Beware this Blog post.

What I am about to show you is dangerous.  It’s frightening and sortta depressing all at the same time.  It’s a sight so not-rare-enough that at times it’s all I can do to keep myself from climbing the nearest clock tower and spreading some high caliber love amongst the dumbasses that walk amongst us masquerading as useful members of society.

Steel yourselves to witness proof that our gene puddle is getting more and more muddled with dreck.

I took these pics outside Elmer’s grocery store in Escanaba this summer.  Exhibit  #1 shows the classic maneuver used by someone who purposefully takes up two spots to make sure no one will park next to him and accidentally ding the door.  Two problems.  1) If you do this and don’t take two spots that are on the outlying periphery of the lot, then you are a dickhead.  2) You took up two spots one in front of the other which doesn’t make sense.  I do the “pull through” all the time so I don’t have to back out of spots, but that still only involves taking one spot.  This genius takes up two spots one in front of the other.  Not enough energy to pull all the way through to the facing spot?  Too stupid to realize he overshot the first spot?  Maybe he just kept driving until his phone call ended and that just happens to be where the operator at 1-800-Bukkake-Me finally hung up on him.

Exhibit #1:  I can’t wait to see what happens to me when I hit my mid-life crisis.  Will I be the convertible guy or will I be the guy who has candy dishes filled with Viagra in every room of the house?

In Exhibit #2 posted below,  we see that the almost-pull-through guy, broke not one, but two of three imaginary planes of the typical angle parking space.  How sucky a driver do you have to be in order to do that?  We now have to assume he was not simply in a hurry, not simply just distracted, but simply the victim of some of the worst fetal alcohol poisoning that didn’t result in complete fetusplosion whilst he was in the womb.  I’m not sure how he made it out of his mother’s vagina alive, much less  how he ever managed to get a license to drive.  Nevertheless, I want to assure him that no matter how well he takes care of his little Nissan Roadster, it’s moves like this that will always make him a cancre on the ass of humanity.

Exhibit #2: Either neither one of these people can park or I have found evidence to support my theory.  My theory is that stupidity has it’s own gravitational pull which gradually drew these vehicles closer.  This would also explain the large crowds at monster truck rallies.

Here is where it gets scary.  Notice the Dodge to the left of FAS boy? He has done the same damn thing. He has forcibly penetrated two thirds of the imaginary walls of angle parking that were created by sweet baby Jesus himself to keep our grocery store parking lots from becoming pure Mad Max style chaos.  The amount of such stupidity all gathered into one place is staggering.  Those of you afraid of the possible effect of the atom smashing Hadron Collider need to relax.  It’s the gathering of anti-intelligence such as documented in these pictures, that has a much greater chance of effectively ending life as we know it.  At some point the dumbass factor will hit critical mass and rip some sort of hole in the time space continuum by creating a super nova of stupid.

Now if you haven’t already noticed the silver Toyota in the background of Exhibit #2, I will point out that he also has broken one of the parking planes and he has left a good two+ feet of the ass end of his truck in the road.  For those of you counting, that’s parking lines 4, Imbecilic Anarchy 5. I wanted to forgive Toyota-boy  for leaving the tail end of his truck hanging out at first because it was pretty obvious that he got there last and was partially inhibited by the Dodge half-hearted-pull-through guy.  Then I saw that he was also completely cockeyed in his spot and all my good will vanished like heroin off Lindsay Lohan’s coffee table. 

Exhibit #3:  Mr. Silver Toyota…ninety-seven other open spots, and you choose to park right between Chippy the magical retard and Funderburke “Ponies make me happy!” Pyle.  I hope they both smashed your quarter panels.

Singularly, none of these sad excuses for parking are unusual as I am sure both of my faithful readers know.  But to do this in triplicate?  All of them in spots that are diagonally connected?  This is surely a sign of the apocalypse.  I couldn’t be more sure than if the convertible had a 666 license plate, the Dodge sported a 2012 decal in the back window, and I had personally witnessed Dick Cheney driving the Toyota into that spot.  This is it my friends.  It’s over.  I’m surprised I wasn’t sucked into some sort of hellish nether dimension ala Poltergeist just from getting close enough take these cell phone pics.

My good fortune in surviving this encounter, allows me to warn all of you. The end is nigh. Make peace with your maker.  Hug your wife one last time.  Call everyone you love…demand they give you the money they owe you and then use the money so you can go snort blow off the ass of that transgender hooker you’ve had your eye on because this little Uno game of life is just about done.


Christmas Stories that Never Really Caught On.

Christmas time is a wonderful time of year for a lot of reasons.  Candy, Christmas songs, presents, brotherhood and the wonderful juxtaposition of girls in Santa themed bikinis not the least of those reasons.

I look forward to this every year.

Plus, there is the wonderful Christmas literature.  The stories told and re-told over the generations that just seem to get better and better with the passage of time.  Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,  Frosty the Snowman, Twas the Night Before ChristmasA Christmas Carol….legends, classics all.  Not everything written about Christmas has made it to legendary status however and some of the classics have received updates and sequels that just never quite matched up with the pantheon of Christmas tales we all know and love.

  Here is a short list of a few Christmas stories that never caught on:

Santa Grows a Lesion – 
Is it a small wonder if he finally caught something after kissing all those married women under the mistletoe all these years?  Does penicillin work on merry old elves?  I’m kinda surprised Mrs. Claus hasn’t Bobbited him years ago. 

Santa’s Mommy kissing abilities are so legendary they wrote a song about it for crying out loud! (

A Charlie Brown Abortion – 
You knew that love/hate thing Charlie and Lucy always displayed was all just foreplay.  Foreplay does usually eventually lead to something.  Turns out that Charlie couldn’t repay Lucy for all those 5ยข psychiatry sessions.  Lucy arranged for another way for Charlie to pay her back after Charlie got in over his head (it’s me…of course the pun was intended.  Don’t ask silly questions.)  

Antonio Banderas stars in a powerful, heartfelt voiceover portrayal of Charlie Brown’s father.  In a touching scene between he and Charlie, Banderas quite poignantly says, “Waahwahwah, wah wah wah…wah wah.”  Tears flowed in the test audiences, but this Peanuts installment never caught on.

Look at that lustful leer! 
Rudolph Takes a Beatdown –
The don’t ask, don’t tell policy of all the other reindeer only worked for so long before it all devolved into a tragic and horrific tale of prejudice and cruelty that results in Rudolph being forced out of the reindeer corps when his true relationship with Hermey, the elf, is discovered.  Parental Guidance is suggested due to scenes of explicit beastiality and violence.   It’s too bad because I believe there is a real lesson for the kids about the evil of intolerance in this one.

Okay, but next time I get to be on top!
Frosty Runs a Racket –
Frosty goes all Tony Soprano when he discovers there is more than one kind of snow he is an expert in.  However his penchant for snorting coke as well as dealing it eventually gets him into trouble.  His paranoia that everyone is out to get his hat rivals that of the Lucky Charms leprechaun freaking out about his fucking marshmallows.   Of course it was his best friend the rabbit that got Frosty hooked.  We should have guessed from the get-go that bunny was wired on something.
A tweaked Frosty shortly before the hallucinations take over.  

I think randomly.

I haven’t written anything I feel comfortable posting publicly lately.  That’s right.  I even do writing I choose to keep to myself.  Unlike Alanis Morissette, there are thoughts and events that occur in my life that I do not have to turn into song.

Speaking of which, how would you like to be one of Alanis Morissette’s ex-boyfriends?  Would you be relieved that she hasn’t publicly ridiculed you in song yet or would you be insulted that she hasn’t gotten to you yet?


My Pimp Car, ( ) broke down after only a week.  The water pump went kerblooie.  I knew I should have gotten that 200 miles or 8 days warranty.  I will give the name of the dealership because they did right by us.  Halbinsel in Escanaba sold us the car.  A water pump is one of those things that can appear to be working fine one minute and go all Hiroshima on your engine’s ass the next minute so there is no way they could have known that was going to happen.  They covered us for 100% of the repairs.  It has been so long since any retail establishment gave me a fair shake I was totally expecting to get hosed on this deal, too.

So anyways, I want to thank Halbinsel in Escanaba for apparently running an honest shop.  Times are tough for the Harrises right now and the amount of stress they saved us by doing the right thing was greatly appreciated.  I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but there may be a gift of the single malt variety headed your way at some point.

That being said, I wont’ fall all over myself because it also was the correct long range business decision to make as well.  I will be buying many more vehicles in the years to come and now, by default, they get first shot at making me a deal.  So, I guess extra credit goes to Halbinsel for not being as shortsighted as the boys down at Riverside in Escanaba.  BTW, Riverside…if you are listening…I have purchased five more vehicles since you fucked me on my warranty on my truck and you didn’t have a hope in hell of selling me a single one.  Keep up the good customer relations boys.


I started my Christmas shopping at the end of October.  Thank you, ebay.  You have saved countless lives by keeping me from having to deal with the smelly unwashed hordes in the shopping malls.  Every year it seemed I was always just one more dumbass cashier, one more whiny kid, one more rude adult, one more price check away from hiding in the food court ball pit with a sniper rifle.  Merry Christmas to me.


Thanks to my cohorts at work who talked me down from the ledge a couple times this week.  You are good, patient folks.


Of course, thanks to all the veterans this week and every week.


Thanks to you, Diet Mountain Dew.  Without you, none of this would be possible.

My pimp car is strong.

After three weeks of playing phone tag with banks, lien holders, insurance companies, and lawyers (Oh my?)…we finally seem to own a car. It is an ultra-sexy, ultra-hot car with a cool factor rating that makes Einstein’s IQ look like a shoe size.

Here you go. 

Is it a car or an aphrodisiac?

It’s a 2003 Buick LeSabre Limited.  It has bells and whistles that I thought only existed on devices in Willy Wonka movies.  For example the mirrors automatically adjust when you put it in reverse so you can “better see obstacles in the rear,” according to the manual.  Plus it has seat heaters,  an LCD compass, auto darkening rear view mirror…jacuzzi,  porta-potty, and it comes with a full time soda jerk replete with one of those funny paper hats.

Actual view of LeSabre’s back seat.

Check out these photos of the dash if the dazzling sexiness of the exterior already hasn’t blinded you to all other awesomeness. 

I’m trying to trick you.  Only one of the two pics above is actually from my car.  Can you guess which? That’s right.  It’s the much cooler bottom one.  The top one would have looked almost as good as the Buick dash if it had come with some awesome plasticky looking faux wood grain like the dash on the LeSabrator.

But wait…what’s that?  You want to know is that really a cassette tape deck in the middle of that dash?

Fucking ay right it is.

Why do I have a cassette tape deck, you ask?

Cause I couldn’t find a LeSabre that would play eight track tapes, bitches.

We started out looking for something that was fuel efficient and cute like the little Focus was.  We looked for a Pontiac Vibe, a Toyota Matrix, a Dodge Caliber, a Malibu Maxx, and a P.T. Cruiser.  What do all those have in common aside from the fact that they all sound like names you would find in the credits of a gay porn film?  They all have shitty reliability ratings, four cylinder engines, don’t get that great a gas mileage despite having an engine with barely enough power to juice a squirrel, and it is near impossible to find one with a manual transmission.

I’ve had quite enough of the shitty reliability thing thanks to the old Ford Focus which is why we drowned it in the first place.  I can handle the four cylinder engine thing…IF it is a stick shift.    Those teeny cars we initially looked at are also so light that winter driving requires great care and when you make it worse by taking away the engine braking capacity of a stick shift and put an automatic tranny in it…then I think they are downright dangerous.

So we had to change tactics during the great car hunt.  We decided to spend about 33% less money and buy a car we knew would be a little better in the winter.  So, in walks the big bad Buick beauty.  Every inch of it screams, “Drive me! (carefully).  Every line of it screams, “Exxxcitement!” (If you would consider a refrigerator box exciting.)  It handles like a dream!  (If you have ever dreamed of driving a refrigerator box.)  Everything from the seating position to to the sorta-leather seats screams SEX ON ME!  (Copyright pending on the term “sorta-leather.”)

These seats …are an orgy launching pad just waiting for clearance from Phallus Central.

It will fit an entire fraternity party in the trunk, and the soda fountain in the back will seat the population of your average Honduran family.    The car is big, American, strong, and everything I always wanted in a vehicle minus the disco ball.  I’m thinking of putting a pair of truck nutz on it, too because…I mean, why wouldn’t I?

Truck nutz…Bush/Cheney bumper sticker.  Somehow that doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me.

Actually, the Buick was in our price range, has some of the most outstanding safety and reliability ratings of anything I researched, is the color of oatmeal and just about as spicy, too.  It does get as good or better mileage than some of those little four cylinder toy cars I mentioned before.  Side curtain air bags are a plus, but still not really the first thing the opposite sex notices about one’s ride typically.  Plus it’s so big and overblown it should be heavy enough for winter driving.

The sorta-leather seats are also easy for the soda jerk to clean up when he spills.