Ahhhhhh, the spirit of Easter

This shit is FUNNY

I nearly wet my pants!

Just cuz

What we’re gonna do now my children is trip down the boulevard on the Mothership Funkadelic, with a little help from Shrub’s Funkin’ Love Orchestra. Hell yeah…feel the rhythm and hear the rhyme as the music man is keeping time.

Parliament is now in session even though this is not a democracy, it’s a blogocracy, and I have the keys bitches! I am God on this blog, a blog god so to speak, and you all must tremble in awe of my skills. Or not.

The very kinky girl in the corner with the Isabelle Haze clouding her gaze as she beats a funky refrain ain’t no sage in a dry wall cage because that’s Shrub’s domain.

Why this self-indulgent sidewalk poetry you ask. Simple, it’s 25 degrees and cloudy outside with a dusting of snow covering the cityscape. And I am sick to fucking death of winter, yet I seem to wax the most poetic the worse the weather…go figure. A chill wind blows just outside my windowpane as the hands of Mother Nature show no mercy. Shit, would I like to stop the heavens, grab a big ass eraser, and obliterate the clouds so that my glorious sun could radiate the mortal realm with its warmth. I’m sick of grayness accompanied by below freezing temperatures.

I had the coolest dream the other night, its vividness was startling. I sat there cuddling with this gorgeous girl. She was the epitome of Mediterranean beauty…olive toned skin, glistening black hair, big almond shaped brown eyes, flat tummy, sexy as hell. We sat facing each other with her head resting on my shoulder while I gently rubbed the back of her neck. I swear I can still smell her hair and remember the feel of that impossibly smooth skin. To sleep, per chance to dream…

Let’s turn the volume up to a nice respectable ear shattering level, put on Ministry’s epic anthem So What, or the entire Nine Inch Nails CD Pretty Hate Machine, or The Black Album by Metallica, or maybe Mer De Moms by A Perfect Circle, or maybe The Fray’s colossal debut album How To Sava A Life, or Doo-Bop by Miles Davis, or any ditty by George Clinton and the P Funk All Stars, and let the mind flow. Find your favorite CD, put it on at the proper volume, sit back, and let the mind wander, meander, trip, skip, and flow as the music takes you on an afternoon jaunt. If you have an iPod even better…make a play list of your favorite songs and don’t fight the feeling. Dance, clean, type, sing to your heart’s content. It’s truly cathartic in a most Zen sorta way.

I just bought four more DVD’s I have little chance of watching in the near future. But I felt compelled because they look so damn good, kind of like window shopping at a steak house, everything looks enticing. Those tricky bastards, they saw me coming!

The left motor has essentially died on my wheel chair. And if you think I like spinning in circles when the thing heats up you’re freakin’ mental. I can’t even top a decently steep incline without assistance. Fucking thing!

Well, I’ll bring this tortuous tryst to a merciful close. Later one and all.

Stupid Halscan

Sorry I haven't been responding to y'alls comments, I'm having trouble with Haloscan. Every time I try and leave a comment it says there's a javascript error. Any ideas?

And now responses...

PB, you're a madcap with the heart of a prankster, even if you lack the stomach for such. Just come over to the dark side....it's funnnnn.

PS, I know Gisele Bundchen isn't pregnant, I said that stuff for effect.

Testicle Tuesday...Brady's bitches

Few things in this world make me as giddy as football and fine women. So when I can combine both in one post, by God it's my duty to do so.

Few will deny the mad skills New England Patriot quarterback Tom Brady possesses, and apperently his deeds in the bedroom are nearly as storied. Mr. Brady is rumored to have impregnated both of the gorgeous creatures featured below.

Gisele Bundchen hails from Brazil and has shot to the top of the fashion model biz. So when she claimed that Tom Brady had planted his seed on her fertile ground football fans far and wide stood and applauded. You go Tom!


Bridget Moynahan and Tom Brady were an item for years until their recent untimely breakup. Now it seems the erstwhile quarterback has been flagged for a procedure penalty, or illegal use of hands, and left the stunning Ms. Moynahan with a little Brady in the oven.


I guess this goes to show how much I envy Tom Brady for his three Super Bowl rings and his luck with the uber hotties of this world.

Happy April Fools Day!

I posted this lil' ditty a while back but thought the occasion was right for a redux.

The following is an insight to my whimsical nature. I give the best practical jokes I ever pulled.

One day my mom came home in an especially vile mood. She kicked off her shoes and yelled for me to take them, along with another pair sitting by the door, upstairs and put them in her closet. Both pairs of shoes were identical except one was black and the other navy blue. I dutifully put mi madre’s shoes away but in inverse order. So, I arranged them blue-black-black-blue. I knew she’d grab either the pair on the right or the ones on the left ensuring she’d have to walk around all day in miss-matched footwear. She didn’t disappoint.

Me and Leonard were driving down a busy street here in Denver one morning around 3 a.m. when we passed a local liquor store that frequently had those massive inflatable beer bottles perched on the front lawn. Much to our surprise the proprietors of the store just deflated the bottles and left them out front. So being the enterprising little scamps that we were we designed to pilfer the deflated bottle. We stopped, removed the mooring straps from the stakes embedded in the ground, rolled up the bottle, and stowed it in the back of L’s truck. We’d seen similar giant inflatable stuff before and knew it required a big ass fan to blow the thing back up but none was in sight. It appeared we had been stymied in our attempt at the joke hall of fame. My bladder was near the bursting point as a twelve pack of Coors light will do that so I hid in a nearby trash enclosure to drain the main vein. Eureka! The dumbasses at the liquor store had stowed the fan behind the dumpster. Our plan was nearing fruition. We took the bottle, fan, and another twelve pack to the roof of L’s school where we proceeded to inflate the giant bottle of Bud. The principal at L’s school was greeted that Monday morning by a most unusual sight, a thirty foot tall beer bottle turned on its side.

In high school we had this letch of a teacher named Mr. O. We all hated him. He coached the girls’ cross country team, ostensibly to ogle their goodies as they bounced during the daily 5-10 mile jaunts around the neighborhood. So, one day after school whilst he was at practice and the school was nearly deserted myself and several mischievous friends devised a most sadistic joke. Mr. O’s prized possession was his 1965 yellow VW Bug. Now, anyone who’s ever owned one knows they’re insanely easy to break into. So, we popped open his door, took the Bug out of gear, and pushed it next to the gymnasium wall which jutted out about forty feet and was thirty twenty feet tall and had a set of double wide entry doors. We pushed his car into the middle of the gym and closed the door. Here’s the kicker, our basketball coach/head gym teacher, Mr. G, was watching. His reaction was of utter disbelief. You could see the look on his face. Next thing we saw was Mr. G head around the corner then we heard him explode with laughter. Mr. O never found out who violated his sanctity as Mr. G was an impossible nut to crack.

There was an unwritten rule at our high school that states never be the first to get drunk and pass out at our parties. Many people went home with fairly vile and embarrassing tokens scribbled in magic marker all over their bodies. Some even had their hair dyed a different color or were stripped of all clothing save a strategically placed bear can, box, or plastic grocery bag. We were not nice people. Now, if you were the first to pass out and were disliked by a large portion of the onlookers you were screwed. One night this kid whom I’d developed a stern disliking of was the first to pass out. I chimed up to everyone to let me go take a wiz and contemplate his fate. Everyone knew I hated the guy and also knew of my reputation for creativity and inventiveness. They all laughed as I went off to do my thing. I was drunk as shit and when I’m like that I have a tendency to do bizarre stuff. After I’d emptied my bladder I started snooping in the medicine cabinet. Sweet mother of God if I didn’t find the perfect tool of torment. I reappeared and a hush fell over the crowd as they could see I was holding something behind my back. I donned a shit-eating grin and revealed…a bottle of Nair. This kid looked like a young Jason Voorhees come Monday morning.

After I broke my neck in 1990 I spent six months at Craig Hospital here in Denver. After two months in I was paired up with Zorba the Greek in room 308. We developed a tight friendship and all the staff and our fellow gimps knew it. One day we acquired the the number by which you could access the hospital intercom from any phone in the building. Nick insisted we use this to play a joke on the patients and staff. Zorba held the phone, dialed 483, and I announced, “Attention Craig Hospital patients and staff. We would like to announce a change in the education protocol. Disabled sexuality and driver training will now be taught in the same car.”

In the spirit of April Fools Day please let me know what your best practical jokes were and I’ll start a Hall of Fame. Leave as detailed accounts as you can possibly remember. Email them to me or just leave a comment via ol' Haloscan.

Taka care all!

Surgical post mordem

I just finished a four day stay at the hospital to complete the fusion of my ankle. I now have a six inch rod that is bolted into fibula down through ankle. I can taste the metal. Thanks for the well wishes!

My stay was uneventful and I consumed decent hospital food as well as dilauded every two hours. All in all it wasn't a completely horrible experience.

Testicle Tuesday...Hail the Queen!

Last week I promised to post images of the quintessential scream queen. So, without futher adieau...

Jamie Lee Curtis starred in nearly a dozen horror movies. Her resume includes Halloween I & II, Prom Night, The Fog, Terror Train, Road Games, Halloween H2O, Virus, and Halloween Resurrection. Her storied career has been masturbatory fodder for over 30 years. She’s unbelievably beautiful and has inspired future generations of horror movie vixens.

Under the knife...again

Well, tomorrow at 5:30am I report to a local hospital to have hopefully the last surgery on my left foot. The doc will be inserting a rod into my ankle to stabilize it and fuse it into place. It'll take three hours and probably 4-5 days of recovery. Hopefully the dilauded will ease my pain and make the hospital stay that much more comfortable. I'll be back y'all. Later...until next week.

Testicle Tuesday...scream queens pt 2

As I divulged last week I'm an unabashed fan of horror movies. I'm an even bigger fan of the saucy little tarts that are a mainstay of the genre. Last week I brought you some lesser known vixens but this week is the creme de la creme of modern horror hotness, the holy triumverate of contemporary horror. Enjoy you sickos!


I've had an ongoing crush on Neve Campbell for ten years. Her face is timeless and her body utter perfection. She graced the screen in the Scream movies and was dead sexy to boot. On a personal note to Ms. Campbell...Will you marry me?



Our next scream queen is Jennifer Love Hewitt. She spiced up the silver screen in I Know What You Did Last Summer, and the sequal, I Still Know... She's still a tasty morsel, huh.


Naomi Watts burst into our collective consciousness in The Ring and The Ring II, not to mention King Kong and a number of other movies. Ms. Watts is one of the hottest and most talented actresses on the planet...and she's all ours, for a week.



Next week the quintessential scream queen who started it all...

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Man I could use a drink because of a shit day (don't ask)! So, since I love lists and alcohol I bring you the best mixed drinks ever (values given are either ounces or shots)…

1. Long Island Iced Tea-mix vodka, rum, tequila, gin, triple sec, and a shot of cola. After six or eight of these you’ll forget your troubles…and likely your own name.
2. Grey goose vodka or Finlandia (2 at least), orange juice, and a shot of gin…mmmmmmm, tasty
3. Manhattan-1 ½ blended whiskey and ¾ sweet vermouth…very tasty and potent
4. Cape Cod-a generous portion of vodka with cranberry juice (primarily for coloring), and a splash of orange juice.
5. Corkscrew-1 ½ light rum, ½ dry vermouth, ½ peach brandy.
6. Kamikaze-vodka, triple sec, lime juice…use a lot of vodka
7. Tequila Sunrise-2 tequila, 1 grenadine, orange juice…yummy.
8. Orgasm-mix equal parts of vodka, amaretto, kahlua, and Baily’s Irish Cream.
9. Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and Coke…this was my plasma in college and law school.
10. Hot Toddy-use whiskey, rum, and/or kahlua, add boiling water and sugar…great for winter nights and a day on the ski slopes.

Bwahahahahaha

So, looks like the eastern parts are getting pounded by a blizzard, canceling over 2,000 flights nation wide. Bwahahahaha, it's gonna be 70 here in Denver suckas! I think I might go have a big juicy steak for lunch, then go to the park or tool around my neighborhood looking for garage sales. Later you frozen nor-eastern beeeyatches!

Testicle Tuesday...scream queens

Anyone who's known me for more than five minutes knows about my horror movie obsession. I love the genre. So here are a few contemporary yet undiscovered scream queens from a few decent horror flicks.

Eliza Dushku has been in several films, most notably my favorite horror film of 2003, Wrong Turn. Damn if she ain't sexy!


Maggie Grace was a part of the Lost cast before summarily getting killed off. But she looked ever so yummy in the 2005 remake of the classic The Fog.


Gine Phillips brought some much needed sexuality to what was otherwise an ultimately forgetable Jeepers Creepers.


Next week, the holy triumverate of modern scream queens...

Testicle Tuesday...the Charmed ones

Everyone has their own guilty pleasure television habits. Mine happen to be The Real World on MTV, The Apprentice, and Charmed. Wanna know a big reason why I like Charmed, just scroll down knuckleheads.

Shannon Doherty gained initial fame on Beverly Hills 90210, then followed by turning into a nightclub bunny who's take swings at anyone. Then she starred on Charmed before they killed off her character. RIP Pru.


As Doherty's erstwhile replacement Rose McGowan spiced up the show with her own unique brand of hotness. She gained infamy by accompanying Marylin Manson to the Oscars dressed only in dental floss, God love her and her curves.


Allysa Milano was a most revered child actress on Who's the Boss, then later dropped her top on numerous occasions before her role as Pheobe. Good golly she's just smokin' hot.


Believe it or not my favorite Charmed girl is Piper, a.k.a. Holly Marie Combs. I always thought she was a gorgeous witch but then I saw some of her pics. Whoa, if she isn't yummy.

The Oscars...again

Ordinarily I detest recycling old material but as the eve of the Academy Awards groes weary I bring you the only awards show I want to see, as written by yours truly last year. Enjoy!

Dave Chappelle is host. Instead of a Billy Crystal song-and-dance number we get Chappelle firing up a blunt, inhaling to his heart’s delight, and cracking jokes about Scarlet Johansson’s cleavage, Jack Nicholson’s hair, and Jim Carrey’s dopey grin.

The first award is handed out. Russell Crowe is presenter, handing out the best supporting actress award. Angelina Jolie wins for Alexander, not for her performance but for the way she fills out a toga and because her breasts need more “support” than anyone’s in Hollywood, save the late Marlon Brando. She climbs the stairs and is greeted by a full on tongue filled smooch from the Aussie. The camera pans to Brad Pitt who looks like he wants to kick Crowe’s ass but knows he’d get his face caved in. And millions of African children rejoice, because they just might get Jolie naked after the adoption proceedings.

Dave Chappelle comes back out carrying a forty. He cracks more jokes about white people, black people, and Hispanics. He looks straight at the camera and tells Comedy Central to kiss his narrow black ass.

The next award is presented. Nicole Richie presents the award for Most Dubious Example of a No-Talent Living off Daddy’s Legacy. Before Richie gets to the microphone she spots arch rival and one time party confidant Paris Hilton in the third row, where third rate celebs belong, and bolts into the audience where an epic cat fight ensues. Chappelle rushes out from backstage, not to break up the fight, to inflate the pool where the lime Jell-O goes for the donnybrook.

As the towel boys clean off Hilton & Richie, Chappelle grabs the mic and jokes about Oprah’s huge head, Lindsay Lohan’s weight fluctuation, and R Kelley’s salacious personal habits. “R Kelley looked for a date for this gig for hours…he was combing the high schools all afternoon.” Rumors that Michael Jackson was seen with a bottle of wine at the elementary school across the street are unsubstantiated.

Kim Bassinger attempts to present the next award but is so incoherently drunk she can barely walk. An obviously flabbergasted Alec Baldwin runs up on stage to carry off the blonde bombed shell.

Matt Lauer of NBC’s Today show walks out on stage with Tom Cruise and Brooke Shields. Cruise professes that he is now a born again Christian as he’s seen heaven between Katie Holmes’ thighs.

A camera goes back stage and finds Kate Moss doing lines of cocaine. Dave Chappelle looks a bit bewildered, “Bitch, marijuana’s way better.”

Vin Diesel takes the stage to present the award for muscle flexion but sees that stupid smug look on Sean Penn’s face and immediately flies off stage and sweeps the carpet with Penn’s head just for general principle.

Chris Rock assumes MC duty as Dave Chappelle has apparently disappeared. Rock proceeds with a profanity laced tirade that offends everyone except Collin Farrell, Sean Connery, and Ewan McGregor, because Farrell is Irish and Connery and McGregor are Scottish.

Arnold Schwarzeggar presents the next award for bad actors who should be politicians. The nominees are; Ben Affleck, Alec Baldwin, and Stephen Baldwin. Arnold refuses to relinquish the statuette and no one argues with him.

Eminem takes center stage and busts with a tasty limerick that insults and offends every celebrity present in three minutes flat. The balcony gives a rousing standing ovation while the Hollywood establishment sits in missive disbelief. Eminem gets nominated for an Emmy.

From the wings of the stage Chappelle shows up and does an interview with Oprah wherein he divulges the nature of his disappearance. He said he couldn’t stand the baton waving orchestra conductor and said the little man was stifling his creative juices despite being paid $50 million for the gig.

Richard Gere gets up and says something nonsensical about China then pulls a small furry rodent from his back pocket and stares lovingly at it.

Madonna & Brittney Spears do a rendition of Queen’s “We Are The Champions” then share a lesbian kiss. Every male in the arena is mesmerized because, let’s face it, lesbians rule.

Chappelle informs everyone that the remainder of the show has been canceled because all of the gold statuettes are missing. He then asks, “Has anyone seen Wynona Ryder?” Chappelle then jokes that the life story of Anna Nicole Smith is being filmed and that Jessica Simpson plays Smith pre & post mordem, because she's just that stupid.

Hugh Grant takes the stage with the nastiest east Hollywood hooker we’ve ever seen. Turns out they were introduced by mutual acquaintance Robert Downey Jr.

The final award for best picture goes to some independent movie only seventeen people saw and that offended nearly every member of the Republican Party.

Testicle Tuesday...colorful wenches

Sometimes I absolutely love being in the blogosphere, especially when my self-imposed duties involve looking up hot ass women on Google. So, as a public service, I bring these two smokin' hot gals with colorful monikers.

Sienna Miller is stunningly gorgeous, the kind of perfection Botticelli imortalized in his work. You decide, is she hotter as as red head or a blonde...



Scarlet Johansen is an exotic looking beauty with an unreal rack. And rumor has it she'll be doing full nude scenes soon...SPANKARIFIC SCARLET!

Let me ask your opinion...

If one looks at the identifiable pillars of fascism, as seen through contemporary American views of liberal and conservative political philosophies, it stands to reason that fascism is one of the few truly hybrid political ideologies. Many have characterized fascism before as being dominantly liberal but I must respectfully disagree. Here’s a list of the pillars of fascism…

Exaltation of state over individual...neither, though arguably liberal in a services sense
Macro Darwinism…conservative
Micro Darwinism…neither, though arguably conservative
Extreme nationalism…conservative
Corporatism…conservative
Universal suffrage…liberal
Seizure of church property…Draconian Bolshevism
Central control of resources…liberal
Small central government…conservative
Anti leftist…conservative
State control of media…neither, as understood by American definition of lib & con
Middle class angst/catering or pandering to the middle class…liberal
Racial purity…neither
Compulsory military service…Communism, though not a traditional American liberal p.o.v.
Militarism…conservative
Minimum wage…liberal
Anti-union…conservative
Elitist…Arguably both, liberals exalt intellectual elitism while conservatives exalt the economically elite

This list may be a skosh incomplete but it demonstrates that the split between liberal and conservative pillars is nearly equal. Even when you organize the list according to importance to the overall fascist ideology, such as universal suffrage, militarism, nationalism, corporatism, and central control of resources, the split between liberal and conservative is still fairly equal. What’s interesting is the fact that over one third of theses fascist pillars is neither or both.

So, is fascism, in your opinion, a liberal, conservative, or hybrid political philosophy?

Testicle Tuesday...the resurection

I recently celebrated my 36th birthday, February 5th to be precise. I found that these two starlettes share the same birthday as me. So, as I resurect the intstitution of Testicle Tuesday I say HAPPY BIRTHDAY (belated as it is) to Laura Linney and Jennifer Jason Leigh.

Ms. Linney looking radiant...in color and black & white...




Ms. Liegh in tight leather.....mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, daddy likey...

Late on a Monday...

Yet here I sit, one lone blogger in a sea of bloggers, a teeny ass fish in a big ass bowl.

I’d like to think my writing is profound and deep beyond measure but alas, the clap trap that oozes from my keys is mundane. Why else would I have barely 20 hits a day? Shit, the local softball scores or bowling league results get more hits.

I had a couple fascinating conversations with two extraordinary gentlemen whilst I was ensconced at the hospital. Both conversations revolved around spirituality and were really esoteric and tres cool.

The first took place with a phlebotomist, those guys who skulk around drawing blood at the wee hours of the night and morning. The vampire du jour, we’ll call him Daniel, was quiet and unassuming, almost in a Zen like way. So I did what I’m accustomed to doing, I started talking shit and Dan opened right up. I’m nothing if not unabashedly curious as to the inner works of almost every mind I come in contact with. So Dan and I talked philosophy for nearly an hour. His individual belief was a bit amorphous sprinkled with a touch of quiet yet esoteric dissonance. It was Zen mixed with Calvinism, a truly spacey and tripped out set of beliefs. Now I can’t do his fascinating observations justice so I won’t try. But this cat, Daniel, was extremely kind, thoughtful, and intelligent spiced by a pinch of stoic intensity, a true poet with a big needle. We exchanged email addresses but I fear, as with most such encounters, addresses will be lost. But I will never forget that talk, the time when I tripped down the boulevard of spirituality with a dude named Dan, a surreal journey into the inner workings of the soul. Take care man, and never let shit burry you too deep.

The very next morning, maybe a scant eight hours after I spoke with Daniel, a priest came in my room and asked the obligatory questions querying my religious preference and whatnot. So, being still invigorated by Dan’s musings, and admittedly high as a damn kite from 2ml of dilauded given minutes before, I struck up a conversation similar to the earlier chat with Dan. And to my pleasant surprise the Father was of a similar mindset about God and spirituality as was I. So when I said I was nondenominational but believed highly in a Big Kahuna and Christ his ears perked up. We sat and bandied about the meaning of God and spirituality for a half hour. The Father was surprisingly open to my eclectic views of God and he wasn’t offended when I questioned the wisdom of erecting stone edifices in tribute to God instead of cultivating the cathedrals we build in our hearts and minds. The Father was a nice mix of patience, wisdom, and intellect.

I’ll never forget these two conversations.

Let me not forget my favorite nurse, Ricci. She was so seat and funny and did everything the way I liked it. She combined a razor sharp wit with fierce intelligence. And she was always quick with a radiant smile. She’s the best.

Then there was my favorite cat of all time, Al. This dude has been working at my favorite hospital and on the same floor doing the same shift for 20 years. How to describe the indescribable? Al is a kooky mix of Barry White, Bill Withers, Eddie Murphy, Chris Berman, and John Holmes. Al’s dying wish is to become a porn star. Go figure. I loved rapping with this kid all night. Sometimes the nurses would get pissed because Al was idling in my room shooting the shit, talking about sports and life’s quirky turns. Al is and always was a poet, a man with a gift of wit and intelligence. Yet to hear his self-deprecating candor you’d swear he was neurotic, not erotic. But that’s Al, a living breathing contradiction, a question mark wrapped in a riddle. He, more so than any other, made my numerous stays at the hospital bearable.

So, before you go lamenting my plight remember I made some memories that will last a lifetime.

Wasup everyone

Well, I'm back, for whatever that's worth.

It's been nearly a month since I last posted and Billiam has kept you informed as to my untimely absense.

First, a shout out to Billiam The Conqueror for holding the fort and stoking the fires of this here bloggerific undertaking.

Second, man do I miss the I.V. dilauded that flowed like water at the hospital. That shit will put in the ozone faster than the Space Shuttle ever could. Too bad it's highly addictive or I'd convince one of my docs to issue some of that precious juice for home infusion purposes. Shub is no junkie, just a glutton.

Third, these I.V. antibiotics I'm on thankfully only one more day have reduced my colon to a colorful game of Shutes & Ladders, mostly shutes. My beloved Mexican food is unthinkable at this point as even simple items like Mac & Cheese traverse my intestinal track with startling ease. Man do I miss a big burrito or plate of chili rellenos.

Fourth, and lastly, I have no idea what direction fate has in store for my poor left foot. The doctors have not ruled out amputation if the infection is too pronounced. Here's hoping my prognosis is ok because being called Stubby would be quite the burden.

Later y'all, stay tuned for more inanity.