Kool-Aid Man Revisited...

Kool-Aid Man - A Hero With A Glass Jaw And A Heart Of Gold...

Oh Yeah!

All You Ever Wanted To Know About The Kool-Aid Man And More!

The Hunter Has Become The Hunted...

I was at the DMV earlier this morning minding my own business when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an attractive young lady checking me out. While this in and of itself is not an uncommon occurrence, something about the way she kept looking at me was making me uneasy.

Did she believe she recognized me? Was there an errant booger hanging from one of my nostrils? Was she part of an eloborate sting operation where at any moment agents were going to jump out and hussle me into an unmarked black van? All valid questions...

It was only after I spent a few minutes standing in line that I became aware that the young lady would glance around, look at me, smile, and write something in her notebook. It took me a moment to realize what she was up to. Standing in line at the DMV, drinking coffee, observing people and making entries into a notebook...she was gathering information for a blog.

If I am not mistaken, today’s entry is about me.

How dare she?!?!?

I felt so naked. So used. Worst of all, I had to stand there and endure her glances with full knowledge of what was going on.

That does it. It is on, bitch! The gauntlet has been thrown. We'll see who will post about whom in their blog...Well, I don't have anything else to say about you at the moment, but I'll think of something...

Caption This...

It's "Caption This" Sunday again!

OK, it's said that a picture is worth a thousand words.

Test your wit and come up with a funny caption for this photo.

Here are a few to get you started...

1. Because he was so damned "pettable", Toonces was soon forgiven for flipping the Humvee.
2. Well, Sarge told me that I looked stressed and I oughta go out and get myself some pussy...
3. Okay, explain to me again how you got away from the Schrodinger guy?

Frivolous fun: Chuck Norris Jeans - Great for when you need that extra flexibility to roundhouse kick someone in the face!

Happy Friday The 13th!

It's Friday the 13th and as a public service I have compiled a list of suggestions that I feel will keep you safe from harm...

Survival Tip #1: If you see a black cat, shoot it.
Better to be safe than sorry.

Survival Tip #2: Use up all your bad luck early.
You can only have so much bad luck in a single day, so just start trying to use your whole quota of it by lunch. Tempt fate through such activities as cleaning your toaster with a fork, picking a fight with a gorilla or cleaning your ears with a nail gun.

Survival Tip #3: Don't talk about Fight Club.
Even if you are a beautiful and unique snowflake, just don't.
Unless you want to end up as the same decaying organic matter as everyone else.

Survival Tip #4: Don't let the Jehovah's Witnesses in.
Sure, three hundred and sixty four days out of the year they seem like nice folks who just want to share their crackpot religious dogma and a cup of Kool-Aid with you...but each year on Friday the 13th, they fatten their ranks by kidnapping people and forcing them to watch Veggie Tales until they convert.

Survival Tip #5: Refuse to recognize that it's Friday the 13th.
In many skyscrapers, superstitious builders make the floors jump from twelve to fourteen to avoid the unlucky thirteenth floor. As soon as you wake up today, say, "Wow, what a lovely day February 14th is!

Survival Tip #6: Leave the Earth by close of business April 13, 2029.
Be gone before the Near-Earth asteroid 99942 Apophis smashes into our planet and destroys the world as we know it.

Now you've got to ask yourself one question:

"Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?

He Was What He Was...

Popeye, 78, of Sweethaven died on Plunder Island yesterday. Popeye was a famed merchant marine and spinach enthusiast whose real-life exploits became the subject of a King Features comic strip in 1929. The public’s love of the scrawny sailor with a heart of gold drew Popeye to Hollywood, where he played himself in hundreds of cartoons over the next six decades.

Not known for his mastery of grammar, he was renown for his many adventures...both on land and at sea. He first gained notoriety when he was hired by Castor Oyl to captain the “Tom Cod” on a mission to break the bank at a casino with the assistance of a magical hen. Perhaps his most personally rewarding crusade was when Popeye sailed out, in search of his long lost father, Poopdeck Pappy.

President Bush has authorized the USS Enterprise to transport Popeye’s ashes to the South Pacific for interment in the deep. The President stated that “Popeye has done more than anyone else in Hollywood, except maybe John Wayne, to promote the image of United States sailors.” The president also praised Popeye for promoting healthy eating habits.

Mourners at his memorial service included George W. Geezil, Harold Hamgravy, and Bluto, who tearfully eulogized, “He was a noble adversary. Our clashes were legendary. He died a warrior’s death.”

Popeye was killed after being ambushed by a gang of Goons sent by the evil Sea Hag. Normally strong to the finish, a recent recall on spinach left him defenseless against the henchmen. Neither J. Wellington Wimpy, nor Eugene the Jeep could revive the vanquished sailor.

Survivors include his wife of seventeen years, Olive Oyl and their adopted son, Scooner “Swee’Pea” Seawell.

In other news, novelist Kurt Vonnegut dies at 84...

The Dingo Ate My Baby!

Wildlife officials are investigating what could be the first coyote attack on a human in New Jersey following a backyard attack on a toddler that was foiled by an eleven year old.

Playing in the back yard of his Middletown Township home with his twenty-two month old nephew over the weekend, eleven year old Ryan Palludan first thought the animal that bolted into the yard just before dark was a deer.

But when it grabbed little Liam Sadler in its jaws, Palludan instinctively sprang into action, yelling and kicking at the attacker which was later determined to be a coyote.

"It ran real fast, and in 10 seconds it was on Liam's back, biting the back of his head and his neck," Palludan said. "My dad and I chased it into the woods, and my sister got Liam inside.

"My dad turned to walk away and it came running back at him. I yelled, 'Dad, it's coming for you,' and he chased it away again. But it didn't go all the way into the woods," Palludan explained. "It was kind of staying on the edge. It wanted its food."

Palludan's older brother, Ole Palludan, said he and the adults were sitting on the porch less than 40 feet away when the attack occurred.

The toddler's grandfather, Philip Palludan, who he is familiar with coyotes having seen them out West, said the animal that attacked the toddler was about the size of a German shepherd.

After the attack, family members grabbed flashlights and found the animal still hovering on the edge of the woods after the attack.

They are warning residents to keep their cats, small dogs, roadrunners and rascally rabbits indoors.

Okay, coyotes here in Texas I understand but, when the heck did coyotes start showing up in New Jersey? Maybe the Jersey Devil is to blame? I'll call ACME just in case and order up some supplies...

No Holds Barred...

Yesterday's post has gotten me thinking about changing my career.

How about professional wrestler?

If I ever became a professional wrestler, I think I would use the name Agent Orange. Right off the bat, I have a name that is familiar and inspires fear...and you already have an idea of what color material I’ll use for my costume.

Like other wrestlers, I will have my own patented moves. I already thought of a few: The Flying Orange Wedge, The Orange Slice, The Orange Peel...I could use REM’s Orange Crush as my theme song.

I can see it now...

The lights in the auditorium are down, and then the PA system blasts the intro drum roll into the song and...boom! The fireworks go off as I strut down to the ring while talking to myself and slapping “high fives” with the occasional red neck...err, I mean fan.

As I enter the ring, I snatch the microphone from the trembling ring announcer. Then the roaring crowd falls quiet as I point toward my opponent and shout out my catch phrase -

“Come and get your dose of Vitamin C!”

Okay, so the catch phrase still needs a little work...but I think it could happen.

Career Daze...

I was talking about our career choices with a friend of mine, which lead us to wonder if they coincided with what we thought we would be doing later in life once we were done with school...

This made me recall a career day we had when I was in fifth grade at St. Francis Catholic School. It featured guest speakers from different career fields and career related activities throughout the day.

In my English class, Sister Grace gave us an assignment in which we were to write an essay about what career we’d like to have in the future. We turned in the papers and the teacher went through them all, in front of the class, reading the names of the authors and what careers they had chosen.

“Jimmy wants to be a fireman. That’s a noble job. Rosa wrote about becoming a librarian. I’m sure that will give you the opportunity to read many wonderful books.” Finally she got to mine, “And let’s see...Alberto wants to be a missionary! Wow! You've always excelled in religion class. Father Damion will be so proud of you. You will get to travel to interesting places and spread the word of God to people of different cultures around the world.”

After a few moments, I responded, “That’s sounds great, but I don’t want to be a missionary. I wrote that I want to be a mercenary.”

“What?”

I answered, “Yeah, I want to get paid by various countries to kill their enemies.”

Then after a long and awkward silence I added, “...but I was right there with you on the part about traveling around the world.”

Werewolf Weather...

An excerpt of Season and I, discussing the weather last night…

Her: What’s with the weather lately? It’s miserable!

Me: Yep, it’s definitely werewolf weather.

Her: What?

Me: You know, werewolf weather. Look at it out there...it’s a dark night, everything is wet from the rain, there’s a heavy low-lying fog. Can’t you just imagine a werewolf jumping out of the mist and eviscerating someone? Werewolf weather doesn’t get any better.

Her: Not to burst your bubble, but if this were actually werewolf weather, wouldn’t there be a full moon?

Me: Hey, I didn’t say I expected to see a werewolf. I’m just saying this is probably the kind of weather they’d enjoy.

Her: So, you speak for the Werewolf Meteorological Society now?

Me: Can we just change the subject? This werewolf weather business is kind of creeping me out.

The Easter Bunny Hates You!

Take a moment to remember what today is really about...and it ain't about that bunny. ;)

Throughout history, there have only been two people that volunteered to die for me...

The American soldier and Jesus Christ.

Today, as we celebrate Easter, I would like to extend my endless gratitude to both.

Through your sacrifice, I can live free...now and forever.

Have a Happy Easter.

Will Sanjaya Malakar Destroy American Idol?

When American Idol rears it's ugly head onto my television screen I've usually had to tolerate watching it since Season likes it.

Me, I only enjoy the first part of American Idol and although I admit to laughing at the people that sound terrible; later I feel badly that they were embarrassed in front of millions on television.

Is it just me, or is American Idol the television version of the mean kid in high school who convinces the school nerd he should get on the school PA system and proclaim his love for the prom queen just so that the rest of the school can get a good laugh?

Then there's the whole "shortcut to fame and celebrity". Shouldn't anyone "pay their dues" anymore with hard work and dedication to achieve their goals?

They don't make it easy to set a good example for our six year old.

Anyway, we watched the various cities cattle calls and thankfully my girlfriend wasn't interested in any of the singers that auditioned, so I didn't have to endure watching American Idol the rest of the season, but now I feel like I missed something.

All I hear about is Sanjaya Malakar and how this vocally-challenged amateur may be the death of American Idol.

How the seventeen year old hasn't come remotely close to mastering the basics of singing, but he has performed a few miracles.

He accomplished a mighty wonder by silencing the Idol judges. Even Simon has given up critiquing Sanjaya; stating that he doesn't want to say anything that will encourage people to vote for Sanjaya. If the young Indian-American finds a way to stop Paula Abdul from clapping like a seal and slurring out praises he will probably be universally acknowledged as the Messiah.

Jesus may have turned water into wine, but Sanjaya turned thirteen year old Ashley Ferl into a geyser. Everytime he batted an eye or danced a jig, little Ashley erupted into a display worthy of Old Faithful.

American Idol fans don't tune in to hear how many times Randy says "dawg", or to see how drugged up or drunk Paula is, or even to laugh at Simon's insults.

Everybody is watching American Idol to see what Sanjaya is up to.

If Sanjaya wins American Idol, he will demonstrate once and for all that it's not really a singing competition but a popularity contest.

American Idol may be destroyed and the franchise may go away.

Good luck Sanjaya!

Going Out On A Limb...

The U.S. Coast Guard saved a man and his pet bird from a 75 foot tree in Houston Texas after he became stranded while trying to coax the creature out of the branches.

The Coast Guard had to respond because local rescue units; including ladder trucks; were not able to get close enough to the tree due to the proximity of the houses.

An HH-65C Dolphin helicopter crew was dispatched which safely hoisted man and bird free. The incident occurred in Porter just north of Houston and local media reported that the bird was a $2,000 cockatoo.

The man and bird were flown to Williams Airport in Porter.

Both were reported to be in good condition.

Scuba Transvestite Kleptomaniac Robots?

I have always thought that I am the kind of person who would wish others the best. I used to think that, in general, I hope everyone finds what they're looking for in life.

Recently I've changed my mind. Judging by the things people are searching for on the Internet, it is probably not in their best interest, or in anybodys best interest, for them to find what their looking for.

Scuba Transvestite Kleptomaniac Robots? What does that even mean?

Why are you looking that up and how did it lead you to my blog?

I bet there's somebody else out there Googling that phrase right now.

Alright buddy, I don't know what kind of sick fantasies you're into, but I'll have no part of it.

There are plenty of websites out there for perverts and sickos; there's no need for you to bring your creepiness here.

Although, I do congratulate you on your awesome spelling abilities.

Who is Amorita Randall?

I can't seem to find much press about another screw up at the Times. The fact that the huge and widely dispersed article they published, "The Woman's War", featured an account of a humvee attack in Iraq recounted by Naval construction worker named Amorita Randall that was never fully checked out before the magazine went to press. Her story was used amidst a series of accounts meant to elucidate the role that sexual harassment in the military contributes to PTSD in female troops.

In the article it states: Amorita Randall lives across the state from Christensen, in a small town outside of Grand Junction. She is 27, a former naval construction worker who served in Iraq in 2004. Over the course of several phone conversations before visiting her in January, I grew accustomed to the way Randall coexisted with her memories. Mostly she inched up to them.

On days she was feeling stable, she would want to talk, calling me up and abruptly jumping into stories about her six years in the Navy, describing how she was raped twice - the second rape supposedly taking place just a matter of weeks before she arrived in Iraq. Her experience in Iraq, she said, included one notable combat incident, in which her Humvee was hit by an I.E.D., killing the soldier who was driving and leaving her with a brain injury. "I don't remember all of it," she told me when I met her in the sparsely furnished apartment she shares with her fiance?. "I don't know if I passed out or what, but it was pretty gruesome."

The reason Randall doesn't "remember all of it" is because it never happened. She was never deployed to Iraq.

The Times Magazine fact-checkers didn't contact the Navy to verify Randall's story until three days before deadline, according to the editors' note. Hours before press time, a Navy spokesman denied Randall's account to the Times Magazine, the note states. Randall still stood by her account, and the Times Magazine sent it off to press with a passage containing the Navy contradiction: "No after-action report exists to back up Randall's claims of combat exposure or injury. A Navy spokesman reports that her commander says that his unit was never involved in combat during her tour.

Three days after the piece went to press, reports the editors' note, the Navy provided the conclusive evidence that Randall had lied. Only part of Randall's unit was sent to Iraq, leaving her behind.

Naturally, the NYT willingly went along with it, not bothering with facts at all. Nope...no liberal media bias there. It's not like the NYT feels any compunction to saddle their articles with any sort of requirement of truth. What's important to them is the message and not the truth. The message seems to be: Bash the military.

I don't know about you, but to me the truth of what actually happened is more important than the way someone remembers it...

Another embarrassment for the anti-war fable enablers at the NYT.

A Letter To "Rocket Man" From NASA...

Dear Mr. John,
This letter is to inform you of your immediate termination from the NASA astronaut program. Our decision comes after a great deal of deliberation, and while we take no pleasure in terminating you, we felt it was the only choice we had.

Your offenses have been many. To begin with, we had hoped that after all the hundreds of hours of training you received, you would understand the measures in place to prepare a crew for a launch. Instead you showed up, preflight, with a bag packed by your wife, that rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Jewelry? Oversize sunglasses? Flashy sequined jackets? Sandwiches? There was no call to bring these restricted items onto a rocket flight.

You should also know that many on the ground crew mentioned that at zero hour (9 AM) you seemed to be intoxicated, possibly "high," as the hippies say. At the time, I thought that to be a baseless accusation and, since we had a mission to launch, I disregarded it. But the transmissions you made once the craft had entered its orbit made me wonder. Over and over we would ask for your readings on the effects of weightlessness, the craft's condition, and the status of the numerous scientific experiments onboard, but instead of giving us that information, you moped about missing the Earth and missing your wife and being lonely in space. You should have known what you were getting yourself into! Of course it's lonely! It's space!

And another thing, the title is "astronaut." When you run around Cape Canaveral saying "I'm a rocket man!" it's embarrassing.

We expect a great deal from our astronauts, but perhaps the most important part of the job is an understanding of science. For our top men, Armstrong, Aldrin, and the like...understanding science is more than a nine to five job; they work at it seven days a week. Frankly, sir, I doubt your scientific acumen. After demanding data from you for days, you were only able to offer this insight: "Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact, it's cold as hell. And there's no one there to raise them if you did." First off, if you did what? That doesn't even make sense. Secondly, we did not send you up there to evaluate whether Mars is fit for human habitation or child rearing. Thirdly, your weren't even supposed to go to Mars.

I am sorry to give you this information while you are still on your mission, Mr. John, and we realize that it's going to be a long, long time until touchdown brings you back here. But NASA felt that your performance was so dismal that we must act immediately. You are simply not the man we thought you were when we hired you for this position. Please consider all future assignments canceled. Your place will be taken by Major Tom, who we expect will be a more dedicated and reliable member of the team.

Sincerely,
Michael Griffin - NASA Administrator

April Fools' Day

Alanis Morissette releases her new power ballad:

"My Humps" by the The Black Eyed Peas



Is this for real or is this Alanis being ironic?

Either way, enjoy and Happy April Fools' Day!