Man I thought you can't stop believing?

I just heard that Steve Perry dropped out of the race for the Republican nomination. I thought he got all popular again after they used "Don't Stop Believing" on the Sopranos? Plus they are always using Journey songs on Glee. That should have made him popular enough to do well in the primaries.

What a pussy. You can't stop believing man. Listen to your own fucking song.

Holy Hekawis Batman!

"Ugh. Gay man in blue tights scare chickens. Please do not rub against my wariors. Especailly Bald Eagle. Just because he manscapes does not mean anything."
"Well my good fellow. You are mistaken. I am very heteronormal. You need not worry."
"If you no bang Julie Newmar as a Catwoman you no bang her as Indian maiden. You are fooling no one Berdacheman."
"I bet you I can bed one of your squaws before the night is over Chief."
"Fine. We seal bet with old Indian tradition. Pinky swear."
"You bet Chief. Bring me to the girls. Get me some with big tits. But first I have to pinch a loaf." Clouds."
"Pogan me Berdacheman."

Revolt in the ranks?

I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!& quot;
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.

Charles Bukowski

Sexy Cows have a tough life

Elsie started to have a hard time keeping her personal life from leaking into her performances. She was supposed to be this clean and wholesome presense who would encourage children to drink milk while still being sexy enough for men to pay attention to her. She had to be someone every man wanted to be with and every woman wanted to be like but it was harder and harder to keep up the pretense. Then it all changed. She fell in love.

She had always had a preferance for the dark meat and loved to hang around Sammy Davis Jr's apartment with Kim Novak and all of Sammy's musician friends. She liked black guys because they were the only ones who could touch the sides. Having sex with those Irish or Jewish guys was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. And Elsie was a very sexual cow.

One day when she showed up at the apartment, Kim told her aside and told her that some football players that Sammy knew were coming by and she would introduce them. They were some players from the Chicago Bears. Mike Ditka. Dick Butkis. Brian Piccolo. And a beautiful young man named Gale Sayers.

Elsie was in love.

(Got Milk, The E True Hollywood of Elsie the Cow)

Sexy Cows have a tough life

Elsie immediately became a big hit. Everyone loved her. Her face was on all the milk cartons and she didn't even have to be hidden in the basement of a Penn State Assistant coach. She made tons of personal appearances and was always on call to do the Jack Parr show when they couldn't get Hildegarde or Topo Giggio. She was the toast of the Worlds Fair and was photographed all around town. Jack Kennedy invited her to the White House and the rumor is he was obsessed with having sex with her teats in the White House pool. He had a bad back so they had to be careful when they had sex. Kennedy was famous for having his two secretaries Fiddle and Faddle get naked and have sex with him in the White House pool. They were a little freaked out about including a cow in their sex games but they knew that JFK was into bestiality since one of his favorite things was getting a rim job from Helen Thomas. So they would all splash around in the pool like a bunch of perverted otters as Fiddly and Faddle would hold Elsie's teats around JFK's tiny Irish member as he moved back and .....err it was pretty kinky.

With all that hdhouse made sure that Elsie had a pristine image. She was in the tabloids having milkshakes with Pat Boone and eating grilled cheese sandwiches at the Stage Deli with Chuck McCann after she had appeared on his show to tell all the boys and girls to drink their milk.

They even made a pilot where Elsie played a suburban matron with two young kids called "Leave it to Bovine" but they decided to go with a Beaver instead.

Elsie was very dissappointed.
(Got Milk, The E True Hollywood of Elsie the Cow)

Commenter Memories Number 127 Allie makes yogurt for Jamie Lee Curtis

Allie said...
You got a point there Ken. I incubate my yogurt for up to 24 hours, it gets tart but not nearly as sour as commercial yogurt. The whole milk makes it less so I think. I then drain it in cheesecloth and get a beautiful Greek yogurt, it's amazing. Drain it even longer and you get yo- cheese, so healthy.

What's next is a healthy almost 60 year old woman, and lotsa life worth living to the fullest. But overindulgence in anything isn't good for you, alcohol, blogging, self adoration, clutter phobia.

On the other hand deprivation isn't healthy either, lots of good female friends, handsome older gents(my son in law calls one of my admirers " the silverback" because of his resemblance to an aging gorilla), an occasional overnight guest and a sense of humor above all. It's all a balancing act, makes life interesting , nooooo boredom allowed, oh noes.

That's why when Jamie Lee Curtis called me up to try my yogurt recipe I was happy to have come over. We made yogurt and experimented with a couple of flavors. Apple. Raspberry. Boysenberry. Pumpkin. Baily's Irish Cream. Glenn Fiddich. Mary Jane. We kept eating yogurt and going to the bathroom. It just kept getting hotter and hotter and we started taking off one piece of clothing after another. Before you know it we were topless in our panties smearing yogurt on each other's nipples and licking it off. It was one of the wildest nights I have had.

And it's true.

She is a hermaphrodite.

Not that there is anything wrong with that.

You might as well finish up!

The Reverend John Fuzz was a pastor of a small congregation in a little Pennsylvania town. One day he was walking down Main Street and he happened to notice a female member of his congregation sitting in the town bar, drinking beer and carrying on with another married member of his congregation.

The reverend thought this was outrageous and not something a member of his congregation should do. He walked through the open door of the bar and started berating the woman. "Mrs Fitzgerald," the reverend said sternly. "This is no place for a member of my congregation. This is not something I can let you do. Why don't you let me take you home?"

"Sure," she said with a slur, obviously very drunk."I know you want a piece of this. I see how you look at me on Sunday. Com'ere you big sweet hunk of cheese."

When Mrs. Fitzgerald stood up from the bar, she began to weave back and forth. The reverend realized that she had had too much to drink and he grabbed her arms to steady her. When he did, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor. After rolling around for a few seconds, the reverend wound up laying on top of Mrs. Fitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist. She wasn't wearing any panties.

The bartender looked over the bar and said, "Here, here buddy, we won't have any of that shit out in the bar! Take it outside to the parking lot."

The reverend looked up at the bartender and said, "But you don't understand, I'm Pastor Fuzz."

The bartender nodded and said, "Hell then, if you're that far in, you might as well finish up."

The Dubious Case of the Disappearing Douchebag

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been some time since I have last requested you assistance in the troubling matter of the not so recent disappearance of Lord Douchebag. This curious case has dragged on and on. However I am pleased to announce that the case if officially closed due to lack of interest. My superiors at the Yard have directed me to move on and no longer investigate this matter as they are bored and do not consider a Douchebag important enough to devote any resources to this investigation.

In view of these facts I would like to consult you on a different matter entirely. It seems that a member of Parliament has decided to present himself for consideration as Prime Minister and has caused quite a bit of consternation in the ranks of the Tory Party. As such they have asked that the Yard investigate to determine if they should take him seriously and I have been directed to pursue inquires along this line. You will of course understand the need for discretion as I can not commit his name to this missive in case it might fall into the wrong hands.

The first question is the matter of his ancestry. He appears to be a Moor or perhaps a Hottentot. Although he has a full mastery of the English language, he speaks with a strange intonation as though he might be originally a native of the Southern part of the United States. One would think that he might be from South Africa as he is often referred to as a Boer but I believe that might be a misnomer as he is reality a Bore.

Then there is the question of his prior employment as the owner of several taverns that specialize in the sale of large pieces of bread covered in various vegetables and meats that would be consumed by weary travelers on the roads of the commonwealth. It seems that some controversies have developed over his relationships with some of the tavern wenches who claim he might have been overfamilar with their persons. Given the history of the behavior of these strumpets it is hard to imagine what they would consider overfamiliarity but I would venture to suggest it would include nakedness, debauchery and whale oil. I will endeavor to determine the details and will reserve judgment until we have developed more facts.

Finally there is the matter of the strange attire that this Member has occasion to wear to Parliament. He often wears what is considered normal if somewhat somber garb but occasional appears in a breechcloth and headdress without explanation. There seems to be no rhyme no reason to his choice of costume and your input as to his dress would be most helpful as you sometime change your attire in what some would consider an inappropriate way. So perhaps you might give some perspective as to his sartorial choices.

I would like to ask if you would consider if you might serve as a resource and consultant regarding this matter as your experience and deductive talents lend itself to determining a line of questioning when we have so few facts to rely on in our investigation.

I hope all is well with you and Doctor Watson and wish that you convey my best wishes to your estimable brother Mycroft. I have not seen him at the club since that unfortunate business with the stable boy and the bloodied knickers. I hope that situation has been resolved amicably and without the need for further involvement of the Queen's justice.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
November 5, 1898

An announcement.

After long and serious consideration I have decided to end any participation or relationship with the Althouse blog.

The continuing harassment of J is an annoyance but the peace I have found by not going over there these past few weeks has been profound. Wading through the nonsense of sock puppets and the likes of Carol Herman and Jeremy's new manisfestation are just not worth the effort. The conversation has deteriorated beyond redemption.

Plus I have many new and exciting things to talk about in the coming weeks. I hope those of youse who enjoy this blog will continue to drop by and say your piece. I enjoy all of youse guys and hope you have some yuks over here.

Life is too short to deal with this nonsense and like many another commenter I have had enough of what goes on when you are a part of the evil blogger ladies world.

I hate it when they have on repeats!

There is not a Real Housewives of New Jersey this week and I am pretty upset. I look forward to getting my of fix of the idiocy that is this show. Especially my man Richie.

Now if you read some of the message boards or blogs about the show you will see that everyone hates Richie Wakile who is married to Kathy one of the new Housewives who is Teresa Giudices cousin. They hate on him because he is a wise guy. Never takes anything seriously. Always making jokes. Usually dirty smutty one.

In other words he reminds me of me.

You gotta love the guy.

Jeff-er-ry stop that!

"Jeff-er-ry stop that!"
"Why you so mean Jeff-er-ry?"
"I much smarter than you Jeff-er-ry!"
"Leave me alone. I have to watch my tella-novella's. Then I will talk to you."
"Monkey pooped in the closet and I don't pick it up. You pick it up Jeff-er-ry!"
"I want new breasts for Christmas."

Did you ever forget your glasses?

I forgot them the other day. I couldn't read anything. I thought they would have these new super duper contraptions by the year 2000. What a gyp.

The Sackett Weiner

Cap Roundtree poured himself a cup of coffee the pot boiling on the pot bellied stove.

Orrin leaned back in his chair at the desk as the cold wind whipped tumbleweeds through the street. A paint pony knickered at the livery at the sound of an owl of the night.

Suddenly we heard the sound of someone running down the boardwalk. The telegrapher’s clerk burst through the door.“Here Sheriff it just came over the wire.” He handed it over to Orrin.

“This is bad Ty.” He slid over the paper. It was a photo of a penis.“The Weiner gang is back. And they are on their way into town.”

"We better get Tell. I think he had some dealings with the Weiners in that mining camp."

Commenter Memories Number 89 - Amanda is pensive

As I toss and churn in my lonely bed
I dream of dreams that are truly dead
Of a silky pony that held my heart
A fighting Weiner that twitched my twat.
But those are hopes that have long fled
As I sweat and lament in fear and dread
While the shape of my future life begins
I am sorry I’m thinking of cat’s again.

(Marcotte’s Lament 2011)

More Men in Black Bullshit!

So they filmed a scene last night. What they filmed was a chase scene as a bunch of sixties vintage cars rolled down Court St and two stunt men on a motorcyle went the wrong way up Court St. For some reason they are setting in Queens. I think because they had filmed in Flushing Meadow Park.

Here they set up a phony subway stop on the corner of my block. It says "Elmhurst" station and has sixties era signage. It is made out of wood and the blue paper is for the CGI to put something in ....maybe some aliens?

Here is the funny part. As we were walking down the street to the Mexican restauarnt after we closed the store they kept stopping us as they filmed. Which I didn't like too much and I gave them a hard time. Now they has a bunch of people hanging around on the street wearing period costumes. They doubled as crowd control and as extras. One black dude was there all dressed in a sixties style with a hipster sixties hat and all. So I go to him "Dude who is the technical advisor on this flick...he fucked it all up." He goes 'What do you mean?" " I go "Dude ....in the 1960's ....you weren't allowed on Court St. Just sayn'"

The wife punched me for that one.