a three year old in the house. And before I knew it, there I was this morning- sitting on the side of the bathtub for 15 minutes reading Clifford the Big Red Dog to my soon to be 4 year old nephew as he attempted to "poop on the potty!" There is something ever so precious about a 3 year old whose SportsCenter highlight is when the freakin' turtle pokes its head out for some air. Sitting on the bowl, he tucks his head between his knees for a closer look and returns to me with a big ol' grin and the eyes so wide they would make Little Orphan Annie look stoned. "My poop is coming, Uncle Kenny!" And in case I did not believe him, lil' Aidan felt a need to prove it by lifting up his cheeks off the seat to show me. And lord, at splashdown, you would have thought this kid had just won the lottery. Two hi-fives and one knuckle-touch made the moment complete. Kinda made me long for the days when a successful visit to the toilet was cause for reward rather than complaints about not spraying.

Side Note: Being an Uncle comes with a whole host of responsibilities, such as teaching the "Pull My Finger" game and the proper annunciation of "Shit!" But there are some other expecations that come with the territory. For example, if your 3 year old nephew happens to have a bag of sticky-back letters, any responsible uncle would know exactly what to do.

With the toilet party over, the Wayback Machine shot my ass back to 42 with just two days to go before the big 43. I hear people all the time fret about turning another year older. Foreign to me is the notion that another birthday is cause for depression and denial. I actually look forward to turning 43 - mainly because I have no choice and it certainly beats the alternative.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Merry Christmas and Shaddupayooface!

It is now Day 3 since 4th and 2 and I have started to settle down. It was just a coaching decision…. Time to fuhget about it. On to more pressing matters –

Tis the season to be jolly… but you just better not be Christian! I ain’t no bible thumper and the closest I get to church these days is watching Clay, Opie and their brothers sit around that redwood table on Tuesday nights. So my argument has nothing to with whether or not Christ is my savior or if 3 wise men on camels really did schlep through the desert following a star for days just to get to a birthday party in a barn. My argument is about calling out all of the assholes who have decided to make it their mission to destroy MY holiday and MY traditions. Hell, as a state employee, I’ve already lost Bunker Hill Day and Evacuation Day… I must protect Christmas!!!

So, can someone please tell me exactly what it is about Christmas that is offensive? No, seriously… what the fuck is it about a tree decorated with lights, tinsel and a plastic angel that makes your skin crawl? And why does a doll laying on a bed of hay in the town common piss you off so much that you call the mayor and demand to have it removed? Seriously, are you worried that the camels might piss on your town lawn (they are not real camels, you dumb shit)? Or do you really think that your precious little over-protected politically-corrected child might see a manger scene and be scarred for life, afraid that the Christians are coming, the Christians are coming?

No I am serious… answer these fukkin questions!!! What is it about “Merry Christmas” that sounds like “Go to hell – my religion kicks ass and you suck!” Wishing good Yule tidings is neither an insult nor a recruitment tactic… I am not trying to rope you into my church or brainwash your kids into becoming Santa lovers. (BTW, your kids already love Santa – neener neener neener). Merry Christmas means… um… Merry Christmas. Much like raising a drink to all the non-Irish out there on St. Patrick’s Day, it is simply about pleasantries. So Merry Christmas Assholes!

This year, a local school has made headlines because they have issued rules for their “Holiday Gift Shop” that prohibits, yep…. HOLIDAY themed items! I shit you not!!! Isn’t that like opening up a bait shop that does not sell bait? Among the items listed that are prohibited are candy canes (they could be sharpened into deadly weapons, you know) and red and green tissue paper (obviously, red and green are Christmas colors). I have a suggestion to any parent who has the balls to be pissed about this… don’t give them one red cent or any of your green money.

Many loud mouths out there trying to shut down Christmas like to preach about Separation of Church and State…. I am so bullshit and tired of hearing people yammer on about that as if that phrase were really in the Constitution. Time for all of you to actually do a little learning… or let me save you some time- That phrase is NOWHERE in our Constitution: Regarding religion, the First Amendment states very clearly that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof...” So, in fact, it is UNCONSTITUTIONAL to tell people that they cannot exercise their beliefs freely. By the way, those people who want to keep candy canes and Santas out of schools are the same politically correct asshats telling us that we must show tolerance and allow Muslims to practice their faith wherever and whenever they need. So, Muslims, Jews, Pagans and Muppets – feel free to worship and celebrate… but to you Christians, keep your shit to yourself and inside your own home!!

I’m done ranting for now. It is time to start a campaign to get rid of Thanksgiving – I mean, isn’t Thanksgiving an insult to all the people out there who are NOT thankful? And while we are at it, we should also start discussions about Birthdays. Saying Happy Birthday should no longer be allowed in schools and workplaces for fear of excluding the sad and those who were never born. We can talk next week about how Friday is offensive to onion rings.

Monday, November 16, 2009

What Do You Mean There Is No Fifth Down?

Pats fans.... get off the ledge! Yeah, it was a crazy decision and our boys basically gift wrapped that winning touchdown for PFM and his Indianapolis Dolts. Yeah, the reddened hand print is still clear as day on my right thigh; an early morning reminder of the anger that had boiled over as Kevin Faulk fell a half yahd shoht of the first down mahkah. Note to self: open hand slap on bare leg hurts like all git out! Whether or not Faulk really got that first down does not matter... what matters is that the Pats wasted a perfect opportunity to end the undefeated hopes of that country bumpkin quarterback and to protect their own record streak of 21 consecutive regular season victories. What matters is that we now have to listen to the "experts" like Trent Dillweed and Chris Callhimworthless talk about how Belichick has lost his mojo! Wonder if Joey Porter will have time to chime in on this game since he had no words after his ass beating last week.

I gotta tell you, I hated the decision and really hated the result. BUT - had Laurence Maroney held onto the football like a fat kid holds a cupcake, the home town boys would have been up by three scores and the decision making of a 3 time Super Bowl winning coach would not be in question this morning. And had Brady not thrown the pick in the endzone in the second quarter ending another impressive drive, the game would have been a Tennessee Titan-like blowout. Had they converted and got the first down with 2 minutes to play, all of us would be yammering on about how what separates Belichick from the rest... that he has the balls to do things that no other coach would do. That being said, I am not gonna defend the call... has to be the worst decision since someone thought Fish would be a successful spinoff of Barney Miller. Punt the freakin' ball away please!

But back to the rest of the game - alot more good than bad. So buck up younguns.... the future looks great! Sebastian Vollmer made Dwight Freeney's spin move look like the hokey pokey all night! Freeney never laid a fingernail on Tommy Boy. The freakishly big German had an All Pro like game last night and was by far the best offensive lineman on the field. Matty Whiff Light had better start studying the right side playbook... cuz it seems Nick Kaczur may need a little time off for bad behavior after playing Ole with Robert Mathis all night.

Don't even need to talk about BTM and BTW - their shit always comes up roses (Brady to Moss and Brady to Welker, fyi). My main man Kevin Faulk You I Got the First Down did his thing to perfection (well, except running that last pass route along the invisible yellow line - should have gone a yahd deepah, Kevin). The defense forced the Colts to punt 6 times in the first half alone!!! They hadn't punted 6 times in a freakin GAME. Plus, the secondary played a hell of a game causing those vaunted rookie Colt receivers to play like their hands were coated in cement. But whatevah.... And perhaps the best part of the night... The Colts and their piped in crowd noise did nothing to rattle the Pats. ZERO false starts and ZERO offsides penalties. So they can take that cheesy tactic and stuff it up Irsay's ass!

Other notes from the game: Does Jim Caldwell EVER make a facial expression? I swear the Colts coach was wearing a freakin' mask or something. How bout a little smile... or a little frown... or some sign of life?..... Loved the Rodney Harrison-Tony Dungy interactions! But didn't a small part of you picture Rodney diving across the table to take out Dungy and hurt his knee in the process?.... Colts cheerleaders! nuff said!.....
So, fellow Pats fans... relax today! Except for the final score and losing any chance at home field advantage against the Colts, the rest of the night was a positive! The Dolts had allowed an average of 13 points/game until Brady, Moss & Welker, LLC torched their sorry asses. Give me the Colts on any field and next time, we win the game going away! That is, unless Belichick opts to play with blindfolds and ankle ties.

It's November 16th, 62 degrees and sunny in New England. The Pats are 6-3 and 2 games up in their own division. The red mark on my leg still stings but I am smiling because Rex Ryan brings his big mouth and his 4-5 Jets to Foxboro next Sunday for a reintroduction to reality. Ryan can send out all the former Patriots he wants to the coin toss - I say Belichick sends out a couple of cheerleaders carrying a tray of whoopie pies.

Friday, November 13, 2009

The Time is Now

When the time comes, I'm gonna shine up my shotgun! Been joking around about that for years. Made promises to lock her in the ivory tower as soon as the boys started a callin. Even went so far a few years ago as to threaten her with Ex-Lax brownies in her school lunch. The beauty of middle school is that just one shit in your pants accident and you will be known as Shitty Britches McPoo for the duration of your school career. Kinda puts a crimp in any dating plans, wouldn't ya say? Without saying much more, all you need to know is that the Homecoming Dance is tonight and my "little girl" tried on dresses last night. I cannot begin to tell you how beautiful she will look. As soon as I am done with this, I have to get to Walgreens to get me some Ex-Lax.

Chris will be strapping on the pads tonight for a first round playoff game with Alvirne against Bishop Guertin. He and his boys have their work cut out for them - they lost to BG two weeks ago by a score of 48-0. That is not a mark against Alvirne as much as it is a statement on BG. They have not lost this year, winning 10 games by an average of 38 points per game. So the outlook is freakin' bleak to say the least. But as I told Chris, the table is set for the biggest upset in NH high school sports history. However, a win will also mean another week of handling and washing his practice gear - a task that has brought his mother to dry heaves and his father to tears.

Oh... before I forget - Jessica will be driving on the roads in a month. We broke the law a "little" bit the other day when I let her drive home from Taylor's house (around the block)... luckily, she gets the whole gas pedal on the right, brake on the left. What she doesn't get is the steering wheel and its functionality. So, a few near misses with mailboxes and a terrified skateboarder later, we have decided to keep her practice sessions to empty parking lots and XBox games. If you live anywhere near Hudson, I strongly recommend you upping your collision insurance.

72 Virgins? Not for you two nitwits!

Looks like somebody's been skipping their Terrorist 101 classes. Give your life for the Jihad - Die in the name of Allah and you shall be rewarded in heaven with 72 virgins. That is how I understand the radical beliefs of Islam extremists fighting some holy war against the west. If I'm wrong, oh well - still makes for amusing fodder. Seems to me that in the past couple of weeks, two dudes have had the big virgin carpet yanked out from under their feet. But I will get to those dim bulbs in a minute. First, let's examine this crazy ass promise of the virgins in heaven - First, ya gotta ask yourself why did these chicks go to the great resting place in the sky as virgins? I'm thinking there is not a beauty pageant winner among them. Is it really going to be worth filling your Honda Civic or your fishing vest with TNT and taking the express lane to the big orgy in the sky? And call me nuts, but wouldn't the better promise be 72 wildly energetic nymphomaniacs with all kinds of know-how about things we could never imagine? Now you're talking about hitting the suicide bomber lottery.

Today I announce a tie for first place in the Loser of the Month Club:

The awards go to Nidal Malik Hasan and Tarek Mahanna. Since there is only one trophy, Nidal and Tarek have agreed to beat the shit out themselves with it until they are both dead and on the escalator to 72 Virgin Lane.

This first rant is really against Political Correctness - Let's think for a moment about Fort Hood, Texas and the Army Major who decided it was time to shoot up some Americans in the name of Allah. Did I spell that correctly? Oh wait a minute - that's right... I don't give a rat's ass. PS... that does not make me a racist or a hate monger - it simply means that I don't care if I spell the word for someone else's God correctly. In case you started to drift that way. Nidal Malik Hasan spent months online commuincating with Jihadist websites and Al Qaeda recruiters. He had business cards calling himself a Soldier of Allah. And the FBI was aware of all of this. But the government did nothing about it, most likely because the halestorm that would have surely followed, accusations of profiling and discrimination against Muslims. Um... near as I can tell, that would be like calling the arrest of Jeffrey Dahmer discrimination against people named Jeffrey. By the way, just to make myself clear: I am all in favor of discrimination against people plotting to destroy my country. I don't care if they are Muslim or Christian or Democrats or fukkin Fraggle Rock puppets. The liberally slanted media has jumped on board also and I heard this morning that society was gripped with "Islamaphobia." NO FUKKIN WAY ASSHOLES! This is not Islamaphobia... I call it "nutjobbomberphobia"... it's not new - has been around since the Revolutionary War. Chris "I'd Bang Obama If Michelle Would Let Me" Matthews actually had the balls to suggest that Hasan "calling up Al Qaeda" was not a crime. Um... an Army Major contacting the enemy IS A FUCKING CRIME YOU POMPOUS PRICK! It's called treason! I actually had an argument with some shithead small town politician last week about this. He asked me if the "many years of Hasan's honorable service to our country means nothing to me." Heehee... what do you think my answer to that was? Give you a hint - it included a few F bombs! He also suggested that Hassan's "shrink" is to blame for his suicide by MP because of his failure to treat his PTSD!! I shit you not - in this idiot's mind, Nidal Malik Hasan's brutal murdering spree in the name of Allah is explained away by a psychiatrist's lapse.

Side note: Not only did Hasan survive being shot, he now gets to wake up and find out that a woman filled his traitor ass with holes and ended his mission for Allah. Not only does he lose out on the virgins, his personal Jihad was cut short by a woman! Now if you want to define Poetic Justice, you can start there.

What's the other "No Virgins For You" story?

The "American" from Sudbury, MA who is being held charged with conspiracy to commit terrorist acts (by the way, his name is NOT John Smith) is being asked to be released on bail. This idiot and two other like minded shitheads had plans to enter terrorist training camps in the Middle East but that did not work out. Guess even the terrorists have rules about flat feet. So their Plan B was the murder of two members of the executive branch or to "shoot up mall shoppers." Guess they were trying to impress the Grand Poobah in charge of terrorist training camps. There is plenty of evidence that this asshat would have gone forward with his plans had he not been stopped. Yet, there they were - protesters outside the courthouse yesterday wearing shirts demanding Tarek Mahanna (which roughly translated means "They kicked me out of terrorist school because I'm from Sudbury") be released. His attorneys are actually saying he should be released on bail because he is an "unfit terrorist"... I'm telling you I can not make this shit up. Will it never end?

Thursday, November 5, 2009

You Got 27 Rings… And All I Have Is This One Fingah!

Start spreading the news… I’m puking today. Don’t say it… don’t say it… OH FUCK – John Sterling said it! And then Frank Sinatra sang it. Billy Crystal went swinging from Ronan Tynan’s ears. Kate Hudson started counting her World Series share and ARod gave Jeter a championship handy and the happy ending he’s been praying for since 2000. Those self-promoting pinstripe wearing millionaires ruined my Novembah last night when Petey Martinez took the hill at Yankee Stadium, gift wrapped a few beachballs for Hideki Matsushi and couldn’t make it to the 5th inning. After 5, the score was 7-1 and there was nothing left but the locker room bukaki party! I know, complaining about the Yanks is petty and childish. So I’m petty and childish… no shit! It’s about time you figured that out.

If you are a Yankee fan reading this drivel, log off and get your ass to the parade… the Canyon of Heroes is one asshole short and they are wondering where you are. By now, you may have gathered that I am a Sox fan. So, of course I hate the Yankees as much as, if not more than, I love my BoSox. But I am not going to hide behind anything here. I could give a shit less about how much money the Yankees spent. That’s a lame excuse here in Boston, because we all know that if the Sox could spend it, they would. Hell, I would have no problem if the Sox got into gun running with SAMCRO if it were to bring in enough money to compete with the Yanks payroll (Sons of Anarchy fans out there?). The crux of my hatred is born from years of watching those assholes ALMOST always beat my team. Behind years of listening to Yankee fans bullshit about rings, 1918 and Bucky Fuckin Dent, blah fukkin blah, you can easily understand why we like to chant “Yankees Suck” everywhere we go - from Patriots games to baptisms. We Sox fans have a but a few good memories and we will NEVAH EVAH let them go … ahem… choke on a 3-0 series lead you dickheads?... Now don’t go gettin your Reggie Jackson panties in a bunch about that reference. I know it was 5 years ago and I also know that Yankee fans have elected to dismiss that classic collapse as “ancient history.” But if those dillweeds wanna go the “what have you done for me lately?” route, then they are gonna have to shove their “Got Rings” tshirts up their collective Bronx asses. Um… 26 of those rings are “ancient history.”

I bristle at everything Yankee. I just do. When a fellow Sox fan (or worse, a Yankee fan) tries to tell me that I have to like Derek Jeter, I always respond with a big fat “Fuck that!!” What is there to like about him? He is a Yankee, has more rings than any Red Sox player and spends his nights banging hot chicks! Jeter can take his 5 rings and go to hell – he’s a douche! From Monument Park to the Home & Garden white fence ringing the top of their stadium; From Ronan Tynan’s enormous fucking ears (he can communicate with Mars with those freakin' satellite dish hat hangers) to John Sterling’s tired old saying; from Babe Fuckin Ruth to CC Safuckinbathia, the Yankees fahkin SUCK!!!

As if I needed any more fuel, those Bronx Bombers raised the obnoxious coefficient to a mind-blowing new level after their win last night. AFraud was shown sobbing harder than Brett Favre at a retirement party, as if someone just shattered his full length mirror! Oh fukkin please you prick!! Get over yourself! ARod’s playoff performance will never erase the image of him making out with his own reflection or throwing his “cousin” under the bus in the “I thought they were tic tacs” steroid scandal. And how about Mark Teixeira letting us all know that God is a Yankee fan?

“I’ve been so faithful this entire time, in my entire career, and just been prayin, prayin, prayin to lead me in the right direction and, a, God didn’t let me down. He led me here and this is unbelievable.”

So, this asshat is trying to tell us that God decided he would root for the Yankees this year and not the Phillies? Someone had better dope slap this moron and remind him that it was the $180 million smackeroos that led him to the Bronx. Wait a minute – maybe it was God signed the fukkin check! My apologies Mark. Whadda douche!

As I said, I do not make excuses… I know the Yankees are the best team in baseball this year! That cannot be denied. What also cannot be denied is that we Sox fans not only have the right to hate the Yankees, we have the responsibility to hate them with all of our Chowdah eatin’ hearts. Speaking of which, New England clam chowder is way fukkin better than Manhattan clam chowder. Ya just can’t have red chowder…. So in a sense – WE WIN!!!! Neener neener neener assholes!!!

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Sheen Report Says Swine Flu is George Bush's Fault.

With H1N1 influenza fears in the United States spreading faster than a California wildfire, reports coming out of Washington and the newly formed Department of Past Eight Years, have linked the outbreak of the Swine Flu with the ineffective policies of the previous administration. “The reasons the H1N1 vaccine is still not available can be traced all the way back to George Bush doing nothing to fix the levies in New Orleans,” said Charles Sheen, Field Operations Director of D.O.P.E.Y. “We are pretty sure the dude working on the vaccine in a rundown voodoo parlor on Bourbon Street was washed away when Katrina made landfall in August 2005.” The Sheen Commission Report, released yesterday, comes while the nation continues to shit their collective pants in fear over the spread of the deadliest pandemic since the dreaded Bird Flu of 2007 and that other illness that started in China that I forget the name of. The report lays blame on the Bush Administration and its object failure in stopping the hurricane. “George Bush could have done something to keep Hurricane Katrina from reaching New Orleans. He could have used taxpayer money to build a 10 mile high wall along the coast or perhaps he could have ordered NASA to fire a rocket into the eye of the storm. But he just allowed the hurricane to come ashore and murder hundreds of innocent people.” According to D.O.P.E.Y., work on the vaccine had to start all over again. The Sheen Report details the work of the B. Hussein Obama administration in expediting the availability of the vaccine. “President Obama himself has spent the past many weeks in the lab with Asst. Surgeon General, Dr. Oz, developing an even stronger vaccine,” states Sheen, “Our President is a man of the people who can do everything. He even plays basketball and one time, he tried to quit smoking. And let’s not forget that his wife shops at J.Crew.”

Aside from the Sheen Report, experts are also warning the general public of additional fallout from the H1N1 pandemic. Environmentalists have declared that if the Swine Flu is not contained quickly, the heat generated from millions of high fevers could double or even triple the pace of global warming and there is a real possibility that the polar icecap will become a puddle of ginormous proportions and that the ozone layer will cease to exist as we know it today. Additionally, there is evidence that drilling in Alaska could cause the Swine Flu to likely mutate into the more destructive strain of Caribou Flu, said to be more lethal than a bowl Jim Jones fruit punch.

All is not lost, however. Susan Sarandon, President Obama’s Secretary of Public Appearances, in a Fox-Free press conference this morning, offered a glimmer of hope for Americans. “The President has spent countless hours in discussions with the flu and is confident that his tactics of diplomacy will prevail for the good of all Americans. He has apologized to the flu for the long history of transgressions made by Americans against the flu. For the past eight years, this country has treated the flu as an enemy of the people, attacking its various strains without provocation or so much as an attempt to sit around the table and talk it out." Sarandon went on to say, "The USA-H1N1 Treaty includes a provision that if the President’s health care reform package passes, the vaccine will become immediately available and the H1N1 will back down on its assault on the helpless lower and middle class America. According to the treaty, the flu will be allowed to target the wealthy upper class, with the exception of agreed upon safe zones of Hollywood and Washington, DC."

Americans are reminded of the two failproof methods to avoid catching the flu: Wash your hands after picking your nose and most importantly, do not watch Fox news or listen to Rush Limbaugh.

Friday, October 9, 2009

ACORN Hijacks the Nobel Prize Committee

It’s Friday afternoon, just getting to the lunch hour. I am sitting at my desk and Johnny Cash’s Tennessee Flattop Box is blaring on my radio, most likely pissing off anyone within earshot of my desk. My mood can be described best as typically Friday – I got my head a bobbin around to the rhythm of the guitar, in full white dude style (you know, with my lower lip held firmly in the grasp of my teeth and eyes squinted down to dime slots). With my fingers and thumbs rapping away on my desk with all the deftness of a world class dashboard drummer, I impress myself with my musical talents. My setup is perfect- a cymbal crash on my stainless steel To Go cup and a stack of to be filed paperwork doubling as a snare drum. I gotta tell you, were it not for my incredibly successful career as a social worker interrupting my path to percussion greatness, I could be a household name by now. Yet suddenly the need to vent washes over me – like the newspaper opinion writer wannabe that I am.

The Obama Entertainment Network is reporting this morning that sources are indicating that President Barack Obama is the leading candidate to capture Major League Baseball's American League MVP award, recognizing his achievements this year as a really big White Sox fan. The award will be announced in a press conference early next week in which the President plans to attend. Following his acceptance speech, which will be aired on all 4 major networks and broadcast over every elevator speaker and school intercom system in the free world, the President will host a black tie Ain’t I Great dinner in his home town of Chicago and then do a 1 on 1 exclusive ass-sucking interview with Oprah Winfrey. The interview will be followed by a free concert in Wrigley Stadium (Pete Seeger and Kanye West headlining) and a wicked cool fireworks show. This announcement comes as the world is still reeling from the surprising news that the President had also been awarded the 2009 Nobel Prize for Peace for his “extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples.” The 5 member prize committee, with first year members and admitted FOBs (Fans Of Barack) Sean Penn, Chris Matthews and Iran’s President Imadidabadthing, has attached special importance to “Obama’s vision of and work for a world without nuclear weapons.” (KENNY MOMENT: Um, are there not TWO countries currently thumbing their collective noses and mooning the President with their nuclear missile programs?) Isn’t that like giving an aeronautics award to Amelia Earhart for her efforts in trying to fly around the world? Nice try, but….

We interrupt this breaking news with even more important breaking news! At 7:30 this morning, the United States, under the cover of darkness, launched a full out surprise attack on the Moon. With precise military precision, a US made rocket slammed into the surface of the Moon, leaving a hole the size of Ted Kennedy’s head and sending up a 6 mile high plume of cheese that experts report could be seen with the naked eye from the really high hills in Poughkeepsie, NY. (heehee, I said "naked") Military sources have said that “Operation Wastemoney” became necessary following years of futile negotiations with the Moon leaders. “We have been trying unsuccessfully to locate people on the Moon since 1969 and they just won’t come out and talk with us,” said Captain Sherman Morgan, Operations Commander. “We know they are hiding the water on us and we had no other choice but to blow a really big hole in the ground," Captain Morgan went on to say. (did ya see what I did there? Captain Morgan? Oh, I fukkin crack myself up) A full briefing will be held later this afternoon where plans to invade the North Star are expected to be disclosed as a joint operation to spend even more money for no good reason at all.

According to White House sources (not really, you know this is just a phony news report, right), President Obama plans to attend the Nobel Award Ceremony on December 10th in Norway, kicking off a whirlwind two months of award stealing… oops, I mean award receiving. The following week, he is scheduled to accept the Heisman Trophy for his vision of being a football player. Two months later, he will be on hand in Los Angeles to accept the Oscar for Best Leading Actor. It cannot get ANY better than this, my friends.

And now for the serious bitching about this sham!! Alfred Nobel, in his will, ordered that the Nobel Awards were to recognize achievements made during the previous year. The deadline for nominations this year was a mere TWO WEEKS after Obama took office. In other words, the 2009 awards are to be reflective of achievements in 2008. In 2008, Obama was merely running for President. I guess he won the award based on campaign promises and well-organized communities. It appears to me that ACORN has used its economic stimulus money to hijack the Nobel Award Committee. Honestly, tho, the entire world should have ceased giving a rats ass about this award when Al Fatbody Gore was recognized by the Nobel Committee for his work in making a fucking slideshow on global warming! That year, he won the award over Irena Sendler. Google her name and then tell me how that piece of shit who could not even win enough votes in his home state of Tennesse could be named over this true heroine of peace!! Fuk ‘em all!!!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Boston Sports... Lovin It!!!

Giddy up Go… In a good mood this morning thanks to my Boston teams and the respective ass whoopings they dealt out this weekend. Thinking it is time to evaluate some of the home town boys and git after it… (apologies to Sox and Celtics for the omission, but you guys bore me right now).

I don’t know about any of you, but I’m thinking the Bruins may be the toughest bunch of fukkers on skates this year. Saturday night, our boys in Black and Gold took a can of whoop ass, cracked the seal and proceeded to empty the contents all over the Carolina Sissyboys. They then stuffed the empty can up their collective “Ouch! Quit Hitting Me” asses. The ‘canes spent the entire game in full turtle mode as they shrunk away from Lucic, Thornton and the boys like a certain George Kostanza body part (I was in the pool! I was in the pool!!!). By the way, does Lucic know exactly where to hit or what? He seems to draw more blood than a vampire on a drinking binge.

Ahh... my Pats!!! I am pumped that they are starting to look the part once again. Yesterday’s win over Baltimore was heeeeeyuge and ol Tommy Boy is getting better each week. A major highlight for me yesterday was the Randy Moss press conference following the game when he spent his time on the mic talking about the importance of breast cancer awareness (Screw all of you arses who want to hold on to his past – this guy has been nothing but a class act since getting here and he is quickly becoming my favorite). I loved watching Brady get in the faces of his offensive line to fire them up. Yeah, Matt “Which Way Did He Go?” Light looked rather silly when Terrell Suggs blew past him faster than two foxes fucking in a forest fire (filthy analogy courtesy of Mojo Nixon). But come on – Brady had not been sacked for two games before yesterday while Light was facing the likes of John Abraham and Shaun Ellis. Give the guy a freakin break!!

From the Division of Bitching & Moaning
(you knew I was gonna bitch about something, right?): I am always the first to say that whatever Bill Belichick does must be right. But I gotta tell you, Laurence Maroney must have some high quality pictures of Belichick in various stages of sheep love because nothing else could explain why this stutter stepping, stop and go horror show continues to carry the ball. I mean hell – at this rate, the Baloney Maroney will be the newest dance craze at all the hip hop clubs around Boston. If I was in charge of the depth chart (and I should be, damn it!), Maroney would be the sixth running back on this roster, behind Fred Taylor, Sammy “The Bull” Morris, Kevin “I’ve Got Your First Down Right Here” Faulk, BenJarvus Whatzhizname, and Vince “Where’s the Buffett” Wilfork. Yep, ol' Big Vince would be more dangerous carrying the ball. Seriously, I have two words for Maroney’s value to this team - Zee Ro! Fred Taylor ran the ball last week for 120 yards or something, yet he gets the ball just twice yesterday? Geez, Coach, I sure hope that sheep was worth it!

***Missing Person Alert: Joseph “Joey” “Greybeard” Galloway***

Last Seen – Gillette Stadium, Foxboro, MA on September 27th, 2009 wearing a sad face and a white I Hate Tom Brady tshirt, carrying a Patriots playbook, muttering to himself “I will stay inbounds. I will stay inbounds. Good God almighty I will stay inbounds.” A spitting image of Grady Wilson from Sanford & Son, Galloway should be easy to spot in a crowd with his graying facial hair, arthritic knuckles and creaking knees.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Oh No... Not Isolation!!!

October has arrivedthis must be so because my nipples just about burst through my pjs this morning. I woke up much like every Friday morning, looking forward to a quick day at work and then a football game tonight, with a few happy hour beers sandwiched in between. And what could make a day feel even better than spending a few moments ranting and raving on my favorite topic…

Before you read any further, you should know that I have had a change of heart… Made clear to me this week was that President Obama really is a tough guy in the area of foreign policy. Why, just this week, he puffed up his chest and threatened that big scary Iran to simmer down with their nuke program or else they would have to face “increased pressure and isolation.” Whoa!!! Back dah fukk up for a minute! Not isolation!! NOT THAT!!!! The very thought has GOT to have President ImADidAJob shaking in his Bin Laden themed thong, right? Haa haa haa… I don’t fukkin think so. Wouldn’t you have loved to been among the hundreds of flies in his beard when Ahmanamadingdong heard that threat? I’m not positive, but I’m guessing it was not exactly the sounds of panic running through the room; more like the sounds of some big shot Iranians pissing in their khakis with laughter. Gimme a fahkin break man!!! And if isolation and pressure does not work, what will the next step be? Step on some cracks and break his mommy’s back? Take away his 7-11 or revoke his cabbie license? Hey, I will be the first to admit that further pressure could in fact work…as long as that pressure comes in the form of an American made warhead that can reduce that wasteland of a nation to a Rhode Island sized parking lot.

This is not the only hiccup for President Barack Hussein Obama this week. General Stanley McChrystal, the NATO commander in charge of the effort in Afghanistan has made a case that a troop surge in Afghanistan is badly needed to keep this middle-east nation from falling to the Taliban. (Personally, I would favor the exact opposite stance – bring our men and women home and leave that nation to its own peril.) In his typical, I gots little balls and cannot think on my own style, Obie wants a few weeks to think about it. Fine, maybe he wants to hear more from the General. But yesterday, the Democrats in the Senate voted on a motion that will keep General McChrystal from testifying before them until AFTER the President decides what to do. Yeah, why bother listening to the guy who is actually over there fighting the fukkin war? That makes good fukkin sense!! But that’s all okay because we have a feel good story coming from the White House too.

Yesterday, in Denmark, the Obamas returned to what they do best… and America’s first couple has brought Community Organization to a whole new level. Obviously Michelle Obama is proud of the United States this week as she and her hubby have hopped over to Copenhagen, along with Oprah, to beg the Olympic committee to award the 2016 Olympics to the city of Chicago. Yeah, that would be cool – having the entire world descend upon Chicago for two weeks, in the middle of the summer, during an election year. Talk about a windfall for Acorn – can you just imagine how many new voters they can round up with the entire world hanging out in their backyard? And Oprah’s role? Bet your life that the world’s second largest ego (sorry, but Bono has her beat by a fukkin mile) will somehow turn the famous Olympic rings into 5 capital O’s, in honor of her magazine covers. By the way, I saw some video of Oprah strolling around the streets of the Danish city. Holy total eclipse, Batman! Two laps around her waistline and you have your marathon course!!

And since I have wound my way on to shitting on Hollywood, I might as well toss that nutjob Whoopi Goldberg under the 4X4 mudtires as well. Roman Polanski, that perverted child raping fugitive from justice, finally fukked up and got himself cuffed in Switzerland… (who says Switzerland is only good for cheese, army knives and hot blondes?). And as a result, we are treated once again to the despicable lows to which Hollywood celebrities will stoop in order to look like empty headed buffoons. A small group of these assholes actually have signed a petition speaking out against the arrest and the extradition and demanding his release. (
STORY HERE) The ridiculous reasons they cite include: “it was a long time ago” or “he’s old” or “he has already served his time by being in exile.” Well, if those reasons were not bad enough, that mopheadded, sunglass wearing blowhard Goldberg actually had the balls (and yes, I am pretty sure she’s got a set down there) to say, and I quote, “I know it wasn't rape-rape. It was something else but I don't believe it was rape-rape. He went to jail and when they let him out he was like ‘You know what this guy's going to give me a hundred years in jail I'm not staying, so that's why he left.’” So drugging a 13 year old girl and having sex with her unconscious body is okay, because, like, it’s not like, you know, like, rape-rape. It’s just kinda like a little rape but living the high life in France and Poland is like, jail-jail. Here’s hoping someone takes a big shit-shit on Whoopi’s face-face to wake her the fuck up-up!!!!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Hello Munchkins

An Open Letter to Munchkinland from your Head Munchkin, Deval “Banana in the Tailpipe” Patrick….

Dear Friends,

It is with great joy that I announce to you today the creation of four groundbreaking new laws. I gotta tell you, creating laws in Massachusetts is a lot like swallowing a wad of Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum… a token struggle at the start, but sure to pass in less than three days. Gone are the days of the Mitt “The Terrible” Romney and his Republican administration. That has been replaced by your Atta Boy, Ass-Rubbing, Everyone Is The Same Government, brought to you by the faithful “Democrats are Good - I Loved JFK Too” voters of this great Commonwealth.

As you all know, I successfully changed one law already this week. Five years ago, when the well being of the Commonwealth was standing precipitously at the edge of destuction under Mr. Romney, our good son, John Kerry was oh so close to winning the Presidency. Had JohnBoy won, the big meanie Governor would have had the power to nominate a lameduck Senator to finish out Kerry’s term in the Senate. Who knows what kind of evil he would have nominated – perhaps Charles Manson; or even worse, Curt Schilling? So your good congressmen and congresswomen had the foresight and acted quickly, making clear their feelings that one voice in the Senate was better than two voices if the second voice was not going to vote the same as the first voice. The law was changed and removed that power from the governor. Well, thanks to a worldwide conspiracy (someone had the nerve to point out that Kerry actually held no position on any topic), George W. Bush stole another election and Senator Kerry remained our Senator. But tragedy has struck our Commonwealth once again. When the senior voice kicked over and went toes to the sky last month, we all realized that we were going to have to survive 5 months with only one monotone put you to sleep voice the Senate. We all know we need EVERY voice allowable under law in Washington, just so long as they are Democrat voices. You should all be very thankful to have such a committed and talented group of legislators who are able to flip-flop to the other side of the fence faster than President Obama can hop from television studio to television studio. And is it not a wonderful thing to grant the honorable Ted Kennedy’s dying wish? (By the way, this letter is NO PLACE to remind everyone that Mary Jo Kopechne’s dying wish was for Ted to just "open the passenger door please")

So, as we look toward the future of this great Commonwealth, I have drafted four new laws that will only serve to benefit the people of Massachusetts and allow me to continue living the high life. These four monumental laws will henceforth become known as the Patrick Articles of Making Sure.

Amendment Article I: The Governor of the Commonwealth shall be elected by a majority of votes and shall serve a term no greater than 4 years, unless said Governor is a Republican whereas the term shall be no greater than 4 weeks.

Amendment Article II: An incumbent Democrat governor shall have the authority to cancel a gubernatorial election if it looks like he/she might lose to a Republican. The election shall be rescheduled once enough Democrat votes have been solicited from Ireland and local cemeteries and morgues.

Amendment Article III: I propose that all special elections be considered emergencies and that the winner shall be determined by a Rock – Paper – Scissors contest on the steps of the statehouse.

Amendment Article IV: Any sitting governor who has had hip replacement surgery shall be driven around the state in a big fat, gas guzzling SUV for his comfort.

Thank you for your blind loyalty to the party and remember - Follow the Yellow Brick Road for it shall lead you to the great and powerful Me.


Your Eminence Deval Patrick

(shhh... obviously this is a phony letter - the real Governor does not really think Curt Schilling is worse than Charles Manson. Plus, he cannot spell Eminence)

PS… Please do your part and boycott any and all events at the local Hyatt hotels, who had the nerve to lay off 100 housekeepers this week. Do they not know that I need these people to vote for me so I will stand up for them? Oh, and pay no attention to the news that my administration has laid off thousands of state employees over the past 9 months. I HAD to do that in order to pay for my gas guzzling SUV.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

His Name Is F'ing MATT Light, you ass!

Holy shit... where the hell have I been? Too freakin' busy to blog anything this summer. But the past few weeks have brought shitloads of items that has had my head turning faster than a Nancy Pelosi dirty look. We have had the passing of Michael Jackson and Teddy Kennedy, the Obama Reality Show, Boston statehouse hypocrisy and tons of news about my kids. But first things first.... the Patriots and that debacle of a telecast last night on ESPN, which apparently stands for "Jon Gruden is a Dumb Ass Prick Who Still Has Not Gotten Over the Tuck Rule."

First, the game... my, our, your New England Pats in their throwback unis came out on top last night 25-24 after being down 11 points with 5:33 to play in the game, with many thanks to Leodis McKelvin for his big fat brain dump when he decided to return that kick. The game was one of those occasions where the scoreboard cannot possibly tell the whole story. This morning, someone actually tried to tell me that the Pats did not win the game and rather Buffalo lost the game. Claims it was that one stoopid decision to return the kick that determined the outcome. If you choose to attach yourself to that argument, then you should not bother ever watching another football game again. A lot of things happen in 60 minutes of football and it is not just the last big play that determines the outcome. Yep, Leodis "My Knee Hurts" McKelvin fucked up in a big way. But one of the two bogus roughing the passer calls directly led to a Bills touchdown! To say the Pats were "lucky" to have won is blind idiocy! They kicked Buffalo's ass up and down the field my friends! Here are the facts Jack: Pats outgained the Bills by over 170 yards! Pats ran 77 offensive plays to the Bills' 38! The Pats had a 15 minute time of possession advantage (equal to an entire fucking quarter of football)! Welker and Moss each had 12 catches and 4 players had more than 50 yards receiving! That my friends is an ass-kicking. The only thing that bothered me about the Pats last night was their whiskey-dick drives (ayep... valiant effort but not able to finish).

Now for the other shit that pissed me off last night: That television crew put on the most blatant display of anti-Patriot blah blah that I had ever seen. Jon Gruden is simply a fukkin doofus. But then again, I couldn't tell which moron was talking half the time because it was pretty much a 4 hour nipple rubbing love fest over how great the Bills are and how rusty Tom Brady is. How many times did we need to hear Jaworski tell us that "this is why they play the game." No shit Ski!! Did you make that one up yourself?

And I am not sure which "expert" continued to praise Terence McGee as a shut down corner. You remember McGee, right? He was the dude who left his jock AND his balls on the 35 yard line when Moss cut back and left him grasping at air like Helen Keller looking for a hug. Yet, even after Moss had reached 130 yards receiving, Gruden continued to talk about how great a game McGee had! Oh, by the way Mr. Chucky.... it's MATT Light, not Todd, you fukking idiot!!! Couldn't one of your boothmates have dropped you a frikkin post-it note at some point?

How many of you out there enjoyed the throwback uniforms? I really got a kick out of them because I think the Pats old helmets are awesome. But how many of you thought the officials looked like counter help at a Jack-In-The-Box? I know this much, that asshat who made those two roughing the passer calls last night ought to get his ass back to the counter because DING, THE FRIES ARE DONE!!! How far will the NFL go to protect quarterbacks? Vince "I'm Not Jessica Simpson" Wilfork made a perfectly clean, waist-high tackle as Edwards was throwing the ball and the ref called him for "going low on the quarterback." And the call on Adalius Thomas was just as bad because Edwards still had the ball. He was called for "throwing the quarterback to the ground." Um.... I'm pretty sure that is the object, right? Was he supposed to invite him down to the ground politely? Was he supposed to bring him down ever so gingerly so as to allow him a chance to stay up and run away? The league had better issue their typical "We reviewed the tape. The official was wrong. We are sorry." statement today. Also interesting how none of the three announcers last night commented much on those horrendous calls except to call them marginal!!! Marginal??? I looked up marginal in the dictionary and it does not mean "bullshit" so I don't know what they were talking about.
Okay, I am feeling a bit more relieved... got that off my chest. We got the Jets next week and their defense looks down right aggressive and scary... bring on the blitzes Gang Green.... Mr. Brady gonna burn yer asses!

Photo Credit: from AP photo Steven Senne (thanks ESPN for at least contributing SOMETHING worthwhile about last night's game)

Thursday, June 4, 2009

45 Life Lessons

I got an email this week. It was one of those hokey, feel good kinda lists that I generally just delete and forget about. The life lessons that this Regina Brett had taken the time to write down and share with the world some many years ago in the Cleveland Plain Dealer are more of the same bullshit meaningless quotes. Hell, she turned 90 in August and felt a need to share them again - perhaps it's the old age setting in, but it remains drivel to me. Blah blah blah... But for some reason, I read the first line of her life lessons and felt a compulsive need to make a small change so that it would better reflect reality today. Before I knew it, I was out of control, running rampant down her list and changing her lessons to better suit the real world. Here ya go.... for your reading pleasure (and for your own good) these are 45 life lessons I feel I can impart on your sorry asses: (my additions/changes) are in blue

1. Life isn't fair, it’s a fahkin carnival ride from hell.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step into the bar and get cocked.
3. Life is too short and so are midgets...
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Neither will your friends and family anymore. That swine flu sucks.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month and while you are at it, wake up and smell the coffee.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to a pudding wrestling match to settle all ties.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than kicking the shit out of them.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. After all, look at what he did to your face.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first pay check – that $42 from Burger King can go a long way.
10. When it comes to chocolate, pour the syrup slowly on the nipples and then……...
11. Make peace with your past so you can screw up all over again.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry, just don’t let them see you doing the mattress dance with Mommy.
13. Don't compare your life to others – you have no idea how bad it really is.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you better be good at keeping secrets.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks – he just shuts his eyes and hopes for the best.
16. Take a deep breath, I just farted and I’m telling you- it ain’t pretty!
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful, because what better way to raise drinking money than to have a big ol' yard sale.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you didn’t try hard enough.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But in your case, you are screwed.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, they should put the whorehouse next door to the bar to make it easy.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Just remember to wash the nice sheets after.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow, you obsessive freak!
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple. Wait until the gay bar opens.
24. The most important sex is the sex you actually have.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you. But I can go a long way in fukking it up for you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ’In five years, just how low will my boobs be hanging?'
27. Always choose Life. Clue, Sorry and Chutes & Ladders suck as board games go.
28. Forgive everyone everything. Just keep good notes so you can still get them back when they are least expecting it.
29. What other people think of you is probably right on the money.
30. Time heals almost everything. Except for herpes – that shit lasts forever.
31. However good or bad a situation is, Lynyrd Skynyrd still rocks and the Beatles still suck.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does. Couldn’t have said that better myself.
33. Believe in miracles. And you can also believe in the tooth fairy and Santa because they are real too.
34. God loves you because of who God is, but he still hates the LA Clippers.
35. Don't audit life. Leave that to the geeks who did well in math.
36. Growing old beats the alternative – growing a third nipple.
37. Your children get only one childhood and they are lucky not to be spending it tied to the radiator.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you sons of bitches get what’s coming to you.
39. Get outside every day. You are stinking up the whole house.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile can you imagine the size of that pile?
41. Envy is a waste of time. And so is writing down 45 life lessons.
42. The best is yet to come. So you better get the hell out of the way.
43. No matter how you feel, get up and turn on Sportscenter to catch the top 10 plays of the day.
44. Yield. Stop. Caution. Slow Child. RR Crossing. Can you think of any other signs?
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, because your crazy uncle will still stick it to his forehead and laugh like he’s the next Eddie Murphy.

Peace Out
-Brother Ken

Monday, May 18, 2009

Myrtle Beach Bike Week 2009

Another mid-May and another Bike Week in the books. Our time in Myrtle Beach (or should I say NOT in Myrtle Beach) was crazy as always. We loaded up the bikes on Friday afternoon and hit the road by 6:30pm, with bottles of water, Monster drinks and Twizzlers to keep us going all night long. The ride down was perfect - well as perfect as a 16 hour hell ride can be. Let's face it, 16 hours in a truck with three guys in their 40's cannot be good for anyone... especially if one of them spent the first 200 miles with a leak in his ass! But, $47 in tolls and $250 in gas got us to the Grand Strand by 10:30 am, tired but raring to go.

First stop had to be the Beaver Bar for our first $2 beer of the week. Then hung at Suck Bang Blow for a little while talking with Dave - a regular whose second job this week would be parking motorcycles from 3pm - 1am. Good thing he spent a few hours gettin' a real buzz on!! LOL

Overall, the week was a complete success. Spent the days riding in the sun (and occasional downpour) hopping from biker bar to biker bar. Rode down to Georgetown, SC on Thursday and had a few beers at The Big Tuna! Sitting on the back dock, overlooking the river and the shrimp boats coming and going was pretty fukkin cool, if I do say so myself. But cooler than that was the stop at Hog Heaven in Pawleys Island, SC on the way home. This is our annual stop for some real good down home barbecue - heapin helpins of macaroni and cheese, pulled pork and sweet potato pie along with some seriously good fried chicken and cole slaw! Washed down with an ice cold Bud - the southern Sorbet.

At the Rat Hole, we watched a bit of the rodeo, but the highlight here was the big ol' fried boloney sandwich - two words for this: Gooooo Oooooood!! This ain't your typical wafer thin slice of deli boloney. Oh no - this is for the true mystery meat fan - a fukkin chunk of boloney about 3/4 inch thick, deep fried and placed in a bun with lettuce and tomater... ooooooooooooo - almost made me not look at the beer girl's cleavage - "almost".

If you want to know what I love about this bike rally (well, besides the obvious), I give you Cooters Backyard Bar and Grill. This is a new place that had just opened up. We popped our heads in there on Sunday morning for some bloody marys and a breakfast edition Budweiser for me. Sitting on the deck in the empty place, one of the guys asked if we were hungry... he offered to cook us up some eggs and toast and it would be on the house. YEP... on the house. This place was the dern friendliest place I have ever visited. They gave out free breakfast every morning during bike week. Dana and Jessica as morning bartenders were cute AND friendly. Pabst Blue Ribbons are one dollar always. Will the manager went so far as to call Direct TV to find out how he can put the Bruins game on for us. We tried to buy some tshirts from them just to show our gratitude and they even gave us a huge discount there. Tell your friends and enemies... give Cooters some love is you are ever in Myrtle Beach. Ask for Dana or Will and tell them their friends from NH sent you.

And then there is the Causeway Bar and Grill, which was just down the street from out house. We spent every night there until closing and then even later some nights. Big smokey voice shoutout to Lisa and Rosie and anyone else who works there. Great times! Across from the Causway was The Bar. That is the name of the place. To describe this place in words would not do it justice. Picture your living room and then cut it in half. Add in a 53 year old grandmother of 7 named Margie behind the bar and a couple of barbacks named Tee and Chip. Hang a 44 LL bra on the wall with a thong just as fukkin big and you have The Bar. We went in once for the experience. Loved it.

We saw a bartender who could blow fire 15 feet in the air and another who could shake pictures off the wall with her ass. There is the always terrific Kristi at the Spoke.

The big story this year was the city of Myrtle Beach and their lame ass attempt to halt the rally. They implemented all kinds of bullshit laws to keep us out (helmet law, noise ordinances, etc.). Well, it worked because we stayed out of the city of Myrtle Beach. Those dumb local shitheads destroyed the biggest revenue source for business owners inside Myrtle Beach by messing with the laws. I heard something like 70,000 hotel room cancellations. But the bikers still came. We stayed in other towns all around Myrtle Beach. And since nothing really happens in the city limits, the events were all the same. We'll be back next year and if things don't change, the biker cry will remain the same: "FUCK MYRTLE BEACH"