It's not easy being married to a therapist.
ME: (Via text) "Hon, I'm at Home Depot. I was going to pick up some flowers, maybe an "angel-themed" birdbath, but let's do that together this weekend"
WIFE: (Via text) "ARE YOU A COMPLETE IDIOT?"
Note: No - you didn't miss anything between these two lines.
There's a life lesson here for men. Even if your intention is totally selfless, and you think you've figured out something that may actually make your spouse or significant other happy, forget it; you are a complete idiot.
Luckily I have a wife who can articulate why I'm an idiot. You may need to pay a professional.
Along with a license to listen to people for $100 an hour, (more often 45 minutes, not counting the 30 minutes in the waiting room listening to recorded sounds of birds tweeting and toilets flushing, set up for the previous patient's (victim's) privacy), a therapist has a DSM book of diagnosis.
This is a paperback book, the size of a small chevy truck, that provides a numerical code for every known, real and imagined mental disorder, for the expressed purpose of insurance reimbursement. (NO I did not just make that up).
It's other purpose, if you happen to be married to a therapist, is to allow your wife to take any recent statement that you've made, and provide for you, not an answer to the question, but the formal diagnosis as to why you asked.
Initially, my diagnosis was "Complete Idiot." A disorder that falls somewhere between Attention Deficit Disorder and Zunich-Kaye syndrome, which is a polite term for Mental Retardation, and useful here because it begins with a "Z."
If you're lost as to why the quick diagnosis as Complete Idiot, from the single request to share some time at Home Depot, it's because you didn't spend twelve years earning a Masters in Counseling, and you probably don't own a DSM book.
Actually it's a DSM III or maybe by now a DSM IV book. Each time they come up with new excuses why people act like morons, they have to give it a name for insurance reimbursement, so the books get larger. They were going to put it on a Kindle, but despite the fact that we can now get the entire library of congress onto a micro-chip the size of a neutrino, the DSM books don't fit.
Stupidly, I chose to respond to the text with some truly heartfelt reasoning as to why making the front of our office building look nice makes me feel like I've accomplished something. Our daily routine often feels like we're on a hamster wheel, running fast, but getting nowhere. If I can personalize my office space, I have some tiny physical evidence of something changing for the better, and I enjoy a small creative outlet.
ME: Something to the effect of what I just explained above.
WIFE: "OMG! You can rationalize anything to yourself. We don't have the money to pay bonuses to our employees, or to pay back our start-up loans, but let's get a bird bath."
OK. In the interest of fairness in humor, she scores big there.
Plus, I suppose I should have read the financial concern into her question, "Are you a complete idiot?" What, did you miss that too?
A few minutes go by, while I'm walking the aisles at Home Depot considering how stupid I was to even think of texting my wife in the first place, and I get another phone buzz. I'm afraid to look; how many times can I have my balls snipped in one hour? Especially since I willingly exposed them to the chopping block?
WIFE: HONEY! I'm not mad. I just realized why you're doing this. I'll tell you later."
This of course means that she has pulled out her DSM IV, or perhaps by now DSM X book, and cross-referenced God knows what, to determine the reason I would like to plant flowers outside my office, and yes, perhaps place a small fountain or bird-bath. She is convinced apparently that this is some sort of disorder. If she can just find the code; 1. I am absolved of all guilt, 2. This may be reimbursable by medical insurance.
I too have been married 16 years, so I know what my wife is thinking, and it doesn't take a 1200 page book of gibberish to get it.
ME: "I'm in the manic phase of a bi-polar episode."
WIFE: "Yes! And I want you to enjoy it. Just don't spend any money."
Now, did you catch what happened here?
She was angry, until she found an excuse for my behavior. Then she felt bad for me, because there's a re-imburseable excuse for me.
Unfortunately we're not covered. My idiocy and bi-polar diagnosis are both pre-existing conditions.
I think they both contributed to why I got married.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
SEX. WHO PAYS?
Am I the only one that suspects the Georgetown chick is probably a lesbian? Definitely could be playing collegiate field hockey.
Last I heard, they can't get each other pregnant?
Isn't that true, or has there been some sort of breakthrough?
Now - Let's do the math:
She says: Sex is costing $3,000 annually?!
Birth Control pills: $15 per month
This means a woman would have to be swallowing nearly 17X the amount of pills prescribed.
No wonder she looks like a man.
OR
A condom is $1 (Actually, probably less, but lets assume she's only letting luxury penises in).
If sex is costing her $3,000 per year, she's having sex 8.219191780 times every day, all year!
What does that make her? (Exactly the question Rush asked).
Either a 'slut' or a 'prostitute."
Let's hope prostitute because we should hope she's getting paid to do it 8 times a day.
Oh wait, that's pretty much what she wants us to do; pay for her sex.
No thanks.
Last I heard, they can't get each other pregnant?
Isn't that true, or has there been some sort of breakthrough?
Now - Let's do the math:
She says: Sex is costing $3,000 annually?!
Birth Control pills: $15 per month
This means a woman would have to be swallowing nearly 17X the amount of pills prescribed.
No wonder she looks like a man.
OR
A condom is $1 (Actually, probably less, but lets assume she's only letting luxury penises in).
If sex is costing her $3,000 per year, she's having sex 8.219191780 times every day, all year!
What does that make her? (Exactly the question Rush asked).
Either a 'slut' or a 'prostitute."
Let's hope prostitute because we should hope she's getting paid to do it 8 times a day.
Oh wait, that's pretty much what she wants us to do; pay for her sex.
No thanks.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
WHAT'S YOUR MAJOR?"
I had lunch with a friend who told me his daughter just graduated from college as a dance major. My sympathy was left hanging thick in the air, left unspoken because If you’re the father of a girl, "Advanced Pole" obviously crosses your mind.
Reality check: Dance is not a freaking academic subject. It's voluntarily (usually) - contorting your body, often to music - or perhaps to a chant, as in the case of ritual sacrifice, devil worship or perhaps to make it rain.
If you can get the thought of sloppy drunk men stuffing dollar bills into your little princess’ panties out of your mind, you’ll wonder how else she’ll support herself if she fails Pole 101.
Obviously, there’s only one option, which is teaching dance. Otherwise known as siphoning disposable income from suburban single moms who didn’t pass their pole auditions either. So begins the viscous cycle.
At the university level, what do you do in a classroom all day when you major in Dance? What can you possibly do sitting at a desk?
I can think of very few people with successful dance careers. Let’s see….Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Gregory Hines. Maybe Mary Poppins. And then I think there’s a Geoffrey Ballet, but how the
Toys -R-Us Giraffe mascot relates to a ballet club (or troupe - with a silent “e” just to be more annoying) eludes me.
By the way if you want to name your kid Jeffrey, but opt for the spelling Geoffrey, you deserve a lifetime of painful kidney stones to make up for the total disregard for a life of ridicule you’re imposing on your son. Of course you may be one of the lucky ones who one day will get to see him perform Swan Lake in adult feety pajamas, and savor a singular tear of joy when some dude named Boris, Americanized to Bruce, hands him a dozen roses just off curtain.
So what are some electives when you major in a subject that’s really just a thing to do with your body? What’s the curriculum?
Nose Picking?
COURSE OUTLINE:
“By the end of the year students should be able to stick any finger up to the knuckle, pull out, roll and flick perfectly formed boogers in one fluid motion.” Life credit is given to all male class members with a valid drivers license, for their experience with this skill at every red light in history.
Students successfully completing this class are eligible for Hock a Loogey 101.
When my son switched from private Christian school where he was actually forced to think, to public school where thinking is severely discouraged, the idea of majoring in Dance with a minor in thumb sucking became perfectly clear.
I went to pick him up at school early yesterday and was told that he was watching lip synch practice.
This, just one day after I called the school to ask why he’s watcing Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in science class and received a brief unintelligible note from his science teacher.
Excuse me? I said “Did you say Lip Synch?
Yes.
I picked up a stapler and smacked myself in the face with open end just to see if perhaps this was a weird dream, and I’d better get up before I was late for reality.
Six thousand years of history has seen many civilizations rise and fall. I think it’s safe to say we’re doomed.
Reality check: Dance is not a freaking academic subject. It's voluntarily (usually) - contorting your body, often to music - or perhaps to a chant, as in the case of ritual sacrifice, devil worship or perhaps to make it rain.
If you can get the thought of sloppy drunk men stuffing dollar bills into your little princess’ panties out of your mind, you’ll wonder how else she’ll support herself if she fails Pole 101.
Obviously, there’s only one option, which is teaching dance. Otherwise known as siphoning disposable income from suburban single moms who didn’t pass their pole auditions either. So begins the viscous cycle.
At the university level, what do you do in a classroom all day when you major in Dance? What can you possibly do sitting at a desk?
I can think of very few people with successful dance careers. Let’s see….Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Gregory Hines. Maybe Mary Poppins. And then I think there’s a Geoffrey Ballet, but how the
Toys -R-Us Giraffe mascot relates to a ballet club (or troupe - with a silent “e” just to be more annoying) eludes me.
By the way if you want to name your kid Jeffrey, but opt for the spelling Geoffrey, you deserve a lifetime of painful kidney stones to make up for the total disregard for a life of ridicule you’re imposing on your son. Of course you may be one of the lucky ones who one day will get to see him perform Swan Lake in adult feety pajamas, and savor a singular tear of joy when some dude named Boris, Americanized to Bruce, hands him a dozen roses just off curtain.
So what are some electives when you major in a subject that’s really just a thing to do with your body? What’s the curriculum?
Nose Picking?
COURSE OUTLINE:
“By the end of the year students should be able to stick any finger up to the knuckle, pull out, roll and flick perfectly formed boogers in one fluid motion.” Life credit is given to all male class members with a valid drivers license, for their experience with this skill at every red light in history.
Students successfully completing this class are eligible for Hock a Loogey 101.
When my son switched from private Christian school where he was actually forced to think, to public school where thinking is severely discouraged, the idea of majoring in Dance with a minor in thumb sucking became perfectly clear.
I went to pick him up at school early yesterday and was told that he was watching lip synch practice.
This, just one day after I called the school to ask why he’s watcing Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in science class and received a brief unintelligible note from his science teacher.
Excuse me? I said “Did you say Lip Synch?
Yes.
I picked up a stapler and smacked myself in the face with open end just to see if perhaps this was a weird dream, and I’d better get up before I was late for reality.
Six thousand years of history has seen many civilizations rise and fall. I think it’s safe to say we’re doomed.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Climate School - Change without the Hope
Follow me here, this is idiot proof.
Clear your mind. That means:
Forget what you've heard, forget what you've read.
Forget the inconsistencies and the false data
Forget the true data
Forget the 1970's when it was about cooling and an ice age
Forget global warming causes both greater warmth AND extra cold and snow?
Forget the politics of cap and trade
Forget the email scandals
Forget glacial melting and sea level measurements.
Now with a blank slate, pretend you took the short bus, wearing your hockey helmet to school today and follow along - It's simple!
Ever since God said "Let there be Light," or ever since the "Big Bang" if you've made "science" your religion - and we all see how well that's working out...But ever since whatever you perceive to be the beginning - The Earth rotates and revolves around the Sun.
WAIT! - Let's do this as bullet points for fear of losing some remedial readers -
The Earth spins on its axis.
While spinning, the Earth revolves around the Sun.
The Sun revolves within a Galaxy
And the galaxy moves too, and so on throughout the Universe.
With me?
OF COURSE THERE'S FREAKING CLIMATE CHANGE!!!!
THE EARTH SPINS
THE EARTH ROTATES
THE SUN ROTATES
THE SUN CHANGES, THE EARTH CHANGES
THE ONLY THING THAT'S CONSTANT IN THE UNIVERSE IS CHANGE!!!
We didn't cause it, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.
Get it?
IF THERE WERE NO CLIMATE CHANGE, WE'D HAVE TO THROW OUT EVERY LAW OF PHYSICS!
Now, if you've let that sink in - Allow your own imagination to guess why both bad people and well intentioned people want to ignore this in order to create policy that benefits their own agenda.
You see, there's actual truth (see bullets above) -
Then there is so called "science" - which can create or manipulate facts to any end.
Once you've grasped that you've probably been duped into whatever side of this argument you believe - because it didn't consider the larger picture - Think where else this has happened in society and in your mind, and why.
Next lesson, Evolution -
For all the same faulty reasoning, you somehow believe that you started from nothing. Life began as a single celled organism, that started from some chemicals, that came from no-where. You have also been taught to believe that your entire code in a single strand of DNA was not programmed and created, but happened by accident - AND you're willing to believe your distant family members were apes!
AMAZING!
Both of these topics, where we've pushed aside the obvious and replaced answers with man-made silliness, leave out one thing - or rather one person. GOD.
Believe in God and the scales fall from your eyes, and you see the Universe He created just as He created it, and just as He said so.
1 Corinthians 1:20 -
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?
Clear your mind. That means:
Forget what you've heard, forget what you've read.
Forget the inconsistencies and the false data
Forget the true data
Forget the 1970's when it was about cooling and an ice age
Forget global warming causes both greater warmth AND extra cold and snow?
Forget the politics of cap and trade
Forget the email scandals
Forget glacial melting and sea level measurements.
Now with a blank slate, pretend you took the short bus, wearing your hockey helmet to school today and follow along - It's simple!
Ever since God said "Let there be Light," or ever since the "Big Bang" if you've made "science" your religion - and we all see how well that's working out...But ever since whatever you perceive to be the beginning - The Earth rotates and revolves around the Sun.
WAIT! - Let's do this as bullet points for fear of losing some remedial readers -
The Earth spins on its axis.
While spinning, the Earth revolves around the Sun.
The Sun revolves within a Galaxy
And the galaxy moves too, and so on throughout the Universe.
With me?
OF COURSE THERE'S FREAKING CLIMATE CHANGE!!!!
THE EARTH SPINS
THE EARTH ROTATES
THE SUN ROTATES
THE SUN CHANGES, THE EARTH CHANGES
THE ONLY THING THAT'S CONSTANT IN THE UNIVERSE IS CHANGE!!!
We didn't cause it, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.
Get it?
IF THERE WERE NO CLIMATE CHANGE, WE'D HAVE TO THROW OUT EVERY LAW OF PHYSICS!
Now, if you've let that sink in - Allow your own imagination to guess why both bad people and well intentioned people want to ignore this in order to create policy that benefits their own agenda.
You see, there's actual truth (see bullets above) -
Then there is so called "science" - which can create or manipulate facts to any end.
Once you've grasped that you've probably been duped into whatever side of this argument you believe - because it didn't consider the larger picture - Think where else this has happened in society and in your mind, and why.
Next lesson, Evolution -
For all the same faulty reasoning, you somehow believe that you started from nothing. Life began as a single celled organism, that started from some chemicals, that came from no-where. You have also been taught to believe that your entire code in a single strand of DNA was not programmed and created, but happened by accident - AND you're willing to believe your distant family members were apes!
AMAZING!
Both of these topics, where we've pushed aside the obvious and replaced answers with man-made silliness, leave out one thing - or rather one person. GOD.
Believe in God and the scales fall from your eyes, and you see the Universe He created just as He created it, and just as He said so.
1 Corinthians 1:20 -
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Go Take a Flying.....
35,000 feet in the air and I'm still shaking my head over the sheer idiocy of it. Atlanta airport sees thousands of young soldiers headed out or returning from duty. I feel an emotional sense of gratitude toward each of these mostly young men, and I look for an opening to simply say thanks. If I am at a food kiosk, I.ll pay for a coke or cup of coffee for these brave heroes.
They are dressed in fatigues, and carrying heavy backpacks. I note that today's fatigues are designed for desert camouflage, in lighter muted colors than the dark greens of yesteryear, because the battle has shifted from the tropical rain-forests to the mountainous deserts in much more forbidding places on the planet.
These kids, headed off to protect my family and yours have committed their very lives to military service, and there.s a real possibility that some will not return home. Yet, the TSA in its infinite wisdom, has these men standing in the same long lines as the rest of us waiting to strip down for security.
I marvel at the fact that of the six working screening lines, they haven't set aside at least one exclusively for these heros. Instead, they wait like the rest of us idiots to remove their combat boots, open their laptops and place all of their items in plastic trays.
As a TSA worker wheels a giant cart of trays over, I briefly think about the windfall profit to the company that makes these battleship grey trays, and imagine the day the owner who previously shipped 100 a day to local diners across the country, received the government contract for 10 million needed immediately.
After this bizarre thought, I catch the eye of the soldier in line ahead of me and I say, "This is unbelievable! You guys should have your own line, to walk right through. And Thank you. Thanks fior your service."
He thanks me back, and I stop myself from saying what I'm thinking. "I hope this pisses you off a little and you take that with you to the battlefield." I.m angry now, as I watch a line of seven soliders disrobing and undergoing the indignity. Its an unfunny joke.
"Personally," I say getting his attention again. Id like to see all of you walk through fully armed."
He laughs.
Two muslim woman with their headresses are walking through the metal detector, and are alolowed to pass quickly. Nobody has checked to see if they have hidden anything in their scarfs, which could certainly hold more explosives that that shmuck in his underwear,
If these guys have to unlace their heavy boots, these woman should have to remove their scarfs. Apparent;ly some bitch will have to bring down a plane before homeland security gets as smart as me,.
Theres an old jewish man being hand screened. He has his arms in the air and they are waving a wand all over him, while his wheelchair bound wife waits. She;ll be next. I have yet to hear of an old Jewish couple terrorist team. They are both much more thoroughly screened than the two Muslim woman who choose to follow a religion that commands them to kill the infidel wherever and however they can.
As far as I am concerned, their clothing choice denotes their support. PLEASE! Leave Mr. Rosenberg alone and double check the Burkas please.
Christian is excited to have me back, and he's my new best friend as I walk him to the potty at The Office, a restaurant in Ridgewood, NJ. He's proudly wearing my security badge around his neck. It is dangling down to his pecker, so that when he pulls his pants down, he pees right into it, and it splashes back all over himself.
He finds this funny.
This is before he knocked a newly poured 16 ounce glass of ice water onto my lap, and before Karina, so over come with laughter, spits her huge mouthful of chocolate milk into my face.
It's good to be back from Atlanta, This is exactly what those brave kids are fighting for. Give them their own line!
They are dressed in fatigues, and carrying heavy backpacks. I note that today's fatigues are designed for desert camouflage, in lighter muted colors than the dark greens of yesteryear, because the battle has shifted from the tropical rain-forests to the mountainous deserts in much more forbidding places on the planet.
These kids, headed off to protect my family and yours have committed their very lives to military service, and there.s a real possibility that some will not return home. Yet, the TSA in its infinite wisdom, has these men standing in the same long lines as the rest of us waiting to strip down for security.
I marvel at the fact that of the six working screening lines, they haven't set aside at least one exclusively for these heros. Instead, they wait like the rest of us idiots to remove their combat boots, open their laptops and place all of their items in plastic trays.
As a TSA worker wheels a giant cart of trays over, I briefly think about the windfall profit to the company that makes these battleship grey trays, and imagine the day the owner who previously shipped 100 a day to local diners across the country, received the government contract for 10 million needed immediately.
After this bizarre thought, I catch the eye of the soldier in line ahead of me and I say, "This is unbelievable! You guys should have your own line, to walk right through. And Thank you. Thanks fior your service."
He thanks me back, and I stop myself from saying what I'm thinking. "I hope this pisses you off a little and you take that with you to the battlefield." I.m angry now, as I watch a line of seven soliders disrobing and undergoing the indignity. Its an unfunny joke.
"Personally," I say getting his attention again. Id like to see all of you walk through fully armed."
He laughs.
Two muslim woman with their headresses are walking through the metal detector, and are alolowed to pass quickly. Nobody has checked to see if they have hidden anything in their scarfs, which could certainly hold more explosives that that shmuck in his underwear,
If these guys have to unlace their heavy boots, these woman should have to remove their scarfs. Apparent;ly some bitch will have to bring down a plane before homeland security gets as smart as me,.
Theres an old jewish man being hand screened. He has his arms in the air and they are waving a wand all over him, while his wheelchair bound wife waits. She;ll be next. I have yet to hear of an old Jewish couple terrorist team. They are both much more thoroughly screened than the two Muslim woman who choose to follow a religion that commands them to kill the infidel wherever and however they can.
As far as I am concerned, their clothing choice denotes their support. PLEASE! Leave Mr. Rosenberg alone and double check the Burkas please.
Christian is excited to have me back, and he's my new best friend as I walk him to the potty at The Office, a restaurant in Ridgewood, NJ. He's proudly wearing my security badge around his neck. It is dangling down to his pecker, so that when he pulls his pants down, he pees right into it, and it splashes back all over himself.
He finds this funny.
This is before he knocked a newly poured 16 ounce glass of ice water onto my lap, and before Karina, so over come with laughter, spits her huge mouthful of chocolate milk into my face.
It's good to be back from Atlanta, This is exactly what those brave kids are fighting for. Give them their own line!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Good Bye Decade, So Long USA
Greetings! Fellow infidels.
If you're not reading this column through the eyeholes in your burkas, or with explosives strapped under your balls, welcome! Consider yourself blessed.
On the last day of the decade, I would be remiss not to write.
I should explain the long absence between post, but I won't - I'll simply plead Kidney Stones.
I should pledge to post more in 2010, but instead, I pledge to look for a reason to.
Oh the righteous indignation is still there, and through anger mixed with humor, I love to make these two emotions dance through language. However, our country is being destroyed daily by people who've traded truth for lies:
Romans 1:25 They traded the truth about God for a lie. So they worshiped and served the things God created instead of the Creator himself and the few chuckles I can generate here are drowned out by the cacophony of chaos presenting itself daily.
I wrote to Matt Drudge yesterday, confessing that I check his page every morning, and if it looks like we'll make it through another day, I get up and get dressed, but in the last few days of the first decade of the 21st century, all of us getting through the day no longer seems a certainty. I suggested that for the last day of the year, perhaps he lighten up. And perhaps I should take my own advice. So fine:
I'm told I write too often about Shit. "He seems to have issues with shit?" One irrelevant past acquaintance stated through a friend.
Yes. Yes I do. You see, not only do I create the stuff myself two, three, sometimes four times a day, but with three kids and a bunch of animals, its an ever-present topic. I mean, I am not anal retentive as they say. I do not keep orderly, nor do I do anything with my anus that it wasn't meant to do. Which would be a good time to (i hate to use the word "insert" here) but a good time to insert that your anus was meant to do one thing. Ask the lowly earthworm. Even he (she?) has gathered that the anus is an exit, not an entrance.
Seems shit is as good a topic to end the decade as any other - I mean its probably the most prevalent topic today. The world is turning to shit, the country is going to shit, and the shit that comes out of Barak Obama's mouth is most definitely a load of crap. Add to that the rantings of Harry Reid, the bitchiness of Barbara Boxer, the ravings of Nancy Pelosi, the hoax that is Al Gore, the idiocy that's Shmuck Shumer and the ineptitude that is Joe Biden, and you have to admit - There's a whole lot of shit being spewed in the air. If there ever were such a thing as man-made climate change, I'm sure I just presented its truest explanation.
Since we're on the subject, it might be helpful to define what an "Asshole" is here. An Asshole is a congressman who stands on the floor defending mandatory health insurance by comparing it to auto insurance. (I hope you didn't think I was going to define it anatomically?) Now to further define, I prefer to illustrate:
The congressman gives this speech because:
A. He thought of the analogy in the shower, and believes it to be true
B. He thinks you are stupid and will not think any further for yourself
C. He's counting on enough of you being stupid to buy his analogy, but couldn't care less if you don't because he's been promised over 200 million dollars.
D. He believes you are sheep.
B, C, and D -
For those who may need remedial thinking - Comparing Federal Mandatory Health insurance to State Mandatory Auto Insurance is so stupid that of course this aforementioned Asshole knows this. Auto insurance is one requirement of a state licensed activity that you can choose not to do. To follow their analogy every citizen would have to buy Auto insurance. Whether you're 18 months old, or blind, in other words even if you don;t drive. This congressman is well aware that the government has no place whatsoever, no authority whatsoever, telling you how to spend your money - but he doesn't care. Like the anatomical asshole, he has to spew forth shit. It's what he does.
By the way, most recently it was a congresswoman making this argument and she got it straight from her boss, who said it first:
http://boortz.com/nealz_nuze/2009/09/afterthought-obamas-auto-insur.html
Therefore Anus = Exit
Asshole = Lying congressman or President
Therefore, through the Commutative Property of addition, Obama and likely your democratic congressmen and women are "Anuses."
Here's a list of where Anuses who are trying to sell you a big pile of shit:
http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/12/21/price-right-payoffs-senators-typical-health-care/
Anyway, I'm at the office, and I've reached that tipping point. The one where you choose to go to a public bathroom hoping you get a few minutes alone time, over sitting at your desk being uncomfortable. My walk to the facilities takes me the same direction each time, where I have the same two thoughts - 1. Are the other half dozen men on the floor seated at their desks, and therefore not where I'm going, and 2. This bit of discomfort is going to make the next few hours much more bearable.
Today, these thoughts are joined by a third; more of a profundity. Shit is one of those rare entities, where a little is just as bad as a lot. "Jim, you have a little shit on your shoe," is to me just as bad, as "Jim -you just stepped in a pile of shit." Or maybe not. But in any case, my musings have brought me to the door, where I open carefully and quietly because if someone is inside, I will close the door, and come back later or take the stairs down to the lower level bathroom and repeat.
If the coast is clear, I have to act swiftly. I go to the far stall (away from the urinal) and put down two pieces of paper pulled from the paper towel dispenser and I leave the rest to your imagination. Today however, was one of those unfortunate days where I noted there was quite a good amount (bad amount?) of shit and shit stains on the rear of the bowl, and surrounding the seat and there is where our good old-fashioned pondering and possible life lessons begin:
There is somebody assigned here to clean the toilets. Now, obviously we don't have a bathroom attendant who cleans after every person, and this isn't a complaint. I am pointing out here that somebody has drawn the short stick in life, where whatever he did throughout his life has brought him to the point where it's now his job to clean other people's shit. Talk about being humble. The Hindu (or Hindi?) would say he did something in an earlier life to warrant this. While I don't believe this, I can still think Rahm Emanuel.
Now Amazingly, if you've figured out how to turn cleaning up dog shit into a $750 weekly tax free cash income, this doesn't apply. It occurs to me that the person with the shit wiping job most likely did not imagine himself doing this, nor did he likely do anything specific to find himself in this position. It was most likely not a punishment, and in fact unless he's come from another janitorial career, it's unlikely his resume mentions it.
COVER LETTER: Gentleman, I am presently employed as the executive washroom attendant for a medium size company. Most of the employees are obese men with bad hygiene so I have developed unique ways of keeping bowls shit free. I personally instituted odd and even stall numbers and use hidden web cams to locate errant shit before it offends. I am sure I would be an asset to your company.
But here he is today, and his job is to clean the rim. So this had me thinking about the owners and other management executives. Surely whomever crapped so hard that it splashed up the side of the bowl onto the rim, noticed what they'd done?
IN fact, I have on several occasions witnessed an odd, albeit disgusting site - one or more large logs, lazily floating in a bowl of water with nary a piece of toilet tissue in sight. Now, laws of physics aside, can you imagine the arrogance? I mean the utter gall to just stand up and say, "THAT'S IT, I'm DONE," and then just stand up and walk out?
"Screw it, somebody else will flush. And this time, ya know what? I really don't feel like wiping my ass either, deal with it."
OK, so that's probably not how its happening, but how then? I just haven't been able to wrap my brain around this problem. Has anyone else - I mean, not at my company - come across this? Two floaters, no paper? It's like a mind puzzle. Please, anyone - Kindly break the code.
New theory - Not likely either, but at least it doesn't upset natural laws:
The guy or guys, (I'm assuming, as crazy as some woman at my office are, this isn't a female sneaking into the mens room), are bringing their own doodies from home, and depositing them into the bowls at work.
Why?
I have no idea. Now, a web cam might tell us whom (if it's one person), who (if there are multiple offenders), but it will not tell us why.
In fact, I've always thought the term to "take a shit" is rather odd. You don't take one, you leave a few. Hmmmm - Perhaps?
Well, Anyway - somebody in the case of the present story - which involved not floaters, simply bad stains, Somebody had to think, "Somebody else will take care of that." And something inside of me, had the fleeting thought of wiping this anonymous crap to save the next poor dude the indignity. I suppose that's how we're all interconnected. I didn't of course. Proving that our selfish drive is greater than any spiritual connection we may have.
Back to our bathroom attendant/sweeper/duster/garbage emptier dude - and why he should be highly honored. In today's Obama-Nation, this man could choose to stay home and support his family collecting section eight housing allowance, food stamps, and either at least a year and half unemployment, or disability in perpetuity like tens of millions of others who have figured out that they don't actually need to work. He can find an $800 per month subsidized housing apartment, and collect nearly $2,000 in handouts, plus food coupons. His kids will have cell phones and Game Boys and Xboxes, and other toys, because we've created a giant nanny state through a government that's grown exponentially larger than its purpose. There are no poor people in the United States. Huh? Spend a day in Calcutta, or Kabul or Juarez Mexico and then try to challenge that statement.
Yet, this man chooses to get up and go to work for $9 per hour, taking home less than $350 per week after the taxes that permit those tens of millions of others to stay home. He chooses to have some self-worth and work hard hoping the next opportunity will present itself. And guess what? The opportunity is a hell of a lot more likely to present itself in or just outside the executive washroom or in the mailroom at a million different companies, than it is likely to show up at your door, while you're on the couch sucking down a Food Stamp bought Red Bull, watching Oprah in the middle of the day. Most people choose the nanny over the shit sponge, and that's what makes this guy a hero - a real American. Even if he doesn't speak a word of English, and doesn't have a green card.
Probably in the countries that people flee from in order to come to America, even if they wind up cleaning crap off our toilet seats, cleaning shit is a step up. We've grown too rich and selfish to even consider this.
Today, the far left lies, and cheats and commits felony crime and destroys our constitution under the guise of healthcare reform. Yet, not a single person dies in this country for being turned away from a hospital. Perfectly good three page bills to overhaul the system, bring prices down and make policies more affordable are ignored in favor of enormous 2000 plus page pork bills because the goal has nothing to do with healthcare. Ultimately, the goal is to create a larger class of people sitting at home getting government handouts - or a less likely government position. You may be lucky - Working for Government Motors, or Government banking, Government Healthcare or Government insert any industry here. I'm thinking Government Washroom Attendant.
Oh there's certainly "Change" afoot. It's the Hope that's rapidly disappearing.
So let's not look back at the lying shit we've seen and heard. Ignore the radical connections and friends of our great leader. Ignore the horrendous resumes of his Czars. Ignore the fact even that he calls them Czars and we don't flinch. Ignore fraud on a level that the human mind can't fathom. ACORN, Freddie and Fannie, and a list too long and painful to ponder. Ignore how many zeros are in a trillion. Make believe it's not happening.
But let's close 2009 with a sobering truism. Regardless of how bad it gets, regardless of your mood, somewhere out there, somewhere in this once great nation of ours.... there's a Mr. Pelosi.
And somebody, probably not him, cleans his toilet.
If you're not reading this column through the eyeholes in your burkas, or with explosives strapped under your balls, welcome! Consider yourself blessed.
On the last day of the decade, I would be remiss not to write.
I should explain the long absence between post, but I won't - I'll simply plead Kidney Stones.
I should pledge to post more in 2010, but instead, I pledge to look for a reason to.
Oh the righteous indignation is still there, and through anger mixed with humor, I love to make these two emotions dance through language. However, our country is being destroyed daily by people who've traded truth for lies:
Romans 1:25 They traded the truth about God for a lie. So they worshiped and served the things God created instead of the Creator himself and the few chuckles I can generate here are drowned out by the cacophony of chaos presenting itself daily.
I wrote to Matt Drudge yesterday, confessing that I check his page every morning, and if it looks like we'll make it through another day, I get up and get dressed, but in the last few days of the first decade of the 21st century, all of us getting through the day no longer seems a certainty. I suggested that for the last day of the year, perhaps he lighten up. And perhaps I should take my own advice. So fine:
I'm told I write too often about Shit. "He seems to have issues with shit?" One irrelevant past acquaintance stated through a friend.
Yes. Yes I do. You see, not only do I create the stuff myself two, three, sometimes four times a day, but with three kids and a bunch of animals, its an ever-present topic. I mean, I am not anal retentive as they say. I do not keep orderly, nor do I do anything with my anus that it wasn't meant to do. Which would be a good time to (i hate to use the word "insert" here) but a good time to insert that your anus was meant to do one thing. Ask the lowly earthworm. Even he (she?) has gathered that the anus is an exit, not an entrance.
Seems shit is as good a topic to end the decade as any other - I mean its probably the most prevalent topic today. The world is turning to shit, the country is going to shit, and the shit that comes out of Barak Obama's mouth is most definitely a load of crap. Add to that the rantings of Harry Reid, the bitchiness of Barbara Boxer, the ravings of Nancy Pelosi, the hoax that is Al Gore, the idiocy that's Shmuck Shumer and the ineptitude that is Joe Biden, and you have to admit - There's a whole lot of shit being spewed in the air. If there ever were such a thing as man-made climate change, I'm sure I just presented its truest explanation.
Since we're on the subject, it might be helpful to define what an "Asshole" is here. An Asshole is a congressman who stands on the floor defending mandatory health insurance by comparing it to auto insurance. (I hope you didn't think I was going to define it anatomically?) Now to further define, I prefer to illustrate:
The congressman gives this speech because:
A. He thought of the analogy in the shower, and believes it to be true
B. He thinks you are stupid and will not think any further for yourself
C. He's counting on enough of you being stupid to buy his analogy, but couldn't care less if you don't because he's been promised over 200 million dollars.
D. He believes you are sheep.
B, C, and D -
For those who may need remedial thinking - Comparing Federal Mandatory Health insurance to State Mandatory Auto Insurance is so stupid that of course this aforementioned Asshole knows this. Auto insurance is one requirement of a state licensed activity that you can choose not to do. To follow their analogy every citizen would have to buy Auto insurance. Whether you're 18 months old, or blind, in other words even if you don;t drive. This congressman is well aware that the government has no place whatsoever, no authority whatsoever, telling you how to spend your money - but he doesn't care. Like the anatomical asshole, he has to spew forth shit. It's what he does.
By the way, most recently it was a congresswoman making this argument and she got it straight from her boss, who said it first:
http://boortz.com/nealz_nuze/2009/09/afterthought-obamas-auto-insur.html
Therefore Anus = Exit
Asshole = Lying congressman or President
Therefore, through the Commutative Property of addition, Obama and likely your democratic congressmen and women are "Anuses."
Here's a list of where Anuses who are trying to sell you a big pile of shit:
http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/12/21/price-right-payoffs-senators-typical-health-care/
Anyway, I'm at the office, and I've reached that tipping point. The one where you choose to go to a public bathroom hoping you get a few minutes alone time, over sitting at your desk being uncomfortable. My walk to the facilities takes me the same direction each time, where I have the same two thoughts - 1. Are the other half dozen men on the floor seated at their desks, and therefore not where I'm going, and 2. This bit of discomfort is going to make the next few hours much more bearable.
Today, these thoughts are joined by a third; more of a profundity. Shit is one of those rare entities, where a little is just as bad as a lot. "Jim, you have a little shit on your shoe," is to me just as bad, as "Jim -you just stepped in a pile of shit." Or maybe not. But in any case, my musings have brought me to the door, where I open carefully and quietly because if someone is inside, I will close the door, and come back later or take the stairs down to the lower level bathroom and repeat.
If the coast is clear, I have to act swiftly. I go to the far stall (away from the urinal) and put down two pieces of paper pulled from the paper towel dispenser and I leave the rest to your imagination. Today however, was one of those unfortunate days where I noted there was quite a good amount (bad amount?) of shit and shit stains on the rear of the bowl, and surrounding the seat and there is where our good old-fashioned pondering and possible life lessons begin:
There is somebody assigned here to clean the toilets. Now, obviously we don't have a bathroom attendant who cleans after every person, and this isn't a complaint. I am pointing out here that somebody has drawn the short stick in life, where whatever he did throughout his life has brought him to the point where it's now his job to clean other people's shit. Talk about being humble. The Hindu (or Hindi?) would say he did something in an earlier life to warrant this. While I don't believe this, I can still think Rahm Emanuel.
Now Amazingly, if you've figured out how to turn cleaning up dog shit into a $750 weekly tax free cash income, this doesn't apply. It occurs to me that the person with the shit wiping job most likely did not imagine himself doing this, nor did he likely do anything specific to find himself in this position. It was most likely not a punishment, and in fact unless he's come from another janitorial career, it's unlikely his resume mentions it.
COVER LETTER: Gentleman, I am presently employed as the executive washroom attendant for a medium size company. Most of the employees are obese men with bad hygiene so I have developed unique ways of keeping bowls shit free. I personally instituted odd and even stall numbers and use hidden web cams to locate errant shit before it offends. I am sure I would be an asset to your company.
But here he is today, and his job is to clean the rim. So this had me thinking about the owners and other management executives. Surely whomever crapped so hard that it splashed up the side of the bowl onto the rim, noticed what they'd done?
IN fact, I have on several occasions witnessed an odd, albeit disgusting site - one or more large logs, lazily floating in a bowl of water with nary a piece of toilet tissue in sight. Now, laws of physics aside, can you imagine the arrogance? I mean the utter gall to just stand up and say, "THAT'S IT, I'm DONE," and then just stand up and walk out?
"Screw it, somebody else will flush. And this time, ya know what? I really don't feel like wiping my ass either, deal with it."
OK, so that's probably not how its happening, but how then? I just haven't been able to wrap my brain around this problem. Has anyone else - I mean, not at my company - come across this? Two floaters, no paper? It's like a mind puzzle. Please, anyone - Kindly break the code.
New theory - Not likely either, but at least it doesn't upset natural laws:
The guy or guys, (I'm assuming, as crazy as some woman at my office are, this isn't a female sneaking into the mens room), are bringing their own doodies from home, and depositing them into the bowls at work.
Why?
I have no idea. Now, a web cam might tell us whom (if it's one person), who (if there are multiple offenders), but it will not tell us why.
In fact, I've always thought the term to "take a shit" is rather odd. You don't take one, you leave a few. Hmmmm - Perhaps?
Well, Anyway - somebody in the case of the present story - which involved not floaters, simply bad stains, Somebody had to think, "Somebody else will take care of that." And something inside of me, had the fleeting thought of wiping this anonymous crap to save the next poor dude the indignity. I suppose that's how we're all interconnected. I didn't of course. Proving that our selfish drive is greater than any spiritual connection we may have.
Back to our bathroom attendant/sweeper/duster/garbage emptier dude - and why he should be highly honored. In today's Obama-Nation, this man could choose to stay home and support his family collecting section eight housing allowance, food stamps, and either at least a year and half unemployment, or disability in perpetuity like tens of millions of others who have figured out that they don't actually need to work. He can find an $800 per month subsidized housing apartment, and collect nearly $2,000 in handouts, plus food coupons. His kids will have cell phones and Game Boys and Xboxes, and other toys, because we've created a giant nanny state through a government that's grown exponentially larger than its purpose. There are no poor people in the United States. Huh? Spend a day in Calcutta, or Kabul or Juarez Mexico and then try to challenge that statement.
Yet, this man chooses to get up and go to work for $9 per hour, taking home less than $350 per week after the taxes that permit those tens of millions of others to stay home. He chooses to have some self-worth and work hard hoping the next opportunity will present itself. And guess what? The opportunity is a hell of a lot more likely to present itself in or just outside the executive washroom or in the mailroom at a million different companies, than it is likely to show up at your door, while you're on the couch sucking down a Food Stamp bought Red Bull, watching Oprah in the middle of the day. Most people choose the nanny over the shit sponge, and that's what makes this guy a hero - a real American. Even if he doesn't speak a word of English, and doesn't have a green card.
Probably in the countries that people flee from in order to come to America, even if they wind up cleaning crap off our toilet seats, cleaning shit is a step up. We've grown too rich and selfish to even consider this.
Today, the far left lies, and cheats and commits felony crime and destroys our constitution under the guise of healthcare reform. Yet, not a single person dies in this country for being turned away from a hospital. Perfectly good three page bills to overhaul the system, bring prices down and make policies more affordable are ignored in favor of enormous 2000 plus page pork bills because the goal has nothing to do with healthcare. Ultimately, the goal is to create a larger class of people sitting at home getting government handouts - or a less likely government position. You may be lucky - Working for Government Motors, or Government banking, Government Healthcare or Government insert any industry here. I'm thinking Government Washroom Attendant.
Oh there's certainly "Change" afoot. It's the Hope that's rapidly disappearing.
So let's not look back at the lying shit we've seen and heard. Ignore the radical connections and friends of our great leader. Ignore the horrendous resumes of his Czars. Ignore the fact even that he calls them Czars and we don't flinch. Ignore fraud on a level that the human mind can't fathom. ACORN, Freddie and Fannie, and a list too long and painful to ponder. Ignore how many zeros are in a trillion. Make believe it's not happening.
But let's close 2009 with a sobering truism. Regardless of how bad it gets, regardless of your mood, somewhere out there, somewhere in this once great nation of ours.... there's a Mr. Pelosi.
And somebody, probably not him, cleans his toilet.
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