Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Twofer Twosday: Allo Helen Flanagan! We Like Them Too!

Over in the land of tea and crumpets, there dwells a fair maiden of ample buxomness and shit.  Her name is Helen, which is weird because I thought most Helens are out there in blue wigs, driving their Skylarks to seven o'clock mass.  Not this Helen, tho.

Helen Flanagan is a British actress who dates an English Premier futbol player.  She played in some television shows and dropped her top for Page 3 a few years back.  FHM named her the hottest English woman in 2014.  I would like to find out who beat her out in 2013 and 2015.

Helen is England's answer to JLH.  She's got bewbs and she knows how to use them.  In a 2013 interview, she said,
"Plus I have the best boobs I've ever seen on anyone in the world. Ever. They're amazing. I'm really proud of my boobs, and I'm grateful that I've got a voluptuous chest. It has a lot of power."    
PREACH HELEN, PREACH!!  I'll go to your church.


Her secret to looking this good is 
lifting weights every morning





Just keep whisking!!






Friday, April 21, 2017

I Would Like You To Meet Someone

Many of you know what I do for work.  Behind the philosophical renaissance, political enlightenment and wikkid fahkin' smartassery that is this blog, I actually have a grownup job (and it's not selling flannel shirts).  But what I do between 8 and 4 Monday through Friday is so much more than a job.  I have been blessed with opportunities to meet men and women of varying abilities, personalities, strengths and weaknesses.  I have been able to spend years knowing people and watching them navigate life in ways that you and I could never comprehend.  Successes that may seem simple to you and me are celebrated daily.  Successes like learning to put your change back in your pocket after buying a soda or reaching out and touching a button that makes a device say "I need the bathroom, please."  Challenges are met head on.  Sometimes, the challenges win.  But many times, those challenges get kicked in the ass by perseverance and the will to just do it.  However, because the foundation of what we do for pay is based on human relationships, the heartaches are as inevitable as the joys.  Ethics tell us that we are not supposed to let emotions affect our work.  But our supervisors and directors do not expect that.  They know that .  

It’s been a rough run lately at the office.  We have had to say goodbye to too many people, some expected and some not expected at all.  In my career, far too many times, I have seen people with developmental disabilities pass away with little to no family having been in their lives.  Wakes and funerals are attended by a few paid staff and forced friends who are only friends by circumstance, told by professionals to live together, work together, bowl together and dance together.  Far too many times, when they are gone, little to nothing is said about their lives on this earth and the impact they had on others.   

I want that to be different.

I would like you to meet Chris.

Sadly, Chris passed away yesterday morning after a year-long, stubborn battle with various medical issues.  He would have turned 59 in May.  Chris refused to let Alzheimer's, end stage heart and lung disease, pneumonia or 14 days intubation back in 2015 decide his time to go.  No, Chris would decide.  He decided this yesterday morning.  His hospice nurse had called for an ambulance to transport him from his group home to a hospice home in Danvers as it was apparent he was nearing the end.  Before the ambulance would get there, however, Chris bid his friends and staff farewell.  He saw his brother and his cousin Wednesday.  He was not going to die in some strange home in Danvers.  He was going to die in his own home, where he has lived happily the past 12 years.    

Chris had warm eyes, an infectious smile, lots of neckties and Down Syndrome.   Those who knew him were most certainly touched by his gregariousness, his spirited facial expressions and his genuine charm and demeanor!  I actually knew Chris well before I started working at DDS with him.  He was an altar boy at St. Michael Church in Lowell where I was a parishioner growing up.  But I really got to know Chris in 1989 at Camp Fatima where he was a camper and comedian and I was a young volunteer counselor trying to figure out if this was the kind of work I wanted to do.  How I will always remember Chris is from the talent show that year.  He decided his talent was telling jokes.  So he got up there in front of a few hundred campers and counselors and in only the way he knew how, microphone in hand, he proceeded to tell joke after joke.  Of course, most of us had no idea what he was saying.  Couldn’t make out a single word.  But we all knew when the joke was over and he expected a laugh because he would raise his arms in triumph.  So we would oblige with hearty laughter. 

I met up with Chris once again in 1999 when I started working at the Lowell office and became his Service Coordinator.  He was living with his mother Betty, who was in her mid-80s and a helluva feisty woman who kept a bottle of Hennessy under her kitchen sink to keep her young and hearty.  At 86 years old, she was still making the trip into Boston with Chris to see his cardiologist.  The doctor was apparently quite the handsome man as Betty would always paint on the lipstick and wear her finest shawl for those appointments.  But in 2004, Betty could no longer care for Chris.  It was in December when we had to help Chris move away from his mother and into a group home.  While the separation was heartbreaking, it was inevitable.   Betty died a few years later at the ripe old age of 92 (the Hennessy worked).  By then, Chris was settled and happy in his home.  His brother and his cousin became more involved in his life.   We can all take heart in that today, he is back together with Betty, and he is telling her the same jokes.

Chris was one of the first people served by Goodwill back when it was on First Street, long before it moved to Middlesex Street and even longer before it became American Training.  He was one of the first participants in RARA.  He was a consistent presence in his Centralville neighborhood off West Sixth Street and at Camp Fatima's Exceptional Citizen's Week every August.  People who knew him loved knowing him.  It was his joy being around people, it was the way he expressed friendship, it was his handshakes to every churchgoer after mass and it was how he would wave you off and tell you to “get outta here.”  There is so much to remember fondly.  Especially his jokes.  

Chris was one of many in 1989 that helped that young volunteer counselor chose his life's path.  And for that, I thank him!!

Rest easy, buddy!  See you again someday!

Got Flannel...and Ink...and an Axe!

Good Lord....   flannel shirt, ink sleeves, rusty axe, green hair....  She can kick my ass up and down the street, and I'd be just fine with that.

Yes, please!!
And what the hell... Here's a bonus tough chick for your viewing pleasure.  No flannel, but I think I can make an exception....  Fukkin' A!!


Thursday, April 13, 2017

Easter Weekend... I have a few questions


All around the globe, Christians are celebrating the resurrection of their lord Jesus Christ this weekend.  They celebrate his last loaf of bread, his final breath and his mysterious yet predictable fulfillment of his promise to rise from his own death and save us from our sins.

So of course, I have questions.

What does INRI mean?  (I don't really want to know)

At what point did a giant bunny with painted eggs become part of the story?

If he rose on the third day, shouldn't it be Easter Monday?

What's so good about Good Friday?

Why are the Greeks a week later than the rest of the Christians??

Who were those two miserable bastards crucified alongside Christ, and what did they do?

Thursday, March 30, 2017

In Italy, They're Calling In a Cramp Day

If you listen to The Hillman Morning Show on WAAF, then you've heard this story.  If not, let me edumahcate you, because, as usual, I am in the gawdam know!!!  In Italy, the lower house of Parliament is considering a draft law that will mandate employers to give women three paid days off per month when their heavy Aunt Flo comes to visit.  (Shitting you not... read here)

I'm callin' bullshit.  Or as they say over there, CAZZATE!!  I am not sure what kind of periods they have in the Boot Country, but paralyzing menstrual cramps??  If I have to go to work battling the fukkin' Pabst Brown River after a night of hot wings and draft beers, then these bella donnes need to buck up and get their belly aches to work.  Don't tell me I'm a dude and therefore have no idea how painful a period can be.  I get it... it feels like you're giving birth to a herd of angry unicorns.  While I do not know how bad the pain of a period is, what I also know is that American women are making it to work every gawdam day, even if they have to double pad it and pop Midols like Skittles.  They go to work.  Italian women are looking for 7 weeks of paid vacation to hug a hot water bottle.

But imagine the uproar if this became a thing in the US.  First, we'd have to reconcile the paradox of women fighting for equality with women wanting to be treated differently because they are women.  At first blush, you might say this would be a step in the right direction for women's rights.  But is it really?  Would this not hurt a woman's employment opportunities?  Imagine ACME Incorporated for a minute, whose employees get 4 weeks paid vacation, 10 sick days and 5 personal days (7 weeks paid time off).  They are choosing between two EQUALLY qualified candidates... a 30 year old man and a 30 year old woman with identical experience and education.  Except one candidate would get 14 weeks paid time off while the other would get 7 weeks.  Who should they hire?  Discrimination?  Yep.  Defensible?  Honestly, kinda!  It's a business first.  And if you owned a company dependent upon your employees' production, wouldn't you want someone who would work 45 weeks a year instead of 38 weeks a year?

But a more interesting/entertaining argument would come from the liberal left...  because, as you know, such a law would certainly discriminate against those who identify as women but swing a schwanz under their skirts.  Would they get the benefit of the law?  Or no?  If not, why not?

But hey... at least LeBron and Sidney Crosby will be able to stay home when they are on their period!


Monday, March 20, 2017

David Allan Coe - Seeing Him Gave Me Chills!

My recent trip to the Blue Hair State was rife with close encounters of the culty kind!  Early in the trip, we cruised around downtown Clearwater, Florida, which has been completely fukkin' taken over by brainwashed lemmings in white shirts, blue pants and matching vests called Scientologists.  You could not swing a Tom Cruise breakdown without hitting one of these fukkers, hanging around multi-million dollar buildings doing their church thing, whatever the fuk that is.


But later in the week, I crossed paths with greatness, a cult hero in his own right.  And it felt good to be completely consumed into the worship! This experience is the reason I am pecking away at the keyboard today.  David Allan Coe is a legend.  The kind of legend of whom the majority of people in this country have never heard, or about whom they could give a shit.  The kind of legend that when you talk about him with a 55 year old guy who lives in the same part of Florida as DAC, that guy says, "I've never heard of him."   Half of you who read this today (maybe more than half) are probably waiting on the next few paragraphs to find out who the fuk is David Allan Coe. But first, a sampling of this weekend's show...

Seeing Coe on stage at the Iron Horse Saloon in Ormond Beach this weekend was chilling for a couple of reasons.  It was chilling because I have been listening to this fukker for a long time, but have never seen him live.  My buddy Tommy and I were walking along the rode toward the Iron Horse and I heard through the oak trees a voice that I thought sounded an awful lot like Coe.  Could it be?  I squeezed my way through the crowd of tattooed, bearded, life-worn brethren, straight past the bar.  I needed to see if I heard right.  Sure as a Sunday morning shit, there he was 20 yards from me sittin' on a stool softly strumming his Gibson Flying V as he told story after story.  With his obnoxious looking wig and grizzled, throaty baritone sound, the man commanded a crowd of loyalists, bikers staring at cowboys who were laughing at the hippies - literally straight out of his song, Long Haired Redneck.

It was also chilling because the 77 year old outlaw who used to ride his huge Harley onto the stage and curse at his fans, this day needed to be assisted off his stool and helped off stage by two guys, the seemingly permanent reminder of a near fatal car wreck four years ago to the day in Ocala, FL, when he ran a red light and was broadsided by a semi-truck.  It hit me kinda hard to watch this outlaw tough guy need so much help to take so much as one step.

The damage to Coe's Suburban in 2013.  How did he live?
So who the hell is David Allan Coe, you ask?
  • You might know his hits You Don't Have To Call Me Darling or Mona Lisa's Eyes.  Then again, you might not.  
  • You might know The Ride, his haunting tribute to Hank Williams.  Then again, you might not.  
  • You might know that he wrote Tanya Tucker's #1 hit Would You Lay With Me (In A Field of Stone).  Then again, you might not.  
  • You definitely know his most successful song, Take This Job and Shove It, but you probably thought Johnny Paycheck wrote it.   
Coe's been an outlaw since he was a 9 year old runt growing up in Akron, Ohio.  Coe spent 20 of his first 30 years in reform schools and other correctional facilities for crimes ranging from armed robbery to auto theft.  In 1967, after he was released from a three year stint at the Ohio State Penitentiary, he moved to Nashville to embark on a music career.  He lived out of a hearse that he parked in front of the Ryman Auditorium.  But his tattoos, outlandish performances, his criminal past and his go fuck yourself attitude did not conform to Nashville's uppity standards. He never would break into the mainstream, but his outlaw style quickly formed a cult following of country fans who were about tired of the Grand Ol' Opry's elitism.  He penned songs for Willie Nelson, George Jones and Tammy Wynette.  But he could never get his own records played on country radio...  the first two lines of Long Haired Redneck tells you all you need to know:  "Country DJs all think I'm an outlaw, and they'd never come to see me in this dive."




Coe could not give two shits about what Nashville thought of him.  He refused to change.  This only endeared him even more to his fans and strengthened his outlaw image.  In the 70's, DAC recorded a couple of underground albums that were explicitly confrontational, sexual and racist in nature.  He became embroiled in a feud with Jimmy Buffett after Buffett accused him of plagiarism with Divers Do It Deeper.  So he wrote the insulting Jimmy Buffett with lyrics like:

Now Jimmy's moved to Malibu with all those other stars 
He's not down at in Duval Street hangin' out in bars 
All them God damned tourist, got to be a bore. 
Jimmy Buffet doesn't live here any more

He also went off on Anita Bryant for her opposition to LGBT rights with Fuck Aneta Briant (misspelling intended to avoid lawsuits).  Google it, you'll like it.  No guesswork in Coe's meanings, that's for sure.  His career has had a few setbacks.  He has battled (and lost to) the IRS.  He toured with Grand Funk Railroad and Kid Rock.  He partnered with Dimebag Darrell of Pantera in the country metal collaboration Rebel Meets Rebel.  And through it all, he has played the Iron Horse Saloon every year, holding court over his most loyal of followers.

To truly understand what David Allan Coe represents, go to one of his shows.  The guy's stage sound totally sucks.  Trained musicians and singers would recoil at how he carries a note.  And yet, his following is undeniable!  Take note of the faces in the crowd and appreciate the stories those hardened wrinkles have to say.  Because he is not about the music - rather his music is his method of message.  He is 100% about the non-conformist way of life.  The Go Fuck Yourself I Ain't Changing For Anyone lifestyle.  The I Don't Give A Shit What You Think Of Me lifestyle.

And this weekend, I was up close and personal to a man who is the penultimate representation of what it means to stay true to yourself.  We all have scars and stories and imperfections.  We can choose to hide them or embrace them for making us whole.  David Allan Coe embraces them.  You may not ever even care to listen to him.  But he doesn't give a fukkin' shit!

Friday, March 10, 2017

Flannel Friday: Jack and Jill

Now we're talking!  Bellied up to a bottle of Jack in Daisy Dukes, a flannel shirt and eyes that say "How's your Miller Lite, pussy?"   



Monday, February 6, 2017

Soopah Bowl Recap: Roger That!


I was one of them.  And I wasn't alone.  Facebook, Twitter and Instagram were going full tilt with haters posting hilarious memes and fans posting gloom and doom.  But my wife...  at 28-3, she was saying to all of us Dougie Downers in the room, "We got this.  Lot of game left."  She was fukkin' crazy is all I knew.  I don't care how great TMFB is... climbing back while keeping the best offense in the NFL off the scoreboard was simply not possible.  OR WAS IT????

I didn't need this game to know that Tom Brady was/is the greatest quarterback to have EVER played the game.  Even with that, a 25 point gap was just too high to close.  OR WAS IT??

Psst... IT WASN'T!!

Two years ago, we thought we saw the greatest Super Bowl in NFL history.  We thought we saw the greatest 4th quarter by a quarterback.  We thought we saw the greatest play.  I keep Butler's interception as the greatest play ever in the Super Bowl.  But Brady made sure SB51 became the greatest Super Bowl in history.  He looked off in the first half, making bad decisions and missing his guys.  I was wondering if all of the emotion with his mother and with the "revenge tour" has finally gotten to him.  IT DIDN'T!

Atlanta was doing what the Giants did... pressure Tommy with 4 guys and cover man on the outside and it was working.  This alleged "weak" defense looked pretty fukkin' stout!  Could Dan Quinn be outcoaching The Hood?  In all, Brady was sacked 5 times.  Some fat dude named Grady Jarrett was gonna win the MVP if Atlanta held on to win.

But you saw what happened.  Brady stayed calm.  He kept everyone else calm.  And then he just went all TMFB on their asses.  When it was all over, Brady went 43 for 62 for 466 yards.  The Pats ran 88 offensive plays to Atlanta's 41!  No, Quinn did not outcoach The Hood.  Ya know how I know...  because as easy a time as Atlanta had running the football and as big a lead as they had, they only had 18 carries all game.  They only had 104 yards rushing and that includes Freeman's 37 yard gallop on their first snap of the game.  The Pats scored 31 unanswered points.

During the AFC Championship, it was Chris Hogan setting records.  Last night, it was James White.  THIS is what makes him the GOAT.  He doesn't care who the fuk gets the ball... as long as the right guy gets the ball.  Anyone predict James White would have 114 yards receiving, three touchdowns and a 2 point conversion?  I didn't.  He takes what you give him and he spits you out.

And THAT my friends leaves no doubt!  For anyone!  The Ginger Hammer got booed relentlessly.  Mrs. Brady made it down to the field for a big ol' kiss from her son.  Thanks for coming.  Parade is tomorrow!

Sunday, February 5, 2017

MessFest 2017: And I Will Bring You Beer


You shall cross the frozen ice pond,
but you shall not die of thirst
You shall try to find your warm friends
Though you do not know the way
You shall call a fukkin' taxi and to the Spoke you go.
You shall see the cleavage of God and drink!

Be not a dick
We'll go before you today
You follow us, and
She will give you beer!

We did it again... our annual traipse through the tulips of gluttony and sloth, aka MessFest, aka Cronin Weekend, aka Pond Hockey Classic ended without tragedy, unless you count the deer who lost a foot race to a hungry predator on the ice under the moon.  Some say it was a coyote, others say it was a bobcat.  I say it was the Killer Rabbit from the Holy Grail.  When the sun rose over the frozen tundra of Lake Winna Piss In My Sockies, there was nothin' left of Bambi except bones and fur!   LOOK AT THE BONES!!

I will once again change the names to protect the guilty because some of us muthafukkas have reps to protect.  There was me, Podunk.  I rode up with my brother Big Balls Buddah.  When we got there, Tiny was in the kitchen', in full Jackin' Coke swaydom, broilin' ribs and singing Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard.  A hundred beers deep, there was also Jimmy Weedbalm, Halfsack, Frogger, Tits McDoo, Cap'n Billy and Pot Pipe Pete, our token Democrat - he had the weekend off from marching.  A little later, Boner, Stoner, PJay and Dinkus arrived.  And soon after, Pauly Wingnut and Rapid Roy rounded off the Magnificent 14!!  Wait... that's 15.

I don't know where to begin...

Before me and Buddah even got there, we stopped by the Broken Spoke.  There, we met Bobby O'Neil, a Santa Claus lookin' muthafukka originally from Summahville, who proudly told us of his time in Okinawa as a Marine before coming home to open up two porno stores, one in Summahville and one in Mahlburo.  He apparently made enough money sellin' videos and dildos to buy 12 acres in Meredith and move up here some 20 years ago to farm chickens and work for the town.  Bobby's signature expression, by the way... Fuck me to tears!

This was the 15th annual Sloppy Bowl (as years go by, this muthafukka has had many names).  Literally a collection of mostly Irish pricks from Christian Hill in Lowell, although we often throw in a smatterin' of French and Portuguese because someone has to bring the big dicks.  Friday night, the bunch of us drank enough beer to leave Milwaukee dry for months.  Weedbalm had just come back from a trip to Vail, Colorado and pulled out his THC Lip Balm.  "Put a bunch on your lips and rub some on your temples," he says while stuffin' his gullet with a double stacked Ring Ding.  And by 3 am, Wingnut, Cap'n, Halfsack, Dinkus and me were wanderin' around the frozen lake looking at the stars like they were talkin' to us.  Serenaded to sleep by a cacophony of snores, day 1 was in the books.

Saturday is Mug Day!  After a breakfast of Twinkies and icewater while Caddyshack was on, we were off to The Mug for some lunch and bubble hockey.  However, this year a few of us also decided to spontaneously rewrite a few church songs because that's what we do..  Come follow me, and I will bring you beer!  So after harassing our wikkid sassy bartender Ashley for a couple of hours, it was off to watch some pond hockey... the Labatt Blue Pond Hockey Classic is 26 rinks in which you get to see teams like Shut Yer 5 Holes play against Tuukka Dump!

 

They sell beer.  There is live music.  And a shitload of people.  Three carloads left The Mug for Meredith Bay, but one car drove right the fuk by it.  Ya see, while the rest of the idiots chose to walk around freezin' their Irish asses off, me and Buddah went straight to the cozy stools at the Broken Spoke where we hung out with another sassified bartender, this one named Alicia.  Within 30 minutes, with Buddah controlling the jukebox and making friends with every fukkin' person in the place including the owners, Tiny was calling for us to come pick him up because he was fukkin' freezin.  He said the other guys did not want to leave because they had such a good parking spot.  Of course, we said no thanks.  But Tiny being the smart one called a cab and joined us in the happiness of shelter and booze with his little friend, Cleo Taurus.


Then it was Wingnut's turn to start calling looking for a ride out of pond hockey hell.  So being the good friends that we are, we said no and proceeded to send him pictures to rub it in that we were having much more fun than him.  We made a sign to Pauly that read "Fuck pond hockey!  It's much warmer here."  And then we got Alicia, Sweet Melissa and a bunch of other people to hold the sign so we could text Pauly pictures.


 CLOCKWISE:  Alicia, Dawn, Sweet Melissa and 
Random Guy in argyle sweater



Our jukebox buddies (Photobomb courtesy of Buddah)

We even ran into Matt Light and Joe Andruzzi
From the Spoke, we had to make a stop at The Looney Bin so some guys could buy sweatshirts.  It was there were we met Angie, who was wearing some kind of pelt on her head and told us all about her beaver that went to below her knees.  That's a mighty long beaver you have there, Angie!  Alas, we had to leave Angie and her long beaver behind for it was back to the house for the night... it was gonna be beers around the fire for the Magnificent 14 Tallywacker Choir's performance of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.  But not before a little round of Pizza Parlor Football.  Sorry Stoner.  But Wingnut did have perfect form.

So... we all survived, even the twin bunk beds.  Titsy McDoo did not fall down the stairs even once and we filled four garbage bags of beer cans.  Not bad for 48 hours.  Until next year.

Ribs....  perfect

Like I said.. I have a rep to protect

That was one hungry killer rabbit!!

Friday, February 3, 2017

Annual Pre-Soopah Bowl Dudes Weekend... Let the MessFest begin!

Gettin' my game face on for 48 hours of buddies and beers up at Captain Billy's house at the lake.  Crockpot Chili and Devil Dogs for dinner chasin' Budweiser appetizers cuz that's how a bunch of middle aged beer bellied New Englandahs roll!  Might watch some pond hockey.  Might overtake the music machine at The Looney Bin.  Might play another round of How Much Does Chisolm Weigh.  Might put Talladega Nights on a loop and play 45s until dawn.  One thing is a certainty... you won't wanna go in there!!!!

But before the weekend gets away from us, I want to put you in the right mood for the Super Bowl.  Punxatawney Phil saw his fukkin' shadow yesterday, which means 6 more weeks of Lizzie The Douche Warren yelling about The Donald.  So what better way to forget about the shit in the news and get your sportsgasm on than body paint!  GO PATS!!






Don't worry... I did not forget about you ladies or you Falcons fans.  Here's your body paint.


Monday, January 30, 2017

Jesus Christ... It Ain't About Religion!!


Today's history lesson comes to you courtesy of the Visa Waiver Program Improvement and Terrorist Travel Prevention Act of 2015.

If you are gonna raise hell about Trump's executive order on travel restrictions, you should know history.  And then you should wonder why you never even heard of the Terrorist Travel Prevention Act.  And why you STILL have not heard any Democrat refer to it this week.  And after you learn history, you should read Trump's Executive Order to know exactly what it says.  By the way, it mentions only one country by name... Syria.

FYI, the Visa Waiver Program is a US program that was passed in 1986 during Reagan's administration.  It allows citizens of 38 identified, developed countries to travel to the United States for up to 90 days without having to apply for and obtain a visa.  Nationals of countries not part of the agreement must apply for a visa in order to travel to the US.  In order to get a visa to the US, one would need to apply, get fingerprinted and have a face to face visitor visa interview at the US Embassy or Consulate in their country.  There is generally a wait of several weeks.

On December 18, 2015, President Barack Obama signed into law the Consolidated Appropriations Act 2016, which included the Visa Waiver Program Improvement and Terrorist Travel Prevention Act of 2015 (the Act). This Act identified that nationals of VWP countries who have traveled to Iraq, Syria, Iran, and Sudan after 2011 were no longer eligible to travel or be admitted to the United States under the VWP.  In February, 2016, Obama's Dept of Homeland Security added Libya, Yemen and Somalia to that list of Countries of Particular Concern.  They would now need to apply for a visa as any other citizen of any other non-VWP country.  Simply because they VISITED one of the seven countries.  


Now... near as I can figure, that is a travel policy implemented by Obama that makes a distinction between these seven countries and the rest of the world.  I never heard anyone accuse Obama of making sweeping policy changes based on someone's religion.  Yet, when Trump used that preexisting list of seven countries in his order to suspend issuance of visas, somehow HIS policy is racist and un-American.

So THAT'S your history lesson.  Now for your "PRESENT" lesson.

A BAN ON ONE RELIGION?   NOPE.   President Trump's order targets seven countries that happen to be also be Muslim-majority countries.  There are FIFTY Muslim-majority countries in this world.  I have been out of school for a lot of fukkin' years, but my math tells me that citizens in 43 Muslim-majority countries are not effected by this order.  That includes citizens of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Algeria and Morocco, all of which are 99% Muslim.  So when Marty Walsh spouts into a microphone that discrimination based on religion is not American, don't applaud him blindly because he's a Democrat.  Remind yourself that Obama separated the same seven countries from the rest of the world.

Trump's order TEMPORARILY suspends the issuance of any visas to any nationals of the seven aforementioned countries for a period of 90 days.  During the first 30 days, the Secretary of State and Dept of National Intelligence are to review the current vetting process and determine what information is going to be needed to properly vet those seeking admission into the United States.  They will determine which countries are not providing that information and give them 60 days to comply.  If they do not comply, citizens of those countries will be barred from traveling to the US.

BARRING GREEN CARD HOLDERS?  Nope again.  Green card holders WILL NOT be barred from re-entering the country.  Citizens of those target countries who have permanent residency will be subject of greater scrutiny, but will likely be allowed through.  Yep, that means that for the next three months, citizens of those countries will be detained for a few hours undergoing questioning by customs agents.

HALTING REFUGEES:  The Refugee Admission Program is suspended for 4 months while the new administration reviews the vetting process before allowing them to resettle in the US.  People escaping religious persecution will still be allowed to resettle in the US, just so long as their religion is not the majority religion of the country from which they are running.

In the end, this executive order represents a suspension of certain policies while this administration reviews and determines how best to protect this nation while remaining a country of immigrants and continuing to show compassion to those fleeing oppression.  But it is a delicate balance.  A balance that has thrown the left into more tantrums.  The former President feels he is still relevant because he sounded off today.  Go away asshole.  You had your 8 years.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Pats Recap: Pats Dismantle Stillers, Yawn, Back to the Super Bowl.

Marty Bennett is goin' home to Houston!  And He's Kinda Happy!
The How's My Ass Taste You Gingah Mutha Fukka Tour has one more game to go.  Roger HAS to come to the next game.  And yes, haytahs... that means a shit ton to Patriot Nation.  It shouldn't.  But it does.

It was excruciating last night watching Bathroom Ben flick his way down the field 9 yards at a time while Logan Ryan and Eric Rowe played trail technique to perfection.  For you football know-nothings, trail technique is when you run behind your guy across the field while he catches first downs.  Matt Patricia's defense took the bend but don't break defense to a whole new level last night, giving up 390 yards to the Stillers high powered offense.  But while Antonio Brown had his catches and 77 yards receiving, he really was a non-factor.  And with Le'veon Bell's strained balls keeping him and his patience in a poncho, the Pats only had to worry about dudes named Sammie, Eli and Jesse.

Remember the old saying that you have to run the ball in the playoffs?  Tell that to these two teams.  There was that one run where LGBlount carried half the fukkin' Steeler defenders in a moving pig pile for the final ten yards of an 18 yard run.  But before that, he had 7 carries for MINUS 3 yards.  The Pats held Pittsburgh to just 54 yards rushing.  They have not allowed 90 yards rushing now for 25 straight games.  But who needs running backs when the GOAT and Big Ben are throwing the ball all over the gawdam field?

Ultimately, however, the game belonged to the 70's sitcoms!  Tom Brady Bunch to Chris Hogan's Heroes for the win, Alex!  Someone on Boston sports radio this week predicted that it would be a Hogan kind of game, expecting Edleman to be double teamed and linebackers keying on Lewis and Bennett.  I wish I remember which temporary genius said it... cuz he be wikkid smaht!!

It's an old line, but it applies now as much as it did early in his career... Brady's favorite receiver is the open one.  Look at Colonel Hogan, fahchrissake!  This guy's road to last night is as non-suspect as one can be.  He played college lacrosse at Penn State for three years, missing one season with an ankle injury.  After graduating from Penn State, with one year of NCAA eligibility left, he decided to give football a whirl.  So he enrolled at Monmouth University and walked on as a wide receiver.  His one year college career had 12 catches for 147 yards and three touchdowns.  As an undrafted free agent, he was cut by three NFL teams in 2 years (49ers, Giants and Dolphins), never getting past the practice squad, before catching on with the Bills active roster in 2013.  But at the end of 2015, in Rex Ryan's estimation, it was not worth renewing Hogan's contract.  Enter Hoodie and TMFB, who turned this guy into this season's NFL leader in yards per reception and the Patriots record holder for most receiving yards in a playoff game.  Thanks for coming, everyone.

I woke up this morning expecting to hear some rumblings about nefarious underhandery by the Evil Patriots.  Did McNally sneak off to Pittsburgh during the week and fill their practice Gatorade with test tubes of influenza?  Did Nate Ebner really pull the fire alarm?  Was Mike Tomlin listening to Ashley Judd's women's march speech in his headset?  Did Antonio Brown Facebook Live stream the game plan?  Was Brady generally aware of someone deflating Le'Veon Bell's balls??   So far, aside from Robert Kraft's hangover, it's nothing but peppermint and gumdrops here in Foxboro Town!  Pats are on their way to their record NINTH Super Bowl.  Brady will play in his record SEVENTH Super Bowl.  The Hoodie will coach in his record SEVENTH Super Bowl.  And Hogan's Wikipedia page temporarily titled him as Pittsburgh's Baby Daddy!!  

Seriously....  the guy is THIRTY NINE YEARS OLD!!!  All he did last night was go 32 for 42 for 384 yards and three touchdowns and a QBR of 127.5.  The best playoff performance of his career.  People keep saying that Brady is more motivated this year because of the suspension.  People who believe that have not been paying attention to this guy for 16 years.  To say that implies that there are times when he is less motivated.  That is simply not possible.  As Troy Brown put it last night, TMFB is motivated by the same thing that has always driven him... the fact that Lloyd Carr made him split time his senior season at Michigan with freshman Drew fukkin' Henson.  Thank you Lloyd!

See you in two weeks!!   Who's dancing???  Scrapping Gisele's cave dance and keeping with the 70's sitcom theme...

Thursday, January 19, 2017

You Do Realize That Half Of America Feels Differently, Right?


Tomorrow will mark our four year tradition of celebrating a peaceful change of power.  But try celebrating that in any circle in Massachusetts.  Oh no... if you talk to anyone in this forever in blue state, tomorrow is the day of the apocalypse.  It will forever be remembered as the day that women were stripped of their uteri, that Muslims were herded into concentration camps, that sexual harassment was legalized and that everyone lost their healthcare.  In Massachusetts, they all assume that everyone around them agrees with them.  They're fukkin' WRONG!  They talk about it without regard to how others in the room feel.  Because, you know, if you are not angered about Trump's election, well then, you must be an asshole and undeserving of respect.  It's arrogance and ignorance mixed together in a disgusting Democrat Stew.

Look at the fukkin' mess going on right now.  This country is as divided as it has ever been.  Divided by political party, by race, by income.  There is a line of hate that has been drawn.  This is not Donald Trump's doing - he isn't even fukkin' President yet.  That falls on the previous administrations.  This is the doing of spoiled little snottwats who still cannot comprehend that their darling candidate lost.  It's the fukkin' tantrum that will never end.  It's the three year old on the floor in the candy aisle screaming for Skittles for two hours while Daddy threatens him with a time-out.  And now we are left with watching haggard old New Englanders Lizzie the Douche, Maggie Hassan and Uncle Bernie grill Trump's cabinet nominees as if they know what the fuk they are talking about.  Can you guarantee you will not cut a dollar from Medicare?  Have you ever had a student loan?  Can you guarantee that you will enforce the education rules already in place?  yada yada fukkin yada!  The most puzzling moment came from rookie dumdum Maggie Hassan from my state asking Health and Human Services nominee Tom Price this gem:  Do you believe an employer should be able to fire a woman for using birth control?   Where the fuk does that question come from?  Why didn't she ask if he believed a woman should be arrested for using Midol?

There's also the large delegation of jackasses who felt the need to ANNOUNCE that they will not attend Trump's inauguration.  Last count was up to 68 Democrats who will skip the peaceful transition of power.  To make a point.  And to keep this country as divided as possible.  Unification and respect of the office only matters when it's one of their guys in the big seat.  They are allegedly standing with John Lewis, Democratic Senator from Georgia, who claimed Trump is not a legitimate President because of the popular vote nonsense.  Lewis proudly claimed that this would be the first inauguration he has missed since he has been in Congress.  Except that he is a lying muthafukka!   Lewis also skipped Dubbaya's inauguration in 2001 for the same reason.  Misremembering the past.  Sounds like a Democrat leader if I ever heard one.

Here's the deal, assholes.  Trump is a LEGALLY ELECTED PRESIDENT.  You may not like it.  I don't love it myself.  But his election is legitimate, legal and tough titties for you!  It had nothing to do with the Russians and everything to do with your candidate.

Back to Massachusetts for a minute.  One of the trademark moves of the Democrat party is that you, their voters, are too stupid to make the right choice.  It's why they have Superdelegates.  It's why they tell you how to buy healthcare and how to feed your child.  Massholes LEGALLY voted to allow recreational use of marijuana.  It is now legal to grow, buy, possess and smoke pot as of December 15th, 2016.  However, your wikkid smahttah than you legislators voted to delay the opening of retail pot shops until July 2018.  So, in typical Massachusetts fashion, it is legal to buy it, but illegal to sell it.  Because despite the ballot question that was voted on that outlined exactly how marijuana will be regulated, lawmakers dismissed the popular ballot and told citizens to fuk off... they know better.  These are your Jackasses, people!

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Imagine If THIS Was The Painting. How Would William Lacy Clay Feel?



A controversial painting on Capitol Hill, shown above, depicting soldiers from the Confederate Army leading a charge carrying their battle flag was becoming the very definition of a political football Tuesday as Democratic and Republican lawmakers repeatedly passed it back and forth in a growing tit-for-tat. Offended Democrats kept taking it down and Republicans kept hanging it up.  One Democrat representative called the painting “offensive to African Americans and Americans in general," acknowledging that he was angered by its depiction of the Confederate flag. Republican leaders of the Congressional White Caucus issued this statement, "It’s not about defending an art contest. It’s about defending the Constitution.  We are not “anti-black” and we do not agree or disagree with the painting,” -- arguing their intent is to defend the First Amendment rights of the 18-year-old artist, David Dickerson. She argued the artist’s world view has been shaped by pride in his Southern heritage and he should have the right to express that view.

As you know, this is not the actual story coming out of Capitol Hill, but it is pretty fukkin' similar, ain't it?  The real story has been discussed over and over.... an 18 year old high school student from Missouri depicted police officers as pigs, pointing guns at black protesters.  Law enforcement groups are understandably offended by the painting.  But Congressman Lacy Clay of Missouri liked the painting so much, he selected it as his district's representative artwork for the national contest.  Clay, standing alongside other members of the Congressional Black Caucus, said that his intent is to defend the First Amendment rights of the 18 year old artist.  He said that the artist's world view has been shaped by animalistic behavior of police officers.

Interestingly enough, Clay was not as interested in freedom of speech or the shaping of world views in 2015 when he introduced a bill to prohibit Confederate flags from Veterans' cemeteries.  And when he asked the mayor of St. Louis to remove a Confederate monument from Forest Park in that city.  At the time, Clay wrote, "Symbols associated with this country's racist, oppressive past should not be elevated or displayed in public places."   Unless it's a symbol of racial divide perpetuated by 8 years of President Obama.  Then put that fukker up in public and tell everyone else that they do not have the right to be offended.  Fuck William Lacy Clay!!  And any police officers assigned to security detail for his ass in Washington or Missouri should tell him he is on his fukkin' own!!

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Keep Your Hands Off My Seed!!

Tough touchdown!  Devastating block!  I wanna take Michael Floyd out drinking when he gets back to town tonight.  I'll drive!

There would be no fukkin' around today in South Beach like they did last season when they decided to practice their running game for the first quarter.  This time, the Pats kept their seed hand strong and guarandamnteed that for as long as they remain alive, the playoffs will come through the Razor.  They did it by looking at the Dolphins 9-1 record in the past ten games for what it was... toilet paper.  Oh sure... the 'phins put together two consecutive no-huddle drives in the middle of the game, but all that really did was give a semblance of balance to the stat sheet.   They won by 21, but the game was not that close.

Miami is still Miami.  Donkey Kong Suh is still a dirty prick.  Bobby McCain has some kinda Napoleon Complex (except I bet Napoleon could at least cover the slant route).  Jarvis Landry celebrates like he thinks all of his touchdowns are game winners.  And they still wear aqua marine and orange!!  Nuff Sed!  Have fun in the 'burgh next week, assholes!  I'll be rooting for ya.  Mostly because the Stillers scare me and I don't wanna have to play them.

It's time for the MVP voters to make their selections.  No idea if Mr. Bundchen is gonna get it or should get it.  Mostly because it doesn't matter to me.  Listen Brady fans... we have spent the last two years telling everyone that we do not care what the rest of the country thinks of the GOAT.  So why do you care if he gets the MVP?  Is that what you need to validate your argument about him being the best?  Or can't you just be happy with the validation you find in his numbers?  28 touchdowns.  Only 2 picks.   He has thrown for just under 3600 yards while missing four games.  That is a mere hundred yards less than Dak Prescott who has played the whole season.  He has more touchdowns and less interceptions than Prescott.  Matt Ryan will probably get the MVP because his numbers per game are even a little bit better than Brady's and because he played 16 games and because he is not Tom Brady.  But whatever!  It's time to dance, ya pricks!

But first... a look at Floyd's howdoyado block of Tony Lippett.



Okay, Sir Shitsalot,....  cue up the Top Seed Week Off Stay Home Victory Dance!