She's Not Human.She's Conchita.

  A hearty thanks goes out to the customer service department at Bank of America. Yes sir, were it not for their customer service reps I may have solved a problem. But noooo...that would have been too easy to answer the goddamn phone after holding for thirty minutes. Why hell, I didn't call with anything in mind other than to say hello. I mean what better way to say how much I enjoy doing business with you than offer a friendly, "Gee, hi."

  Online service with them is and has been a nightmare . Their servers went completely down one weekend at the beginning of November...a bad time for those wanting to pay on accounts. Apparently the entire damn system they use is so overtaxed and/or buffoons manage it that whenever you need it the most, you cannot access the damn thing. It would be nice knowing that they were capable of taking care of some little details like, hmmm I don't know-accepting payments!!!

  The first time I called I went through every recording they could deal out. I punched every button and extension number the bilingual recording said to punch. Once, I finally got some lady named Vicki. Vicki and I were disconnected after I said, "Hello, I was...hello? Hello! Goddamn it bitch! Don't you hang up on me HO!" When I called back again I patiently waited as Conchita (the recording I became friends with) kept telling me that I was next to be helped by a real person. Thirty minutes later-click! Disconnected again! No luck still.  By this time Conchita is starting to sound pretty good though.

  God only knows that their customer service people are probably still using the old analog switchboards that lights up like a Christmas tree just before it gets ready to explode. I don't give a shit whether Bank of America ever does another day of online service if they keep going at this pitiful rate. Just don't advertise how great your services are. How the hell can I get any satisfaction at all when the only pleasure I get is talking to a recording named Conchita? She's...er, it's the hottest thing you've got going for you!-Don.

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  "...And why the hell isn't my blog listed on your site? dammit man!" Now normally I wouldn't consider this comment groveling. However, given it's source I think that it is. This is Dana's version of begging. Oh, she would deny it until death I know, but she really loves my blog.

  Life Is Good is the creation of another in a long line of humorbloggers. Dana is the author and dominatrix on duty there. Her site is a regular stop of mine. I may not always leave a comment even though Dana loves them, but I'm lurking...I'm reaching out to my more docile, peace loving side when I go there. I don't get any of that, but I still visit anyway.  The Wyzard of Odds will treat you well when you're visiting, but don't leave the damn place in a mess when you leave. No groveling for you!

  Most of the time her blog is about events from her past. Things that she has fond memories of seem be a main theme for her. Other times however, I feel as though I've gone over to her house and walked right smack dab into the middle of World War III! She'll be ranting and raving about something that's pissed her off. She's kind of like the old "Gone Fishin'" game at school carnivals where you threw your line over a "wall" and pulled back a bag full of stuff. You didn't know for sure what you had until you opened it, but you knew it was going to be good.

  Well, Life Is Good is much the same as Gone Fishin' and Dana is just like the old grab bag. No wait, that's not right. Dana is good like the game and her blog is like the grab bag. It's all full of ugh...er...hmm, surprises! Go check it out, and please leave a comment or two or three will ya?-Don.

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The Morning After Hell

   Black Friday has ended and thus far I hear that the death toll as a direct result of fucking idiots is two. One in New Jersey at a Wal*Mart...go figure. The second death was at a Toys R Us in California. Don't forget about the economy. Retailers plan on roughly 20-30% of their annual profits to come as a result of some heavy duty shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Results of the money dropped on the retail sector today will be posted before the final death toll of BF Shoppers is known. Hell, what's more important? A gift for a loved one or just a loved one?

  Some shoppers fell asleep while waiting in long predawn lines, and as of 10am many were still sleeping. I guess getting up at 3:30am to get to a Target before the inevitable run on Hawaiian print shirts for summer was too much. Others just pulled into parking lots miles from their destinations where they still sleep. With all of that going on there are still a few folks that resisted the urge to sleep and held "midnight" sermons and limbo contest for girls under the age of 18 in mall parking lots.

  I went to one local Wal*Mart about 3pm. I didn't go to shop for gifts, but rather buy some things that I forgot to get Wedsnesday. Before I pulled into the parking lot I drove around the store on a service road to scout out the situation. I couldn't believe how it looked. It looked just like a Sunday evening. There was a substantial group of shoppers, but it wasn't anything that would be a problem at Wal*Mart. So I carried my ass inside and gathered the little bit of stuff that I came for. The whole process took about 10 minutes.

  I was still walking through the aisle about 30 minutes later just enjoying the easy pace for a WM-especially on BF! I would toss something a little extra in the basket occasionally if I thought I might need it. Forty five minutes later I'm ready to check out. I went in with the anticipation of spending about thirty bucks but spent more like eighty. I could've come out cheaper falling asleep in a store's parking lot after a good sermon and a limbo lesson or two-Don.

 

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Black Or Red- It's All Friday

  People will put themselves through this torture for what? In exchange for a pissed mood, sore feet, throbbing damn headache and overall major ass pains you got a lousy gift for somebody that will require batteries that you didn't get because you were too fucking stressed out to remember them! Welcome to Black Friday...I'll refer to it as Red Friday for two reasons. Sales will be down this year and will not "save" major retailers who bank on it, and secondly, all of the blood shed fighting over a certain item that limits "one per customer" because the store only had one to begin with...

  I know a lady that still to this day drags her youngest daughter (age 14) out of bed at 4:00am Friday morning, and come rain or shine or sleet or whatever the fucking weather will be, is standing in some damn line waiting to get in a store to get a "deal" on something that will be on sale Christmas Eve anyway. Wal*Mart? If you shop there year around-especially Fridays and Saturdays-Red Friday will seem like just another day...big deal.(see figure below)


  Well, you people that actually partake in that shit have my blessing. Normally, I know that you wouldn't want my blessing or could not care less, but you'll need all of the damn help you can get. You'll probably come home without that special gift that you went out to get before daylight. So then you'll be pissed off at the store for not having it although the other two thousand or so people in front of you bought the same item. Hell, then they'll forget batteries so there will be 2,000 more pissed off people that were not pissed off the day before. I love Christmas!

  I can't get a grip on the concept of Red Friday shopping. The day before was Thanksgiving. Somewhat relaxed with a lot of food, friends and family and, in my case, pizza and a 12 pack of Corona. You're seemingly glad that it's over though so you can relax. Huh? Relax? So you can hit the fucking stores at 4am in the morning? Give me a break! Believe I'll have another Corona and that last piece of pizza now...-Don.

 

  



 

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It's All About Food, Family And Indians

  Well, tomorrow marks the opening salvo in the holiday season. Nothing else matters but food this Thursday. Family is nice, but they just get in my way. I'll be nice and friendly like I really give a shit that we all got together. As far as I'm fucking concerned, some of them can gag on a gizzard. And there's always the unknown relative that shows up with the little turd ball kids in tow, and you're like, "Who da fuck is you white boy? Who's yo daddy?" Damn, do I fake it and be nice, or do I be myself?

  Thanksgiving used to be about Pilgrims and the story of how the red man (native American red man) shared some fucking corn and turkey with them. Supposedly, they all sat around a big picnic table making like they were all buddies and shit. The spits were all fired up, and the birds were roasting on an open fire. I'll bet they roasted chestnuts on an open fire too. Anyway, they all got along so well that day that they decided they would get together every year like a big damn family reunion. The other 364 days of the year were to be the usual however. The pillaging, raping, looting, shooting and scalping were to carry on in the finest of true American tradition.

  I don't know about everyone else, but when we get together as a family at Thanksgiving we don't invite Indians. It's not that I don't like them. I love the little red bastards. It's just that I see all the Indians I can handle at the casinos. Besides, we have too damn many unknown relatives show up. Twenty four people last year of whom I honestly knew the names of about seven...Talk about being a stranger in your own home. Well, it's going to be overwith soon enough I suppose. Then I can get back to my usual unsociable and sociopathic self. At least I'll have a full stomach. Does pizza go with cranberry sauce? That's a thought, and I won't share either!-Don.

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What If It's Raining Hard?

  The humorbloggers just completed it's first swap yesterday. It wasn't a wife swap though. I'll be in charge of that, and it comes between Christmas and New Year's before we make resolutions that we won't keep. Bah, humbug...

  Last night I fixed spaghetti for supper, and I was totally not in the mood for it. I really wanted a fat, juicy hamburger instead, but I only wanted it grilled and it was raining hard. So I used the ground beef for the spaghetti...it was ok. I didn't have some of the ingredients on hand that I normally put in the sauce. Fresh mushrooms not on hand, fresh oregano out of season or not on hand, no to rosemary too. I didn't go to the store to get any. It was raining hard.

  Hell, and as I was trying to relax after the spaghetti and watch a little local news, my roommate asked if I would go outside and put her plants in the yard or on the patio to get some water. "Why the fuck...?" Because it was raining hard.

  Next, a couple of friends were coming over about 8 o'clock to watch a movie and have some drinks. Basically, the movie was just an excuse to sit around and get wasted. I find that a really shitty movie works best. If it's a good movie you may actually watch it instead of consuming alcohol at death defying levels. It would have been fun too, but they didn't want to get out. It was raining hard.

  Hell, I played around on the interwebs for awhile and watched some bogus show on TruTv. Finally, I just decided to go to bed. I really wasn't too sleepy, but the night was boring, and there wasn't a damned thing I could think to do. So I get in the bed and wham! I'm out like a light and didn't wake up for about seven hours. No bathroom breaks for me last night. Shit! I slept really well, and all because it was raining hard.-Don.

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My Bloodiest Thanksgiving Ever

Turkey day. Yummm. A day where family gets together and we eat like little piggies, drink more than we should and pass out on the floor watching the big game. That is normally what happens. This one year was definitely not a normal Thanksgiving...


We always arrive early to my MIL's and I help with the big feast. This one year we had relatives from Virginia, and we had not seen them for at least ten years. I was going to cut onions for the stuffing and as my MIL handed me a rather imposing looking butcher knife, she admonished me to be careful because the knife was so sharp. I scoffed and told her I never cut myself.


You guessed it. I did it. I sliced my thumb wide the hell open. As soon as I saw the amount of my blood leaving my body I passed out in the middle of the floor. My thumb was pumping blood and I was lying on the floor out cold when the Aunt from Virginia came in to see what the commotion was about. As soon as she saw me and all the blood she took off screaming like a banshee out the front door and fainted in the yard.


Well they finally got me to come to and my MIL put Alum on my thumb to stop the bleeding. They then had to get the Aunt out of the front yard before someone called the cops on her and we finished our dinner.


One more thing about that day. The BIL's got drunk and one of them fell out of his chair and proceeded to start a domino effect with several of the others. The funniest thing was watching a bunch of drunks trying to get untangled from all the lawn chairs. That was my craziest Thanksgiving ever. I do not think I want another one!

  *Special thanks to ettarose from Sanity on Edge for this post. Get more from her here.

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  The first of my two selections for this week's edition of the Times really needs no introduction. What she needs is two more hands, a couple of extra legs and a household staff not including a chef du jour. Mom's Crazy Life is just about that...a crazy life and Dani is the star. Her blog tagline, "This is not your regular Mom blog" is the damned truth too. I can testify to that fact!

  She's a mom of 6 kids and 5 of those live at home. She's a nurse who is now taking the state boards. Her hubby is a cop and her kids, well they're kids. She uses her blog much like a diary except this one isn't private, and it is certainly not written by some little 12 year old girl. Her life must be hectic daily or at least it sure as hell sounds like it. Stop in and enjoy the NOT so Brady Bunch and one crazy mom in action.

  Next is Eve. That's really all I need to say. If you don't know who I'm speaking of then you're not doing your part to keep America clean. That's funny because just is dammit! That's all that needs to be said. Go check out America's favorite trailer trash and mine too today. You might be in for a treat and a drink! Just don't trip on the empty bottles of Jack or the joons whilst yer there vizitin' k?

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A Good Friend or My Buddies?

  I was invited to go to a high school football game tonight. It's the playoffs in this neck of the woods. There are some big games on tap, but I decided I'd accept another invitation. Given how I'm so damn popular and can pick and choose, I chose a movie and dinner afterward. This was was more up my alley. So, it didn't require much thought on my part to decide. The temps are supposed to hit the mid twenties tonight anyway.

  Whatever movie we go to beats the hell out of sitting on aluminum bleachers in freezing temperatures. Shit, I used to think that one of the ways a young guy proved himself was to see how long he could stand being outside in sub freezing weather. You know, that's a real man that can do that shit. The stupid son of a bitch that ever thought that up surely had ice cubes for brains.

  Now that I'm a totally mature asshole I will always take movie and dinner over silly little petty shit like a football game with some buddies. Hell, I can be sitting in a warm theater all nice and quiet. No screaming kids and yelling adults. Afterward there's the restaurant. No hots dogs and nachos tonight. Nope, not for me. I'm not going to the game. I'm going to a movie and dinner.

  Why I'll bet that stadium will be so crowded...people scalping tickets and sneaking in booze. The p.a. address systems that crackles and the cheesy looking scoreboard are still there. It'll all be happening at that ballgame where my friends will be. Yep. I won't be there though. I'll be warm and it will be quiet and relaxing where I'm going. Too quiet maybe. I mean movies usually are.

  Football games are loud though, and hell there's nachos and cold beer and hangin' out. Fuck yeah! I'm a guy. I need that cold aluminum bleacher seat and those loud, boistrous crowds. I need the nachos and hot dogs. Hell yeah, I'm going to the fucking football game with my friends. What kind of real guy goes to a damn stupid ass movie with some air headed chick just so he can be seen with her. Not me! Later bitch...thanks for the invitation, but I've already got plans-Don.

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Living With Robo Mouth

  Yesterday me and my roommate went out of town for the day. Unfortunately, it wasn't to have fun. For me it was really a waste of time. My roommate doesn't drive anymore so I took her to see a doc whose office is about 90 minutes north of our home. I've been to this city many times before. It's not a difficult drive at all, but it's an incredibly boring drive.

  She was supposed to catch a ride with her mom to this clinic, but her mom was scheduled to get a biopsy or some crap like that. Then she tried to get one of her sons to take her, but they couldn't (did not want to). Then her 89 year old aunt was her next draw (she was using a list I made for her). Well, her aunt asked her like four times who she was, so that sort of knocked her from the driver's list. I tried to see if a neighbor could drive her, but Lisa didn't want me to ask that lady because they don't know one another. Actually, I've never met that neighbor either, but the situation was getting desperate. Well, yours truly was the only dipshit left to drive so I got the call.

  For about a 45 minute stretch there is no clear radio signal and nothing but damn pine trees to look at. Nothing but my roomie that is. That's all I had to listen to too, and believe me that increased my boredom level exponentially. She is one of these incessant talkers. Constant, non-stop jabbering. Just small talk, and I hate that. Even though I was constantly telling her she was annoying me and to be quiet, it didn't matter.

  Once, well into the trip back home, I swerved abruptly to scare her and make her think I hit a dog. I thought that would keep her quiet. Actually it did for about 30 seconds before she said, "What kind of dog was it?" I said very politely, "What kind of fucking, stupid question is that? What goddamn difference does that make? Geez Christ!" Then she goes, "Well, I don't guess it does matter, but did you kill it?" "No. Those guts all over the front end of the car belong to the little child that was walking it." I stated plainly. She finally got the hint and shut up.

  I don't mind doing favors for her if I really have to-such as getting "stuck" so to speak. However, my reward for these monumental feats of kindness only seems to come when she's choking or sneezing. That's the only time I'm not listening to her run her mouth. She even talks in her sleep, and I sleep 2 doors down the hallway...I should just get a parrot. At least I can throw a towel over it's cage-Don.

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Man vs. Machine...Again?

  Tuesday afternoon my computer crashes...just says "fuck you I'm outta here" and shuts down. My first thought was that it's nothing a simple reboot won't solve. Afterall, it was running fine up until then. I click restart and this bad boy backs out of everything just like it should. It shuts down briefly, as usual, and restarted. Great, nothing to it. Nothing to it until a bright blue screen popped up. It was plastered with text but only remained on for like 3 seconds before going to a DOS type of screen. Simply stated it said that my computer was fucked up and what did I plan on doing about it?

  Given I only had two choices I chose to let the 'puter try to fix itself rather than let it try to start normally which it obviously would have trouble doing. So it runs through some boring damn diagnostics shit and then tells me it cannot repair itself. Essentially, my 'puter with the attitude was saying to me, "look you brain dead asshole I'm down, and I'm not coming back to life moron!"

  All day today (Weds.) I'm still without a computer and I'm wishing that all of those times I've cursed it and kicked and spit on it that I had just been sweet to it instead. Like petting it and talking to it. Sane shit like that. Damned this was really reaching a major mental breakdown level. Withdrawals began to set in. I began shaking and getting dizzy. So, I broke down and called a computer geek friend of mine.

   My geek buddy showed later today...in time for supper. He spent about 30 minutes working with it before he had it up and running like a charm. I explained to him what I had already done to it, and he said that I was literally one click away from fixing it myself. Unfortunately, that's at the point where I became too pissed to go on and just walked away from it. One fucking click away from satisfaction, joy and my beloved interwebz.  Maybe an extra shot of whiskey would have helped before I got knee deep in it. I may have even made that one last click-doubt it-Don.

  

 

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Synonyms: Raking and Waterboarding

  I hate raking leaves and straw. In fact, I hate rakes! I don't mind mowing a sloped large lawn with a push mower. That's kinda fun actually and great exercise. But I can't stand the thought of raking a damn thing. We have to bag our leaves too, and that just makes it more of a pain in the ass. What's a fella to do I ask?

  I don't know why I have developed this great hatred of rakes and raking. There's just something about busting your ass gathering and then putting all of that crap in bags that pisses me off. One problem that I have with the whole raking scenario is knowing full fucking well that the moment you tie up that last huge bag then wham! You get hit by a strong gust of wind that makes all of your half ass efforts meaningless.

  If I see a kid or two walking around the hood with rakes in hand then I'll get them to do the job this year. We both win. They pick up some legitimate bucks and I can sit on my ass. There's nothing like ass sitting when your yard is getting cleaned up by someone other than yourself. Sometimes these little junior homeless people even do a decent job. If they do a really good job then I'll give them something extra like a piece of stale cake.

  Anyway, with the holidays quickly approaching, and thinking that any out of town guest that may come over really give a shit whether I've raked the lawn or not, I'll track down somebody to do the job. Anybody but me! I'll even invest in a new rake for the right person if they agree to come back once a month for 6 months and rake it for free. Ha! No such luck. All of my damn generosity and holiday cheerfulness for what? Heartaches...nothing but fucking heartaches! Damned leaves...straw. I'm gonna go drink some alcohol.-Don.

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Fair Food? Fair Food!

  Everyone is probably guilty of eating "fair food" at least once in their lives. I think "guilty" is probably too harsh a term for something that good. Although it should be against every law known to man to sell shit like that. God, I love it! Why is that greasy, nasty, awful smelling, fly infested, dirty puddle of grease on a paper plate that contains some former edible food stuffs so good?

  Just take a look at this typical lard palace at a fair in the picture. I see deep fried veggies and deep fried Twinkies. Holy hell they've even got deep fried avocados-"New." What the hell is new? The grease or the avocado? Ummm, and everybody's favorite the old deep fried asparagus! Goddamn, that conjures up some wonderful thoughts...brings a smile of contentment to my face. I see this and I think of shit and puke and flys!

  I used to love that crap to the max. Didn't y'all? I mean the cotton candy and candy apples and just buttered popcorn. I still like an occasional corn dog. Nothing wrong with that right? Garlic fries and deep fried Twinkies for Christ sake? Just in time for Thanksgiving dinner too. Wouldn't a plate of fucking deep fried Twinkies look nice next to grandma's turkey? Mmm, yeah boy!

  I don't do too many fairs and carnivals anymore. It's just by choice. I could probably enjoy walking around the place and watching other people eating fried avocados and giant onions or funnel cakes. Not for me though. Not any more. Now, I can just look and laugh at everybody else. The way they devour that crap like it's their last meal on earth. Geez, I probably looked like that too at one time. That thought alone is enough to make me never eat another fried Ore...uhhh, I mean candied apple.-Don.

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  Welcome readers from all points of the globe including the poor nations that probably don't have internet access, and even if they did probably couldn't read this shit anyway. I am making another foray into the realm of the mist...beyond reality and into the creation not of man but of Al Gore--the bloggersphere and the interwebz...

  Today I shall again choose two of my favorite blogs and/or bloggers to place upon the mantle and once again showcase themselves to all who come into my world. You lucky bastards and bastardettes...This week, like all others before it, has proven to offer difficult choices in that they are all worthy of my special attention and reward. I will begin as always with a quick prayer and ask for guidance in choosing two of the best *praying*...that was a joy!

  Dirty Shanks is Hallmark from Hell. It's hilarious! Some of the funniest and most irreverent cards can be found here, and they're available for all occasions too. With Christmas just around the corner and Thanksgiving in sight, how about some lovely little sweet, quaint cards to send to your loved ones. You're sure you find your needs here. They say what you are afraid to! They're cheap too.

  For an added bonus you get the official Dirty Shanks "Hate Mail" folder to sift through. For example here's a lovely response to a card dealing with suicide:

Sent by bargainz on October 19, 2008:
I am feeling suicidal. Are you proud of encouraging me? This isn't meant to abuse or harass you, just have you consider your impact.
bargainz

  Second up is the immortal Ryan Garns aka Garnzo. Ryan is the father and mother of The Downloadable Ryan Garns. Ryan is a comedy writer who has some experience in stand-up. His satire is hilarious and dead-on-target. If you love good satire, and I mean good, then see me. But if you like great, snot snorting and pants wetting satire, check out Garnzo. It's worth a ride to get to his place for some laughs!

  As always I am yours truly and sincerely and with great concern for your mental health-Don.

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Tailgating Saturday-Football Game Follows

  Tomorrow the university here has a football game. Kickoff is at 2pm, and that's perfect timing for tailgating. All morning and evening into midnight will be spent eating, drinking and puking. Some may even take in the game...not me. I'm hanging with the slobs by the nearest non-empty keg. I'll have a garden hose slipped into somebody's keg and siphoning the suds out before they can say, "Holy Keystone Batman!"

  When I went to Ole Miss tailgating in The Grove was more important than the second coming of Christ, but not quite as important as Archie Manning. The school was, at that time, in a "dry" town (Oxford) in a "dry" county. So naturally that made alcohol on campus illegal, and of course we adhered strictly to the fucking laws. Actually brew and spirits are illegal on the campus' themselves even now, but.....well, come on you know.

  I used to carry a flask full of my favorite whiskey into the stadium like any other red blooded football fan intent on breaking the rules. Now, that's really frowned upon to the point you can be ticketed or even arrested if the cop is a shithead. Well, that was then and this is now. I'll just do my drinking the respectable way, and that is illegally on campus but outside of the stadium. Being a criminal can be a lot of fun with the right bunch of co-conspirators.

  If I ever grow up I want one of those big, bad ass motor homes (coaches) to drive the half of a mile to campus. I'll park it and won't move it for two days. That will give me a day and a half to tailgate and a half a day to figure out where the fucking keys are and who is passed out in the little kitchenette sink. Ahhh, the sights and sounds of tailgating. There's nothing quite like it for sure.

  Football will be over with before you know it and so will tailgating season. No matter how many tailgaters I talk to before and after a game they're always willing to go another hour or two before closing up shop. Always willing to sit and talk a little while longer with a drink in one hand and some greasy remnant of food in the other. Long live tailgating! For without it, there would be no football American style!- Don.

 

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Gangsta Is My New Life

  Why is it that so many kids are running around trying to look like a bunch of greasy little punks with the ghetto shit going on? Is that shit cool or what? I know that in many circles (not gangs) that it's just style. I hate to see some fuck off kid trying to do gangsta when you know full well that turd bucket doesn't leave his mommy for more than one hour at a time. Damn wankers!

  They're totally retarded looking and act every bit as much the role of idiots. Come on shit balls what the hell is going on in your heads you little dipshit nimrods? Is it a social thing? I mean is it some sort of a "statement"? I guess it's like back in the fifties with the greasers or the sixties and the hippies...They're all a bunch of social misfits. I thought that the Brady Bunch sucked...groovy.

  I really do love all of these worthless little scumbags. Really I do. It's in my nature to show love and peace towards the mutants of this world. I can't think of a nicer way of showing my love for these losers than becoming one myself. I mean how is that for faith? Wouldn't that prove to them that while I don't like the way they act that I will support their rights to look like fucking fools?

  That's what I intend to do. I'll try not to hammer these punk's looks or behaviors. It will be sort of like my Christmas gift to lame asshole gangsta types worldwide. From now on you all have my support. You know what they say, "If'n ya caint jern 'em, buss a cap on teh head."-Don-(That's Snowman on da skreet).

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My Friend The Porker

  A good buddy of mine stopped by earlier today to hang out for awhile. We hadn't seen one another in about four months although we both live in the same town. Calling or texting one another is the usual way that we stay in touch and not visiting. Anyway, when he got to my place and I opened the door to let him in I was really surprised to say the least at the way he looked!

  Being the good friend that I am I didn't hesitate to ask him, "Dude, what the fuck is your major medical issue?" J.D. had gained about 30-40 pounds on an already chubby body. He's only about 5'8" and probably weighed 230lbs. the last I saw of him. So now my pudgy friend is an official morbidly obese fat ass. Fucking gross! I clued him in as clearly as I could what I thought about his appearance. "What the fuck have you done? Get a new haircut? No...wait I have it! Your obese! Did you go home a while back and eat your family? Goddamn!"

  He was pretty embarrassed about the whole face to face visit and I'm glad. I hope that I made his time at my place rather miserable, if it was possible to make him more miserable...It was 68 degrees inside the house and he was sweating! I shit you not! What a slob! After wailing him hard and sparing no insult, he managed somehow to get to his fat little feet and see his way to the door. He wasn't mad at me, and that's just as well. He needed his energy to get to his car and not to waste on me.

  He'll call me back and tell me that nobody else would tell him the things that I told him today. He will say how much he needed to be told how shitty he looks. Blah, blah, blah...Yeah, yeah I've heard it before. Fucking moron will drop dead before age 40, and I have no intention of being there when he does. I reminded him of that today too. Time will tell...-Don.

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Relax It's Time To Go Shopping

  I took my roommate to one of the malls here Sunday. That's something I generally would only do at the request of God. Anyway, the weather was great and I was past due being nice to her. So, I pushed her into the car and made my way across town.

  I didn't want to go Saturday because it's just so fucking crowded. The whole town is like that. Traffic is just worse out in that part of the city. Sunday was a nice, quiet day to go though...I thought!

  What the fuck is up with this shit? I knew that our local economy was in good shape. Our unemployment rates are low and we are now paying below two bucks/gal. for gas. Shit, everybody was making up for skimping on the gas a couple of months ago I guess.

  We got to the food court and noticed that the entire mall was packed with shoppers, kids loitering, security telling kids not to loiter and more shoppers. I suppose that it's an early start to Christmas shopping. I really didn't notice much Christmas pimping at all, but I guess people were checking things out anyway.

  Damn sometimes I just wish people could wait a little longer before beginning Christmas buying. I go to that mall about 2 or 3 times a year. I shop for Christmas gifts the 23rd and 24th of December. Like Sunday I may go one more day out of the year. Now, it's not even safe to go on Sunday. Piss, I thought people were supposed to be in church and going home for a big meal and resting. I didn't know that they all would be in my fucking way all day. From now on I'm just going to call Sunday a day of rest. Didn't someone else say that too?-Don.

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Veteran's Day Salute

  Thanks to all of the veteran's of foreign and in country service. You will never, ever be forgotten by those of us who wish to remain free and without tyranny from and by government or foreign armies. Thanks again...

  Today I'll be spending a better part of the day downtown with Veteran's Day festivities and services. While Memorial Day is typically the day we "remember" our armed forces members that have died, Veteran's Day is the day that we can actually show to the living members-past and present-how much their service means to us. It's a day of celebration for those of us that can and do enjoy living in this country even with all of it's faults.-Don.

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Mr. And Mrs. Coach Aren't So Bad

  The elderly couple that lives across the street from me was outside yesterday enjoying the weather. I already knew them. He was a very long time football coach and college football referee. She was a very, very mean substitute teacher. They're both in their eighties now though, so it's harder for me to hate them like I used to.

  The coach and I first met when I was in the tenth grade which is the same year I had the terrible misfortune of meeting his lovely fucking wife. He was a typical damn coach. You know the type. The badass attitude to go along with the character and look and vocabulary. I could already speak his language though. Mrs. Coach was even scarier. This bitch looked just like the monster in "The Creature From The Black Lagoon." I shit you not!

  Coach had a lot of things to do during school hours so I didn't run into him much. I didn't have him as a teacher either so I really never saw him much during school, and that just suited the shit out of me. Goddamn it though I swear Mrs. Coach was like she was putting roots up my ass! I mean she was a damned substitute--not a regular. She must have substituted every class that I ever had.

  Sometimes a teacher would not be in her class as soon as students began filing in. No big deal except when you began to wonder if the reason was because she wasn't there that day. Then the next thing you might say to a buddy was, "...Oh shit, I hope that Mrs. Coach isn't our...fuck! Goddamn it!" Anyway, we would manage to survive the class and Mr. and Mrs. Coach's constant yelling and intimidation tactics that always worked.

  They were really sweet yesterday. Guess age does that to you. Ya know, you figure that you don't have much longer to live so you'll just try not to go out of the world being the same big fucking assholes you were the entire time that you were here. I did see them smile for the first time too. Maybe age does that as well!-Don.

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After This Weekend I Will Never Smoke A Ham Again

  I invited some friends over to a get together for a Super Bowl game years ago. The plan was just to hangout, drink some beer and eat a pretty large meal. I wasn't going to do tailgate type food but rather regular food that you'd typically sit down to eat. So, I half-assed planned a menu to have ready for the night before--all ingredients on hand and ready to go. No sweat! What the hell could go wrong...?

  The main course was to be a fresh hickory smoked ham from my own smoker and not from some barbeque smokehouse that charges a pile of money for something I could do for nothing. Hell, I'd smoked whole chickens and turkeys without a hitch...big deal. So I went ahead and made the potato salad the night before. I had a few other things that I could get together before the ham went into the smoker that evening.

  About 6:00pm the eve before the big game I put the ham inside of the already hot and awaiting smoker. The wet hickory logs and apple wood went in next on the hot coals. Shit, I could smell it already. 18 lousy hours later and we were going to be chowing down on magnificence ala carte! Crisp and dark on the outside and smoking, juicy tender on the inside...! Hell, I was already getting a hard on from the fucking anticipation.

  After stoking the smoker a time or two before going to bed, I set the alarm to get up about 3am to go reload the smoker if need be. I wake up about 2:00am to go to the bathroom and look outside at the smoker. Shit, it's still smoking like a champ. I crawl back in bed awaiting the 3:00am alarm to go off and add more wood to the coals.

  I woke up about nine the next morning. The fucking pisser alarm clock failed to go off. I step out in frigid weather to feel an ice cold smoker. Sometime between my early morning piss and 9:00am, the whole damn smoker went cold. Even the ham itself felt cold. There was no damn way it could be ready in time for us to eat. I just stuck it in the oven to let it go on cooking that way, but it was going to take forever. I mean this fucking pig's ass was big!

  I figured a bunch of guys and gals were coming over to get some hardcore smoked ham so I did the only thing I could do in such a short time. I went to Wal*Mart. I got some luncheon meat! It wasn't even ham. They were all out and I was too pissed off to keep driving all over the damned place trying to find some. What the hell's wrong with luncheon meat? Damn ole fucking smoked ham is not good for you anyway. I wouldn't hit a bull in the ass with a really fresh smoked ham. Hell, who wants it when you can get Oscar Mayer meat Goddamn it? I didn't believe that shit either.

  I've never attempted another smoked ham. Never! I've kept to proven things such as the smoked chickens and turkeys and such. Next time I have people over for a Super Bowl meal, it's going to be from the oven, but I'll keep a couple of packs of luncheon meat on hand just in case the electricity goes out-Don.

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  Today's edition of the Times features two bloggers that are actually into blogging for fun and blogging for Christ. Wait, that's for next Sunday! If you ever read these two then you'll know that Christ remark was an error on my part...sorry. That reminds me to say a big fucking happy birthday to Billy Graham who turned 90 on Friday.

  I met this capitalist and mom at Humorbloggers where we are both proud members. She's funny, rowdy and very sarcastic! She has a bite like a gummy bear and nice cleavage too! Chica of Lady Sarcasm is also the owner of  Design Bug-a graphics design service. Hence, the reference to capitalism. She, in fact, created my new header(s) and two other smaller graphics that I use in my travels throughout the universe. She's got some other sites that she pimps too. Pointless Poppycock, Photo Projectz and Mini Thoughtz are the others. Geez, what a load!

  My next hot choice is America's favorite cock, that Flowbee hugging son of a bitch himself William McCamment of Dead Rooster! As I write this shoutout to the big cock, he's getting hammered with visits from the good people of Iceland. He's not sure why but it looks like he's been targeted for a vote of some sort. I voted, but I don't know for what...it's written in whatever language they use. Farsi? Somali?

  William and Dead Rooster just broke into the top 100,000 in the Alexa rankings. This is a major deal in blogging. Dead Rooster is less than a year old and already a major and very popular blog! Congratulations. I only hangout with the best as you can tell by my two choices for the coveted Sunday Suck-Up Times shoutout of the week... 

  Both of these bloggers are worth a regular visit trust me. Drop them a comment and tell them Raider sent you. They'll probably wonder who the fuck you're talking about, but that's ok. They will appreciate the thought I'm sure-Don.

 ***Also check out the Humorbloggers Blog...!

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Hey Fat Ass-Wait Your Turn!

  Why is it that some morons feel it is their God given right to butt in line? Have you ever been standing in a not-so-long line that was moving along well? Then out of nowhere comes this smelly fat ass, usually with a fat mouth, that just shoves himself in front of people. So I'm like, "Hey lard ass! What's up with the fat boy move, huh? Yeah, I'm talking to you nimrod...you!" They look at you like they're going to kill you. Occasionally, one may try. I hate pain.

   A lady who was about 5 years older than me butted in front of me at a gas station not long ago. She just stood there, and I tipped my sunglasses to my nose and looked at her. She ignored me. Other people were standing behind us too and they were glancing at me. The cashier asked me if we were "together". My exact response was, "Fuck no! Are you fucking crazy?" The cashier laughed. The people behind me laughed. The lady that butted in front of me taught me some new curse words. She stomped out madder than 10 hells, and I left with a grin on my face. It was another one for the Gipper.

  I cannot stand ill mannered and foul mouthed mother f*uckers with a G*dd*mn son of a b*tch*ng passion. Most of those idiots just don't understand politeness or being treated in a polite manner. I know that most people are not that way (?). However, for the ones that are, you all are a bunch of f*ucking loser morons. Your parents were just as damned ignorant I'm sure. Should you have a shit pile of inbred children running around then I'm sure they'll turn out just like you. Remember, I can kick hard, and if you're fat enough I can out run you. Just stay in line and jerk off. Just don't get any on me. That would be rude too.-Don.

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Don't Worry It's Just The Brakes

  My roommate's mom (Claudia) totaled her car last night on a local highway. The lady is 83 f*ucking years old. The accident happened about 5:15pm local time...at dusk! She claims her brakes failed. The same brakes that "...I just replaced 8 years ago!" What the ....?! Eight goddamn years!?

  She rear ended a car at a traffic signal and then was introduced rectally to a Honda Accord. Nobody went to the hospital but Claudia. She basically was fine but for some disorientation. I considered that normal behavior, but her husband said it wasn't...When she began to ask the same questions over and over and over again I started to laugh so I left the exam room.

  After having gone to my car to finish the beer I brought with me, I headed back inside. Shit, by this time her 2 grandsons were there. They're total morons on a good day. They always act like they have a concussion, but it doesn't take an auto accident for them to suddenly get stupid. My roommate is their mom. She is essentially stoned, cold deaf so when they all get together they have to yell at her. Having 3 or 4 people standing around in the e.r. yelling at one another is not a good idea. It is f*ucking hilarious though.

  The old gal was released from the hospital today. She stayed overnight for observation only. I guess when they realized that being somewhat goofy was just a part of her normal behavior that they decided she was ok. I tried to tell them that the night before when the nurse (whose gender I've yet to determine) asked me if she seemed to be ok. I'm glad she is alright though-really. However, the outing at her expense did provide for some entertaining moments-I even love the little people-Don.

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Beware-The Rat Guy Cometh

  This is one of my favorite pictures of a rat. Isn't he cute? I wish that I had many more like it instead of the kind that run around eating food in my pantry. They're rats, but not too big. That means that mommy and daddy rat are crawling around somewhere too...Well, what the hell would you do if you were a rat? Tomorrow the rat's reign of terror ends-for a while...

  The exterminator comes tomorrow morning with his assortment of traps and baits. I love the old paper glue traps. Most of the time when a mouse or rat gets on them you can hear them squealing. It's music to my ears. Another one bites the dust. I could almost enjoy having the nasty shits running around were it not for the filth and mess that they bring with them. I mean I enjoy killing them. I used to shoot them with my .22 rifle loaded with "ratshot"-ahhh, the memories. How sweet the sound of dying vermin.

  This will be the second visit by the exterminator this year for a rat issue. It's not an infestation at all. I mean that if I see one mouse or rat, then I call. That means that there's more crawling around, but not enough to be dangerous at that stage. I live next to a wooded lot so I believe that's where they may be coming from. I'm not sure how they're getting in the house. I suspect on place though, and I'll find out in the next day or two for sure. I'm going to have the rat guy load it with traps.

  By the weekend I should not be having any more signs of the nasty little rodent bastards. That's a good thing too. I like to watch some football and kick back with some buddies and drink a cold beer. There's nothing harder to me than trying to keep up with a game while chugging a cold beer and chasing rats all at the same time. The furry f*ucker usually escapes my deadly aim with the empty can, but he won't escape the wrath of Don tomorrow when the rat guy makes his appearance.

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Clowns--A Look At Their Evil Side.

  When I was a little kid, until I reached 50 anyway, clowns always bothered me. Just seeing a clown at the circus or on t.v. would bother me. I used to sit and watch The Bozo Show with my son when he was about 6-yrs. old. He loved it. It weirded me out. Something about an adult putting on enormous amounts of makeup and playing with little kids...Then their obnoxious behavior is really freaky.



  I see - not a clown - but, I see an evil clown! Big difference believe me. I can't really explain it though. My eyes used to get the size of dinner plates when a clown appeared on the horizon - from fear. I could sense them coming. Like some people, especially George Romero, can sense a zombie. Clowns are more dangerous though because they operate 24/7. When I see clowns now I still wonder what their purpose is. I mean, what is their real purpose? I believe that it has something to do with sending evil thoughts to little kids. Thoughts like eat all of your food or some little kid in Africa will starve, or don't masturbate-you'll go blind, and don't eat watermelon seeds or a vine will shoot out of your nose or your ass come to mind.



  A lot of kids truly love clowns. That's either a well adjusted child or the sign of a born again clown - not many of those around I'm sure. I don't hate little Bozos mind you. I just think that they are some kind of messenger of darkness. Ever see Batman or The Dark Night? Now, you tell me what you think of clowns? Sorry, I'm just not into freaky faced, distorted looking creatures that like hanging out with little kids. Funny or not! If I ever see another clown in person, I'll assume that it's harmless, but that won't stop me from looking over my shoulder just in case. If clowns are meant to inject humor or laughter, then they should get into politics and out of my life.-Just the way I see it-Don.



Note: Originally published 7/31/08

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Near Death On The High Seas

   I was thinking the other day that "The Deadliest Catch" should begin a new season soon. That's the show on Discovery that features Alaskan crabbers. I think not only are those guys crazy, but that they have to have a f*ucking iron stomach to match their apparent iron heads. If you watch it then you know what I mean. How does a guy put up with the tossing and rolling on a small boat deck and then chow down on 5,000 calories of greasy, fatty food and not die?

  Me and some of my family went deep sea fishing in the Gulf (Mexico) on my uncle's boat a number of years ago.
We left the harbor and went out about 25 miles. It was hot and bright sunny skies that day. I started out sitting below in the galley-yeah it even had a galley. It was in the shade and air conditioned. As you can see already, I'm not getting into the fishing too well. Well, we started to rig the gear so I went topside and was doing my share. Soon I sat down in one of the chairs and began trolling. Now the f*ucking water wasn't even moving hardly...the boat was. Oh shit though! The more I tried to watch my line and focus on the horizon, the f*ucking sicker I got. Ever try puking in a moving beer can?

  We didn't turn around and come back for a case of seasickness though. I never did try fishing again that day. I went back down to the galley and tried to get over the rocking, but it did no good. The only way I got any relief at all was to go stand on the bow right into the wind. Ever see the movie Titanic? That shit with Leonardo on the bow? They got that idea from me except my head was down.

  I don't get seasick anymore for some reason. It could be because now when I go out on a boat I'm drinking and if I puke I think it's the alcohol doing it instead of the motion. God, that'll be a day I'll never forget! The only diffence between that day and death was that I only turned green and not blue. Other than that it was the same.-Don.

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Fritata & Flounder...They All Beat Turkey

  Ok, so now November is here. Now what? Relax? All of the grocery stores will be stocking food for the holidays. I've always thought that Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas dinners were one in the same. I mean they're about turkeys and ham and greenbean casseroles. Then comes the sweet potatoes and the cranberries, etc. So what's your routine?

  I will eat some sort of non traditional not-so-big-a-deal meal. Last year I had a ribeye with roasted asparagus for Thanksgiving. I think that I ate fried oysters and hushpuppies for Christmas. I am not a traditionalist at all, and people that can't break away from their old ways for just once confuse me. I know a guy that will never eat a Thanksgiving meal unless he has coffee to drink. He'll eat a f*ucking can of dog food as long as he has a cup of goddamn coffee with it.

  This year I can't say for sure what I'll do for the Thanksgiving food fest. I've thought about some fritatas-an egg omelet finished under a broiler. There f*ucking delicious and totally non-traditional for sure. I can add some ham to them. If any old smart farts ask me what I had I can honestly say ham. "Oh, that's delightful! You ate ham. Baked I'll bet...and a greenbean casserole, too." Yeah bitch that's it. You got it.

  Well, it doesn't matter right now anyway. The thought of November just started me thinking about all of that food coming my way soon. I'll probably go for Thanksgiving dinner at my son's house, but they cook non-traditional holiday meals also. Last year it was stuffed flounder...no shit. It was fantastic! I'm going to take some eggs and my fritata pan just in case things don't work out. You never know when they just may join the ranks of the traditional American family-Don.

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  Here we are again. Waiting in line for the latest edition of The Times...I know that you're anxious, but first I am going to sing a verse from Rock of Ages because today is Sunday and I can. *Singing.* Wow, that was relatively invigorating. What are you looking at? Carry on please...

  My first induction into the Times' immortal pages for today is *drumroll* Really Bad Tattoos@The bad ones hurt forever by Captain Dick! For those of you who have yet to catch big Dick and his exploits, you need to get over there today. He goes around (or perhaps they come to him) finding a few of the better tattoos. In his search for perfection however, he uncovers some of the funniest and worst damn pieces of tat shit you have ever imagined. If you have no imagination then his blog also has pictures...

  Next up but not least up is AngieSS of Cup of Snarky. I looked up "Snarky" in the real dictionary-the Urban Dictionary. About all that I can say is, "Uh, yeah." Angie also has another talent that is evident when visiting her blog. Hehehe. It's not just her writing that stands out but her design and layout of the blog itself that makes a visit even more enjoyable.

  If you want to take a break from Somalian beastiality sites or just relax while masturbating, then go to both of these blogs for a few more minutes of self-gratification. It's a great way to relax, laugh and just get off!-Don.

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Links

A Few of BLF's Favorites:
From The Archives 

Metamucil? Oh No You Don't! 
Poop And Parking Lots Don't Mix
Dear Old Mom AsThe Enema Queen 
Divorcing? And The Problem Is...? 
Big Brats and Small Brats and Not A Sausage In Sight  
How I Spent My Monday And I Get The Lousy Lortab
Clowns, A Look At Their Evil Side
My Roommate or My Sausage
Hit and Run Candy Capers
Fair Food? Fair Food
K-Y Jelly on My What?
Fine Dining? Not As Long As There's Bean Dip
Birthday Wishes Countdown
Oh Look, Extra Toppings
Buffet Bulimic
Looks Like Who?
Lemon Ice Box Pie & The Garden Club
I'll Buy The Condoms, But Damn The Maxi Pads!
Hunky Gardener and Jack Something Are My "Friends"
Applebee's Sucks For The Last Time!
Excuse Me, Sir? I Think Your Jelly Doughnut Just Jumped

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It Was All About Saturday Mornings

  What in the hell has happened to Saturday morning television? Shit, I don't want to tune in to the tube at 7am or 8am and watch the stinking news! It's Saturday...assholes! Can't we demand as viewers that the programming must change on Saturday mornings? Where are the "real" cartoons? I mean hand drawn and animated cartoons. Like people with talent used to make...

  Look, I realize that every generation has their favorite Saturday morning shows. There's more to a Saturday morning's worth of fun than just my old favorites. I get it. However, because the ones that I watched were actually the best ever, that's the ones that I miss and want to see again.

  I would usually get up about 7:30am and go to the t.v. Heckle and Jeckle would come on early...Fury and Sky King would follow. In between those masterpiece classics would be Mighty Mouse Playhouse and some Looney Tunes' shorts. Later in the morning I watched Richard Greene as Robin Hood! That son of a bitch was a badass. Maid Marian looked pretty hot to me too. I guess that anything with boobs looked good to me then. I was about eight years old.

  I'd watch my usual line up then I would go outside to play with neighborhood kids the rest of the day. Mom and Dad would watch golf. They loved to play golf so Saturday afternoon television belonged to them. That was ok by me though. Hell, I got my helping of some damned good television the first thing. It just didn't get any better!

  Half of the goddamn shows on weekend mornings now are news related. With all of the cable channels and the elections up in a few days, I'm totally pissed about the lack of good Saturday morning television for kids. The kind that I like. I'm a kid, and I demand some Bugs Bunny, Tweety, Road Runner and all of those guys. Next time I see the Today Show at 8am Saturday morning when Bugs Bunny should be on, I'll just imagine Lester Holt with big ears and a carrot shoved up his nose. That's about as close as I'll ever get again to a "real" Saturday morning-Don.

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