Remembrance of things Pabst

So we have this favorite Thai restaurant called Nine D which is on the corner of our block. This is very convient because we love Thai food and go there or get take out a couple of nights a week. Now we love Thai as opposed to Chinese food because all of the ingredients are fresh and there is no MSG. At least the way Nine D does which are miles above all the Ptomaine Palaces we have for Chinese food in the neighborhood.

Now we like sit in the restaurant in the fall and winter but the wife doesn’t like to go there in the summer because they don’t turn on the air conditioner all the time. You see they have these big open windows and on a cool night there is a breeze. But only in the first two tables near the windows. The further back you go in the restaurant the warmer it gets and the wife can’t take warm especially after a long day of work. I mean all the dirty hippie hipster doufous assholes are so dirty and smelly they don’t care how much they sweat so they happily sit in the sweltering seats.

What we usually do is the wife goes home to change and I go and order the take out. I sit at the little bar area and have a beer while I am waiting. Now I almost never call for delivery of take out. Even pizza. I will call and put in an order and then come and pick it up. Only because every single time I ordered something it comes wrong. They forget something or screw something up and you have to call them and they have to come back and it is always a big bullshit story. So I put in the order and wait and when the food comes I ask some questions. “Are the spring rolls in there” “Did you give us peanut sauce” “Did you put in Chop Sticks.” Usually there is something wrong and they fix it.

You see we have become very good friends with the owner and the workers in the shop. They have come to our house for parties and barbeques and stuff. So I always get a big hello and the owner loves to hug and kiss the wife every time we come in to eat. We always get great treatment. The girls in the restaurant love to teach my wife dirty words in Thai. She hates those little mushrooms you get with the caps on that look like little penises. So she was joking with the girls and they told us the dirty word for penis in Thai sounds something like Sequoia. So when we order Chicken with Basil she always says “No Sequoia” and all the girls giggle. And if there are Thai people in the store they look amazed to say the least. We always have a laugh there. In fact sometimes the people at the tables stare at us joking around and laughing with the girls behind the counter. You can almost see the thought balloons over their heads “Who are these people and why are they all having a good time and I am stuck here with a bunch of nerdy people in Che t-shirts.”

Anyway we had a tough day yesterday so after I put in the order I got two beers. Which made them laugh because I told them it was a two fisted drinking day. Amy the owner and chef came out of the back and asked after the wife and what not and then went in the back to oversee the kitchen. I slop down the beers and the food comes and stupidly I don’t go through as I usually do. I just say goodnight and take the paper shopping bag and go home.

Well I take all the stuff out and sure enough they forgot something. No rice. I hate to eat the spicy Thai food with out some rice because the Beef Basil is very spicy and I need the rice to cut the heat. The wife is all “Call up and tell them to bring it …I don’t want you to go out again…the food will get cold.” Now I didn’t want to call because it would take forever and the food would be cold anyway. So I decided to go out and get it since all they had to do is scoop out the rice from the rice cooker and it would take about a minute. But there was one big problem.

You see I had already changed. I had taken off my uniform of a Hawaiian shirt and long khaki pants and boat shoes and was lounging around in gym shorts and a wife beater t-shirt. I figured the only way to punish them properly was to show up in the restaurant in my slippers with my gut hanging out and stray hairs poking out of my shirt and shorts. Think a dissipated Stanley Kowalski channeling George the Animal Steele. The wife was freakin out and said I had to at least put the shirt on so people wouldn’t start puking at the tables. I had to agree she had a good point.

So I walk around the corner and go “He you forgot my rice what’s up with that?” And they do the time honored thing that all employees do. “It’s Amy’s fault, she messed up.” First thing they do is throw the boss under the bus. I had to say I was proud of them.

They are real Americans now.

Oh Shirt!

The new Hawaiian Shirts are in! Fresh from Oahu and the Honolulu Shirt company is a new batch of shirts for the new season.

I am very happy!

Here we have a new favorite Florida style shirt with alligators and killer whales. As well as a simple flowery one for more sedate occasions. You know. Like church.

Here we have two of our favorite recurring motifs. Drunken parrots and tropical drinks. They just go together.

These are my two favorites. You have already seen the Florida one. But the gambling one is way cool. it has cards and a drink and dice and chips. But best of all it has a stubby cigar sitting on an ashtray that looks like a penis. Right on your nipple. Makes a statement you know what I mean?

Of course the wife is a fashionista and asked me what was I thinking? I told her "Hey they were originally $100 but they were on sale for $19.99 Why would they do that?" She said "I think I know."

I don't care. I like them. They are officially in the rotation.

American Idol is back and we are all over it!

American Idol is back and we are all over it.

Day one was in Boston and the crazy started from the beginning. The first one up was a foul mouthed Irish broad who was wearing a pink belly shirt. An unfortunate choice. She needs to find out how to dress because she could have looked great but she had to get clothes that fit. Anyway she kept jumping up and down and was a stone psycho. They had that twit Posh Spice as a guest judge so with Kara they made up a new act: The Skeleton Sisters. The judges got her out as fast as possible.

They had this girl who had a heart rending story. She came from a huge family and her next youngest sibling was a Downs Syndrome baby. Her family ending up adopting three more Downs Syndrome kids and they were all there to cheer her on. I admit I teared up. Of course the wife was weeping for ten minutes but she is a big softie. Anyway she was pretty good and I hope she doesn’t get lost in Hollywood.

They had a couple of other typical stories: Cancer Guy, family troubles the whole nine yards. But the worst was this little Irish pishser who came with his whole family dressed in t-shirts with his name on it. Man did he suck. Thank God he was kicked to the curb.

By the way Paula is really, really missed. The first dofus actually called Kara: “Paula” and she freaked. She also freaked on this dude with crazy eyes who was the last person to audition. She was in full bitch mode that nobody thinks she has earned yet and Simon’s disgust is palpable. No wonder he is quitting. I mean at least with Paula next to him he could entertain himself by making her crazy. Now he just wants to get the hell out of there.

The next day they were in Atlanta. Mary J. Blige was the guest judge and she had a real hard time not laughing at the idiots who were singing. She had to keep hiding her face and would shout out stuff like “Oh no!” and “My Lord” and all kinds of stuff. Pretty funny actually.

Now there were a lot of goobers in this show. One young girl is being set up to be this seasons Kelly Pickler. They pimped her with a video and a visit to her one horse town in Tennessee. I think she lives next to the Instapundit’s trailer. Anyway they show her jumping off a bridge in a bikini. Now some of these guys should really jump off a bridge but this was all in good fun. She made it to Hollywood singing a Loretta Lynn song in a real country voice. It’s a Loretta Lynn voice because you can listen for about two minutes before you change the radio dial. Unless you are a goober of course. She will not survive Hollywood.

They totally mocked this other skinny inbred bad tooth goober dude. They had videos mocking him and everything. But everybody wants their ten minutes and he got his.

Then they had the perfect American Idol contestant. It was a guy who looks like Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch dressed in a bowling shirt and telling everyone he is the “Great Sibowsky.” Now what can be better than being a black dude singing Motown while pretending to be Polish. It was brilliant I tell you. And he really sold it. He even misspelled the name on his bowling shirt. You can’t get more Polish than that! He made it easily.

Then they had this cop guy they were pimping with a couple of videos. He is pretty old and he doesn’t sing that well but that is not what is really funny. He is a really pale and pink guy and he shaved his head except for a wispy tuft of a Mohawk on the middle of his head. So when he pursed his lips and wailed in all his pink skinned glory, he looked like nothing so much as, well a pig. Talk about stereotypes. Yikes.

The final guy was a portent of things to come. He was an angry black dude who had shaved some sort of design into his eyebrows. He was pissed from the minute he walked in. Simon was so disgusted he had already left. That’s gonna happen a lot. Anyway this dude shouted out Seal’s song “A Kiss from a Ross” in a gruff tough voice like he was singing in the prison shower. When they told him no way, he really started flexing and shouting and acting out till security got him and escorted him out of the joint. They followed him all the way down the elevator and out on to the street. Just about the last thing he said was “Fuck that Kara. What the hell does she know? Paula never would have done that.”

Truer words where never spoken.

I hate these wet t-shirt contests.

"I hate these wet t-shirt contests."
"Me too. Joan Blondell always wins that slut."
"Well that's not fair, she looks great in a wet t-shirt."
"That's not why she wins. She cheats."
"OH CRAP THEY ARE GOING TO THROW ANOTHER BUCKET OF WATER!!!!"

Doc Holliday Must Die.

Holiday and Hardin walked into the Doctors office. He was drunk as usual. Asleep in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Hardin pushed his feet off the desk and the doctor popped up ready to curse out whoever had disturbed his slumber. He saw who it was and thought better of it.

"Sorry to disturb your meditations Doc but I seem to have had an accident and I need your professional services" said Holiday. "I wonder if you might take a gander at my wing. It seems to have been clipped."

"Sure thing Mr. Holiday just sit over here on my table and I will get right to treating it." He led Holiday over to the table in the middle of the room. It cleverly had a hinge that allowed him to raise up half of the table so the patient was not totally supine. This was just what he needed to do with the gunshot wound in the arm. Holiday got up on the table and took off his jacket and shirt. He didn't have that many clothes that he could afford to have them cut off his back.

"You can call me John, Doc. It will be too confusing if we both called each other Doc. Right John Wesley?"

"True enough John I reckon that might be a bit confusing. How does it look Doc?"

"Not bad not bad at all. It went straight through and didn't hit the bone at all. You will be back practicing dentistry before you know it. If you don't mind me asking how did you get dinged John?"
"Bit of unpleasantness with some Yankees at the Drovers Cottage Doc. Nothing to write home about." "Will they be needing me over there after I fix you up?" "That depends" said Hardin. "Depends on what?" "If you are the coroner as well as the only Doctor in town." They all laughed even though it was a feeble joke. The gunslingers because it  struck them funny and the pill pusher because he was damned scared.

The doctor cleaned and flushed out the wound with alcohol. A couple of stitches on both sides of his arm took care of both the entrance and exit wounds. Doc was very luck that it was a very small caliber gun and that the wound was not extensive. All in all he had nothing much to complain about.

There was a knock on the door and Marshal Hickock came into the room.

"Howdy gentlemen. I see that you are getting patched up Doc. You all right?" "Fine Marshal the Doc set me to rights. What can I do you for?"

"Just checking in to get your side of the story. Most of the witnesses said it was a fair fight and those drovers drew first. Is that how you saw it Doc?" "Sure enough Marshal. We didn't have a choice. It was us or them." "I thought as much. Still and all I would much appreciate if you did not make a habit of this. Bad for business." "You can count on us Marshal" said Hickock. "Hardin?" "Long as they leave me alone I ain't gonna draw on anyone who doesn't draw on me first." "Fair enough. When you are done why not come and meet me in the Long Branch. Drinks on me." "I think I might rest up Marshal but maybe tomorrow." Hickock nodded to them and strolled out the door.

Holiday finished putting on his shirt and jacket and got off the table. He stumbled and had to hold on as Hardin grabbed him to steady the off kilter gunman. "You ok John?" "Fine. How much do I owe you Doc?" "One dollar should do it John." Holiday took a dollar out of his pocket and laid it on the table. "Lets go John Wesley. I am ready for a pipe."

The two gunmen left the doctors office and set off to Chink Alley. "You think this is wise Doc?  I don't seem that clean to me" "Clean enough for me." They continued down and entered the low door way of Wongs emporium. The same naked prostitute came up to them and took Holliday hand. She looked at his arm and murmured "You hurt. I fix." He let her lead him to the pallet on the floor. She pressed on his chest till he laid down. Loaded up a pipe and lit it. Handed it too him. Loosened his clothing. She reached into his pants but he grabbed her hand and pulled it back. "Just want to rest a moment honey." She looked at his sad eyes and sighed. Got on the pallet next to him and pressed her naked body against him. He blew out a smoke ring. As content as a tourtured soul could be until he found his way home to Hell.

“Life's hard. It's even harder when you're stupid.

"Sorry Duke I do the best I can."
"That's ok pilgrim. Look your face matches my shirt."
"It takes a real man to wear a pink shirt."
"Don't make me smack you."
"Sorry Duke."

Laura Bush's Diary

So I was out shopping with the twins yesterday and I got a call from W on my cell phone. Which is very unusual because he likes his alone time. I mean he spends it watching TV and reading his favorite blogs and posting comments on Boringheads TV. He loves to post over and over again the same liberal bullshit under his sock puppet name of Brendan that drives everyone crazy while he pulls his pud and laughs and laughs. So like I said he likes his alone time.

“Hello Laura” he said. “Yes sweetie what’s the matter. Did they have a debate between that evil blogger lady and the gay brother from Frazier again?” “No, no nothing like that. You have to get home right away. It’s very important. And watch out for birds.” “But the girls and I are shopping.” “I don’t care you get home right now you hear and bring all the girls home if you know what I mean.”

So I got everyone in the convertible and we went on home to the ranch. I actually kind of like when W get’s all forceful and shit like that. I mean usually he is very easy going because he is a very confident guy and he doesn’t give a shit what anybody else has to say. So it was a good sign that he was so forceful today, maybe little Laura was going to get a little sumtin sumtin.

But as we were driving I thought about his message. “Watch out for birds.” What could that mean? Did my old friend Robyn Bryd call again and talk to W. I mean he knew all about my long time friendship with her but I don’t think he knows all of the details. I mean some things are better left in the past ya know. So it was weighing on my mind as we sped along the highway. Jenna has a lead foot you know.

Anyway I got home and went into the study where W was and he jumped up and closed the door. “Thank God you are home honey. I was so worried.” “Worried about what W everything is copasetic.” “Well I was watching the news and I heard the terrible news.” “What news? Did Obama pass the Death Panels thing?” “No I heard a bird flew into the Super Hardon collider and caused a massive accident and I was so worried.” “What are you talking about?” “Quick just take off you shirt so I can be sure that the girls are allright.” He grabbed my shirt and ripped down the middle and my “girls” popped out. I usually have them taped down but I was free and easy cause we were just going to the mall so some majow melons came rolling out. “Thank God they are OK. I don’t think I could go on if something happened to them.” Well I was kinda confused. But then I saw an update on Fox News. “W you idiot. It’s the Large Hadron collider you big dummy.” You see whenever I let W get a titty fuck he always got a massive boner so he liked to call the girls his Super Hardon collider. He pushes them together and bangs little W against them while he shouts out quotations from Dune and his other favorite science fiction movies.He was just a little confused. It was a different Hardon Collider.

“Well I was worried Laura. They said that a bird fell in there and there was a danger that it would create a giant black hole.”

I said “Don’t worry W, there will always be only one Condoleezza Rice.”

Thank God.

I order more shirts

Because you can never have enough Hawaiian shirts. Here are two of the them from the knucklehead collection. The wife put these on instagram as Jim's shirt of the day. You which one people loved? The fucking turtle shirt!

Some fashion mo from Brazil loved it and he has over 100,000 followers. He loved the "regular guy" look. I can just imagine 100,000 dudes wearing turtle Hawaiian shirts and speedos at the beach. That's right girls. Speedos.

I Dream of Jeanie The E True Hollywood Story.

One of the big problems we had with the show is that it was so warm in South Florida in the 1960's. We didn't have all of the air conditioning that we have now and Jeanie was always hot. I mean really hot.

She liked to go out without any clothes on. The most we could get her to wear was a shirt when she wasn't in costume. She was always running around in a shirt she got from Gus Grissom without any panties on. And Tony Nelson never made a move. I mean look at her!

I think it was because his mother was a musical comedy star. Something was off about him. He spent way to much time with Major Healy. There something strange going on.

(Sidney Sheldon, I Dream of Jeanie, E True Hollywood Story)

The assassination of the turtle shirt by the coward red wine.

So my new favorite Hawaiian shirt has turtles on it and the wife hates it. Stacy London hates it. She specifically dissed it when she saw me in it. But I love me some turtles.

First of all it is sage green which brings out my eyes. Then it has monkey shit brown turtles swimming all over it. It is a classic. How could you not love it.

Anyway I wore it Saturday and the wife had on one of her new convertible dresses that she loves. We decide to go out to dinner. Now she is always on me not to spill stuff on my shirts as I am your basic slob but this time she didn't say anything. We decided to do something different. Not radically different. Just a little different. First we went to Marco Polo for a couple of cocktails at the bar. But we didn't eat there. Instead we went to the Thai place for a light meal. We order a couple of glasses of wine. And then the wife spills hers. No I didn't spill mine. She spilled her. Didn't get any on her beautiful new dress. But I got a bunch on my poor turtle shit.

You don't need to be Inpsector Lestrade to figure that one out.

We put some stain remover on it and it looks sort of ok but I don't think I can wear it out when we are getting dressed up. It would be fine to hang around in or to go to the pool. I tried to order another one but they are sold out.

So I got a couple with alligators on surfboards and drunken parrots drinking Mai Tai's.

There is more than one way to skin a cat.

I just am gonna miss my turtles.

A wager with Cyrus.

Well since the Yanks are playing a four game set with Cyru's Twins, I have proposed a wager.If the Twins take the series I will wear a Che T shirt to the Knights of Columbus and eat a tofu burger. It the Yanks win, Cyrus has to wear a Jeter T shirt and go to a John Wayne Film festival. I would ask him to eat a hot dog but I don't want to go over the top.

Snippet 3

As I leaned back in my chair I opened my leather jacket and adjusted my piece that I had in a shoulder harness. Fuckin’ Jethro saw it as he was bringing my drink and he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. I mean I look like a cop. A big fat white guy with the map of Ireland on his face and white donut crumbs on his shirt is usually a cop. But this dick was so lame he didn’t know what was going on.

He actually spilled some of the beer when he put it on the coaster.

He scurried off to the end of the bar and picked up the phone and whispered into it. About two minutes later this Arab looking dude came bursting out of the door from the basement and looked at me. And visibly relaxed. Then he actually slapped the kid on the head. Hard enough to knock off the hat. I guess they don’t have a human resources department in Damascus.

He oiled his way down the bar. Didn’t look like much. Wearing a too shiny shirt with a too shiny skin. Wasn’t much comfortable in either.

“Hello my friend…how are you…I am Wally and I own the restaurant. “
“Bobby Doyle, nice to meet you chief. You can relax, I‘m on the job.”
“I thought so but I felt I should ask. Guns make me nervous you know. Perhaps you meant to go next door to Brady’s. Most of the police prefer it there although I would like to get some of that business. I just don’t want any trouble.”
“No trouble just meeting a friend. Don’t sweat it Babu.”
“Wally.”
“Whatever, pally.”
“Thank you sir. Please to have the next one with us ok?”
“Thanks.”
He walked away back to end of the bar, whispered to the shit kicker and went back downstairs. Something was hinky here but I really didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to get this over with.

So here is your phone you just have to wait for the comet.

In 1975 I went to "Crazy Eddies" to buy my first calculator. It was a Casio and had big buttons and could do all kinds of cool calculations on it. Much better than the adding machines we were used to in the accounting biz at the time.It was sold to me by Irving Shapiro who was wearing a shirt and tie and was very knowledgeable about the product without overselling it.

At the beginning of the week the wife started busting my chops that we had to go to the Apple store to get her phone fixed. It kept shutting off and not working properly and she was getting very frustrated. So we decided to go on our day off which is Tuesday to get it fixed and have a day in the city. What a fiasco.

We called for an appointment at the Apple store in Soho and the only one we could get was at 5pm, Primetime for shitheads. I had never been in the Apple store and didn't know what to expect. When you get there they take your name and put it in their I-pad which I guess gets it into the system. Then you sit at the "Genius Bar" and wait till they call your name. Which took about an hour.

Now I was looking around at all the workers and customers and other than one other older couple there was one word to describe them all: Scievy. They all looked like they didn't wash. Everyone of the employee wore jeans and a red apple t-shirt and sneakers and looked like they were either homeless or they were waiting for the fuckin' comet to show up. They had dreads or soul patches or tons of tats or funky dirty knit hats. WHAT THE FUCK! WHERE WAS IRVING SHAPIRO FROM LEVITTOWN WITH THIS THREE PIECE SUIT!!!!!!

The customers were even worse. Some dude in a knit cap sat next to us for two hours and didn't do anything but nod out. Nobody approached him to find out what was what. I had to keep a hawk eye on him and the wife's purse so they didn't disappear together. He must been hanging out until it was time to go push someone in front of the train. WHAT THE FUCK APPLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally this hipster douchenozzle with a soul patch and a dirty knit cap calls our name. He goes over the problem and says he has to wipe the phone. So of course the wife has to back up her photos. She had 5,000 photos on her phone. Yes that right. 5,000. She had the highest storage and memory on the phone so we had to sit there for two hours for the photo's to download. Then the douche wipes the phone and says she just has to put the apps back on and everything should be fine.

In the meantime they were having a concert at the Apple Store. I guess to drum up business they have live music. Some young Justin Beiber type dude sang. There was a huge crowd of young girls who weren't buying anything but I guess there must have been some reason for that.

We finally finish our business with the wiped phone and got to leave four hours later. I couldn't wait to get out of there. Of course the wife had to buy some Apple accessories shit so that took a little bit of time.

We get out and decide to go out to dinner at one of our favorites 'Incognito." (More on that in another post)
When we get home guess what happens? The I-phone is still broke. It keeps shutting off on it's own and not working even when there are no apps or programs running to screw it up.

The wife tells me we have to back to the Apple Store.

AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everybody is an expert!

Everybody is an expert about everything! Especially on the Internets.

I don't know much about child molester's other than I would beat the shit out of one if I came across them. I couldn't identify one of them for sure. I can only think of two instances where I had an experience with them. Wait maybe four times.

Once when I was planting tulip bulbs in my Mom's front garden there were a bunch of the kids on the block playing stickball with a couple of their Dads. They were about ten or eleven or so. Anyway this dude stops in front of my areagate and is checking them out as they were playing. He was dressed roughly and looked seedy if you know what I mean. And he had no business staring at those kids from down the block. I watched him for a while as I was working and decided I had to do something. I got up and went over to him.

I said "Dude if you know what is good for you ...you will get off this block and stop staring at those kids." "You can't tell me what to do. This is a free country and I can stand here if I want too!" "That might be asshole but if one of those fathers catches you they are going to beat the living shit out of you. Especially that guy in the sanitation workers shirt. So why don't you move along while you still got teeth dickweed or I might take it personal myself." So he did. You can't protect the world but you can protect your block. I don't know if he was a kid toucher but I just got a real bad vibe you know?

Another time there was this very elderly couple who I used to do taxes for. The guy was in a wheelchair and the wife was off her rocker. I would go to the house to pick up the papers every year. I knew their sons from the Boy Scouts. Now there is always a lot of jokes about the Boy Scouts but Troop 265 from St Stevens was a different kind of joint. It was run by old WW2 vets who wanted to recapture the vibe of when they were in the service. Guys stayed involved for many decades after they grew up. We still have reunions and camping trips. I haven't gone camping in a long time but at the last reunion somebody told me a story. It seems that one of the sons of this couple took this other guy aside who was a cop. He told him that his father had molested him when he was a kid and that was why his life was so fucked up. The cop guy didn't know what to say. The statue had run...the guy was in a wheelchair....waddayagonnado. He just made sure he locked up his piece so the guy wouldn't eat his gun that night. Then it made sense to me. You see the last time I went over to do the taxes the old man was sitting in his wheelchair and he had is piscadeal out. I said "Hey Buddy you have an accident going on there." He got all flustered and zipped up. I just chalked it up to him being old and crazy instead of being a predator and a molester. He died soon after and the old lady went in a home and the kids sold the house. To a shelter for battered women. Funny how things work out.

Finally when I was in the eight grade there was still a lot of nuns teaching in my grammar school. I was very tall for my age and the nuns always had me do stuff after school. The three tallest kids would have to carry books and clean the black boards and do all this stuff. This one nun was a little strange. She always had me do things. And she was always touching me. Straightening my tie. Tucking in my shirt. Smoothing the fit of my maroon blazer. She was a young girl. Barely twenty one as I remember. I think she wasn't a full nun at the time. I think they called them novies. Student teachers. Irish. And I was the only kid with a Irish name in my class. Everyone elses name ended in a vowel. I don't know what was going on. She was a nun for crying out loud. She left the nuns the next year. I heard she joined a commune or something. I don't know if that is true. I can't tell you if it was innocent or not. I just don't know.

The older I get the less I know.

I am not an expert on everything. Not like everyone else on the Internets.

When bad things happen to good characters.

So two major characters in my favorite TV shows were killed off last night. We call it the Cartwright effect or the Red shirt syndrome in one case. And it's about fuckin' time in the second.

Detective Carter was killed in "Person of Interest." She was one of the main characters in the show as the straight NYPD cop who started out hunting Reese the man in the suit who then became his accomplice. She finally crossed the line. You see she kissed Reese and she had to die. It is the "Cartwright" effect which is when a woman would get involved with one of the boys on the Ponderosa they would immediately get run over by a horse or something. Plus she is black so that falls under the "Red Shirt" on Star Trek rule where the black security guy who beamed down with Spock, Kirk and McCoy gets turned into a pillar of salt. Being a black woman who was going to be involved with the lead meant that she had to die.

Then Clay Morrow on "Sons of Anarchy" was shot last night. Finally. He had to go. The dude had been shot, stabbed and beaten half to death for the past two season. Jax Teller has been saying he was going to kill him for two seasons and he finally did it. Now he was the third featured character in the show so it was a bit of a surprise. Especially when it was not the final episode of the season. The last couple of seasons all revolved around the conflict between Clay and Jax for control of the club. Now they will have to move to something else.

A bunch of people are citing "Game of Thrones" as the impetus behind these developments. You see on "Thrones" one of the main characters Ned Stark was killed in the first season. Plus last season another bunch of big characters were killed just like in the book. It shouldn't be such a big deal. If you are talented you can just right new characters. That's what George Martin did in this series of books. It gets old when the same characters get out of jams every week without a scratch. That is not the way it happens in real life. So it is kind of refreshing when regular episodic TV takes that route.

Laura Bush's Diary

So we were all sitting around on the porch having some tequila shots and shooting the shit. The twins are in town for the summer and we are living it up like old times.  Jenna and I are trying to fix poor Barbara up with someone but the tight assed bitch just can't get her mind right. I told W not to name her after his bug-eyed bitch of a Mom but does he listen to me....NO!  I wish I could get her to calm down and get laid. it would do her wonders for the frigid beyotch.

Anyhoo W was in the office on the computer as usual. I do declare he spends more time on the internets than is healthy for him. Some of my girlfriends complain that their husbands spend too much time on blogs and chat room and twitter and what not. Or that they are looking at porn all the time. But that doesn't worry me much. W knows where he gets the good poon. That's why we have been happy all these years. He knows he can't get it anywhere as good as he could right here in the righteous twat of Texas. Which is like the heart of Texas just wetter and hairier.

W comes out to get some lemonade and he is chuckling to hisself. So I goes to him "What's so funny honey? Did little Barry step in his dick again? Or did Mittens drive off with Condi strapped to the roof of his Cuntry Squire  or something?"

"Nothing as much fun as that Laura darling," he chuckled. " It was just that I was surfing the net and it seems that on some of these boring ass blogs they are trying to liven it up by talking about nipples and such. I had to laugh. What a bunch of bullshit. I mean if you want to talk about nipples especially man nips well how could you leave Ole Nipsey Russell out of the conversation. I mean he was the nipple master for crying out loud."

"Damn straight baby. I remember when Nipsey used to take his shirt off at those pool parties that your parents used to throw at the Naval Observatory when Poppy was the VP.  I mean those giant nipples he had on his man boobs. Those suckers were three times the size of Rumsfeld' dick. It used to make him cry like a bitch. Good times."

"Yeah ....Ha, Ha...I forgot about those parties. If only they knew why they called him Nipsey these little pissants wouldn't be bragging about their puny protrubences. It like a Irishman in a dick measuring contest.  Hee...." he chuckled as he went back into the den.

"I remember Uncle Nipsey Mama" Jenna said. "He always used to come to the White House while Grandpa Poppy was President. Weren't you guys great friends?"

"Yes, yes we were. But he was really Poppy's friend. You see Nipsey Russell was a hero in World War Two and he was a great friend of Poppy. They were on some War Bond tours together. You see Nipsey enlisted as private and fought up and down Europe and ended up a Second Lieutenant  by the end of the war. Pretty impressive for a poor black boy from Atlanta. He was a medic and was a real hero. He was always dashing out under fire to rescue people. He didn't care if they were black or white. So when shit happened later he would just laugh it off. Him and Poppy were great friends. That's how your Daddy met him. But I knew him before that. And in a different context. Hee."

"Oh no Mama" yelped that prissy bitch Barbara. "Is this another one of your filthy stories. I hate when you tell them."

"Then why do you always rub yourself with your little dog when I tell them you dumbass.  Jeez I gotz to get you some cock or you are going to be as loony as your Grandma. So forget it I won't tell you the story and you can go back to talking about how cute Kris Humphreys is and why Tom Cruise is so misunderstood. "

"NO MAMA PLEASE..."wailed Jenna " I  want to hear it! Please."

What could I do. I couldn't disappoint my little Jen Jen.

You see this was back in the days when I first started dating W. He was in Yale and I was still sharing an apartment in New York with Joey Heatherton, Anita Gillette and my besty Robyn Byrd. It was right before Grand Daddy Prescott Bush set me up in college after we met at the BohemianGrove thingy.  I met W at a tea that we all were invited too and we hit it right off.  You see W was a party animal back then which his family didn't really know about. Well Grand Dad Prescott did because he knew everything. He got reports from the Tri-lateral commission on everything that anyone did. But he figured let W sew his wild oats like he did back in the day when he used to do three ways with Gloria Swanson and old Joe Blow Kennedy. So W loved to come around the apartment and hang with all the show business people that would come by. Anita was just getting hot on Broadway and Joey's career was starting to reallyhit it off after she started to let Bob Hope butt fuck her. So there were a lot of show biz people hanging around. Chuck McCann. Arlene Frances. Soupy Sales. Gene Rayburn. Tony Randall.  Bill Cullen. Allan Ludden and that cunt Betty White. And of course good old Nipsey Russell.

You see they all wanted to be Broadway stars but that is a tough thing to do. So they had to take other gigs to make some money to pay the rent.  I mean they didn't work the peeps like Robyn and I did but some of the stuff was even more degrading than watch some putz garmento whack it while you touched yourself. I mean game shows? What could be more degrading than that shit.

Anyhoo there was always a lot of drinking going on. And we were always having parties and smoking weed and what not. It was the sixties and everyone was turning on and tuning out. Well one day everyone was at the apartment and we were all stoned out of our mind. There was me and Joey and Anita and Robyn and Sandy Duncan and JP Morgan and Joyce Bulifant  and a couple of stewardesses. And  Chuck McCann and Soupy and that Wonderama kid toucher guy and Mr. Rodgers and Jim Henson and Tony Randall and Don Draper and some guy named Roger.

Then there is a knock on the door and Henry Morgan and Bennet Cerf and Nipsey Russell come in. They were crazy high and we wanted to know what they were tripping on. It turns out they had Dr Timothy Leary as a guest on "What's My Line." And he hooked them up with some primo LSD. And they had more. So we all got a couple of sugar cubes and all of sudden it's a party. I mean everybody got oversexed and went nuts. Tony Randall and Mister Rodgers were 69'ing it on the middle of the floor. Soupy Sales was rubbing one out with one of Jim Henson's new Muppets .....it was either Bert or Ernie I misremember which one.  But that was just the appetizer. 

Nipsey Russell pushes everybody out of the way and goes "Let me show how to do it bitches...cause you don't know what which's.....they call me Nipsey cause nobodies nips is anyway bigger ....why my erect nipples is bigger than the dick on an ordinary nigger." You see Nipsey always talked in rhymes and shit.

So he rips off his shirt and starts to play with his nipples. And sure enough they were monsters. I mean they were huge. That's how he got the nickname "Nipsey." I mean those two big ass nips he had....it was like he had two cocks on his chest. Well once he whipped those bad boys out it was crazy. At one point Sandy Duncan and Robyn Bird were each riding one of his nipples and Anita Gillette was blowing him and Betty White was peeing on his face. It was crazy. One of the wildest nights we ever had.

Soon enough the gang broke up and everyone went their separate ways. Nipsey became good friends with W and they hung out whenever he came to town from Yale. He was like his mentor. They would dress up and hit the town looking for trouble. We were dating at the time but Nipsey was always very discrete. He never mentioned those days back in New York. 

In fact he never talked about his nipples. Not in private let alone on the internet.

You see the moral of the tale is....if you got it .....you don't have to brag about it. Just Say'n!

Big Brown load in the Belmont!

I used to go to the track all the time with my Uncle V. We used to drive to Belmont on a Sunday afternoon after church. He was a $2 bettor but he often won. He loved cable cause he could get the replay. At one point in his retirement he would go to the track three times a week. He showed me how to bet and not lose my shirt. Now I talk to him about the races when I visit. We will watch the Belmont together. I would have put a bet in at OTB but Nanny Bloomberg has destroyed it and it soon will be a thing of the past. The mob bookies are all gone now except for football since OTB took all the race action. But in the sixties there used to be a horse parlor in an apartment on Court St. where all the players would go to place their bets. Then OTB came in and the players all hung out there. Now both are gone. And the liberal yuppie scum are happy.

I sat on my ass for nine hours today.

I feel left out with people posting about the amount of time they were on the thread mill desk or the route they took when running today. So I want to record how much time I spend each day sitting around on my fat ass all day. It started with the cab ride to the LIRR because I was too lazy to take the train. When I got out of the cab on Flatbush Avenue I got an apple donut and a large black coffee and the Post and the Daily News. Then I got on the railroad to go out to Long Island. That took about an hour of sitting around. Then I was at my desk for eight hours. I called out for lunch so I didn't even go outside. The only time I got off my ass was to take stuff out of the printer or to drain the lizard. Then back on the railroad home for another hour. I did fall asleep at some point and drooled a little on my shirt. Then I took the G train to the store where I will sit on my ass for another three hours paying bills until about nine o'clock.

Boy I'm bushed.

Three cheers for the red white and blue

We always like to dress patriotically on the Fourth. I always wear my patriotic Hawaiian shirt. And Lisa also dressed in red white and blue. But you have to show the colors so we need to bring out the red.

If you know what I mean?

Thank God tax time is over!!!!!!!!!

Well now I can come up for air. The taxes I could get finished are done and the extensions are

filed. And for the people who sent their stuff after April 10, fuck you very much.



I took the last two days off and worked in the store. Today I went up Court St to get some specialty bulbs from the lighting store and stopped in Book Court to get something to read. I have been downloading and copying EBooks during the tax season so it was fun to buy an actual book for a change. Although E books are definitely the wave of the future especially the advance reader copies of your favorite series.



I also stopped off in the Downtown Bar and Grill that used to be Cousins. I spent (wasted) many an hour on the very bar stool I sat on. It was amazing. The bar was taken over by a couple of Arab guys who used to own a deli. They have no concept of how to run a bar. The music was from the radio and they had twenty beers on tap of which I had heard of precisely two. Now I know a lot about beers so I have to say I had to laugh. The bartender was a ZZtop lookalike who spent more time outside than behind the bar. What a joke. No wonder this guy is losing his shirt.

I know the joint is on the market, I hope someone buys it who knows what they are doing. It's a shame to see how the old hangout has gone to shit.