Bring a gimp to work day

You may have noticed the slight change for today in the banner. Ever the astute blogger Madam Sadie informed us its national "Bring A Gimp to Work Day".

Don't mind the strange looks he's givin' you, the Gimp is just excited to be let out of his cage every now and then.

It's an orglishous birthday bash!

Last week our pal Robbo the LLamabutcher turned Forty-Onhhhhhh, damn he's old. Always up for a party we headed to Dee Cee for the festivatahs...

Steve-O was a tad upset by Robbo's choice to have a Build-A-Bear party. It seems that Steve-O is a recovering Plushophile* with fears of relapsing he had hoped Robbo would choose a My Little Princess Theme or perhaps give him a chance to facilitate a Cuddle Party.

Robbo was insistent that everybody watch as he "stuffed" Miguel, the latest addition to his plush llama collection. Then paraded around the store singing screaming Save A Horse Ride A LLamabutcher at the top of his lungs, in mid song switched to a heart wrenching rendition of They Call Me the Plushy Cuddler (sung in tune to Steve Miller's Space Cowboy).

Steve-O begrudgingly showed up about an hour late for the party, to nobody's surprise he's been huffing glue and was dressed in his best little princess outfit anyhow. After watching Robbo take a turn at stuffing a plushy Steve-O built the perfect little pony to accompany him back to the Llama Butcher's Seekrit Lair.

The picture below was snapped just before the Butchers bid their hasty retreat:

Would somebody please pass the mental Clorox? There is actually a Mini-FAQ for plushy lovers.

Cranky sends his Birthday wishes.
Kathy provides the In Party Commentary.
And Agent Bedhead puts her investigative skills to use and provides us with a glimps of the Stately Llama Manor Love Nest.

Blasphemy

By a blasphemer.

I am the boss.

When my wife says I can be.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I know you wanna taste it

But I'm gonna make you chase it...

I wished I could claim that little pearl of wisdom, but I'm just repeating what be hearding on the ray-didi-o.

We're all a bit Indian

Confederate Yankee and Macktastick Rusty have bloged about the latest Pale Face who speak with forked tongue regarding his Indian heritage.

I think I'll sing:

One Little

Two Little

Three Little Indians

Four Little

Five Little

Six Little Indians

Seven Little

Eight Little

Nine Little Indians

Ten Little Indian boys bloggerlings

Gratuitous Melissa Theuriau Posting Week Two

Maybe I'll start learning French, my hand gestures and pure animal magnetism haven't done much to lure her this way, as of yet.

Paging Doktor Freud, Paging Doktor Freud

The Crack Young Staff of The Hatemongers Quarterly have written what may very well be the best line published on a "Web Log" today:

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but other times an SUV is a substitute for a penis.

Get to clicking and read the rest of: The SUV: Twenty-First Century Answer to Penis Envy.

Sooper Seekrit Message to Chip Keep this up and your humble "Web Log" may become the bastion of popularity, heck you may even make it into the top three.

Learning 'sperience

In a pinch polyurethane can be substituted for Testor's model airplane glue.

Not that I'd recommend it, because, um, huffing should be left to the professionals.

A year in review

'tis a hallowed day 'round the phish bowl. Seems that it was a year ago today that I fired off the first post for this blog (when it was still on blogspot).

This, my latest adventure into bloggering, as been the most enjoyable so far. Some of the highlights of the past year involve: Announcing that I had the sex, got it right and provided pictorial proof. Having dinner two top notch bloggers in Vegas, thanks again Sadie & the Lad and basil & The Big Sister (Who's 5'4") for taking the time out of your busy schedules and making the trip well worth it. We, Sadie and I, launched Apothegm Designs. (She's the good looks, talent and the brains of the outfit, I'm just around for show and comedic stress relief.) And maybe once or twice I accidentally ruffled some feathers, but I'm pretty sure it was by accident.

Best of all though I've met folks that I'm honored to call friends. I sure wasn't expecting that when I started this blog, I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I started this blog, hell I'm still not sure, but I sure didn't expect to make as many friends as I have. The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm better off, than I was at this time last year. Thanks y'all.

Come to find out I share a blogiversary with Zonker, the irregular posting, mullet sporting, midget tossing patriarch of Thunder and Roses, who turned two today.

Killin' Kittens

At Confederate Yankee, my older and sometimes wiser brother's blog, the following comment was left:

...would any of you withdraw your support for Mr. Bush if he killed a kitten with a carpenter's hammer?

Now I'm not sure why it struck me as funny, hell I've been laughing about it for a good while now. I'm not real sure if it's the assinine nature of the question or the thought of President Bush playing Wack-A-Mole with moving targets, either way, I'm amused. Now don't get me wrong, I like cats, they taste just like chicken, but what the hell has killing kittens got to do with running a country and keeping me safe from terrorists? I mean it's pretty obvious that boinking fatgirls in the oval office doesn't accomplish much so why not sacrifice a few warm fuzzies in the name of homeland defense?

Really when you think about the number of kittens being smited on a daily basis due to hormone riddle teens:

What are a few more to ensure the happiness of our beloved Kommander In Chief and for goodness sake, THINK ABOUT THE KITTENS!

From the comments: Recommended listening the Kitten Song by Stephen Lynch.

In the beginning

Last week he missus was insistent that we purchase a stroller and playpen prior to junior's arrival. I was content letting her carry him around. I mean in the olden days women used to give birth and then get right back to work in the fields; it seems to me the least she could do is carry him around until he starts walking.

So I put my foot down and explained to her that there wasn't any way in hell we were going out and blowing money on a stroller, playpen, etc... that she was just gonna have to buck up and carry him around for a little while. Boy howdy are women these days getting lazier by the minute.

Later on that night as we're out buying a stroller, she's making sure that everything matches. By everything I mean the stroller has to match the playpen which has to match the highchair which has to match the swing that matches the car seat and all this matches the sheets and other crap that goes with the crib.

For the first few months of the boy's life he'll be surrounded by matching baby accessories. It's not just the travel gear, outfits come complete from head to toe with the perfect accessories, or so I've been told. This folks is how metrosexuals are created, not that there's anything wrong with being a metrosexual. There's no good reason for it, that I can see. Just what the hell's wrong with lettin' junior pick out his clothes? I mean, it worked perfectly fine for me until I got married a lifetime ago.

So we get home and the missus decided we should put the stroller together, and by we I mean me, as she's barking out orders and giggling about how cute it is. From there we, and by we I mean her, started organizing the nursery. After several ill-advised attempts at helping to arrange junior's wardrobe the missus is planning to implement a barcode or numbering system to ensure his outfits match should I be left unsupervised and he requires dressing. Apparently 'au natural' or diaper only isn't a viable option.

As a diversion the "R" Us brands of stores could make a killing by setting up a lounge and serving adult beverages to the refugees, namely the fathers and expectant fathers that get roped in going to hell on earth. Just think how much happier everybody would be. The ladies could roam about the range freely, fulfilling their urge to hunt and gather; while the men could relax in a pleasant atmosphere and comfort each other with war stories.

At some point in the near future I'll be headed out to buy several pairs of overalls for the boy. Really that and a couple of flannel shirts is all he'll need when we leave the house. If it's hot, overalls with no shirt, if it's cold, put on a flannel. For attire around the house, shouldn't kids be allowed to roam freely in as natural a state as possible? Thus the diaper only theory of dressing. The missus for some reason has already objected to this approach, damned baby fashion Nazis they've already brain washed her, but what she doesn't know won't hurt me, too badly.

RINO Sightings

Rusty proves he's still Jawalicious after all these years. How? By celebrating his second blogiversary and helping to catch a terrorist.

Don Surber says that Abramoff Makes The Case For Term Limits and pulls in three prime examples.

Politechnical found something really scary. Sean Hannity and Pat Buchanan discussed Iran and made absolute sense. That’s why I’m frightened, me too.

Dan of Seachlight Crusade discusses More Eminent Domain Thievery. And says "by removing the money incentive for abuse, you're pulling the rug out from under the reasons why it happens, as well as insuring that the victims of condemnation are compensated justly."

Agent Bedhead Eminem Post-Nuptual Interview. Would the real slim shady please stand up? Really nobody wants to see Marshal no more, what am I chopped liver?

Orac tells us about the loon running Iran. He really is that crazy. Funny, when I started slipping they put me in a padded room, this guy gets a country, millions of followers and a big red EASY button (carefully their Ahmed, that button'll cause it to rain more than printer cartridges).

Lousiana Libertarian provides us with a preview of the State of the Union. Complete with commentary from the captain of the Chappaquiddick Swim Team, Ted Kennedy. At least Teddy's only talking instead of offering driving lessons.

The Commisar shows us how to spell with flickr. I've already gots enuff problmes spellun, I donts need any hep.

For the Faux Michael Moore Controversy check out Decision '08. Matthews really didn't call Moore a terrorist, although he did say Moore was environmentally unfriendly and responsible for 65% of the world's greenhouse gasses.

Cardinal Martini wants to start a Muslim Sorority. Because nothing says dead sexy like an obedient woman sporting a burqa.

Bloodspite says parting is such sweet sorrow (part 2). A modern day ghost story.

Kat from The Wisdom of Change sends a letter to the Concord Monitor's editors discussing Parental Notification Letter.

Gary the Ex-Donkey wants Order in the Court. And helps us fondly remember the past with This week's 80's Crush: Elisabeth Shue.

Restless Mania never expected the Catholic Church to take the side of Darwin. Now about that Flying Spaghetti Monster, when is he going to get the credit he deserves?

John of Castle Argghhh says something about Murtha. And explains the difference between Mssrs Kerry and Murtha is that Kerry waved his credentials at everybody, used them to hammer on President Bush, and made his credentials the issue.

Buckley F. Williams presents us with Little Know Facts about Jack Bauer. He left of the part about Jack Bauer killing kittens with a hammer, because that's just mean.

Piglito says... Nuclear deterrence is back in vogue. And he's getting advice from a magic 8-ball (I thought I was the only one still doing that).

From Scott's Point of View, Hillary's a Hypocrite (she's a hippo from my point of view too).

Larry tells us why he isn't Liberal.

Digger of Digger's Realm says Gil "One Bill" Cedillo rides again as he Introduces the Illegal Alien Driver License Bill. How does one legally give something to an illegal?

Eric of Classical Values wonders if there's a new species of RINO. Is it possible to be a Republican In Name Only In Name Only? A RINO-INO? Sure most days it beats being a Wino, of course on other days nothing beats a nice warm bottle of Mad Dog 20/20.

At legal redux there's a review of the ACLU's suit to stop President Bush's "spying". Now if we could get the CIA to stop with the mind control rays.

Barry of enrevanche lets us know about Patriots to Restore Checks and Balances.

AJStrata of The Strata-Sphere reviews a Quarter Century of Conservatism. A tribute to Reagan on the 25th anniversary of his inauguration

The Unabrewer tells us about Cereal Insa-nanny-ty and some knuckleheads quest for a commercial free Childhood. Really the commercials during Saturday morning cartoons didn't have an affect on me. Now excuse me while I put on my Levis, tie my nikes and start my toyota so it's nice and warm when I head to work.

It's Jawalicious

Those damned fugative Jawas are at it again.

On March 12th of 2005 (later updated on March 14th) I wrote a post about a series of messages on the jihadi forum alm2sda.net about how to make various weapons of mass destruction, such as chemical weapons, by a poster calling himself ahmed_assalafil. I had first heard about Ahmed's messages from a website that I frequent which monitors jihad forums, Internet Haganah. Included in Ahmed's messages was the claim that the poster had information on how to make a nuclear bomb, along with some rudimentary (and erroneous) instructions on Hydrogen bomb construction. He was seeking help translating the allegedly secret materials into Arabic.

Rusty and his readers have bagged another terrorist.
Head over and be sure to wish him a happy second anniversary too.

Gratuitous Melissa Theuriau Posting*

Primarily because I have nothing else to offer today and as they say a picture is worth a thousand words.

I'm kinda thinking her pics are worth at least 1,500.

*Pseudo Apologies to Robbo The LLama Butcher for Sealing the Title of this post.

What a way to go

Via MTV News: Isaac Hayes checked into a Memphis, Tennessee, hospital on Tuesday night due to exhaustion.

Ya know if I had his voice, coupled with my charm, wit, good looks and humility, I'm nothing if I'm not humble, I'd have died from exhaustion a long, long time ago.

It's like a horror movie gone wrong.

I'll be having nightmares about The Attack of the Sagging Sweater Puppies!

Staring Drew Barrymore.
The Theme Song, My Globes Aren't As Golden As They Once Were, was written and performed by Mariah Carey.

We interupt this blogcast

To celebrate, with ultra hot French nooz chick Melissa Theuriau, the 500,000th visitor to the LLama Butchers.

Take it away Melissa:

And we're back.

Congrats Steve & Robbo, may you continue the Ogleisous bloggering for years to come.

Ya learn something new every day

As a perpetual student I strive to learn something new everyday. Somedays, I'm a bit more successful than others. Today however, I've stumbled upon the holy grail, a bit of information that no man should go through life without knowing.

It all started when the Straight White Guy decided to post about Ms. Marilyn Monroe.

Life being unfair I couldn't gawk at Ms. Monroe on the picture tube, so I settled for the next best thing, an interweb search.

During that interweb search I found NNDB. In their own words:

NNDB is an intelligence aggregator that tracks the activities of people we have determined to be noteworthy, both living and dead. Superficially, it seems much like a "Who's Who" where a noted person's curriculum vitae is available (the usual information such as date of birth, a biography, and other essential facts.)

Marilyn Monroe
AKA Norma Jeane Mortensen

Born: 1-Jun-1926
Birthplace: Los Angeles General Hospital, Los Angeles CA
Died: 5-Aug-1962
Location of death: 12305 Fifth Helena Dr., Brentwood CA
Cause of death: Suicide
Remains: Buried, Westwood Village Memorial Park, Los Angeles, CA

Gender: Female
Religion: Jewish
Ethnicity: White
Sexual orientation: Straight
Occupation: Actor, Model

Nationality: United States
Executive summary: Some Like It Hot

Father: Martin Edward Mortensen (Norwegian)
Mother: (American)
Husband: James Dougherty (m. 19-Jun-1942, div. 13-Sep-1946, d. 15-Aug-2005)
Husband: Joe DiMaggio (m. 14-Jan-1954, div. 27-Oct-1954)
Husband: Arthur Miller (m. 29-Jun-1956, div. 24-Jan-1961)
Slept with: Robert F. Kennedy
Slept with: John F. Kennedy
Slept with: Joan Crawford (unproven)
Boyfriend: Jorge Guinle (d. 2004)

Allegedly revealed to her therapist about a proposed tryst with Joan Crawford: "I told her straight out I didn't much enjoy doing it with a woman. After I turned her down, she became spiteful."

I told her straight out I didn't much enjoy doing it with a woman. After I turned her down, she became spiteful.

Just one more stroke

Via Slashdot : " A test carried out by Pegasus Lab on account for Swedish magazine PC For Alla showed that a normal PC keyboard was infected by more bacteria than a normal toilet seat. More specific it contained 33000 bacteria per square centimeter, compared to 130 on a ordinary toilet seat. The tests also showed occurrence of up to 3100 fungi per square centimeter."

Think about it, you nasty rascals, every time you sneeze, cough or scratch yourself, your nasty, grubby little fingers are headed back to the keyboard without a proper cleaning.

Just think about the IT Guy at your place of work. He's alone. In his office, that was once a broom closet. Eating Cheetos. Downloading gigs, upon gigs of porn. Ever wonder why he's always flustered when you call?

Then there's you mister flush and run. Sure you don't pee or crap on your hands. But think about all those people that do and then hit the flusher the same as you. Then you head, from the head, to your office, where you once again happily bang away on your ebola ridden, herpisyphamillia infected keyboard.

Me, I'm trashing my keyboard, which notably when licked tastes like a Bojangles sausage biscuit, for a model that will prevent the hunt and peckers that haunt these hallowed halls from ever using my computer again. I'm going with a Das Keyboard, it's 100% blank (zero, zip, zilch, written the keys). Take a gander it's a thing of beauty.

Question Time

So dear readers, have you ever experienced and orgasm so intense that your eyes roll back, your toes curl, your knees buckle, you slip, then hit your head on the toilet and knock yourself out?

Only to be discovered by your wife some time later, lying naked and unconscious on your bathroom floor.

Yeah, me neither.

Cold hearted

Do you ever get the feeling that your life just isn't complete? Like there's something else out there, something better, with purpose calling you. If you could just shed the daily work routine that "the man" is forcing you to keep your life would once again have meaning. Yeah, me too.

These feeling have been getting stronger over the past several months. At first I figured it was boredom, hell I've been at my current place of employment for almost ten years. Then I figured it might be an early mid-life crisis. So a while back I sat down with the missus and talked to her about wanting to make a change. How if I could just pursue a different career that I was sure my life would once again have purpose.

Well evidently she's been talking to The Mind Fuhrer because my request to open an interpretive dance studio was dismissed with extreme prejudice in a fit of laughter, with no regard for my feelings. Between her fits of laughter and gasps for air she mumbled something about me being "too white" and that I had all the rhythm and grace of and epileptic opossum, mid seizure.

She's cold hearted folks; she just took my hopes and dreams and crushed them.

Famous last words

Anybody know how to say: "Hey y'all watch this!!" in Robinize?

Mmmmmmm lead paint chips.

Why did they make something so dangerous so yummy?

The side effects of lead paint chip snacking are of course very obvious.

Window dressing

If you're reading my humble "weblog" via RSS Feed please pardon the dust as I'm in the process of revamping the layout.

If you notice any problems with the feed loading or displaying properly in your reader please let me know.

Question for the folks reading via RSS, do you prefer Full or Summary feeds?

Compassion and Compromise

I've had several folks e-mail and ask how the missus is doing. She's doing quite well and contrary to popular belief I'm doing my best to help ease her burden and "put her needs first". See she's hit the sage where she's just a bit uncomfortable and awfully tired by the time she gets home from work.

I've of course decided the best way to go through this phase is by consuming vast quantities of booze, I find after four or five drinks the voices quiet down nicely and I can concentrate on the tasks (maintaining my buzz) at hand. To help the missus in her time of need I'm compassionate; I offer words of encouragement and bits of advice when she gets home after a long day at work, like:
- Why don't you rest a couple of minutes before fixing my dinner.
- You don't have to do the dishes, now, they'll still be there for you after you get me another beer.
- You know what always makes me feel better after a long day at the office, a foot-rub. Then I hand her a bottle of lotion so she doesn't have to go all the way to the back to get one before she starts massaging my tired feets.

I've even stopped drinking during my lunch break and don't really start pounding the drinks until after eight o'clock. That way in the morning when I'm hung over and in need of pampering she's well rested and at her best after getting a couple hours of sleep.

I learned a long time ago that marriage was about compassion and compromise and if I'm not willing to make a sacrifice and offer a word or two of encouragement then who is?

Women Explained

Via e-mail the e-mail bucket: Woman- As Explained by Engineers
Finally - an explanation of Woman that makes sense to a man:

(click it for a larger view)

Blog(ger) PTSD

I'm not real sure whether it's the blog or me that's suffering the most after the past couple of weeks as a series of unfortunate and rather traumatic events have unfolded here in the phish bowl.

As many of y'all know the missus is with child and due to give birth in about six weeks, everythings as normal as possible with her so don't worry about that. Now the preparations for Junior's arrival have taken on precedence as the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is drawing nearer, both figuratively and literally. The wife's honey-do list as now become a list of demands and she's now barking orders out at a decibel and with a ferocity that would make General George Patton seem like a wee little schoolgirl. It's a tad bit disconcerting to say the least.

Now as y'all can imagine I like to take things at my own pace (as long as the missus isn't looking I'm the boss around here damn it!!!!) and this has lead to a couple of "misunderstandings" as to the time frame in which she'd like things done. You'll notice I say she, because my opinion apparently no longer matters. Really she wouldn't be in this mess "with child" if it weren't for me so shouldn't I have a say in some of the decisions? Sure she could have found some other drunken hobo to sire her child, but then he wouldn't have my charm, good looks, sense of humor and humility. Of course, I've recently been informed that when she wants my opinion she'll give it to me.

The largest part of these plans of course involved getting the nursery ready. Now three weeks ago we didn't have a nursery. I had an office / blog room, but we didn't have a nursery. I had a domicile of sanity and a place hide from the women that have overrun my home, but we didn't have a nursery. I had a room that laden with testosterone and free of Estrogen, but we didn't have a nursery. Now we do.

My "crap" has been cleaned out, the carpet shampooed, the walls painted and we're office to the races. The custom desk I'd built has been removed and replaced with a crib. The entertainment center removed and replaced with a changing table. Light blues, greens are the colors and ducks now adorn the walls where pictures of the Hatteras and Ocracoke Lighthouses and maps of North Carolina's Ghost Fleet and Outer Banks were once proudly on display.

As a side affect from these traumatic actions is the normal level of suckitude on display here has suffered. Anyhoo, I too have seen the light at the end of the tunnel, a majority of the pressing matters have been addressed and the regular levels of dysfunction should return any day now. If that doesn't work there's more beer.

One thing this exercise did help with is the realization that for at least the next eighteen years everything I say and ninety percent of what I'll do from hereafter will be wrong; thus I'll sit back, relax, drink beer and laugh as the remainder of my sanity slips out of grasp. It is of course all very well worth it.

Update: Now with a picture that explains everything!!!

Salty

One of my blogless brother's coworkers is enrolled in a biology class at one of the local colleges. In yesterday's class the professor was discussing various bodily fluids and their functions. As they were going down the list he discussed the composition of semen and how it was partially composed of Glucose. (Glucose being a simple sugar.)

Well apparently this confused one of the young ladies in the class, 'cause she had a question and dutifully raised her hand. When the professor noticed he allowed her to ask away.

The question: If semen has glucose in it why does it taste salty?

The class of course momentarily fell silent; until the roar of laughter became deafening.

The pussification of the American Male

Alternate Title: Guaranteed to be the fastest and easiest way to become a eunuch, or your money back!

I'm mentioned it before, but I just don't understand today's clothing designers fascination with low rise jeans for men. A stroll through your local mall will have you bearing witness to more ass-crack than you'd see at a plumber's convention. I've always avoided them, low rise jeans and men prominently displaying ass-crack, like the plague, yet these days it's getting to be impossible.

A ban at the office has been placed on said jeans, with promises of superglue and crack spackle being utilized to deal with offenders bearing their derrieres. Yet in spite of the warnings and memos being sent out one of the gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, hath purchased and worn said low-rise jeans to work. He did however turn out to be a source of amusement.

From the restroom after lunch we heard was a blood curling yelp followed by a string of obstinacies, in a notably higher pitch than he normally speaks in, and noticed a definite waddle as he gingerly made his way through the office.
Apparently he hadn't adjusted to the low-rise portion of the jeans and as he was snatching them into place they managed to split a hair or two, if you know what I mean.

It'd be one thing if he'd learn from his mistakes, yet he repeated said event, not once but twice. That's three times the laughter we typically get around the office when someone inadvertently attempts to neuter themselves. Of course I'd like to thank him for adding that extra bit of well deserved Clorox to the gene pool.

Sound of silence

Due to recent legislation Paul is wondering when bloggers be silenced. It'll be about 3.2 seconds after the Pajamahindineans legal department ensures it won't bite them on the ass, then they'll go after Steve H., Moxie, Pyjamas and Me. Okay probably not me.

I'm not overly concerned as I'll tell just about anybody who asks who I are. If you're wondering, I are me and this post explains who I'm not. I'm also not in Ashlee Simpson's lastest feature; although I'm sure she was dreaming about me.

Potty Training Made Easy

Via Amazon: Scare the crap out of your family and friends with the Toilet Monster! Halloween isn't the only time for scary fun! Painted, rubberized Toilet Monster easily attaches or detaches to your toilet seat in seconds with 8 built-in suction cubs. It's nearly impossible to tell it's there under the lid, waiting to shock your unsuspecting victim!...

I think I'll purchase couple of these when the time comes; they really ought to help with junior's potty training.

Donkey do's and don't

For the person that arrived here by googling donkey do's and don'ts might I recommend you check with Steve H. about putting you in contact with Roy and Renaldo the donkey act peepshow midgets.

Spammer received record fine

Via the Quad-City Times: CIS Internet Services, won an $11.2 billion settlement from spammer James McCalla. The judgment also prohibits McCalla from accessing the Internet for three years. Other defendants named in the lawsuit, including Cash Link Systems of Florida, AMP Dollar Savings Inc. of Arizona, and TEI Marketing Group Inc. of Florida were ordered in 2004 to pay judgments totaling more than $1 billion to CIS Internet Services.

John Mozena, co-founder and vice president of CAUCE, said Tuesday that the judgment against McCalla is the largest one he has heard.

"By a couple orders of magnitude,"? he said. "And we're happy Mr. Kramer is holding spammers accountable."?

But the spamming problem remains huge, he said.

"Large judgments have not discouraged spammers as a whole,"? he said. "There have been regulatory actions and even criminal actions against spammers, but it has not made much of a dent in the total volume of spam we see. Spam is still roughly two-thirds of all e-mail on the Internet."?

Maybe if they'd hand down justice Moscow Style we wouldn't have such a problem with spam.

Guess who's back

Back again
Sadie's back
Tell a friend

Now run along and check out her new digs, and don't forget to update your
bookmarks.

*Apologies to Eminem for byting off his song, yo.

WWVD: Velociquestion™ #1

As I was perusing the Yahooligan news wire I ran across an article explaining that Canadians had discovered keeping the homeless boozed up was actually keeping them healthier. That's right the Canadian Medical Association decided to waste perfectly good booze on folks that aren't willing to work for it.

As I pondered this bit of information I was getting a tad bit irritated. Here I was having to work, well show up at the office, for somewhere around eight hours a days, to afford my hooch and those crazy canooks were providing Night-train, Mad Dog 20/20 and Ripple to bums in the name of science, for free even.

After a couple of drinks at lunch, to calm the nerves ya know, I asked my self. Self What Would Velociman Do in a situation like this?

So I devised a plan, not only to get my hands on some free drink while cutting down on the number of bums walking the streets around the office. See we've got a pet bum named George, he's a professor of Ebonics I think, and everyday like clock work ole George shows up for his dollar. We call it protection money, hell it's a charitable contribution and a tax write of ain't it???

Well tomorrow as a late Christmas present ole George is getting a all expenses paid trip, via USPS¹, to the land o' milk and honey free booze. Once he arrives he's to split his daily rations and all he can wrangle from the other bums with me. Pure genius I tell you.

Now y'all may be wonderin' what his incentive to "share" will be. Well from what I heard it get's mighty damned cold in Canada 'bout this time of year and I'm holdin' on to his coat and return postage 'til I get an adequate supply of "fine" wine. Hey, if you haven't tried equal parts of Champaign and Ripple, I like to call it Champipple, you just ain't livin'. And hell those hosers are just givin' the stuff away.

Of course if you are in any way offended by this, go fly a kite, eh.

1) Stop lookin' at me like I'm cruel and heartless, I'm poking air holes in the box and givin' him half a bologna sammich to hold him over. It shouldn't take him more than a week or so to clear customs should it?

Book deals

Via the Washington Post, we learn that Ana Maria Cox of Wonkette is stepping down after she landed a second book deal. Congratulations and best of luck to Ana Maria and Wonkette.

Now just think if you had an ass like this, you'd be getting book deals too.

Oh, sorry that's a head shot, my bad.

Bowler tip to Mr. Protein Wisdom.

Life's little lessons

Two gentlemen doing some maintenance work around the office have decided to prove once again that intelligence has limits and stupidity knows no bounds.

Today's lesson:
Idiot wielding a paint gun + Wind + White truck in parking lot = Green Over Spray on White Truck¹

1) Only 1/2 of the truck is solid white now as the side "downwind" now as a Greenish tint. Wouldn't be so bad if the paint crew's truck wasn't relatively new (an '03 - '04 model) and if they hadn’t been using an oil based paint.

Gremlins

Evidently the arrival of phin jr. has been preceded by the arrival of several gremlins. The little SOBs have taken to hiding items of great importance to both me and the missus. From car keys to cell phones to pots. You read it right, cookware has gone missing and neither of us have any idea as to where the hell it's gone.

This serves as notice to the mischievous little thieving bastages now occupying our home. I'm on to your game, it's just a matter of time until I catch up to you and when I do may god have mercy on your soul, 'cause I sure as hell won't.

Hula-hoop Principal

I'm not the most private person in the world. I'm pretty much open to anything, well almost anything, at least once (maybe twice if I like it), yet there's once thing I can't handle. It's a close talker. You know the guy or girl that feels compelled to bump fuzzies while trying to carry on a conversation.

Hell I dont' get that close to my wife on a regular basis, well I used to, but now there's alien growing in her belly and well there isn't much getting close without chants of, YOU DID THIS TOO ME. Anyhoo, while at the local Home Depot earlier this week I encountered a close talker. This guy I'd never met, and mistakenly asked the location of underlayment for tile, was invading my space and just before receiving a serious smack down, if you can SMELLLLL what the phin is cooking. I'd take a step back and he'd step forward, I was weaving he was bobbing, I'd zig he'd zag. The whole time I could tell that he'd had something heavily laden in garlic for breakfast and hadn't remembered his Certs.

This guy's dragon breath is getting too me; he's chatting away like we're old friends and I'm trying not to upchuck into his shirt pocket. Now most folks would probably step away, yet it was about five minutes into the conversation I realized that I wasn't gonna be civil about it. He'd declared chemical warfare and I was prepared to do battle. So I snuck out the post putrid fart ever known to man kind, hell I was about to gag from the aroma, and held him captive.

About two seconds into the onset he tried to step away, yet I asked another question (the damage to my sinuses had already been done), thus forcing the Homey Depot employee to answer another, more detailed question and to enjoy the aromatic qualities of the previous nights dinner. Now I could see this poor saps mind churning, trying to find a way to back out politely, yet I wasn't buying it. He'd zig, I'd zag, soon I had him cornered and fired off round two. About this time I was having trouble keeping a straight face and was biting so hard on my bottom lip I could taste blood, yet I persevered, he had to be taught a lesson. So I detained him for a couple minutes more until he'd served his sentence.

Now before you go getting all high and mighty, calling me uncouth and preaching about manners; this entire episode could have been avoided had Mr. Close Talker stayed out of the three foot zone of my personal space, thereby adhering to the Hula-hoop principal. I'm also never entering the flooring section of the local Home Depot without tic-tacs ever again.

RINO Sightings

Louisiana Libertarian is hosting the first RINO Sightings carnival of 2006.

WWVD

As trudge along through the New Year undoubtedly there will be ethical conundrums we shall have to deal with. Dilemmas we must confront head on, else they will haunt us every waking moment.

Though these will be trying times fear not for you are not alone.

When faced with a dilemma it often helps to think about how others would react, especially those beings who are morally superior and virtuous by nature; those beings so righteous the mention of their name oft strikes fear and feelings of impotence into the faint of heart.

Someone like this man.

So as you deal with life's little trials and tribulations just ask yo'self:

And when you find that the Velociquestion™ helps solve majority life's problems just don't forget to pay homage with a slice or two of key lime pie; the Velociman do get a bit touchy when his limes go missing and the scurvy sets in.