Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My Health Care Journey




About a month or so ago, I received a letter from Blue Cross Blue Shield of Florida, my health care insurance company major medical provider. Like most Americans, I immediately placed the letter in my throw-away-later pile. This pile consists of other correspondence that should be opened and read, but won't be. Things from various charities, left-wing politicians, and other do-gooders.

For reasons unknown, I decided to open the letter, and was quite shocked at the content. Apparently, my health provider insurance carrier has an entire department devoted to auditing and reviewing premium payments. As the letter explained, I was actually being charged too much health insurance carrier premiums for the past six years. After a careful analysis, the auditor discovered that I was due a refund, which would be forthcoming.

Two days later, a gentleman showed up at my door. Well dressed, but not too well dressed, he introduced himself and explained that he was a field rep from BCBS of Florida, my insurance care health provider care company insurance, and that if I were so gracious to offer a few moments of my time, he would hand over a pretty nice-sized check. On a side note, over a glass of iced tea, the gentleman explained that he had been working for the company seven years, ever since he graduated college. In fact, he grew up in Detroit, poor as all get-out. Blue Cross of Michigan provided him with a full scholarship to attend Michigan State University. He was required only to intern at the company and work full time for one year after graduation, but found the experience so challenging, he decided to make a career our of it.

He explained that I would need to sign a few forms, which I gladly did, and he then presented me with a check for $2123.12.

Oh, but the story doesn't end there. A few days later, I was feeling ill. I made an appointment with my regular doctor, who took me that afternoon. Fairly certain he knew what ailed me, he nevertheless referred me to a world-renowned specialist, who also took me that very day. He explained that the issue would be quite serious if I lived in a third-world country like Canada, but American health care provisioning would take care of it, toute-suite. He excused himself and returned after making a quick call to my insurance health care company provider benefits company, who immediately approved the procedure.

Under a local anesthesia, the good Doctor and his capable staff of nurses performed a procedure, the name of which I still cannot pronounce. After a few hours in the well appointed recovery room, I was sent home, healthy as the proverbial horse. The entire system worked like a well-oiled machine, and yes, mistakes occasionally happened, but when they did, they were quickly corrected.

I was glad to pay my deductible and co-pay, which worked out to just over six dollars.

We have the best health insurance care benefits provider system in the world, and that fact cannot be disputed. So, don't be fooled by Obama-care government takeover socialism. Remember, your second amendment right to bear arms does not stop at the convention center door. Or on the sidewalk outside the U.N. Or at Camp David, if you happen to be out that way.

In closing, Eagles and Americans, freedom-loving yes-we-cans. Drill now, God has a plan.

P.S. I have no plans to run for Congress in 2010, but please feel free to continue asking.




Friday, September 4, 2009

Who Cares

Do you guys like impressions? Huh? Do ya?

Okay. This is my impression of your facebook status.

*deep breath*


"LOL Going to the store/school/work/beach/park/church/shopping/on a walk/bowling/to dinner/to lunch/to the gym/to work out LOL LOL LOL LMAO . . . Happy Friday! I hate Mondays! I can't sleep! I'm up early! I'm up late! Happy Friday! I'm tired! I'm sick! LOL LOL . . . Doing dishes/laundry/cleaning/need to do dishes/laundry/clean the house LMFAO . . . Read my blog! Come to my show! Buy my shit! OMG WTF LOL . . . I hate work/I love work/I am curiously indifferent to my place of employment . . . These are my politics/pay attention to my politics/I don't like Obama/I love Obama/whine/whine/whine/whine/whine/I said pay attention to my politics LOL LOL OMFG LOL LOL LOL . . . My kids/dog/cat/husband/wife/your momma/girlfriend/boyfriend did/said/is ____________ . . . OMFGLMAOZITLOL . . . Go Sports Team! Fuck that Sports Team! Your Sports Team Sucks/My Sports Team Rocks! LMAO . . . I'm cooking dinner/I'm making lunch/I'm fixing breakfast OMG . . . LOLHappyFridayI'mboredI'mboredLOLOLOLOLOLOLDidImentionmypoliticsLMAOI'mboredLOLOLOLXOMFTZ . . . Good morning! Good night! lol."



But, Robin, you put stuff like that in your status updates. What gives you the right to make fun of it here?


Well, I'm a stone cold hypocrite, so deal with it. LOL!!!!!! :)!! LMAOMF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOL :):)

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Death and To-Do Lists


The great comedian Al Romas recently came up with an idea that was then previously made into a fairly watchable movie starring Jack Nicholson and the surprisingly philandering Morgan Freeman. Mr. Romas' idea and the gist of the movie is that everyone should create a list of things they want to do before they die--a Bucket List-- and set about doing it.

I'm generally not willing to take others advice about how to live, and in fact, often do the opposite, but the idea has great merit and so I decided to create said Bucket List and share it with all of you.

I assure you all of the items on the list are true, and things I've thought about for some time but allowed to simply float, untethered, around my mind.

Also, my list consists of three hundred twelve items, so I've decided to highlight a few and perhaps publish the rest in book form, which, with any luck, will be made into a movie starring Christian Slater and Will Smith.

Number 42:
For one week, have the courage to use the phrase "It is my understanding" the same way TV pundits, politicians, and others of questionable character use it: as a license to lie with impunity.

For example:
Glenn Beck: "It is my understanding that the government will not only be able to, but actually required to euthanize the elderly.

Is that so?

Steve: "It is my understanding that Lindsay Lohan is, at this very moment, eating a Sno-Cone in my attic".

Or something like that.

Number 12:
Bribe a public official.

I believe that this would be quite exciting and slightly less risky than you might think.

Me: Assemblyman Davis, it appears that Mercedes is quite taken by you as she normally doesn't allow that sort of, ahem, handiwork. Oh, hey, did you drop this envelope? Anyway, about that zoning issue. I understand the city would rather I not build a thirty foot fence on my property, but I assure you I'm only doing it so that my Ferris Wheel isn't visible from the street. Now, what say? Do we have a deal?

Truthfully, it would probably be something on a slightly smaller scale, perhaps an off-the-books campaign contribution in exchange for lunch with the Mayor, but I find the mere possibility exhilarating.

Number 24:

Meet a celebrity worth meeting. In order:

1.
2.
3.

I want to do it, but for the life of me I can't come up with any. I think I'd like to meet Jesse James, husband of Sandra Bullock and all-around dude's dude.

Number 61

Give a homeless guy a one hundred dollar bill. Actually, let me back up a bit. I've had an idea for a book that I've wanted to write for some time. It's called "One Hundred Thousand Dollars Worth of Bums". It's basically a photo book of me going around the country, giving a thousand homeless people a hundred dollars each and then writing short vignettes about each meeting. The book would be met with outrage from self righteous sorts, but it would bring great attention to the failures of society to tackle this issue.

Anyway, I have to start somewhere. And I don't have a hundred grand.

Number 5:

Be the father of something besides a child.

There are thousands and thousands of people history remembers because they took the time to think or do something in a new and different way.

Les Paul was the Father of the Modern Guitar.

Things I'm uniquely good at:

1.
2.
3.

I'll have to work on this.

Number 3:
Visit a place that is on the State Department's list of Hot Spots.

These include place like Mogadishu, Port au Prince, and Detroit. Seriously, though. It's not a death wish. There are just some things you have to see with your own eyes, and I think the Khyber Pass is one of them.

"The past is past, the future is now", said Christopher Walken (as Christopher Walken) in some movie. He's right, you know.


Monday, August 24, 2009

In the meantime

While I am waiting to hear back from Dr. Mukhtar (see July 21 post) regarding a certain seven million red balloons, I have found myself with a little extra time on myself's hands. I'm sort of winding things down, work-wise, taking time to enjoy the sweet little things life has to offer, like my Spam folder.

I only vaguely recall meeting Emmanuel Archer and no doubt gave him (or her) my email address.

Based on his or her email address (kubino.mysky at aico dot co dot jp) she works for a Japanese Silestone distributor or manufacturer. I can't be sure because her employer's website is in Japanese. Even the photos. As most of you know, I greatly enjoy talking about solid surface countertops, so perhaps I met her at a conference, or in a chat room. This may explain why I can't recall meeting him-her.

Anyway, I was glad to receive the correspondence titled:

Subject : Incredible solution for smallsized babymakers!

How fortuitous! Since I will soon be in a financial position to make smallsized babies (perhaps by the dozens, who knows!), this will come in handy.

Wait a minute. Smallsized babymakers? Sometimes, some people call a you-know-what a "baby maker"! What exactly is Emmanuel inferring? Hmpf!

P.S. It was rumored that Milton Berle had a twelve inch baby maker.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The Virginia Opossum


The Virginia Opossum (what we generally call Possum) is the only marsupial found in the United States. It has more teeth (50) than any mammal found in the U.S. Also, my dog Chester kills them like nobody's business. I am neither proud nor un-proud of this fact. It's just the way things are. I believe he was put on this earth to take possums down to the proverbial Monkey Chinatown (which, by the way, is just east of regular Chinatown. Take care when visiting, though, lest you be pummeled with feces and fried rice). This past Saturday night, a bit after midnight, I saw Chester trot around my truck in our fenced backyard. He had a look on his face that I'd only see twice before.


I knew it almost instantly. I turned the headlights on in the car to illuminate the side of the yard, and sure enough: a dead Possum.


I actually witnessed Chester kill a possum once. The danged thing was on the fence, snarling. He had every opportunity to make his escape. Once Chester had enough of his display, he yanked the poor creature off the fence by the back of his neck, shook him once, and that was it.

Death came quickly, as it often does.


Possum's don't actually "play possum" as a first line of defense. They hiss and snarl. Only if this doesn't work do they lay down, open their mouths, and play dead. Chester makes sure things move along to phase two. He's an impatient sort.


So, what does all of this mean? I think perhaps that when things are, they just are. There's no accepting or rejecting, figuring out or philosophizing. You witness an event and that's all there is to it.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Easy Street, here I comes...

The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? I was fortunate to receive a very timely e-mail today from the finance minister of a for-obvious-reasons-unnamed country regarding a certain 20 million smackeroos, seven or so of which have my name all over it. Worry not, my friends, as soon as the check clears, I will share my windfall with all of you.

Dr. Mansu Mukhtar is quoted below:

The FGN account has been debited in your favor to the tune of 7million USD, and you are advised to contact me immediately.

I like it when sums of money are referred to lyrically. It feels right. "To the tune of seven million"...

Of course, credibility and integrity are key when dealing in the high stakes world of inter-country finance, and you cannot trust just anyone. So you can imagine how my mind was put at ease when Dr. Mukhtar wrote:

We shall not tolerate those lackadaisical attitudes exhibited by some Beneficiary under my predecessor and we have eliminated some of those unscrupulous charges invented by some Officials

Truth be told, I would have rather the Minister eliminated all of those unscrupulous charges, but I'm quite sure he did the best he could.

The key to dealing with any government bureaucracy is knowing "the code". For example, if you receive a call from the IRS about last year's tax returns, simply say to the agent "Jack Ruby" and the matter will be dropped. If you're in Bangkok and are detained on suspicion of what we all know you were doing there in the first place, confidently and in plain English, utter the phrase "Hong Kong Phooey" and you'll soon be on your flight home.

The country of -redacted- is no different and the good Doctor made sure to include "the code" so there would be no confusion.

Please quote the Code: Blue Diamond on your correspondence for Pass Identification. Congratulations in advance.
Yours truly, Dr. Mansur Mukhtar
Honorable Minister Federal Ministry Of Finance

I certainly will quote the code when I speak with Dr. Mukhtar. Perhaps when he and I are finished with the business of him giving me money for no apparent reason, we could become friends. We may meet somewhere, say Switzerland, for expensive dinners and champagne. He, of course, will have left his wife at home and be accompanied by a cheap hooker he thinks is classy. The other diners will stare at us, wondering "who is that odd pairing?" We'll have a laugh before he retires to his room and strangles the poor hooker.

But I am getting ahead of myself. First things first. I have to dig up some details, bank account numbers and so forth to get this thing moving along.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

We're goin' to a party!


At least one good thing has come out of the timely, proper, and decidedly un-tragic demise of the King of Pop: People are excited to attend the funeral. The lucky man pictured above (who may or may not be Fred Goldman--remember, from the OJ thing?) is overjoyed. How'd you like to be this guy's wife when she sees his picture in the paper? This guy's like a tweener at a JoBros concert. Geez. Creepy.

The crowd at the Staples Center will certainly be split. On the Jackson family side, mourners will celebrate MJ's life, and the four or so really big accomplishments of the man once dubbed "The White Michael Jackson".

On the opposite side of the arena, attendees will celebrate MJ's death. Closure of sorts for the Macaulay Culkins' and Bubbles' (wasn't he great in Webster?) and all of the other little boys that MJ admittedly slept with-but-in-a-sleepover-way over the years.

It's sorta like the crowd at an execution, where the mother insists David Wayne Lee, Jr. was a "good boy" who "fell in with the wrong crowd". On the other side, relatives of the family David Wayne Lee, Jr. carved up and buried in the basement. It'll be that sort of yin-yang dynamic.

Just another six months of so of 24 hour coverage and we can move on to more important things.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Karl Malden Dead, MJ 4ever...


The streets of San Francisco are filled with mourners after the news of Karl Malden's death. On the waterfront, silence. Mr. Malden died today from complications of being quite old. He was eighty or ninety.


In other news, Michael Jackson will live on in the hearts of people who think it's okay for an adult to compare wee-wee sizes with ten year olds. Spike Lee and Al Sharpton have eulogized nearly forty hours straight as neither has anything better to do. Like Michael Jackson himself, their best work is long behind them.


My respect for Mark Sanford has grown over the last few days. Any politician who acts exactly the opposite of the way their supporters demand gets my vote. He digs this chick, and ain't nothin' gonna change that.


Al Franken was declared the winner of the Minnesota Senate race seven months after the polls closed. And we're gonna lecture Iran?

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The King of Pop


Dear Michael Jackson,

The heat, oh, the heat.

Thanks for dying, you crazy sum-bitch. Makes my little
peccadillo look like a moon-walk in the park. Moon walk. Get it?
Puns. I love 'em.

P.S. Also, thanks to Farah and Ed McMahon, and Billy Mays.
Oh, what the hell, that dead Iranian chick didn't hurt either. It really is all about timing.

Kindest Regards

Mark Sanford
S.C. Governor and Swinging Skin Sword Associate Member

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Don't Cry for Me, Suckas


Dear Former Gov. McGreevey, Sen. Craig., Sen. Ensign., President Clinton, et al.


Thanks for the invitation to join your club, The Swinging Skin Swords, which I must passionately decline. Why you would think I'd want to be part of your perverted little gang, I do not know. Question? Have you seen the chicks in Argentina? Have you? They're all smokin' hot! This is not about some chance encounter in a Minneapolis airport restroom, with a dude no less, this is the real thing. This ain't no middle-aged mid western staffer! This is the woman you actually give everything up for. You guys claimed to still love your wife! Are you kidding? I don't love my wife. I mean, I did, for like two semesters back at Yale, but that was a long time ago. I'm freakin' outta here. In two weeks, I'll be back in my yellow Speedo, walking the beaches with my--did I mention how hot she is?--Argentinian former mistress-now girlfriend. Suck on that, GOP.


Kindest Regards


Governor Mark Sanford

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Ahh, the wee people...


Robin and I are in Ybor City Friday night when we were approached for a cup-a-la-dollas. Normally, this would be an older, down on his luck fella. On this night, the stars aligned, and a pretty decent looking bearded dwarf laid down the ole "you're a nice looking couple" line. He told us scraight-up he wanted to get drunk. All I had on me was a hundo, a tensky, and three ones. Junior made a move for the ten, I told him he could have the three, "enough for a tall boy" I said without irony or hesitation. He thanked me and rode off into the night. Ahhhh. Some days just work out.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Water restrictions, the handicapped, and such.


There is no greater joy than watching a retarded adult eat an ice cream cone. It is beautiful and joyous and simple. Like a cat playing with string, or an old man napping on a park bench. Mentally handicapped adults eat an ice cream cone with the reckless abandon of a child, even when they're forty (although most don't live that long). For most of us, sometime around adolescence, we switch to the ice cream cup. Say it out loud: ice cream cup. Ice cream cup. Now say: ice cream cone. See what I mean? I guess the cup seems more refined, more mature. Certainly more heterosexual. One thing for sure, it is infinitely more dull. So as I look forward to the summer months, I ask you, dear reader, to enjoy an ice cream cone. Ice cream cone. Ice cream cone.


Which brings me to the water shortage here in Florida. The gub-ment instituted draconian water restrictions as a result of a record year of non-rainfall. No washing of cars. Plants withered, lawns died. Several Homeowners Association presidents were found dead (Murder or suicide? Probably just old age.)

So during the drought, while the need for water was at its greatest, the gubment turned off the spigot. After 20-some inches of rain, they say 'water away'. When a man is starving, deny him food. When he hits four-bills, feed him.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

God Bless you Dick Cheney


I watched the President's and former VP Dick Cheney's speech today and I now get it. What a relief! I have never had a revelation before. Sweet, sweet revelation. For the past several years I have read dozens of books about the war on terror, 9/11, and terrorism in general. I read a book by former U.N. weapons inspector Hans Blix, for cryin' out loud. This wealth of knowledge, I believed, gave me a good handle on the whole thing. Alas, it took only a speech by Mr. Cheney to bring it all into focus.

Let me break it down for you, my dear reader.

Mr. Cheney correctly states that terrorists hate the United States. More specifically, they hate our values. So, ipso facto, we get rid of those pesky old values by euphamising torture and calling it "enhanced interrogation" and then turn to those smart-alecky terrorists and ax, "What's your problem with the good 'ole US of A, we got no values, just like you." Problemo solved.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Celebrities, testicles and such...

I believe it was Cesar Romero who said "In celebrito veritas". This means "in celebrity, there is truth". I love celebrities. I like the one's who have earned it (George Clooney, c'mon now) and those who haven't (Caylee Anthony). Or is it Casey. I always mix up the dead kids' name with the famous mom. Don't you just hate that? I do that with Scott Peterson (famous, convicted) and Drew Peterson (famous, not yet convicted). I have Phil Specter down pretty well, although in my head I call him Pill Sphincter. Remember Robert Blake? Whenever they would show him, all I could think about was whatever happened to that bird? They live like 50 years.

List of celebrities who, if encountered, I would out of respect acknowledge (with a slight, nearly impercepible nod that would let them know that I know), and then completely ignore.

  1. Morgan Freeman
  2. Vladimir Putin (something about that guy I like, not sure why.)
  3. Bobby Hill (star of the excellent reality series King of the Hill.)

Celebrities, who, if encountered, would receive a nut shot from yours truly. Back of the hand, flick of the wrist, right to the stones. They got it coming, and I aim to give it to 'em.

  1. Donald Trump/KISS's Gene Simmons. I have long believed that they are the same person.
  2. Sean Hannity. Long line, I know. I would do a fake nut shot. We'd both have a laugh. I'd do another fake, and another laugh. Around the fifth or sixth time, I drop him like a sack of wheat.
  3. Nancy Grace/Jane Velez-Mitchell. Although they are not the same person, I believe they share a non-soul. They do have stones, though, I'll give 'em that. And if I see 'em, I'm-a gonna backhand 'em.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Just a Friendly Heads-Up

The next time I hear somebody say, "It is what it is," I'm going to kick them in the face.

Hey, it is what it is.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Rock-n-Roll, gambling and such

Although last Wednesday's Fleetwood Mac concert was something of a middle-aged paunch fest, the crew rocked the house. At some point during the show, I came to realize that in spite of the graying pony-tails, high-waisted jeans, fanny packs and dirt-squirrels, a regular old rock concert is infinitely cooler than a casino. In fact, casinos are about as cool as NBC's 30 Rock, or a Friday night meeting of The Young Republicans for America. That is to say, not cool at all. A cool factor of absolute zero. The level at which any cool gene ceases to exist. The entity is incapable of producing or supporting cool. Which is weird, because I find the transference of money from the stupid to the house (as in Blake-Jake, or 21) quite fun. I also find the transference of money from the stupid to me (as in limit hold' em) thrilling. Maybe the sum (of idiots and ace-holes) is greater than its parts (the parts being made up of idiots and ace-holes).

Two weeks ago. I'm playing 2-4 limit hold 'em. I'm up about eighty bucks. A woman, mid-forties sits down. Drunk. Her breasts were enormous. Not measured in cup sizes, but length from stem to stern (which by my estimate was around two and one-half nautical miles). She is drinking wine out of a high ball glass, which basically looks like a juice glass. Since no cup holder was available, she kept the glass, swear-to-God, between her sin sacks. She was a horrible player, going through fifty in chips every ten minutes or so. She kept her cash-you guessed it-, in her bra. But not in the way sassy older ladies do, bills all rolled up and under the strap. No, no. She had loose bills, coins, matches and a bus pass in there, all haphazard like. She would fish around in there for a few minutes, and the come up with a twenty attached to an old boot. "That's where I put it!", she would shout each time.

There was a time casinos were cool. For a few years in the fifties. You remember the rat pack? Tailored suits and classy dames. Single malt scotch. But those days are long gone. The custodians dress better than the players nowadays. It's no wonder Sinatra took his life. And Sammy gouged out his own eye.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Curious

As I was walking to my part-time (does 4 hours a week count as part-time?) job this morning, I saw a pamphlet on the ground titled "Are You Curious About Yourself?" It was some sort of handout from those wacky Scientologists trying to get people to come into one of their facilities and check out their religion. I thought it was interesting that the hook was curiosity about oneself. Scientologists seem to have parted ways with the more traditional "Are You Curious About God?" "Are You Curious About the World?" schtick. This is maybe why so many celebrities are drawn to Scientology. They are probably curious about themselves. What makes me tick? they wonder. They often ponder, Who is going to set me straight about me? I am a mystery.

I think that's stupid. I'm not so curious about myself. I am not an infant delightfully discovering my own toes. I've had a few years to figure some shit out and I think I have a handle on who I am. I am, however, curious about a lot of other things. I'll share a few:

1. I'm curious about how my neighbors managed to move an entire household with one shopping cart. It took them three days, but they did it. Mattresses, couches, dresser drawers, you name it. One shopping cart. And where did they go? Obviously not far, but I haven't seen them since.

2. I'm curious about why it is that the friends I'm least curious about on facebook are the ones who constantly update their status. Like, ten times a day. Every day.

3. I'm curious about why somebody at my "part-time" job makes a pretty impressive mess in the bathroom every time I'm there and just leaves it. I wonder if they think no one will notice. I wonder who it is.

4. I'm curious about why anybody gives a crap what Perez Hilton thinks outside of the realms of self-promotion and making lots of money writing a blog.

5. I'm curious about urine-specimen cup etiquette. I had to provide one yesterday and I tried to hand it to the nurse and she was having none of that jazz. She backed away and pointed at the counter. So I tossed it to her. Bad manners?

6. Finally, I'm curious as to why no one told me I had neglected to zip up my fly after providing said urine sample. I had to find out for myself in the parking lot. Good looking out, Steve.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Pulitzer prize winning photo




Taken Friday night at the Havana Room, downtown St. Pete.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Texting, Gambling, and Such

A friend of mine, we'll call him Chris (not his real name---yes it is---maybe not) likes to play the cards and wanted me to meet him at the Hard Rock (we'll talk about that porn star name in a later post). He texted me "what time on Sunday?" Without giving it much thought, I texted back, "How's about 2-ish?" It was at this point I began to feel uncomfortable. The whole thing started to feel, well, a little fem-bo, if you know what I'm-a sayin'. He responded with a decidedly gay, "see you there". See you there? What, is this a date? As far as I'm concerned, texting is the same as passing notes in class. Chick to chick, dude to chick, chick to dude. There were no dude to dude notes. The teacher never intercepted the following:

Brent: I totally was gonna wear that exact shirt today! How weird (cool?) would that have been? Meet me after class to dish.
Your Buddy, Trevor


Never happens.

Today's Decklaration: No more dude texts.

Monday, April 6, 2009

I feel it is my turn to post. However, I am too angry at the amount of money I need to pay in stinkin' taxes and also I'm hungry.


Enchiladas!!!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Foreign accents and such.

When I meet a person of Latin or Eastern European origin, I find that I match their accent. And then some. "Jace, ees soooo gooood to meet joo, too", or "Das Boot". It's quite fun. Also, it puts my new friend at ease. They take comfort in talking to a countryman. Inevitably, they will mistakenly believe I speak the actual language and transition from broken English to their native Russian or Spanish. Things take a turn for the worse when I scream "No-a-speaka-dy!", or "Nyet-a-speaka-dy!" As I walk away I look back to see not anger, but sadness.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Homeless



I was returning to my car after having seen the excellent movie The Watchmen, when a man-sans-home (what you may call a bum, or homeless man) approached me. As you may know, many MSM's spend time in shelters and so share various methods of acquiring much needed queso fundido (what you may call money). N-T-Hoo, this gentlemen used the "I need eighty-five cents for the bus" approach. Solid, if unspectacular. I responded, "Do you sir, have change for a hundo?" Without missing a beat, the MSM began looking through his wallet, which was in fact a half eaten burrito. After flipping through some dry cleaning receipts and photos (which were in fact onions and bell peppers), he declared "Do you have eighty five cents for the bus?" I did. And I gave it to him.

Today's Decklaration: An ice pick is a weapon first, a utensil second.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

An Open Letter to Some of My Neighbors

Shut up, shut UP, SHUT UP!
I'm serious. I'm talking to you, Guy in the SUV who rattles my windows with your music every day when you drive by the house. I wish one day you would stop and need directions somewhere and I would invite you inside to "mapquest it for you" and when you were sitting on the couch, relaxing, I would throw my cat Cosmo at your face. That is no picnic, just ask my brother.

And I'm talking to you, Neighbor Kids Across the Street. I don't know what is going on over there, I don't know whose baby that is, and I don't know why the eight- or nine-year-old never seems to be wearing pants. Just keep it down.

And you, Guy Walking Down the Street Screaming Obscenities into Your Cell Phone, knock it off. You are a fairly new phenomenon, but I can tell you I already have one Crazy Guy who circles the block endlessly, and while I may not exactly like the cut of his jib, at least he's relatively quiet.

Another thing, Neighbors. What is the story with the clumps and piles of fake hair that I find all over the place? Are girls deciding at the last minute that the piece doesn't work with the look, yanking it out, and tossing it in the street? Could it possibly be that I'm perpetually five minutes late to a tremendous girlfight? A fight where fists are flying and weave is being pulled out by the handful? It is a mystery.

And, finally, Noam Chomsky, I know you're not technically my neighbor, but I'm editing an 800-page book on linguistics and your name has come up on almost every page. You, sir, are starting to get on my nerves.

Decklarations Word o' the Day: widdershins (adv.) in a left-handed or contrary direction: contrarily; counterclockwise.
Usage: I will knock your ass widdershins around the block if you don't stop with that everlovin' music.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Bail this out.

Congress and the American public are livid over the bonuses paid to AIG executives, and rightfully so. As a young boy, my grandfather would warn me about certain evils in the world: Loose ladies, arrogant midgets, and the worst-of-the-worst, AIG executives. By the by, the bonus paid to these guys wouldn't get you a backup second baseman with a bum knee (who, by the way, plays in a stadium that your tax dollars built).

Todays Decklaration: Only famous people die skiing.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

First Post

We'll just see how this goes.