Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Testicle Tuesday...yeah yeah yeah, I know I'm late

As a reward for waiting an extra day to oggle hotness personafide I bring you the top five Hotties Flying Under the Radar...

You may recognize this sultry brunette from the Mercury commercials. Her Name is Jill Wagner and she is smokin hot, yummy, tasty, damn near perfect.

Jody Lyn O'Keefe is a bit player on several movies and the ill fated Nash Bridges. Go on, soak up her hotness...if you dare.

This saucy little tart hails from the Farheit commercial, her name is Jelena Abbou, and she is spankalicious.

The first time I saw the commercial I nearly molested my TV. This Euromynx was born in Germany and has the sexiest voice this side of Kathlene Turner & Demi Moore. Her name...Sabine Ehrenfeld.

Reno 911 is wicked funny and this stunning lass spices up the show occasionally. Mina Olivera is her name, hotness is her game.

Now I'm off to contemplate my takeover of the free world, one Tesicle Tuesday at a time.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Now you know

As a gimp, you know, a drooley/cripple/quadriplegic, people always ask me what it’s like to be disabled. So, I thought I’d expound upon the experience.

The first thing when explaining a foreign situation to someone is to put shit into perspective. Here’s the perspective…

The most profoundly tragic loss when I broke my neck was not the loss of independence, not the death of my athletic ability, or even the loss of control of basic body functions.

The truly most profound tragedy was the loss of the ability to masturbate.

Oh, you more sensitive types are rolling your eyes and saying “What does masturbation have to do with your disability?” Only two people would respond in this way; the hermaphrodites who can fuck themselves, and women.

Now let me expound upon the true tragedy of my plight. I’m a guy, and as such I require four basic necessities for daily survival; food, beer, oxygen, sexual release. That’s it, that’s the list. For the last sixteen years I’ve been cruelly deprived of a basic element of maledom, the ability to pleasure one’s self when the need arises. And arise it does…a lot.

There comes a point in every male’s life when you realize spanking your monkey is fun, and cathartic. The first time a guy rubs one out is a momentous occasion, the type of event that warrants a parade and fireworks. You feel ashamed at first, especially when you’re eventually caught by a parental unit. But after a few months you realize your completing the circle of life, partaking in a ritual that has been repeated for time in memoriam. I bet those cavemen were spanking fools.

The Catholics have it all wrong…masturbation should be exalted, not vilified. EVERY guy has done it, from the Pope right on down to the pubescent alter boy. I bet Christ Himself jerked a load. The man was knee deep sheppards’ daughters, not to mention that tramp Mary Magdalene. Can you imagine being buns up and receiving a frosty load from the King of Kings? I bet his spooge had healing properties, but alas, I digress.

Now picture the world of the future. A medium exists where every conceivable type of smut is available at your fingertips. In the early to mid 90’s a little communication device changed forever the way we males beat our meat. The Internet brought a universe of porn to our desks. It was Sharia, Nirvana, Moksha, Elysium, Asgard/Valhalla, and Utopia all wrapped into one well lubricated fist. The avenue to consumption of mass quantities of porn was finally open. I had achieved universal masturbatory consciousness.

I had dreams about this shit in high school. I would lay awake at night pondering an existence where I could view lesbians with strap-ons drilling the bejesus out of each other. And I could view it anytime I wanted in the privacy of a locked room. And it was free.

Imagine having your wildest dreams of childhood come to fruition. Your six and under the tree at Christmas was a mound of presents, every toy you’d ever thought of, and you want more than anything to open them, but you are fooled by a sadistic mirage. The tree stands barren as the last vestiges of your innocence are sucked into a black hole of despair.

Such was my plight on September 24, 1996. This was the day I was to get high-speed internet access. I was excited, just plain giddy with excitement. The cable guy couldn’t leave fast enough for me. I said my goodbyes and bellied up to my computer for hours of salacious entertainment. Then reality hit me in the face. I paused, looked down at the stick of driftwood that passes for my penis, and I wept. I had finally known deep sorrow, the kind few will know.

Now, every guy reading this, at least the ones in possession of a soul, are like, “Sorry man, that sucks”. You women are asking yourself, “What’s the big deal ya perv?”

Let me put this into perspective, channel the spirit of my foremothers, and let you catch a glimpse of my daily life.

Imagine you own a 100,000 square foot house. In it are thousands of rooms, more rooms than you could possibly visit in a lifetime. In these rooms are every conceivable type of shoe and chocolate ever devised. You have shoes from the Orient, ancient Egypt, and modern-day Hollywood, chocolates from Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and Hershey, Pennsylvania. You can lay in an alabaster tub full of Prada and Godiva chocolates. You’ve had fantasies about this very experience since you were a wee girl. The house is yours, you can visit whichever room you choose anytime you want, no one is watching, and it’s all free. Then you realize you have no mouth or feet.

Welcome to my world y’all. Who will weep for this little boy lost?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Testicle tuesday...Bond girls countdown

No other franchise in the history of cinema has given the public the bevy o' buxom beauties as the James Bond films. So, in order to educate my loyal readers about all that is yummy I bring you my Top Ten Bond Girls...

1. Honor Blackmon: Golfinger (Pussy Galore)

2. Izabella Scorupco: Goldeneye (Natalya)

3. Tanya Roberts: A View To A Kill (Stacy Sutton)

4. Jane Seymour: Live And Let Die (Solitaire)

5. Tania Mallet: Goldfinger (Tilly Masterson)

6. Ursala Andress: Dr. No (Honey Ryder)

7. Claudine Auger: Thunderball (Dominique Derval)

8. Barbara Bach: The Spy Who Loved Me (Anya Amasova)

9. Denise Richards: The World Is Not Enough (Dr. Christmas)

10. Teri Hatcher: Tomorrow Never Dies (Paris Carver)

p.s. I'm feeling much better...the ill effects of anemia have passed me by. Thanks for the well wishes.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Shrub's illin'

Wasup y'all? Shrub here. My doctor informed me that I'm severely anemic. I've never been so tired and today I think I'm spiking a fever. So, I may have to take a sojourn at a local hospital for a brief stay to peruse the menu and channel surf through shitty TV. I'll keep you posted as to my state but if I don't post for a while you know why.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Just deserts

The following is a true story...

A Charlotte, North Carolina lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire, among other things.

Within a month, having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy the lawyer filed claim against the insurance company. In his claim, the lawyer stated the cigars were lost "in a series of small fires."

The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason that the man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion.

The lawyer sued.. and WON! (Stay with me.) delivering the ruling, the judge agreed with the insurance company that the claim was frivolous. The judge stated nevertheless, that the lawyer "held a policy from the company which it had warranted that the cigars were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire, without defining what is considered to be unacceptable fire" and was obligated to pay the claim.

Rather than endure lengthy and costly appeal process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the cigars lost in the "fires".

NOW FOR THE BEST PART...After the lawyer cashed the check, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!! With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000 fine.

Thursday stream of conciousness posting

As I sit pondering the after life of the annoying terrier that resides next door who barks non stop from 5am-8am some random thoughts and observations are flowing through my cranium…

There’s a strip mall about a five minute walk from my front door. What’s quirky is the residents. In the corner is a Planned Parenthood clinic…and right next door…a liquor store. I’m not making this up, I’m not that clever.

I lived in Greeley a while back. Greeley is a town of 60,000 about 75 minutes north of Denver. Just north of Greeley was a little burg called Eaton, complete with its own liquor store. The name of the establishment, pray tell…Eaton Liquor. I’ll give you a moment to digest that nugget.

I’ve written on this before but felt the need to reiterate. Landry’s, one of the largest seafood restaurant chains in the country, has locations in the downtown aquariums in both Houston and Denver. Once again, I’m not making this up.

Holy shit! This guy has balls of steel! This guy’s nuts too!

This shit is wet-your-pants funny. So is this.

The most aptly named blog ever. Bravo Jamie R.

Auntie Morg, I want thank you for posting Brit Eklund’s magical posterior on the last TT. Her ass was spankerific.

A friend and I are trying to put together a comedy pilot/video. Think of the Dave Chappelle Show for gimps. Anyone with skit ideas or funny yet apropos names for the show just post in the comments or email me.

I’ve been doing the internet dating thing for a while and the sheer volume of crazy Russian chicks seeking visa is staggering. Russia must be a shit hole right now.

By for now kids.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Testicle Tuesday...back after all these weeks...

As a video game junkie I love when those crafty techno geeks endow the, eh hem, well endowed with the duty of saving man kind. Two of my favorites, along with Angelina Jolie, are the two pictured here...

I defy anyone to find two hotter video game vixens turned big screen heroines than Charlize Theron in Aeon Flux and Mila Jovovich in both Resident Evil movies. Mmmmmmmmm, damn fine acting!

Using Native-American imagery as sports mascots

On August 11, 2006, a petition was filed with the United States Trademark Trial and Appeal Board of the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office wherein six Native-Americans seek to invalidate the Washington Redskins trademark held by Pro-Football, Inc. The petition claims that the term “redskin” is overtly derogatory and injurious. This follows a similar filing from 1992; a final decision is still pending.

This latest salvo in the fight to eliminate Native-American caricatures as sports Mascots has stoked the fires of debate. On one side you’ve got the Native-American community that claims such mascots and nicknames perpetuate negative stereotypes and are blatantly hostile. On the other side you’ve got dozens of college and professional sports teams who assert the right to coin whichever name they choose. Fans of these teams cite tradition and identity as the driving force to maintain these mascots and nicknames.

Schools such as Arkansas State, University of North Dakota, University of Louisiana at Monroe, University of Illinois, and Florida State continue to take heat for their use of Indian imagery for their respective sports programs. In August 2005, the NCAA banned the use of Native-American mascots during post-season tournaments. Some schools, even in the face of sanctions that would prevent participation in any official post-season championship tournament, have chosen to fight to retain their mascots. Arkansas State and the University of North Dakota remain staunchly defiant while other schools, St. Johns, ULM, Northeastern Oklahoma State University, and others have either changed or are mulling mascot changes. The NCAA Continues to be adamant about the ban. A few high profile programs have won appeals to retain their nicknames; Florida State, Utah, and Central Michigan. The University of Illinois Fighting Illini has appealed multiple times but to no avail. Illinois may eventually have to surrender its beloved Chief Illiniwek.

On April 13, 2001, the United States Commission on Civil Rights issued a position statement that called for the removal of all Native-American mascots from team sports. “The stereotyping of any racial, ethnic, religious or other groups when promoted by our public educational institutions, teach all students that stereotyping of minority groups is acceptable, a dangerous lesson in a diverse society. Schools have a responsibility to educate their students; they should not use their influence to perpetuate misrepresentations of any culture or people…The fight to eliminate Indian nicknames and images in sports is only one front of the larger battle to eliminate obstacles that confront American Indians. The elimination of Native American nicknames and images as sports mascots will benefit not only Native Americans, but all Americans.”

At the heart of the debate is the legal framework upon which claims of discriminatory or hostile representations of Native-Americans are constructed. The NCAA has the legal authority to ban schools from post-season competition but not the authority to compel name change. Only the individual states that preside over their respective state-run university systems can dictate such changes. The fight to force private institutions and independently owned sports franchises to change their monikers has a legally deleterious effect. If the government through legislative edict or judicial fiat eliminates the use of Native-American imagery for private sports entities based on a tenuous application of Constitutional law the ability of private institutions to remain autonomous is compromised. This is not a bridge we as a sports culture can cross.

When examining this debate think in terms of what’s best legally, not philosophically or even morally. No one would feel comfortable with sports teams called the Niggers, Spicks, Slopes, Whaps, Kykes, Porch Monkies, Jungle Bunnies, Chinks, Slats, Beaners, Wet Backs, Red Necks, Hebes, Sand Niggers, etc. It is a given that many Native-Americans view the portrayal of their culture as an overt attempt to hold down their people, as would any sensible ethnic minority should any of the above epithets be used to name a sports team. But if a team is a wholly private entity then can we really dictate to them how and in what fashion they can name their teams. If you object to a state-run program referring to itself in a racially derogatory way then by all means assert your tax payer rights. If you object to a privately run sports team’s allegedly defamatory nickname then exercise your right as a consumer and don’t buy the ticket, merchandise, sponsor’s products, etc. Organize a boycott, speak out, or shut up. The American system of jurisprudence is not capable of deciding such matters efficiently, nor should they be expected to compel the wholesale reversal of innate stereotypes or prejudices.

On a personal level I find the Washington Redskins mascot to be distasteful and can sympathize with those Native-Americans who cringe at the very mention of Daniel Snyder’s team. But it’s not my place or my desire to force the National Football League to change this particular trademark.

As the Native-American community, the NCAA, individual universities and colleges, and professional sports franchises fight this one out I take solace in the fact my beloved Denver Broncos and Colorado Buffaloes nicknames offend no one… except those nitwits at PETA…don’t even get me started on those dumbasses.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Journey into Hell

And just when people thought they truly knew or knew of the most twisted figures in all the history of the world, along came those sadistic few responsible for crafting the Colorado Bar exam. I’ve never been subject to the infamous rectal exam but I envision it is not dissimilar to the act of intellectual sodomy that is the bar exam.

If you want an idea what sitting for the damn thing is like wake up at 5am. Drink cold coffee, eat a stale doughnut, and find an antiseptic environment. Just pull up a chair at your table and do the New York Times crossword puzzle or sudoku or any other exercise designed to screw with the intellect. On Day 1, for your added pleasure, and to prepare you for the essay portion, go out to your driveway, have a family member or friend park the car on your head, do the crossword, and let the car sit there for 3 ½-4 hours. Then Day 2.

Repeat the morning ritual of bad coffee, doughnut, the whole smack. Go to your sterile environment and do the mental gymnastics of your choice. Now, every two minutes, get up, walk to the nearest door, open it, put your head in, grab the handle, and slam the door on your head. Repeat this EVERY two minutes one hundred times or for 3 ½ hours, which ever comes first. Take a 90 minute break for lunch then do it all over again. Break for lunch then repeat.

The following step must be followed on both days; for added atmosphere, find the one person with the harshest, shrillest voice you can find, have them stand behind you the entire time and scream, “You’re a dumbass! You’ll never pass! Give up now!” Now wait two months for the test scores.

And people wonder why attorneys are megalomaniacal or overtly uptight.

I truly wonder who writes these tests. They are the personification of pure evil. They have no reflection.

Here’s my vision of those responsible for putting fledgling attorneys through such rigor.

Imagine a dark room. The only light comes from two candles at either side of a stone alter at the end of the ominous space. On the alter appears to be a Black’s Law Dictionary, a copy of the United States Constitution, the Model Penal Code, and a sundry of other legal journals and treatises. Twelve figures clad in black robes with hoods obscuring their faces enter and form a semi-circle in front of the alter. The mysterious figures begin chanting in a foreign tongue, but the words Mammon and Baal can be easily recognized. The chanting grows to a fever pitch and a door behind the alter opens and out strolls a high priestess. She rounds the stone edifice and stands silently in front of the trappings of law. The chanting subsides and the priestess grabs the law dictionary and holds it high while she shouts an incantation in Latin. She repeats this with all the items on the table.

The room darkens and a faint hum is heard. Suddenly the air is violently torn apart and the Prince of Darkness himself now floats menacingly over the alter. This version of Satan is not the heavily muscled red devilish figure seen in the movie Legend or Hellboy but a more congenial and cerebral vision, perhaps Al Pacino in Devil’s Advocate.

“Ahhhhhhhh, my favorite time of year, bar exam time. Now, I’m a busy man so I’ll need help writing the questions.”

Beelzebub grabs the Model Penal Code and touches it to his forehead, ostensibly to channel the negative energy necessary to properly delegate such an important task. “Whom shall I choose? I need a natural fit to write criminal law multiple-choice questions and an essay. Hmmmmmmmmmm…I’ve got it…Hitler, you seem familiar with everything criminal. Have at it!”

The Devil grabs the Constitution and repeats the ritual. “Who knows conlaw? Ah yes, Richard Nixon, please come forth.” Nixon oozes out of the floor and the Devil hands him the Constitution. “You’ve seen this before. Make me proud.”

“Whom shall pen contracts questions?” The Devil pauses, and snatches a copy of the Uniform Commercial Code off the table, “I need someone who knows about deals gone wrong…anyone seen Faust? Hehehe, bet you’re feeling like a dumbass right about now. Here, let me see if you’ve learned anything.”

“I need a sufficiently dire soul to write some property questions…ohhhhhhh Genghis Khan, would you be a dear. After all, you did conquer more property than any body in history.”

“Now who has a keen grasp on evidence…it’s a toss up between Jeffrey Dahmer and Al Capone. Both are adept at concealing evidence, both in their idiosyncratic fashion, but who am I to judge. I’ll flip a coin…heads it’s Dahmer…get it, hah, I’m so clever. Tails! Capone, you rapscallion, knock ‘em dead.”

“Jeffrey, don’t go anywhere, I have a feeling you may yet have work to do.”

“Torts! I love when the old ladies and children die needlessly. Who’s twisted enough to think this shit up? Heh, perfect…would the Marquis de Sad please step this way. Man, I thought I was a hedonist. Make the body count and severed limbs really gruesome yet contemporary."

“Those who have been assigned the multiple choice please write an appropriate essay question, the more convoluted the better.”

“But wait, there’s more. I nearly forgot the Colorado state essay topics. There are so many but I can only pick four or five. Bah, I’ll have my minions craft these.”

“Corporations is intriguing. The name that comes immediately to mind is a recent addition to Hell and we’re darn pleased to welcome him…Ken Lay, you corporate charlatan, you’d be great at drafting a corporations question.”

“Charles Manson, will y…he’s not dead yet? Damn! OK, I need another familial figure to write about sticky divorces. Henry VIII, I assume you know matrimonial law and other areas of family law.”

“Now the complicated and horribly dry part…civil procedure. I think the Grand Inquisitor Torquemada knows a bit about procedure…not that he bothered to pay attention or afford the accused a chance but he has the traits necessary to pen a really good question…he’s ruthless, inquisitive, and a master of logistics.”

“Oh Mr. Dahmer, I’ve left you with a doozey. Please write me a truly juicy wills question. Just evoke the imagery of dozens of dead family members and the sticky mess their deaths leave behind. I’d have Anna Nicole write the wills portion but she ain’t in hell yet.”

“I’m tired now, I’ll assemble the test tomorrow. ‘Night kids!”


DISCLAIMER…The events depicted in this writing are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real-life occurrences is purely coincidental.