A River Runs Through It

Ever hear of that movie " A River Runs Through It" ?

Well I found out what the "it" was in that movie. The " It" is my asshole. And the river river is shaped like a giant rusty razor.

$60 buy in....25 people.....winner gets $500, pays 5 deep. ( 500, 400, 300, 200, 100)

9 players left. I'm in 4th place.

in the big blind I get 66, three callers so I limp.

flop 6 J J

I make a small bet knowing that a J will have to come over the top of me all in

Sure enough, the poker player that I hate most in life, the #1 dude I want to beat. The suckiest ass douchebag BAD poker player who thinks he's good...he raises me all-in for $7000.

Now this troll looking fucker was on life support 10 minutes ago. He was playing his usual brand of terrible and went all in with 56 before the flop against QQ and he WON. Then he went all in A9 to 88 and AJ and hit a 9 and WON, trippling up.

So now I have flopped a full house and this idiot is raising me all-in and I have the nuts.

It's like a Hollywood script and I'm James fucking Bond.

He calls with J Q

Unbelievably good for me. I'm huge favorite.

The turn is a 5

Perfect ! My odds of winning go up. I'm 85%...that's eighty-five times out of one hundred times that I win.

If I win the hand, I'd go from 9900, which is what 'd started the hand with, up to 23,000. I'd be wayyyyy in first place and I'd have 23% of all the chips left in the entire tournament. There'd be 8 guys left, paying 5 deep.

The river, of course, was a Q.

People say moments like that are a test from God.

I say, what kind of evil God pulls shit like that ?

I could see God giving you a test like, " Hey dude, here's a million dollars now go see how much good you can do ". Now that's a righteous God test.

God can't possibly be sitting around as say, " I'm going to give this guy hope. And then I'm going to take all his hope away. And I'm going to do it in a way that is the biggest possible torment I can invent." That aint God....that's devil shit right there. I blaming the devil for this shit. Devil shit.

Nevermind all that

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

oppsy

I found a live game last night and we played until after 1 a.m. When I got home I slept in the guest room and didn't set an alarm figuring that I'd just wake up when the kids got up.

Well I figured wrong.

Since there's no school everyone slept in, including me. I woke up an hour after I was supposed to be here. And I'm here now, unshaven, disheveled, and just a little too hung over for my liking.

Now you might think it was the covorting that made me over sleep, or you might think the drinking had something to do with it. I'm going to admit those may have been contributing factors. The real reason that I overslept is that I laid in bed wide-eyed trying to figure out if I really heard the conversations that I heard last night or if, by chance, I hallucinated it all. In the end I figured that I just wasn't creative nor demented enough to make some of it up.

And for those women-libbers who think that there's nothing different between the sexes, call me the next time you have a bunco game where this kind of stuff is said...

" My wife wife has some new body oil she keeps in the shower that feel really good when you whack off...almost like astro glide "

" How about Afro Sheen ?"

" You can't whack off with Afro Sheen !"

" Sure, it will make your pubes nice and nappy."


" Oh you know your mother-in-law takes it in the Hershey highway" ( Followed by everyone at the table offering their favorite word for the anus and/or anal sex)


" If I have to wear a condom, I have to punch it just to feel anything" - followed by repeated simulation of punching to the groin.

" You have a Aztec housekeeper ? I gotta get me one of them. Will you sublet her ? "

" You better watch your ass, you know he'll be hiding in the bushes with a bottle of wine trying to steal your Aztec housekeeper. "

" Oooo I really have to take a dump. I'm telling you it like THIS big around ( hands apart like he's holding a football) and it's poking out my ass like a tortise head."......" don't you mean turtle's head ?"...." No, it's so big it's been upgraded to tortise "

And my personal favorite... " I've been drinking, like, a six pack a day...( turns and looks at me)...you know what that's like. Whatya mean, you write on your blog that you have a drinking problem !"


And that's just the stuff that I'm willing to allow myself to remember. I guess when you break it down, the thing that has me the most disturbed really isn't that conversation.

I guess what really has me rattled is how much I enjoy it.

P.S. If any wives of the players read this blog I just want to reassure you that your husband was the exception. While everyone else was babbling on, he was sitting there quietly just playing his card and really seemed somewhat offended.

But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

So after the snow shovel incident, I decided that I needed to reassess my behavior toward my fellow man. I made the decission that I would try and be less competetive, less confrontational, and to defer to other people as much as my temperment would allow me.

Considering my personality and considering my circumstances, this is no mean feat. But I've done pretty fucking good. I've eaten a lot of crow, I've put my ego aside, and I've tried to walk a path that's more righteous. But people are testing me Ringo, people are fucking testing me.

I just got done playing noontime basketball. I started last month and play Thursdays and sometimes on Tuesdays. Of course each game is filled with the next great Bobby Knight. There's are always one or two guys who want to tell everyone where to go, how to play, and what they're doing wrong. Luckily, I play a pretty team oriented game and make few mistakes so I usually don't have to deal with those small dicked retards, but it doesn't mean that they don't bug me.

The worst offender was in rare form today. Luckily he was on the other team. His frustration with his own team was making him more aggressive than normal and on at least 3 occasstions he came blasting through a pick I set or plowed into me going for a rebound. While rough, his plays were fair, so I just bucked up and took it out on him by playing hard back.

With the score ties at 14 - 13 and us playing to 15 the ball was checked in as I was talking to a player that I was defending. All of a sudden ...WHAM... I got nailed right in the small of my back and went flying into my player. The douchebag Bobby Knight wanna be had run full force into me from behind and had sent me flying.

My opponent was also sent flying and stopped the game for a second. Retard Knight asked, " what ?". To which my guy said, " Ah I was standing here and Flick came flying into me, you hit him hard from behind. You have to be a little more careful when coming through the picks." and of course the Taintsucking Red Aurbach rolled his eyes and laughed.

Now to this point I hadn't said a word, but now I spoke up, " Listen man, I wasn't even setting a pick, I was just standing here talking and you plowed into me."

The stupid fuck looked at me and DIDN'T say, " sorry" or DIDN'T say " my mistake" or DIDN'T even have the common fucking decency to say " ARE YOU OK" which , by the way i WASN'T....what he did say was, " Yo man, when the balls in play you gotta be ready."

REALLY ?!?!

So the next play he came across the lane and I stuck out my elmow and I stuck it in his shoulder as hard as I could. Merry Christmas asshole.

He came down and missed his next shot and his team lost the game.

Now I'm sitting here with my back all fucked up, and to be frank...my vision is sort of fucked up.

I should have stuck my elbow in his throat.


But I'm trying Ringo, I'm trying real hard.

Caroling Report

I woke Friday with rain in the forecast, and sure enough, at noon is started raining.

By the time I got off work, the tempature had dropped and we were involved in a good old fashion winter downpour.

"Fantastic", I thought, " I'm getting out of the caroling."

We I got home I was in for a surprise...."Oh, we're still going.", Mrs. Flick informed me.

Before I could protest, she continued, " We're going to ONE home. Mrs. So&So is very sick and this might be her last Christmas on earth, so we're all going over and bring her some Christmas Joy. Do you have a PROBLEM with that ?"

" No ma'am." , FOILED !

So at 7:00 pm I went into the garage and got out to 6 foot high and 6 foot wide deck umbrella, gathered up all the kids, and set out into the driving rain.

Now to make matters more interesting, Mrs. So&so lives a good 400 yards away, outside of the neighborhood. So we met the other families at a neutral location and set out. While trying to herd the 14 or so kids, and avoid puddles, and try to stay dry in the horizonal rain, we made the trip over to Mrs. So&so's house.

As we started up the driveway I got a funny feeling. Things there looked kinda quiet. So I asked, " Umm, did anyone call ahead ?"

A voice answered from the darkness, " No, I just figured with her being sick and all, that they'd be home."

We stood on the doorstep, voices ready...shivering...and waited....and waited....and waited....Well, she figured wrong.

No one was home. They'd all gone out.

After a pause, one of the women started to say, " Oh...well since were already out here and ready to sing why don't we just stop at......"

" Stop at" was the last thing I heard as I started jogging to the car.

"Merry Christmas suckers", I mumbled to myself as I broke out in full stride.

Twenty minutes laster I was playing poker.

christmas cheer

moral dilemma

I just got invited to a poker game on Friday night.

I called home to make sure there is nothing going on and got informed that I already have plans for Friday night.

I'm supposed to go Christmas Carolling.

WTF !?!?!

First of all, I can't sing. Secondly, an unbeknownst to pretty much everyone in my neighborhood including my wife, I'm not exactly down with the whole Jesus as Messiah story, Lastly, who the hell goes Christmas carolling ?

Goddammit !

Now, of course, there's no way for me to get out of this. If I don't show then everyone in the neighborhood is going to know that instead of celebrating the Christmas spirit with my family I'd rather be out gambling. I mean, that's true...but I don't want everyone KNOWING that.

And I know that if I agree to show and then leave after, that it will be a big production..." wherer are you going ?", " can't you stay a little longer ?", blah blah blah bullshit.

I'm considering just biting the bullet and going, but doing a reprise of Holloween and just getting totally loaded. I can get drunk and then yell stuff and sing inappropriate lyrics to some of the holiday favorites. So far I've come up with " We wish you a hairy cock ring, we wish you a hairy cock ring, we wish you a hairy cooooooock rinnnnnnngggggg....and a happy butt plug."

I may even bust out the whooie cushion costume.

my grandmother's side

My grandmother's mother was affectionately referred to as Nana. Nana help raise my father and his 5 siblings. I remember her vividly from my childhood. She was a sweet woman, at the same time she also chewed tabacco and she took shit from no one. Here's a story about her that I heard on Saturday.

Nana was living in Alabama with her husband, my grandmother who was 5, and her younger sister, just as the Great Depression started to fall across this country.

One day, her husband, a taxi driver in Birmingham, left for work and never came home....he just disappeared. For the next 6 years Nana bounched around throughout the south, living with relatives, finding any work that she could and trying to keep her two young daughters alive in the dustbowl of the south.

While staying with some friends she got word that her husband was alive and that he was living in New Brusnwick, New Jersey. Her husband, my greatgrandfather, had met a Native American woman in Alabama, was cheating on Nana, and had decided to run away to New Jersey and married the woman. Word on the street was that he had two new children.

Pissed, Nana loaded up the girls on a train and headed for the Northeast.

She arrived in New Brunswick and showed up at his doorstep. She threatened him, " These girls are you children too and you are going to raise them ! And if you say anything except 'yes ma'am' then I'm heading over to the police station and turning your ass in for bigomy "

My greatgrandfather smartly responded, " Yes ma'am"

So my Nana got an apartment and job in the city. The girls moved in with their father and the man, Nana, and the Indiana woman raised all four kids.

under the rug

Every family has those stories that sit in the shadows. The stories that, for reasons of embarassment or politeness, rarely get told outright but that you get bits and pieces of over the years and put together like a patchquilt.

I always knew that my Grandfather's father died young and he was was raised by his mother and step-father and had a brother as well as a half-sister and a half-brother, my Uncle Mickey.

I also knew that my Great-grandmother ( Nana) raised my Grandmother and her sister in Alabama and various parts of the South during the Depression, but never really heard anything about my Nana's husband or how they eventually wound up in the East.

At a family Christmas party over the weekend, I was fortunate enough to have someone share with me a few of those stories in their entirety.

My grandfather's father was a New York City Police officer who died in an accidental shooting while cleaning his gun. In the politeness that existed before 1970, and in a world of Catholic burials and police pensions, there were quite a few stressed guys who were unfortunaely clumsy while cleaning their guns.

This left my greatgrandmother a young single mother of two young children in depression era New York. She was fortunate enough to find and marry the man who raised my granfather and is always spoken of, in family circles, as a revered figure. They had two children of their own and life continued on plesantly. As all the children were young and the couple in love, that only little thing that was a little out of place was that my granfather and his brother were of germanic descent and had dark hair and darker skin. His step brother and sister were born of a Scottish father and had blond hair and fair features.

As my great grandmother was walking to the market with the four kids in tow..this difference in the appearance of the children was pointed out by a woman out sweeping her stoop. Again, in an era of politeness...this sort of thing wasn't said, as the not so subtle implication was that the children were bastards.

My greatgrandmother responded in a manner that goes a long way to explaining the behavior of generations that have followed.

She took the broom from the woman's hands and then she beat the woman down with her own broom. Then she went to market.


EPILOGUE
Needless to say, the police were summonded and the whole mess eventually ended up in court. My greatgrandmother requested to talk to the Judge in private. Once in chambers she pulled out the shield and picture of her late husband. Before having to explain in any detail, the Judge stopped her and they returned to the courtroom. The case was dismissed and the bruised woman was chastised with a warning that should she say another word to my great-grandmother or any of the children that she would find herself the one in trouble.

( tomorrow the other side of the family)

Pete Schwetty

it will take a couple of minutes, but read this

"Mr. George Bush, president of the United States of America

For some time now, I have been thinking, how one can justify the undeniable contradictions that exist in the international arena -- which are being constantly debated, especially in political forums and amongst university students. Many questions remain unanswered. Those have prompted me to discuss some of the contradictions and questions, in the hopes that it might bring about an opportunity to redress them.

Can one be a follower of Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him), the great Messenger of God,

Feel obliged to respect human rights,

Present liberalism as a civilization model,



Announce one's opposition to the proliferation of nuclear weapons and WMDs,

Make "War on Terror" his slogan,

And finally,

work towards the establishment of an unified international community -- a community which Christ and the virtuous of the Earth will one day govern,

But at the same time,

Have countries attacked. The lives, reputations and possessions of people destroyed and on the slight chance of the presence of a few criminals in a village, city, or convoy for example, the entire village, city or convoy set ablaze.

Or because of the possibility of the existence of WMDs in one country, it is occupied, around 100,000 people killed, its water sources, agriculture and industry destroyed, close to 180,000 foreign troops put on the ground, sanctity of private homes of citizens broken, and the country pushed back perhaps 50 years. At what price? Hundreds of billions of dollars spent from the treasury of one country and certain other countries and tens of thousands of young men and women -- as occupation troops -- put in harms way, taken away from family and loved ones, their hands stained with the blood of others, subjected to so much psychological pressure that everyday some commit suicide and those returning home suffer depression, become sickly and grapple with all sorts of ailments; while some are killed and their bodies handed to their families.

On the pretext of the existence of WMDs, this great tragedy came to engulf both the peoples of the occupied and the occupying country. Later it was revealed that no WMDs existed to begin with.

Of course, Saddam was a murderous dictator. But the war was not waged to topple him, the announced goal of the war was to find and destroy weapons of mass destruction. He was toppled along the way towards another goal; nevertheless the people of the region are happy about it. I point out that throughout the many years of the imposed war on Iran Saddam was supported by the West.

Mr. President,

You might know that I am a teacher. My students ask me how can these actions be reconciled with the values outlined at the beginning of this letter and duty to the tradition of Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him), the Messenger of peace and forgiveness?

There are prisoners in Guantanamo Bay that have not been tried, have no legal representation, their families cannot see them and are obviously kept in a strange land outside their own country. There is no international monitoring of their conditions and fate. No one knows whether they are prisoners, POWs, accused or criminals.

European investigators have confirmed the existence of secret prisons in Europe too. I could not correlate the abduction of a person, and him or her being kept in secret prisons, with the provisions of any judicial system. For that matter, I fail to understand how such actions correspond to the values outlined in the beginning of this letter, i.e. the teachings of Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him), human rights and liberal values.

Young people, university students, and ordinary people have many questions about the phenomenon of Israel. I am sure you are familiar with some of them.

Throughout history, many countries have been occupied, but I think the establishment of a new country with a new people, is a new phenomenon that is exclusive to our times.

Students are saying that 60 years ago such a country did not exist. They show old documents and globes and say try as we have, we have not been able to find a country named Israel.

I tell them to study the history of WWI and II. One of my students told me that during WWII, which more than tens of millions of people perished in, news about the war, was quickly disseminated by the warring parties. Each touted their victories and the most recent battlefront defeat of the other party. After the war they claimed that six million Jews had been killed. Six million people that were surely related to at least two million families. Again let us assume that these events are true. Does that logically translate into the establishment of the state of Israel in the Middle East or support for such a state? How can this phenomenon be rationalized or explained?

Mr. President,

I am sure you know how -- and at what cost -- Israel was established:
-- Many thousands were killed in the process.
-- Millions of indigenous people were made refugees.
-- Hundreds of thousands of hectares of farmland, olive plantations, towns and villages were destroyed.

This tragedy is not exclusive to the time of establishment; unfortunately it has been ongoing for 60 years now.

A regime has been established which does not show mercy even to kids, destroys houses while the occupants are still in them, announces beforehand its list and plans to assassinate Palestinian figures, and keeps thousands of Palestinians in prison. Such a phenomenon is unique -- or at the very least extremely rare -- in recent memory.

Another big question asked by the people is "why is this regime being supported?"

Is support for this regime in line with the teachings of Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him) or Moses (Peace Be Upon Him) or liberal values?

Or are we to understand that allowing the original inhabitants of these lands -- inside and outside Palestine -- whether they are Christian, Muslim or Jew, to determine their fate, runs contrary to principles of democracy, human rights and the teachings of prophets? If not, why is there so much opposition to a referendum?

The newly elected Palestinian administration recently took office. All independent observers have confirmed that this government represents the electorate. Unbelievingly, they have put the elected government under pressure and have advised it to recognize the Israeli regime, abandon the struggle and follow the programs of the previous government.
If the current Palestinian government had run on the above platform, would the Palestinian people have voted for it? Again, can such position taken in opposition to the Palestinian government be reconciled with the values outlined earlier? The people are, also asking "why are all UNSC resolutions in condemnation of Israel vetoed?"

Mr. President,

As you are well aware, I live amongst the people and am in constant contact with them -- many people from around the Middle East manage to contact me as well. They do not have faith in there dubious policies either. There is evidence that the people of the region are becoming increasingly angry with such policies.

It is not my intention to pose too many questions, but I need to refer to other points as well.
Why is it that any technological and scientific achievement reached in the Middle East region is translated into and portrayed as a threat to the Zionist regime? Is not scientific R&D one of the basic rights of nations?

You are familiar with history. Aside from the Middle Ages, in what other point in history has scientific and technical progress been a crime? Can the possibility of scientific achievements being utilized for military purposes be reason enough to oppose science and technology altogether? If such a supposition is true, then all scientific disciplines, including physics, chemistry, mathematics, medicine, engineering, etc, must be opposed.

Lies were told in the Iraqi matter. What was the result? I have no doubt that telling lies is reprehensible in any culture, and you do not like to be lied to.

Mr. President,

Don't Latin Americans have the right to ask why their elected government are being opposed and coup leaders supported? Or, Why must they constantly be threatened and live in fear?
The people of Africa are hard-working, creative and talented. They can play an important and valuable role in providing for the needs of humanity and contribute to its material and spiritual progress. Poverty and hardship in large parts of Africa are preventing this from happening. Don't they have the right to ask why their enormous wealth -- including minerals -- is being looted, despite the fact that they need it more than others?

Again, do such actions correspond to the teachings of Christ and the tenets of human rights?

The brave and faithful people of Iran too have many questions and grievances, including: the coup d'etat of 1953 and the subsequent toppling of the legal government of the day, opposition to the Islamic revolution, transformation of an Embassy into a headquarters supporting the activities of those opposing the Islamic Republic (many thousands of pages of documents corroborate this claim), support for Saddam in the war waged against Iran, the shooting down of the Iranian passenger plane, freezing the assets of the Iranian nation, increasing threats, anger and displeasure vis-a-vis the scientific and nuclear progress of the Iranian nation (just when all Iranians are jubilant and celebrating their country's progress), and many other grievances that I will not refer to in this letter.

Mr. President,

September Eleven was a horrendous incident. The killing of innocents is deplorable and appalling in any part of the world. Our government immediately declared its disgust with the perpetrators and offered its condolences to the bereaved and expressed its sympathies.

All governments have a duty to protect the lives, property and good standing of their citizens. Reportedly your government employs extensive security, protection and intelligence systems -- and even hunts its opponents abroad. September eleven was not a simple operation. Could it be planned and executed without coordination with intelligence and security services -- or their extensive infiltration? Of course this is just an educated guess. Why have the various aspects of the attacks been kept secret? Why are we not told who botched their responsibilities? And, why aren't those responsible and the guilty parties identified and put on trial?

All governments have a duty to provide security and peace of mind for their citizens. For some years now, the people of your country and neighbors of world trouble spots do not have peace of mind. After 9.11, instead of healing and tending to the emotional wounds of the survivors and the American people -- who had been immensely traumatized by the attacks -- some Western media only intensified the climate of fear and insecurity -- some constantly talked about the possibility of new terror attacks and kept the people in fear. Is that service to the American people? Is it possible to calculate the damages incurred from fear and panic?

American citizens lived in constant fear of fresh attacks that could come at any moment and in any place. They felt insecure in the street, in their place of work and at home. Who would be happy with this situation? Why was the media, instead of conveying a feeling of security and providing peace of mind, giving rise to a feeling of insecurity?

Some believe that the hype paved the way -- and was the justification -- for an attack on Afghanistan. Again I need to refer to the role of media. In media charters, correct dissemination of information and honest reporting of a story are established tenets. I express my deep regret about the disregard shown by certain Western media for these principles. The main pretext for an attack on Iraq was the existence of WMDs. This was repeated incessantly -- for the public to finally believe -- and the ground set for an attack on Iraq.

Will the truth not be lost in a contrived and deceptive climate? Again, if the truth is allowed to be lost, how can that be reconciled with the earlier mentioned values?

Is the truth known to the Almighty lost as well?

Mr. President,

In countries around the world, citizens provide for the expenses of governments so that their governments in turn are able to serve them.

The question here is "what has the hundreds of billions of dollars, spent every year to pay for the Iraqi campaign, produced for the citizens?"

As Your Excellency is aware, in some states of your country, people are living in poverty. Many thousands are homeless and unemployment is a huge problem. Of course these problems exist -- to a larger or lesser extent -- in other countries as well. With these conditions in mind, can the gargantuan expenses of the campaign -- paid from the public treasury -- be explained and be consistent with the aforementioned principles?

What has been said, are some of the grievances of the people around the world, in our region and in your country. But my main contention -- which I am hoping you will agree to some of it -- is:
Those in power have a specific time in office and do not rule indefinitely, but their names will be recorded in history and will be consistently judged in the immediate and distant futures.
The people will scrutinize our presidencies. Did we manage to bring peace, security and prosperity for the people or insecurity and unemployment?

Did we intend to establish justice or just supported special interest groups, and by forcing many people to live in poverty and hardship made a few people rich and powerful -- thus trading the approval of the people and the Almighty with theirs?

Did we defend the rights of the underprivileged or ignore them?

Did we defend the rights of all people around the world or imposed wars on them, interfered illegally in their affairs, established hellish prisons and incarcerated some of them?
Did we bring the world peace and security or raised the specter of intimidation and threats?
Did we tell the truth to our nation and others around the world or presented an inverted version of it?

Were we on the side of people or the occupiers and oppressors?

Did our administrations set out to promote rational behavior, logic, ethics, peace, fulfilling obligations, justice, service to the people, prosperity, progress and respect for human dignity or the force of guns, Intimidation, insecurity, disregard for the people, delaying the progress and excellence of other nations, and trample on people's rights?

And finally, they will judge us on whether we remained true to our oath of office -- to serve the people, which is our main task, and the traditions of the prophets -- or not?

Mr. President,

How much longer can the world tolerate this situation?

Where will this trend lead the world to?

How long must the people of the world pay for the incorrect decisions of some rulers?

How much longer will the specter of insecurity -- raised from the stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction -- hunt the people of the world?

How much longer will the blood of the innocent men, women and children be spilled on the streets, and people's houses destroyed over their heads?

Are you pleased with the current condition of the world?

Do you think present policies can continue?

If billions of dollars spent on security, military campaigns and troop movement were instead spent on investment and assistance for poor countries, promotion of health, combating different diseases, education and improvement of mental and physical fitness, assistance to the victims of natural disasters, creation of employment opportunities and production, development projects and poverty alleviation, establishment of peace, mediation between disputing states, and extinguishing the flames of racial, ethnic and other conflicts, were would the world be today? Would not your government and people be justifiably proud?

Would not your administration's political and economic standing have been stronger?

And I am most sorry to say, would there have been an ever increasing global hatred of the American government?

Mr. President, it is not my intention to distress anyone.

If Prophet Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ishmael, Joseph, or Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him) were with us today, how would they have judged such behavior? Will we be given a role to play in the promised world, where justice will become universal and Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him) will be present? Will they even accept us?

My basic question is this: Is there no better way to interact with the rest of the world? Today there are hundreds of millions of Christians, hundreds of millions of Muslims and millions of people who follow the teachings of Moses (Peace Be Upon Him). All divine religions share and respect one word and that is "monotheism" or belief in a single God and no other in the world.
The Holy Koran stresses this common word and calls on all followers of divine religions and says: (3.64) Say: O followers of the Book! come to an equitable proposition between us and you that we shall not serve any but Allah and (that) we shall not associate aught with Him, and (that) some of us shall not take others for lords besides Allah; but if they turn back, then say: Bear witness that we are Muslims. (The Family of Imran)

Mr. President,

According to divine verses, we have all been called upon to worship one God and follow the teachings of divine Prophets.

"To worship a God which is above all powers in the world and can do all He pleases." "the Lord which knows that which is hidden and visible, the past and the future, knows what goes on in the Hearts of His servants and records their deeds."

"The Lord who is the possessor of the heavens and the earth and all universe is His court"
"planning for the universe is done by His hands, and gives His servants the glad tidings of mercy and forgiveness of sins" "He is the companion of the oppressed and the enemy of oppressors" "He is the Compassionate, the Merciful" "He is the recourse of the faithful and guides them towards the light from darkness" "He is witness to the actions of His servants" "He calls on servants to be faithful and do good deeds, and asks them to stay on the path of righteousness and remain steadfast" "Calls on servants to heed His prophets and He is a witness to their deeds" "A bad ending belongs only to those who have chosen the life of this world and disobey Him and oppress His servants" and "A good land and eternal paradise belong to those servants who fear His majesty and do not follow their lascivious selves."

We believe a return to the teachings of the divine prophets is the only road leading to salvation and have been told that Your Excellency follows the teachings of Jesus (Peace Be Upon Him) and believes in the divine promise of the rule of the righteous on Earth.

We also believe that Jesus Christ (Peace Be Upon Him) was one of the great prophets of the Almighty. He has been repeatedly praised in the Koran. Jesus (Peace Be Upon Him) has been quoted in Koran as well: (19.36) And surely Allah is my Lord and your Lord, therefore serve Him; this is the right path.

Service to and obedience of the Almighty is the credo of all divine messengers.

The God of all people in Europe, Asia, Africa, America, the Pacific and the rest of the world is one. He is the Almighty who wants to guide and give dignity to all His servants. He has given greatness to Humans.

We again read in the Holy Book: "The Almighty God sent His prophets with miracles and clear signs to guide the people and show them divine signs and purify them from sins and pollutions. And He sent the Book and the balance so that the people display justice and avoid the rebellious."

All of the above verses can be seen, one way or the other, in the Good Book as well.

Divine prophets have promised:
The day will come when all humans will congregate before the court of the Almighty, so that their deeds are examined, The good will be directed towards Haven and evildoers will meet divine retribution. I trust both of us believe in such a day, but it will not be easy to calculate the actions of rulers, because we must be answerable to our nation and all others whose lives have been directly or indirectly affected by our actions.

All prophets, speak of peace and tranquillity for man -- based on monotheism, justice and respect for human dignity.

Do you not think that if all of us come to believe in and abide by these principles, that is, monotheism, worship of God, justice, respect for the dignity of man, belief in the Last Day, we can overcome the present problems of the world -- that are the result of disobedience to the Almighty and the teachings of prophets -- and improve our performance?

Do you not think that belief in these principles promotes and guarantees peace, friendship and justice?

Do you not think that the aforementioned written or unwritten principles are universally represented?

Will you not accept this invitation? That is, a genuine return to the teachings of prophets, to monotheism and justice, to preserve human dignity and obedience to the Almighty and His prophets?

Mr. President,

History tells us that repressive and cruel governments do not survive. God has entrusted the fate of men to them. The Almighty has not left the universe and humanity to their own devices. Many things have happened contrary to the wishes and plans of governments. These tell us that there is a higher power at work and all events are determined by Him.

Can one deny the signs of change in the world today?

Is the situation of the world today comparable to that of 10 years ago? Changes happen fast and come at a furious pace.

The people of the world are not happy with the status quo and pay little heed to the promises and comments made by a number of influential world leaders. Many people around the world feel insecure and oppose the spreading of insecurity and war and do not approve of and accept dubious policies.

The people are protesting the increasing gap between the haves and the have-nots and the rich and poor countries.

The people are disgusted with increasing corruption.

The people of many countries are angry about the attacks on their cultural foundations and the disintegration of families. They are equally dismayed with the fading of care and compassion. The people of the world have no faith in international organizations, because their rights are not advocated by these organizations.

Liberalism and Western-style democracy have not been able to help realize the ideals of humanity. Today these two concepts have failed. Those with insight can already hear the sounds of the shattering and fall of the ideology and thoughts of the Liberal democratic systems.
We increasingly see that people around the world are flocking towards a main focal point -- that is the Almighty God. Undoubtedly through faith in God and the teachings of the prophets, the people will conquer their problems. My question for you is: "Do you not want to join them?"

Mr. President,

Whether we like it or not, the world is gravitating towards faith in the Almighty and justice and the will of God will prevail over all things.

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad

I QUIT

I'm done with poker.

I'm cracked.

I'm emotionally unstable.

I laid in bed until 2 am last night stewing.

You see, the cards are supposed to balance out over time. If you're a 70% favorite and you lose...no worries you will next time. And if you happen to lose the next time...no worries, you'll get the next few.

Well you know what....BULLFUCKINGSHIT.

One of two things has happened.....either I was really really really lucky for the last 6 months where I was making steady money and now I'm paying for it....or someone put some voo-doo fucking curse on me.

I'm not going to make you suffer through a bunch of bad beat stories, but I'll just say that I've lost some very important hands....economically important as well as emotionally important...where I was a 70% favorite or better. I've been knocked out of big money tournaments....I've been knocked out against some rivals.....I've been knocked out where I could really use a break...I've been knocked out live with the last of my bankroll on the table.

In every instance there is a common theme. At the time I shoved in I was at least a 2 to 1 favorite, and in most instances I was at least 70%.

Whatever the cause, whatever the reasoning, whatever the rationale, I'm cracked.

Fuck it , I'm out.

Get ready for some reading 'cause I'm pissed, I'm thirsty, and I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands.

Living with crackheads

My three children are between 4 and 8 years old.

The month of December has been living with a house full of crackheads who've heard that a new shipment of crack is coming in....but not for a month.

Every morning it's the same thing.....

" Is the crack here ?"

-NO!

" How many more days until the crack gets here ?"

- two weeks

" Is that a long time ?"

- That's a medium amount of time.

" I can't wait for the crack to come. Can you wait for the crack to come ? I LLLOOOOOOVVVVEEEE the crack !"

and so it goes every morning.

If what you hear about is cool...

...imagine how cool the stuff you don't hear about is.

I've been sitting on this one for a little while as I wanted to get through all three seasons of Entourage. The worst thing would be to make the link public and then the site gets swamped and slows down my connection rate.

Anyway, this site http://www.yourtvlinks.com/ has many of your favorite shows in their totality.

In addition to Entourage, I've seen all The Office that I'd missed and I'm half way through HBO's OZ.

This also goes a long way to explaining why no one has heard from me in the last week.

ummmm nevermind

Please excuse the content of the previous post.

Can write much now, I have a lot of work to do to keep my job.

Do you think Hallmark makes a " I didn't really mean to tell you to shove your job up your ass" apology card ?

HA HA SUCKAS

The West African Institute just emailed and notified me of a settlement that I am going to receive. All you suckas can kiss my ass....I'm rich bitches...see you in Morocco, I'll be the one with the umbrella drink and the big gold chain.

sorry

I've been out of my mind lately, but I'm back baby...I'M BACK !

So Saturday night I went out with a buddy and his wife and had a few drinks and we all drove together. Around 11 pm I wanted to head home and went over to check with my pal.

" Hey man, you wanna get outta here ?"

" Ummm, can you give me a couple of minutes. My wife is getting a little tipsy and I'm pretty sure if I get another drink in I might be looking at a blowjob."

Being a team player as well as a big fan of oral I was going about to get in the way of a man with a plan, so I got a cue stick and started shooting some pool.

A short while later my buddy came up, " Ok man it's time."

" Hey man, I just started shooting this game...gimme a couple minutes."

He got very serious, " Look Flick, you don't understand, I have a very narrow window here. To do this right, I have to get her right in between sorta drunk and really drunk if she's going to go down on me. The window is open, lets go !?"

" Alright, alright....let just finish this one game it will take a minute. And I'll tell you what, I'll buy you guys one more round while I'm finishing up."

I walked over to the bar and ordered a Southern Comfort and Coke. What I got was Southern Comfort and Souther Comfort. I generously tipped the bartender and went back to the couple.

I gave the drink to the wife and as I went back to the pool table noted to my buddy, " no worries about the oral....after that drink I think you're getting the butt !"

I shot may game as my friend impatiently looked on. The eight ball no sooner hit the corner pocket then we were being hustled out of there and into the car. I sat in the front passenger seat and my buddy poured his wife, now starting to feel the effects of that last drink, into the back seat.

Pushing my luck I asked, " Hey man, I'm kinda hungry. Can you swing into the Mickey-D's real quick, they're open 24 hours now."

" NO...I'M TAKING YOU HOME.", the guy had one eye on the road and one eye in the read view mirror assessing his odds of the back seat situation.

Then the wife chimed in, " hey don't be like that ....Flick came out with us...the least you can do is get him a burger...what's the rush"...except is came out like, " heydontsbelikesthaaaaat...Flickscameoutwifuzzzz....theleasssseyoucaanndoizzz..blabblaaaaa"

The window, I belive, was closing.

We pulled into the McDonalds and up to the drive thru and the little box said, " Welcome to McDonalds...can you wait just a second."

bahahahahaha

Finally we placed the order. We zoomed up to the window. We handed over the money and the kid to forever counting the change. My buddy say there steaming...every second was feeling like an hour. He was constantly looking into the back seat watching his chances of a blow job start to fall asleep.

" JUST GIMME THE FOOD !!!!" and he grabbed the bag out of the kids hand.

Then my friend slammed on the accelerator and let go of the clutch.

SQQQQQUUUUEEEEELLLLLLLLLLL !

The wheels were smoking as we sat in place and peeled out.

Finally the wheels burned through the french cry grease at the drive thru window and caught traction and we went flying out of the drive thru.

Now at this McDonalds the space from the window to the end of the parking lot is about 30 feet ! At that point you have to make a left. Then you go another...maybe.... 35 feet and have to make a right to get up to the main road.

My buddy never let off the accelerator.

We lurched forward and he yanked the wheel to the left and we all reached out to brace ourselves. Then, almost instantly, he turned the other direction and we snapped to the right.

Now for me, no big deal, I had one hand on my food bag and the other on the door handle. But for the Mrs. in the back seat and with a head full of SoCo, the reaction time was a little different. She reached to the right and the car snapped left and ....

THUNK

It sounded like someone dropped a watermellon out of a second story window.

and then

" uggghhhhh"...with a little wimper.

The Mrs. cracked her skull on the back seat window.

" uh, baby, are you alright ?", he ask after a little while.

" I......ahhhhh.....I think I'm bleeding...."

I looked straight ahead and started eating as fast as I could. When my buddy dropped me off he barely slowed down enough for me to jump out.

I called the next morning, " how'd you make out last night ?"

"I don't want to talk about it", he didn't sound happy.

" Well, I gotta hand it to you, you were right. You did have a window for head...just not quite like you expected."

"Ha ha, you're a funny guy. Real funny."

He said it, but I don't think he meant it.

more balls than brains

Omar

Ron was at a tournament with a kid named Omar. They both had suffered through tough days. Ron lost his final game in the middle section and Omar went from having a winning position against a Grand Master, to drawing him. He was clearly bothered, but Ron tried to console him pointing out that the fact that he was able to even draw a player of that caliber was an amazing feat...which by the way, it was.

So the got back to the hotel room and Ron grabbed the remote control and laid on the bed. Omar went into the bathroom. After a while Omar didn't come out. Concerned, Ron tapped on the door, " hey dude, you alright in there ?". He leaned up against the door and could hear Omar half mumbling, half wimpering. Concerned, he cracked the door open to see what was happening.

The room was a haze.

Omar had filled the tub to the to top with the hottest of hot water. When Ron walked in Omar was gathering himself up and getting ready to toss himself into the scalding hot water.

" WHAT THE FUCK !?!?!" Ron yelled.

" I must be punished !!!"

Omar took his chess very seriously.

THE STORY OF OMAR THE CHESS MASTER

Omar is a cuban kid who walked into the chess club one day. He didn't speak any English at all. He sat down and played a game with Ron and pounded him...repeatedly. He then went about pounding everyone else in the club, and then as mysteriously wandered in...he left.

A couple weeks later he showed up again, and beat everyone again.

Finally the guys in the club went and got Marty. Marty is the embittered local chess master and the hero of the chess club. He rarely plays anymore, preferring to spend his mental energies on booze and setting up 3 ways with hot roller derby lesbians ( not a bad choice really). So they got Marty to show up and they waited for the Cuban kid to show. The kid sat down and after a furious battle, played Marty to a draw.

After finding a translater they figured out his story.

His name was Omar and had been on the Cuban junior national chess team. But after some of his relatives made a run for the US, he was no longer permitted to travel outside of Cuba and he was kicked off the chess team. One day he strapped him self only some two-by-fours and old tires and just about killed himself floating over to Key West.

Soon after, Omar became a regular at the club. And as his English improved he started coaching the younger players. One player in particular was hassling him one day and Omar kept telling the kid to cut it out. When the kid didn't listen, Omar reached over...and with great speed and dexterity...flipped the kid in the air.

As it turns out Omar, in addition to being a chess master, is also a karate master.

In communist countries chess is elevated to the same status as Olympic sports. So as a prodigy Omar was sent to the Cuba National Sports School for training. There with the chess team was the boxing team, wrestling team, baseball team and basketball team. Most of the time was spent on schooling and athletics. Most of the free time was spent beating the crap out of the chess team. At one point the Cuban Federation, through and exchange program with China, brought over a Chineese chess teacher. This guy got sick of his players showing up with black eyes, and missing practices after a beat down so he included Jujitsu and Karate into the chess players curriculum. Soon all the chess players were proficient in self defense.

So now this chess master karate master super genius has found freedom in the United States. No one has been willing to hire him for any quality work because he has no accredited schooling and he speaks with a Cuban accent. He's living here in a $300 a month apartment, playing chess, and making minimum wage as odd jobs. But at least his ass aint in a Cuban jail.

God Bless America.

Saturday afternoon

Saturday afternoon I was sitting in the living room watching TV when there was a knock at the door.

Standing on my stoop was some dude I'd never seen before and some woman I'm presuming was his wife. " Great," I figured...probably Jahova Witnesses or someone trying to sell me something.

I opened the door and the dude said, " Do you have a little black and white dog ?"

That's an odd opening. "Ummmm, yeah"

" Are you HotGril's Dad ?"

" Ahhhh, yes again," now I was really starting to get befuddled. Where the hell was this guy going with this.

" Well I was in my front yard and heard the mail truck slam on it's brakes and almost kill your dog."

I quickly asked, " Did it get hit ?"

" No, no, " he said in a reassuring voice, " the little guy is fine."

" DAMN !"...it just came out like a reflex.

My comment stopped the dude in his tracks. He was obviously a dog lover. The dude had driven all over the neighborhood like Inspector Clouseau finding out who this dog belonged to...and now he couldn't believe what I had just said.

" Maybe I should just KEEP the dog !" he said with rightous indignation.

Now I was in a real pickle. On one hand I've already stepped over a fine line whereby this neighbor of mine is assuming...and is about to confirm..that I'm a total a-hole who set his dog free in the hope that it would get run over. On the other hand...I think this dude might be serious and actually take the fucking dog. What's a brother to do. Then I remember that he dropped my daughter's name....which means he problably knows her AND Mrs. Flick and I if I have him take my dog he'll be telling everyone in the neighborhood what a maniac I am ( as if walking around in a whoopie cusion outfit hadn't already ruined me).

So in order to save my reputation I had to go full on in the other direction, " No no no, of COURSE I'm just kidding...where's the little guy...thank you SOOOO much for returning him to us...one of the kids must have left the gate open"

Then to really make a show of it, I had to pick the thing up and hug it and pet it and pretend that I was so greatful for its return.

I'm not sure if they totally bought it, but reluctantly they got in their car and left.

I immediately ran upstairs and showered with a scrub brush. Thankfully I didn't contract any sort of rash.

Kramer Rap

http://captainoftheussinevitable.ytmnsfw.com/?a6ddc979cdfd90a45f28f85e661719d8

What a weekend

So between a case of Yuengling, a liter and a half of wine, 250 miles on the Turnpike and a trip to Wal-Mart....oh, I have plenty to write.

Unfortunately I also have 468 messages in my box and 16 voice mail messages. I have to clear the plate before I can do any writing. Hopefully I can get something out tonight.

Oh yeah, I broke a new personal best this morning on the scale....208. I'm on fat bastard. 210 by New Years shouldn't be a problem.

More later.

poker

Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker
Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker
Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker
Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker
Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker
Motherfucker Motherfucker Motherfucker Grandmotherfucker

no comment necessary

dreams

I only have a few reoccurring dreams, two good ones and two bad ones.

The first bad one I haven't had in years, but is pretty straight forward...all my teeth fall out.

The other one is a shade more complicated. There are variations on the theme, but at some point I figure out that I haven't graduated college. That I missed some class someone along the way and I find out that I haven't graduated...AND that the class I need is only offered once every 10 years or something like that. That spawns a flood of bad thoughts like, " how am I going to get job ?", " my wife is going to be pissed ", " wait...when did I get a wife ?!"...then I wake in a panic and it usually takes me a few minutes to reassure myself as to what date it is, and that I have a job and a wife and kids.....not that that's entirely calming.

Anyway, those two things are offset by two nice dreams.

One takes place in my high school. That's weird in that I have almost no recollection of being in my high school during waking hours. If i think really hard, I can remember some aspects of the building, but by-and-large my long term memory is really really bad anymore ( see kids, don't drink or do drugs). Anyway, I'm back in my high school and the entire school is filled with 4 feet of water. I spend the whole dream swimming around my school. And it's fun ! The really weird thing is that I've had this dream for a long time...even before I knew how to swim. In fact, the dream played a large part in getting me to learn how to swim. I don't have the dream that often, probably because I found out that swimming in real life isn't really all that fun.

The other dream that has replaced the swimming dream is the ice skating dream, and that's the one I had last night. I can't remember any of the details other than I was ice skating and it was fun. So I think it's a cue for me to learn how to ice skate. My only fear is that I'll learn how and it will turn out to be like the swimming thing.

My limited experience with ice skating is that I once played goalie for an ice hockey team. When I was a professional drunk, I used to hang out at this neighborhood bar. I was only 23 years old, but all the other guys in the bar were in their 30s or 40s. The Pittsburgh Penguins had Mario Lemieux and hockey was getting really big in the area and these drunks all decided that they wanted to start playing hockey. They sent a messenger over to the bar across the way and challenged the drunks on the other side of the street to a game and in short order the town and a bar based hockey league.

I don't know much about hockey, or winter sports or Canadian history for that matter, but I'm pretty sure that this league would get a nomination if there was a category for worst hockey league in the history of sports. Almost everyone was fat and out of shape. Most guys hadn't been on skates in years. And at least 30% of the people on the ice at any time were over the legal limit for driving a car. My favorite part of the league was what were referred to as "the Tripods". These were dudes to had to use their stick on the ice in order to not fall down. They'd press their sticks to the ice and the shufffle to get around. Each team seemed to have one guy that could actually play and a slew of drunken tripods. The two guys who could really play would play a game of one-on one by bobbing and weaving and hiding from each other by using the tripods as interference. They'd fly around the rink with tremendous speed and grace while the tripods shuffled around looking like that vibrating football game that you used to have as a kid.

Anyway, the only rule for the league was that all the players had to be over 30 years old...except goalies. Goalies could be any age. Since nobody wanted to play goalie, almost all the goalies in the league were teenage sons of someone on the team. Except our team. I was the goalie for out team. They came to me one day and said, " you wanna play ?". Seeing as we got free wings and beer after each game I was in. The only problem was that I didn't know how to skate. " That's fine", they told me, " you can play in your sneakers." I did that the first game. In that game I spent the entire time on my knees. For the record, you can't play in sneakers without hitting your nads a dozen times. From that point on I wore skates. The first time I played in skates it went well....until I left the goal to go after a puck. I skated over to the puck, hit it, and kept going. I had no idea how to stop. So I fell down, slid for a while, then crawled on my hands and pads back to the goal. Of course the other team scored. After that I took a lesson with some 6 year olds and learned how to skate, stop, and return to the same spot....all provided I don't travel more than 12 feet. Not really the stuff of my dreams.

So anyway, this is rambling a bit, but the point is I think I may take some skating lessons. Skating looks like fun.

One good cop

I'm known for not having the highest opinion of the police.

I appreciate the work that they do. Its a tough, dangerous, shitty job. But sitting across this side of the bargaining table I have to say that I have never met such a group of dysfunctional and disingenuous people. And considering who my friends are, that's saying something.

But it wasn't always that way. When I was growing up, the best friend of my buddies father was a city cop and he was a pisser. Two stories about that guy stand out to me.

One day he came up and handed my a packet of tin foil. I opened it up and inside was tar hash. HOLY SHIT ! You have to admit that even though i knew the dude, having a cop hand you some hash is a mind blowing experience. He said that he pulled over a 17 year old kid driving too fast in his parent's sports car. He ran the kid's license and it was clean. When he went to give the license back the kid was completely pale and sweating. My buddy didn't know why, but he knew something was up. On a whim he said to the kid, " Come on. Give it to me...NOW !" Low and behold, the kid reached under the seat, burst into tears and handed the cop the tin foil. The cop was astonished....here he was going to let this kid off with a warning and how he's got the kid for speeding, for posession, and who knows what they're going to do with the car. This is far more than the cop wanted to be dealing with and you know that the kid is, at this point, considering suicide. My buddy looked at the kid and said, " Get lost. Don't ever let me see you around here ever again."....and let the kid go. In my opinion a hell of a nice move. I mean the kid is out his drugs, you know that fucker probably never smoked weed again ( at least not that week anyway), and my buddy get a check mark in the karma file. Justice served. Oh yeah, I got some really boss hash*.

* this of course is way back in the day before I knew better. Drugs are bad...don't do drugs.

The other story occurs on the high seas. This dude was a chain smoker. He woke with a cig and fell asleep the same way. One day we all went out deep sea fishing out into the Atlantic. Once we set out, this dude realized that he had forgotten his lighter but all he did is when he got 3/4th down on one he'd light another one up. Once we got a few miles out, the seas got a little choppy with 3-4 foot swells and between all the rocking and putting all the lines out he got distracted and let his cigarette run out.

" Shit !"

He was pissed, but what were we going to do. We kept fishing. About 20 minutes later.

" Goddamn I'm starting to get sea sick. I need a cigarette. You don't have a lighter anywhere in this fucking boat ?

10 minutes later

" OK, fuck it ! We gotta go in."

No way. We told him there was no way were were going in. We had just suffered through a 2 hour boat ride to get out there and we hadn't even been fishing an hour. We weren't going back. He'd have to just deal with it. Everyone turned their attention back to fishing off the back of the boat. A few minutes later....

BAM !

An explosion rocked the boat and scared the shit out of everyone. When we turned around there was the cop. He was sprawled out, spread eagle, on his belly, across the bow of the boat. In one hand was his 9 mm police issue handgun. In his other hand was a cigarette. Before we could say a word, he eyed up the tip of that cigarette and.....

BAM !

He fires and then started sucking on the cigarette like someone trying to get a milkshake through a straw. That maniac was trying to shoot the tip of cigarette in the hope that it would light.

We all started screaming.

With 3 foot waves rocking hte boat up and down he was going to blow his hand off...beside that there was no freaking way that he was going to get that thing lit by shooting it anyway.

" FINE !" , he shouted..." FINE!", then he stood up, " Then I'll light the thing off the barrel !"

With that he aimed into the water and emptied the clip

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM !

He put the cig to the barrel and drew in...nothing.

He started to reload.

Finally the captain acqiessed. " OK OK OK, I'll take you back in." And after another 15 minutes of fishing we turn back to shore.

See. I like some cops. You know... the normal ones.

nickles in the handset

My favorite bit from a great show

phonetards

its raining here......HARD.

The idiots have been calling non-stop.

Oh ? It's raining...thanks for calling to tell me.

The best call so far went like this ( verbatim)

phonetard: Hey, someone has to get out here and do something.

Flick: How can I help you sir ?

phonetard: Well they ought to be able to do something, cause everytime its like this I get everyone elses stuff at my place. Can't you do something up there about that ?

Flick: Ahhhhh, you're going to have to be a little more specific. Are you talking about stormwater ?

phonetard: YEAH ! OF COURSE I AM ! IT RAINING LIKE A SADDAMI OUT THERE !

......It's raining like a saddami out there.......

I don't want to hear anymore shit from any of you people about me being more sensative to the need of the taxpayer.

OK

Now that I got that rant out of my system ( see below) I feel good enough to share a couple of anecdotes about my person emissions experiences.

The Pacer - I think I've written here before about the burgundy pacer that I drove around with...it rocked. I was so embarrased of it that when I had my first date with Mrs. Flick I made her drive AND I made her drop me on the corner a block away from my car for fear that she'd see what I drove and refuse to go out with me again. It almost backfired as she though that I the reason I wouldn't let her near my house was that I was married and hiding her from my wife. But that's not my point.

Jus before we got married, I moved in with Mrs. Flick for about a month. So one Saturday morning I loaded everything I owned into the Pacer and started to make the drive to her place about 30 miles away. I hadn't had the Pacer on a trip that far in quite a while so just before I left I popped the hood to add a little oil. When I looked into the manmoth V8 engine block I noticed that there were a bunch of hoses detached and a couple of feet of tubing shoved over to the side of the engine block. This modification must have been done, for some reason, by the previous owner as it was obvious by the placement of things that it wasn't a random happening.

So wanting to make sure that everything was going to run right for my big trip, I reattached all the tubing and set out along my way.

I got onto the highway and imagine that I was quite a sight. The fishbowl looking car was filled to the gills. Even the passenger seat was shoved full to the ceiling with shit...I literally had everything I had owned in the car and was barely able to carve out pigeon holes for both the side window and rear view mirror.

About 10 miles into the trip I started smelling something funny. 12 miles into the trip my windows started clouding up !?! 15 miles into the trip I started getting dizzy !!!??? Then a little voice in my head said to me, " Hi...this is the little voice in your head...how ya doin ?.....yeah you might want to pull over, you're about to die of carbon monoxide poisoning"

I yanked the steering wheel right and slammed on the brakes. As soon as the car stopped and the wind efect of traveling 55 mph stopped venting whatever was filling the car, the vehicle immediately filled with massive amounts of thick white smoke. Paniced I pulled the door handle and rolled out onto the tarmac.

As I tried to get my head about me and fill my lungs with fresh air, I watched smoke envelope the still running car. I laid there in dispair as my car, and everything I owned on the planet, was about to burn to a crisp.

Then something caught my eye.

From my position on the ground I could see under the car. And it looked like that was where most of the smoke was coming from. I crawled over and looked a little closer. When I got up next to the car I saw what was happening. Oil was pouring out of the car and directly onto the super-hot catalydic converter. As soon as the oil hit the cc, it bursth into a think smoke and filled the inside of the car. But why now ? Why me ? Then I remember hooking all those tubes up.

I hopped up, popped the hood, reached into the block and started pulling. Anything that was hooked up to the carborator or anything that looked like an emissions control had to go. I pulled, and I yanked, and I toss about 35 feet worth of rubber tubing into the woods. When I was done i walked around to the side of the car and looked underneath. No oil, no smoke, no problem.

I closed the hood, I got back in the car, and I drove the rest of the way to Mrs. Flicks house without incident. That car ran great for the next 3 months and I never had an oil or smoke problem again....although most of my shit did smell pretty stinky for a while.

emissions testing

Our county started emissions testing for vehicles last year.

( before I start ranting I'll convey this little ditty. I was going to college one time and had loaded up all my shit in this old Plymouth Astair Safari station wagon... it was resplendid with the seats down pimp style and shag rug stapled into the back. Anyway, the place I lived then had emissions testing and there was no way that this piece of shit was going to pass. My only hope, I figured, was that if I got there with all my shit in the car that the dude would have mercy on me. Luckily I was right. He ran the test...failed. I gave him the song and dance about how I was on my way to school and I was poor and that they didn't even have emission where I was going etc etc. He took the wand out of the tailpipe and held it over his head and ran the test. Well wouldn't you know that so much shit poured out of that stinky old car that it fogged up the entire garage and with the wand not even in the tailpipe that fucking thing failed. Finally, the dude turned on the computer, hit run, and walked to the edge of the garage and held the wand out the window. It passed. His last words to me were, " I never want to see you or this car in this garage ever again." But i got my sticker)

See ! What a load of bullshit.

Emissions testing is nothing more than another way to fuck the lower end of the middle class, and that's the truth...Ruth.

***** RANT TRUNCATED****

as you were.

from an email discussion

--- Doucheblogcycling wrote:
> Of course he's a douche...douches become CYO
> basketball coaches (Flick coached a couple of
> seasons before he had to quit for yelling "jesus
> fucking christ" after some poor kid got taken out on
> a pick).


Flick responded:

I think you're mixed it up with the story where I
beaned the kid with a brushback pitch on my kids
little league team. And if that fucker didn't want
the heat, he shouldn't have been crowding my plate.


And I wasn't CYO, it was at a Christian High School. And I didn't say fucking.

I got in trouble twice...

Once in practice for yelling Jesus Christ. The entire gym stopped what they were doing and looked at me.

The other time was during a game against XXXX Christian when I yelled "GodDammit !" at my point guard who picked up his dribble for the 100th fucking time. That one got me called into the AthleticDirectors Office.

( I had briefly considered the arguement "Well if you could get JC to run the point for me maybe we'd win a few games" but thought better of it. Christians tend to take that whole blasphamy thing quite seriously)

I also got a talking to for playing secular music inthe team van during away games.

Doucheblog wrote:
>So what secular music were you playing?
> Was it Bell Biv DeVoe...?

Flick responded:

> Sadly..... yes.

damn blogger

Blogger made me move everything over to Google today. Actually they didn't 'make' me...but in any event shit's getting switched and it's affected my ability to post. Hopefully this will make it out to the net.

As you may have well figured out, I do my best to protect me idenity under the pen name Flick. While most of you still know who I am, it still leaves me enough plausible deniability should someone try to use this blog against me at work again...those bastards.

This leads to some confusion for those of you who don't know who I am. Occassionally I get emails at burthoovisalive@yahoo.com speculating who I might be. For the record I just wanted to clear the air and say, once and for all, and despite the resemblance, I am not this guy...

SHOCKING

I just electrocuted my balls !

I was out doing an inspection of a stormwater culvert near a pasture. I stepped under a barbwire, down to the waters edge, did the inspection, and was done.

Then when I got done, instead of going under the wire again, I stepped over it. No big deal. I mean there were some barbs, but I gingerly stepped over them and just about cleared the wire. then when I lifted my back leg up I shifted slightly and tapped the wire....no problem. Then...

WHAM !

...a huge shock rocked me. I stood there stunned trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Then while my brain was trying to compute what was going on, my body decided " FUCK THIS" and took over. Before I could think about it, my legs jumped up and ran for the car. About half way there I realized what had happened...the barbwire was wrapped in a pulse wire that was periodically sending out a friggin whopper of a shock. When I slid to the side I got wolloped in the nads.

Now some people will tell you that they got shocked and afterwards it healed some ailment. They'll claim that it helped their arthritis or some shit like that. I'm here to tell you that as far as testicles go, none of that shit is true. In fact the only difference that I notice is that my pubes now look like this.



Other than that...nothing.

get outta here !

That thing is an archerfish. It spits water to get prey. Unreal.

I can't tell

I can't tell if I'm still slightly retarded from Hollowen night or if I'm suffering from the pangs of withdraw of not having anything to drink in a week....or both.

In any case, I can't hold a thought for more than 2 minutes, I'm slurring my speech, and I'm irritable. I had started to suggest that maybe I was developing a brain tumor but when I mentioned it to my wife the conversation went the way of the heart attack.

Anyway, I was away all day at a converence and spent the entire time trying to think of something to write. Here is what I came up with....

DUH DUH DUH DUH DUHHHHH DUHH DUH DUH DUH DUHHHHHH.

That doesn't have any tune or anything that goes with it. That's pretty much the soundtrack in my head since Friday. Glad I could share it with you.

Meanwhile, Llama sex. Sort of.

Jacob Painter and the Mulberry Bow

The Gable family grew up in the foothills, where the Appalachian Mountains start to diminish as they spill into Pennsylvania.

As is/was the Gable family tradition, the clan that occupied those hills from 1945-1965 had eleventy-billion boys and a couple of girls. And that group, like all the Gable's before and after, had a hard earned reputation of...well how do we say this politely...ummmm, a hard earned reputation of terror.

They were a hard working people who lived in a hard environment. The boys not only had to deal with life in the mountains with no electricity, no plumbing, and Western Pa winters, but they also had to deal with the realities of living with 6 other brothers. So if you were another kid on the mountain, you did your best to steer clear of the Gable boys. A fight with a Gable was a lose-lose. You were probably going to get your ass kicked straight up. But if, by the grace of god, you happened to hold you own, then you were faced with the prospect of having to fight your way up the food chain. And at the top of that food chain were the biggest and most feared of the Gable boys, Buddy and Kevin Gable.

Buddy wasn't the oldest, he was second in line. The oldest boy was Kevin who, at over 6 foot tall and over 200 lbs was the largest of the clan. But what had in size he lacked in both quickness and brains. Buddy, while smaller was crafty, quick, and above all aggressive. These two would often test each other to see who was alpha dog with Buddy almost always winning out. Buddy's favorite move was to, just every once in a while and without warning, punch Kevin in the gut and then run for the barn. Because of his size and agility Buddy was able to climb up the barn rafters and drop between the wall of the main barn and the side of the horse barn. Kevin couldn't get up nor over the over the rafters and although Buddy was a foot away, he was on the other side of some 2x6's and untouchable. Kevin would stand there frustratedly screaming that one day he would catch Buddy and beat him to a pulp. Eventually Kevin would run out of steam, go away, and Buddy would climb out unscathed.

But the Gable boys were not without fear. There was one thing that they most definately feared....their father. No matter what hijinx were afoot, the site or sound of their father sent the boys running.

One day the boys were hanging out bored. When Kevin reached up to grab a limb of a tree he had interest in climbing, Buddy punched him square in the gut. He turned to run but Kevin grabbed a foot and a fierce battle ensued. The other boys watched in anticipation as Buddy was about to get what was coming to him. But before Kevin could really do any damage, Buddy squirreled away and the footrace to the barn was on. In a flash, Buddy was up and over the rafters. He stood there laughing right up until he felt a dull thud hit his lower back. He reached around to feel some wetness and when he looked at his hand it was blood red. Kevin, in his frustration, had picked up a sickle and not really thinking about the consequences, slammed the blade between two of the slats of wood. He had stabbed Buddy in the back.

The boys were so scared of their father, they didn't tell anyone. In fact, all the boys helped drag Buddy to the bedroom they shared and they all pretended that the boy was sick with the flu. He laid in bed for a week, somehow not dying of infection or the injury and soon returned to the mountainside games. I'm pretty sure that he never blasted Kevin in the gut again.

But I didn't write all that to tell you that story. All the corn being harvested this week locally reminded me of another story that involves this same family.

Every harvest season the boys would use the leftover corn cobs to play a game of cowboys and Indians. Actually, because they were smart enough not to shoot each other with guns, it was more like a game of Indians and Indians. What they would do is make bows and arrows. And I mean real bows and arrows that they would also use to hunt small game. Often this would take all summer. They'd find a good piece of wood, carve is out into a bow. They'd string it up. And in the end they'd have a bow decent enough to hunt rabbits and squirrels with. But when they weren't hunting. they'd take the left over corn cobs, shove an arrow into the cob and run around shooting each other. As insane as this might sound you have to remember that there wasn't a lot of cable TV on the mountain in the 1950's, so you really had to be creative to keep yourself busy. And despite how dangerous it might sound, the cobs were very effective at keeping everything safe. The game really caught on and over time all the kids on the mountain looked forward to the fall battles.

Understandably, everything in the Gable house became a contest. If one kid climbed a tree, the next kid had to climb a bigger tree. If one kid tossed a crab apple 100 feet, the next kid had to toss it 101. And so it was with the building of the bows. This came to a head in 1958, when Buddy found a huge limb broken off from a Red Mulberry tree. He spent all summer carving out a giant bow. When he was done it took four of the boys to string it. Only two Gable boys, Kevin and Buddy, could draw the finished bow. But even those two struggled and with their best efforts could only draw it a few inches. And there was not way to aim the thing with any accuracy. It was eventually put away for the rest of the summer and forgotten about in favor of other games and activities.

Finally the fall came and Indians and Indians began. After a pretty good drubbing one day by some boys who lived a little closer down toward town, the Gable boys decided that they would need some heavier artillery to help salvage the family name. They decided to break out the mulberry bow. Now since it wasn't going to be possible to use a huge gun like this as a mobile weapon, Buddy hatched a plan. What they would do is have Buddy and Kevin hide at the end of the orchard facing down a row of apple trees. The other Gable boys would, as best they could, drive the other neighborhood kids into the orchard. By working together from the seated position, Buddy and Kevin could put their feet on the bow and both pull the string all the way back. This, he concluded, would result in super high powered welt-inducing corn cob arrows. The impact of the cobs as well at the sight of the giant bow, would be enough to seal their reputation forever.

The next day everything seemed to go according to plan. As the two older boys laid in wait, the younger Gables did a fine job of luring the unsuspecting kids into the trap. Jacob Painter was the first unfortunate sole to walk into the crosshairs. The two oldest Gables drew the bow back as far as it would stretch and they unleashed, with great velocity and power, the biggest arrow on the biggest corn cob that they had. Victory was to be theirs !

Before Painter had any clue as to what was happening, the bunker busting corncob arrow nailed the kid and blew him off his feet. When he stood back up and went to dust himself off, they all realized that they had made one small miscalculation.

Corn cobs make _excellent_ bumpers when shot from a rabbit bow.

Corn cobs make _terrible_ bumpers when shot from a cannon.

Upon impact, the arrow split that corn cob in two, and was now firmly stuck in the side of a 12 year old boy. The same twelve year old boy who was now flailing, screaming and running back toward town to go tell his mother.

After some stunned silence all the boys suddenly came to the same frightening conclusion. No, it wasn't that they had shot a boy with an arrow. If he was running...and flailing....and screaming...then he wasn't dying. Getting shot was going to hurt like hell, but the cob had slowed the arrow down enough that it was only a couple inches into his side. The fear that coursed through the veins of the boys that day ran much deeper than that.

If Jacob Painter got to Mrs. Painter
...then Mrs. Painter was going tell their Dad
...and if their Dad just found out that they shot a boy with an arrow
...then the mulberry bow was going to become a mulberry ass beating stick.

In a rush, the boys headed down that mountain as their lives depended on it. They caught Jacob Painter at the end of the meadow on the towns edge. They smothered him until he quieted down, then the dragged him into the woods and yanked out the arrow. Just to make sure, they gave him a thumpin'...nothing bad, just a little something to get his attention. And they let him know if he said anything to anyone, there'd be a lot more thumpin'to follow.

In the end Painter was fine and Dad never found out.

Just another day on the mountain.

1:00 and I'm still alive

Coffee is the new manna from heaven

Here's a classic that never gets unfunny.

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/2006/07/cowboyslocker.html

And in case you thought I was kidding about the whoopie cussion

trick or hangover

I drank 15 beers and two shots of cognac while trick or treating last night.

10 years of behaving myself in front of the neighbors and building a good reputation down the tubes. Its tough to maintain that respect when you're a giant pink whoopie-cussion sleeping on your front lawn.

Today is going to be bad...but I guess not as bad as this guys day...

Last Holloween

Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Trick or Treat
In what has become an annual tradition in our neighborhood, all the families get together for pizza before trick or treating. This year we introduced beer (for the parents) into the equation with good results. The trick or treating turned into a bar crawl.

We got about two blocks from my house and I really had to take a leak. With people everywhere and a local fire truck, light ablazin, parked and handing out candy to the kids, there was little opportunity to sneak into the bushes.

Add to that the fact that taking a leak in the bushes might be generally frowned upon by the neighbors AND having your weiner out while little kids are running around the town is a recipe for disaster no matter how legitimate the reason. " I was just taking a piss" doesn't sound believable when it's in print in the local paper.

But I couldn't take it anymore, so I lagged behind everyone else, and casually made my way over near the bushes. In one swift motion, I stepped between two bushes and moved behind them. Well to my surprise, I found out where the neighborhood stormwater culvert is. My step behind the bush turned into my 4 foot fall into the detention basin. I exacted a perfect dive roll back up to my feet and scrambled up the embankment and resumed my position in the parade...grass stained and freaked out. A couple of seconds I heard a voice behind me..." I thought I was going to have to send the firemen in there after you"...apparantly I wasn't the last person in line. Embarassed and slightly scathed I trudged on.

Another couple of blocks I couldn't take it anymore. I told T " I really gotta go !". She said that she'd take the kids, that I should run home and to take the video camera with me. I slipped the camera onto hand and started home.

I had to go so badly that I couldn't run...I had to do a fast shuffle/speed walk. I got back onto my street, which was now completely empty of people and started toward my house. It was touch and go as to whether I would make it without pissing my pants. Then I came up to the bushes again. Half out of severe need and half out to prove a point to that bastard bush I decided to piss right there. Carefully and quickly I slipped into the bushes and carefully perched myself on the ledge of the basin. I craned my neck around to look and see if anyone was coming and as quickly as possible, which at this point was easy, unzipped and let it rip. Ahhhhhhhhh. So I was standing there relieved, looking around for anyone coming and all of a sudden I realized I was getting wet. SWEET JESUS !

I looked down in the pitch dark and realized that the video camera strap was still around my hand. That hand that was holding my johnson and I was pissing directly INTO the video camera with the spashback spraying all over me.

After swearing, zipping up, and trying to dry off, I ran all the way back and rejoin everyone...making a meager attempt to dry off ( both myself and the camera) in the process.

When I got back, Mrs. Flick asked me to take a video of the kids. I picked up the piss stained camera, aimed it, turned it on. The video screen flickered, flickered again, then a message came up...DANGER DEW DETECTED.

Indeed.

calling a spade a spade

Conversation while driving around the city hungover on Sunday morning.

B: Man I want some bacon. Where do you think that we can get some bacon around here.

R: Around here ? There only thing you're going to get in this neighborhood is a big plate of fucked in the ass.

B: Thats not going to work, I don't want a big plate of fucked in the ass, I want bacon.

R: What's the difference, it's all pork.

new jersey weed

Big Jonny Rules

If you've ever clicked on the link I set up to Drunk Cyclist, you know all about Big Jonny. And if you haven't been over there, I suggest you get off your ass and check it out now...you're missing out on the fun.

DRUNK CYCLIST LINK

In any case, around a month or so ago Big Jonny was hit by a car while out on a ride and he's been spending the better part of his time recovering. In the meantime he's been out of work.

He's not one for charity. But then again, I'm not one for taking shit for free. Point is...this guys been providing fun and porn since before fun and porn was cool. If you're someone who's been heading over and enjoying drunkcyclist.com it's time for you to step up and show your appreciation.

Get yourself a DC shirt, hat, or beer coozie. Everything is on sale and priced to go. This of this as an early version of the Jerry Lewis telethon...but with a drunk mountain biker instead of a kid in a little kid in a wheelchair.

GO HERE

www.drunkcyclist.com


And I'm out until Monday. Big family wedding this weekend. Should be good fodder for posts next week. I'm bringing the recorder with me and interviewing drunks.
Have a safe weekend.

problem solving

I've always been convinved that all the worlds problems* could be solved if you just had the right forum for dialogue. The UN is a nice effort, but they're lacking a few things...mainly beer and a big screen TV. If you put men in a room with booze and sports they can usually come to a mutually agreed upon conclussion. Last night's conversation is a perfect example...


B: I think more grand slams are hit per opportunity then home runs hit at bat, because pitchers don't have the option of walking the batter

R: Except for Bonds. I've seen them walk Bonds with the bases loaded just to limit the damage to one run.

B: You mean pitch to the outside or intentionally walk ?

R: Intentionally.

B: Get the fuck outta here.

R: Seriously. I think it's been done more than once.

B: Jeeze. If you're going to do that why not just bean him. I mean if you're going to give him the base why not throw at his giant head.

R: You should throw at his dick. That would get his attention.

B: With Bonds, if you threw it at his crotch, he'd probably just whip it out and hit a home run with his dick.

R: OK here's the deal ...if you hit a home run with you dick you go immediately into the Hall of Fame.

B: RIGHT ! You go around the bases and when you get to home, they're waiting for you there and you get innagurated right on the spot.

R: No, no, no...HERE is the deal. If you hit a home run with your dick you get to LIVE in the hall of fame.

B: So let me get this straight. Bonds is up. The pitcher throws at his dick. He whips it out and hits it out of the park with his penis...and he gets to LIVE in the Hall of Fame. I like it ! Perfect. I agree.

R: And if its a grand slam, they just rename the place from the Hall of Fame the Hall of Bond's Home Run Hitting Dick.

B: Word.


* ( by solving the worlds problems I mean, you know, the problems between men. You could have 100 big screen TV and 1000 cases of beer, and you're still not going to figure out why you get laid less when after marriage or any of the other crazy shit that women do)

Sigmund and the Sea Monsters

When I drove in this morning a co-worked had a bunch of brush and plants in the back of his truck that gave me a total flashback. The stuff looked just like Sigmund from Sigmund and the Sea Monsters and I was thrown back to Saturday mornings as a little kid.

We were an ABC family. As most lower middle class families in the early 70's we had a black and white TV set with rabbit ears...you know the kind of TV where the plastic knob would eventually break off and you'd have to change the channels with a pair of pliars. So at the time, WPVI channel 6 out of Philadelpia put out the strongest signal and between the picture clarity and nobody wanting to go look for pliars, our TV was usually on channel 6..ABC.

As kids this meant a steady Saturday morning diet of Hong Kong Phooey, Buggs Bunny ( the cool unedited ones), Super Friends ( totally awesome), Captain Caveman, and of course the Scooby Doo Laff Olympics. You could rip through a box of Cherrios before American Bandstand would come on signaling that it was time for you to go outside to play and not return until the streetlights came on.

But the thing that struck me today was something completely different. Was I realized today, and what I suspect every one of our parents had to realize, was that Sid and Marty Krofft must have been smoking an enormous ammount of dope. Is it possible that Sid and Marty Krofft was the pen name of Cheech and Chong. I'm not saying it's true, I'm just posing the question.

Think about this line up.

H.R. Puff and Stuff.....PUFF !?!?! PUFF'N STUFF ?!?!? Maybe this stuff was just so obvious I saw right through it.



The Bugaloos


Don't know anything about these guys. I think they were on NBC which, until my dad finally sprung for a rooftop antenna, excluded them from my personal lineup.

Lidsville...only three things you need to know.
1) The title was Lidsville
2) The premise was some dude cruising around in a world of giant hat creatures
3) Charles Nelson Reilly

Can anyone say Magic Mushrooms ?

Then we hit the meat of the line-up. 1973 to 1975 were my main viewing years and they coincided with Sid and Marty's finest work.

Sigmund and the Sea Monster which brought a little bit of the California surf culture into the homes of east coast kids.



A little known fact is that Sigmund was played by the late great Billy Barty, who would go on to appear in numerous Krofft shows and become, perhaps, the best know little person actor ever.

Land of the Lost.

Sleestacks, T-Rex, Chocka...come on man. This goes in the Saturday morning hall of fame. Name one show on TV today that comes close.

And if there's a guy in his 30's who claims he never hand a impure thought about Holly as a young boy, he's lying. Word.

Far Out Space Nuts and the Lost Saucer

The next two offerings get increasingly less reflective of the 70's counter culture and most opportunistic of the outter space facination of the Star Wars boom. But while less trippy, they're no less bizarre. Both take place on a spaceship and share perhaps the cheesiest most poorly produced special effect of their day. If that wasn't enough the first show starred John Denver ( aka Gilligan) and the second starred Ruth Buzzi and Jim Nabors and some dude in a really really bad costume that had him half dog and half horse called "The Dorse". Talk about a bad trip.

* I was going to post a picture of The Dorse, but Sid and Marty were so embarassed that they've bought up all images and likenesses of the Dorse and there are non to be found on the internet or otherwise.


In general, I think the Krofft offerings were reflective of the transitional culture that was the 70's. Starting with the blatantly trippy Puff and Stuff in 1970....and slowly evolving, as did the culture of that time, into a more mainstream, conventional, and sadly, more corporate existance...but without ever completly losing its psychedelic lilt ( Ruth Buzzi and Jim Nabors...come on...you know that was hatched after someone found an old bag of something in a kitchen drawer).

Never was that transformation more reflective in their one last Saturday morning offering for kids. The sad but true

Bay City Rollers Show