Does anyone remember that episode of "Little House On The Prairie" where that deaf baby seal died of rickets on Christmas Eve?
Well, think again.
Go ahead and laugh all you want, but if shit starts to go down in some snowy part of the world, this guy's left breast will be completely invisible to the naked eye thanks to the camouflage cup. And you know what lies beneath the left breast, right? The ol' ticker. The one place you don't want to get shot by an evil-doer. This guy is smart. He's taking necessary precautions during the Global War On Terror, something all of us could stand to do a better job of. Sure, some "doctors" will tell you your heart is in the middle of your chest. Hogwash! I don't know about you, but when I recite the Pledge, I put my hand over my heart ON THE LEFT.
Some of you may notice that my video a couple posts down is no longer available. I hope you all got to see it because it truly was a masterpiece. Ask anyone. Turns out, some agency working on behalf of Mr. Morrison informed me I was violating Mr. Morrison's "moral rights". Now, normally when somebody starts telling me what I can and can't do, I turn into a little bulldog and fight back tooth and nail. However, this guy (the "Web Sheriff", as he is known) was so freaking nice and funny about the whole thing, I decided to give in and take it down without much of a fight. I invited him to check out my blog during our correspondence. I hope he (or maybe she) does.
Everyone knows how much I hate wasps and yellow jackets. Earlier this summer, Megan bought this trap for $9.99. I had my doubts about how it would work, but I was pleasantly surprised. They are attracted by a scented cotton-ball, fly in, but can't fly out. As you can see, we caught a shitload of these little bastards, something I'm sure will have the PETA people all over my ass. I decided to empty out the trap yesterday and tally up just how many got nabbed. There were 48 whole ones and a few bits and pieces of the others. I decided to honor their wretched lives by naming them:
Well, the time has come to say goodbye. I've reached the end of this long, winding path called "Some Guy's Blog". I've given all I have to give. I want to thank each and every one of you who made this such an enjoyable experience. We've had our ups and downs and our sidewayses, and through it all I think, together, we've made this crazy world a little more bearable. Actually, I'm just fucking with you. I'll be back Sunday.
This one is nice. There are four wolves. Three are looking this way and one is looking over there, probably at a chirping grasshopper or something.
This one is a little flashy, but who knows? Maybe I could use a little more flash in my life. There's only one wolf, but he's got a very "come hither" stare, like "Hey, baby. Can I buy you a drink?"
This one epitomizes my "bad boy" side. Plus, I do drool a lot.
This one has three wolves singing. It kind of reminds me of the Kingston Trio. I can just hear them singing "Tom Dooley" in perfect three-part harmony.
This one kills two birds with one shirt. I show my love of wolves AND my love of the stars & bars. America, fuck yeah!
OR, maybe I should go in a totally new direction and get myself a kick-ass rhino shirt.
Megan was out on her daily scat safari in our yard when she happened upon this odd looking turd. It was very dark and had sort of a pine cone effect happening. It should be established that the quarter you see was not part of the original poop. It is merely for scale. We thought is was from a deer, but deer scat looks more like THIS or THIS. If this is from a deer, I'm guessing it's pretty a constipated deer. Granted, I'm no expert. This is pure speculation on my part.
As those of you who follow my recommendations have noticed, I am a huge fan of docs about subjects that are unconventional and nonconformist. During the 1950's Dorian "Doc" Paskowitz was a prominent physician with a bright future in politics when he realized that his love of surfing trumped a life of materialism and ambition. He found a sexually compatible wife, ditched his medical practice and political aspirations, and together they raised 9 children in a cramped motor home, spending their days surfing and learning through experience. It was a utopian existence of sorts. Things eventually changed as the kids reached puberty and started to rebel. Some realized how ill-equipped they were to deal with a world they had not had much exposure to. "Surfwise" is an fascinating film about a very atypical family. Check it out!
That's all I remember this kid saying when he was on Diff'rent Strokes. It was always Mish-tur D this and Mish-tur D that and "Mish-tur D, Arnold stuck his thumb up my butt!" Dude, enough with your whining to Mish-tur D already. He ain't your daddy! Hoyt Axton was your daddy. Mish-tur D is a multi-millionaire who could buy and sell your freckled ass. He doesn't want to hear your mewling. Come to think of it, neither do the rest of us.
In a post dated 8/5/08, I claimed that I "often wonder whether Chaka Khan would have enjoyed the success she did had it not been for her Great-Uncle Genghis paving the way."
For the longest time I sent e-mails to the folks at Netflix asking why the classic documentary film "Salesman" was not available. It got to the point where I just went ahead and bought it myself because I had heard so much about it. Well, for those of you who like my doc recommendations, this one is a classic and can finally be added to your queue. The movie was made in the late 60's by my favorite documentarians, the Maysles Brothers (Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter). It follows four door-to-door Bible salesmen - "The Gipper", "The Rabbit", "The Bull", and the movie's main focus, "The Badger" - as they set out to sell keepsake Catholic Bibles to reluctant customers. It is shot in true "direct cinema" fashion, with no interaction or prompting by the filmmakers. It is both funny and heartbreaking. It is a must-see for any documentary fan. Add it to your lists, bitches!
I often wonder whether Chaka Khan
had it not been for her
This kid, Nathan, who went to my grade school.
Dear Northern Michigan's Classic Rock "The Bear",
Occasionally as we are lying in bed before we fall asleep, Megan will ask me to tell her a story.
