Umm... Don't Drink and Drive?

     I saw this blurb on the local news here, and I just had to pass it on...  You may have to read it twice. 

        TOWN OF MILTON - Two drunk drivers crashed into each other on state Highway 26 in the Town of Milton. One of them was seriously injured. Then a third drunk driver crashed into their cars. A fourth driver tried to drive through the scene... and was arrested for drunk driving. All four face charges of operating while intoxicated.

 

     I know...  Drinking and driving isn't funny, but fortunately, no innocent folks were injured.  This was just four very dumb, drunk people all collected together in the same place.  I figure the cop there must've just been scratching his head asking himself "What the....?"

Okay... Now, I Can Bash 'em.

 

Hey, Cowboy!   Your country's on the phone, and they really want to talk to you.

 

  

    Now, I'm not one to kick a man when he's down (yeah, right.  Who am I kidding?), but I am sitting here reading the CBS News report on President Bush's plummeting approval ratings.  34%?!?  And Cheney's are a microscopic 18%?!?  Are you kidding me?   And, unfortunately, the numbers simply continue to drop from there. 

     A part of me would like to believe that this administration actually cares about the opinions of its people; however, it's becoming more and more apparent that this "lame duck" of a President simply doesn't give a rat's rump about opinions or any sorts of numbers unless they have a dollar sign attached to them.   Trust me, it gives me a headache as well.

                                             

    One of the questions put forth by pundits is just why these numbers continue to drop?  And, I'm certain that the bloviating bags of wind will carp on about "media bias," and how the supposed Liberal "Communists" are taking over, and blah blah blah...  But, unfortunately, no matter how much "no-spin" nonsense you slap on it, it's not going to wash.  Jump ship, speak the truth, and admit that the lap you've been curling up on is the lap of a complete and utter moron. 

      I simply can't support a President who continues to fail at every possible opportunity.  The hornet's nest that is Iraq is collapsing into the utter chaos of civil war, and I fear more for our troops now than I did when this whole mess began.   Hurricane Katrina was a display in the hazards of "nepotism" and has left an entire administration pointing fingers and placing blame, yet nothing is done to really help.  And now?  The sale of our already-vulnerable ports to a group who aided in the greatest attack on this country's soil, and stonewalled our investigation to find those responsible, has seriously shaken any confidence anyone may have once had in this administration.   It's almost Machiavellian when you look at this administration's tactic of preaching peace and saftey in one breath while doing things to make us feel threatened, worried and UN-safe in the other.  

     So, if you ask me why this administration is failing, I'm going to have to say that it's failing because they seriously underestimated the intelligence of the American people.  We've taken too many chances in trusting them only to find ourselves disappointed, and we're now pretty damn skeptical when it comes to trusting them again. 

 

Art & Martinis?!?

Howdy,

    Hey!  It seemed like a good idea on paper, didn't it?  I mean, what could possibly go wrong with Milwaukee's new Santiago Calatrava designed art museum hosting a Clear-Channel sponsored festival where patrons pay $30 to drink as many martinis as they can possibly fit into their heads?  

     However, little did the organizers realize that Milwaukee's Martini Fest would eventually turn into the art-community's equivalent of "Ten Cent Beer Night" at Cleveland's Municipal Stadium in 1974.  Rowdy? You bet!  As one patron witnessed:

      A group of four young men climbed onto "Standing Woman," a tall, bronze sculpture of a goddess-like woman with exaggerated features by early 20th-century American artist Gaston Lachaise.

     "They were standing on it, grabbing the boobs, and somebody was just taking pictures with a cell phone," said Laura Collins, 35.     

     Now, I'm not a marketing genius by any stretch, but there are certain things which should never be turned into a promotional gimmick.  For example: "Bat Day" at Yankee Stadium when the Red Sox are in town seems like a bad idea.  Also, a zoo should never have "Pet the Lion Day."  And, a museum in Milwaukee that houses any number of priceless works of art should never expect its patrons to be well-behaved when alcohol is involved. 

     So, what went wrong?  Well, one quote from the review suggests:

     ""Hindsight is 20-20 . . . it was probably too cheap," Kerry Wolfe, a local programming director for Clear Channel, said of the event's premise - unlimited martinis for $30. "

    Now, insofar as that sort of logic probably makes "perfect" sense to this Clear-Channel person, what he or she fails to grasp is, in Milwaukee, it doesn't matter what the price is.  We see that sort of thing as a challenge.  For instance, if you make the price $30, we are not leaving until we drink at least $30 worth.   Make it $150, and you'll just wind up with people staying longer and drinking more, and when the time starts ticking closer to closing time, people will inevitably drink faster.   If you make it a thousand-bucks, you'll have people showing up with furniture and moving in, and if you kick them out, there's a pretty good chance that they, and their furniture, will show up at your house looking for an after-bar party.   You can't win. 

See ya,

DP

 

    

Yard Art.

Here's a picture of my other cat demonstrating her bizarre hunting technique of posing as a simple piece of yard-art by sitting in a concrete birdbath.  You'll notice that on her right there is a small, concrete bird.  Perhaps she's thinking that the other birds will see that bird is perfectly safe and having a wonderful time lounging poolside and want to join in on the fun. 

 

Subtle, But (Hopefully) Good Changes.

Hi again Folks,

    Now, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I've added a few small but new things to my journal.  There's a link to other journals in the little box on the right.  I recommend you check 'em out.  And, I'm sure the list will grow as time goes by.  

    Also, I've added an "Email Me" link in my favorite sites box should you have any questions or comments about me or my posts.  After all, it's all about convenience people.  

    Well, that's it for now.  Look for more in the future.  Perhaps we'll have pony rides and cake somewhere down the line.

Toodles,

DP

Sorry Ladies...

Now, seeing as how I'm single, and seeing as that I will most-likely be dating in the not-too distant future, I figured I'd take this time to apologize --in advance-- for all those things I'm sure I'll do to totally turn you off.

First, I'm sorry if I seemed bored with our conversation.  Chances are, I probably was.  I'm a guy, after all.  I'm not interested in conversation, and the last thing I want is to hear about how you've rediscovered Yanni, taken up yoga, and Feng Shui-ed the living hell out of your house in persuit of "wealth and prosperity" and some sort of New-Age Enlightenment. 

Moreover, I apologize for probably drinking too much.  The thing is, I don't like people, and I really dislike talking people.  So, in order to feign interest in your conversation, I need to drink myself silly and get plastered to the point where I am unable to walk.  Otherwise, there's a pretty good chance I'd run screaming from the room like a man with his head on fire. 

Also, if you didn't want to hear me talk about my ex-girlfriends, you shouldn't have asked.  But, thank you for bringing up so many painful memories.  Next time, save yourself the breath and just stick a fork in my eye.  Trust me, by the time you get around to asking, there's a pretty good chance I'll be drunk to the point of not feeling it.

Anyway, other than that, I am sure I will have a nice time, and I will love to go out with you again.  Call me, okay?

Sincerely,

DP

Holy Crap! I'm a Bastard!

Now, when I say I want to be a snob, I'm not talking about being a member of the Society of Nordic Barbershop Singers (then again, that could probably be fun too, but I'm not Nordic by any stretch, and I couldn't sing to save my life.  Moonwalk?  Maybe.  Singing?  No way). 

Nope.  When I say I want to be a snob, I mean I want to be the type of guy who looks down his nose at people as though they were a piece of bad cheese.  I want to say things like "Sir?  You are a boorish lout." And, "Take this vile pinot away.  It insults me." 

Yes.  I want to be a first-class, solipsitic prick.  Perhaps it's because I'm part French?  Then again, I'm also part German, and whenever I look in the mirror, I have an odd habit of throwing my hands in the air and giving up.  Maybe this morning the French part of me is winning.  That would be something, eh?

I want to go up to people I meet, give them a cold, limp, clammy little handshake and say things like "charmed" or "pleased to meet you."  I want to know how it feels to eat a friggin scone while daintily sipping my tea and pointing at the person opposite me with my pinky.  And, when I laugh, I want it to be a half-hearted sort of "ha.. ha.. haa" thing.  I want a monocle and a walking stick even though I don't need either. 

Yeppers...  I want to be a snobbish ass for no good reason. 

Sincerely,

DP

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Brrrr...

Howdy All,

Well, it's Sunday here, and bright and early this morning, a friend called with a rather unusual question.

"Hey!" He said.  "The lake's frozen."

"Yeah," I replied.  "That sort of thing happens in winter."

"No..  no..  no...," he said.  "You don't get it.  I actually drove on it this morning."

Of course, my chum's one of those rugged, unshaven, Northwoods sportsmen who has been known, on more than one occasion, to cover himself in doe urine and trundle his way through knee-deep snow with a shotgun in his hands.  So, the notion of his experiencing such glee over a small, frozen body of water should come as no surprise to me, and I knew right away what was coming next: "Dude.  Let's go ice-fishing."

Now, far be it from me to criticize someone for their outdoor hobbies and whatnot, but there are certain things I just won't do.  For example, I won't play "tickle the badger."  However, topping the list is my utter lack of desire to sit on a frozen lake and stare into a freshly-drilled hole while waiting for a small fish to bite.  Granted, there is usually whiskey and no uncertain amount of Slim Jims involved, but booze or no booze, the closest I come to ice-fishing is possibly numbing my digits lingering over talapia in the frozen fish section at the grocery store. 

So, needless to say, I had to tell my friend no.  I don't need to be reminded that it's winter in Wisconsin.  If anything, I'll crank up the heat, put on some shorts and sandals, make a margarita and pretend I'm somewhere else until June. 

See ya,

DP

Just doing this picture thang....

                    

Thanks again Paul.  I think I've got it pretty well sussed-out for now.  What would we do without our handy Canadian friends?   Sorry about that whole hockey thing, by the way. 

Don't BE That Guy...

Hi Y'all...

Sometimes people seriously irk the heck out of me.  This morning, I opened my email to find some senseless (yeah.  Even more senseless than this, if you can believe it) scribblings from a very over-zealous supporter of President Bush. 

This person (and you know who you are), went on and on about how Bush apparently was appointed by God of all people, and because God is such a big deal in this gentleman's world, I should respect God's decision and agree with all things Bush does.  In his email, I think he mentioned God at least a couple dozen times, and to wrap up his outright condemnation of me, he ended with the statement "Like the Bible says, one nation under GOD!!!"

Needless to say, people like this terrify me.  I mean, I mention Bush, almost in passing, in one of these entries, and this guy's got to go and tell God all about it.   Friggin' snitch...

However, the way I see it, God has about as much to do with the appointment of this presidential administration as I have to do with the price of toast in Denmark. 

Whether you're a supporter of Bush or not, the fact of the matter is, Bush was appointed to the presidency by the Supreme Court --not God.  I think, that day, God probably was far too busy keeping the universe from unravelling to contemplate the petty nonsense of hanging-chads and whatnots.  But, that's my belief.  If you believe you know the thoughts of God, more power to ya. 

The thing is, when I question President Bush, I am not questioning God.  If you think I am, well...  Get help.  You should also probably grab your Bible and see what God has to say about false prophets, okay? 

Peace,

DP

Go-go Spacecar...

Happy Friday! 

Curse you, John Scalzi...

Imagine, if you will, what will the world be like in the year 2011?  Will we finally be driving our spacecars?  Will Tom and Katie still be together, and when are the Stones coming to town?

In his blog, By the Way, Author, AOL Editor, and all-around silly guy, John Scalzi issues the challenge for people to describe 10 "facts" of their lives over the course of the next five years.  And, since I'm never one to leave these things well-enough alone, I figured I'd take a stab at it...  So, enjoy!

#1.    Let's start in the near future with 2006, okay?   More specifically, Summer of '06.  Shortly after my 38th birthday, I will finally set aside an entire day to do the laundry that has been sitting in a basket in the basement since the end of the 20th Century, and there I will finally find my long-lost Huey Lewis and The News concert shirt.   And, after spending the entire summer showing off my Huey shirt, by the time autumn hits, the country is caught up in an uncontrollable wave of nostalgia, and after a Tupperware party in Miami turns into a devestating, city-wide, two-week riot, Mr. Huey Lewis, while riding a new-found wave of sudden popularity, reunites The News and organizes a three-day benefit-concert and raises over three-hundred billion dollars to rebuild the tattered and tortured tropical town.  To thank him for his humanitarian efforts, Huey Lewis is unanimously awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace, and in his acceptance speech, he thanks me for doing laundry that fateful day. 

#2.    I think I win the lottery early in 2007.  Unfortunately, the jackpot was only a million dollars, and since taxes were so high, I wound up having to pay more than three-hundred grand in order to call myself a winner.  Is there any wonder why I chose to forget such a horrible episode in my life?

#3.    In the summer of '07, while experimenting with culinary fusion, I try to combine a grilled-chicken caesar salad with a cheese omelette, and after adding two finely-chopped chives, I discover the answer to the question "Which came first: The chicken or the egg?" 

#4.    In the winter of 2007, I do laundry, and Huey Lewis wins another Nobel.  Unfortunately, this time, at his benefit concert to raise money for the impoverished Microsoft Corporation, 1980's hairstyles have returned; thus, Aqua-Net sales sky-rocket and the Earth's ozone layer is dealt a lethal blow.  And, suddenly, just like twenty-years earlier, I find myself getting beat up for wearing my Huey Lewis shirt. 

#5.    Escaping the ire of my countrymen in 2008, I find myself stranded in the backwaters of Outer-Mongolia living in a Yurt and selling contraband hair-spray and Grateful Dead bootlegs (I've had enough of Mr. Lewis at this point).  Here's my humble abode:

                     

#6.    One day, while swapping three Hello Kitty t-shirts for twelve gallons of yogurt in 2009, a small Renault pulls up to my yurt, coughs twice, belches out a thick cloud of black smoke, and finally dies with a long, rattling shudder.  A woman steps out and explains that she's a Zen-Buddhist from France where she owns a poodle-farm in the Burgundy hill-country.  She tells me that her name is Lilly, and she needs an "edge" in the upcoming Westminster-Hooters' Kennel Club Dog Show, and a "friend of a friend" apparently told her that my yurt was just the place to go for that edge.  So, having nothing left to lose at this point, I give her my remaining cache of Aqua-Net on the condition that she give me a ride back to France.  She agreed, and I promptly sign the deed to my Yurt over to the man with the 12 gallons of yogurt.  And, here's the happy salesman and some friends (you'll notice I mowed the lawn and installed a Direct TV satellite dish in my yurt before leaving):

                                   

#7.    During our drive from Mongolia to France in 2009, Lilly's Renault was rear-ended by a yak somewhere in Mongolia.  When we confronted the driver of the yak, it turned out to be George Lucas,and he was utterly drunk.  He explained that he had one-too many vodka yogurt shooters while scouting locations for a new space epic starring Huey Lewis.  

#8.    In late 2009, I win the lottery again.  This time I win two-million.  Unfortunately, with taxes being what they are, I find myself owing a hundred grand, but it's clear my luck is improving.

#9.    In 2010, Lilly's poodles dominate the Dog Show --winning all categories AND Best in Show.  She and I had to be careful to keep them away from open flames due to the Aqua-Net (those little guys go up like tinder-boxes, ya know?).   But, they did well, and even passed all their steroid tests amid doping allegations:                                                       

                                        

#10.   In 2011, with the ozone layer now completely gone, Lilly and I decide to vacation in Tibet.  It is at this time that I realize that I want this little Zen-Buddhist poodle-farmer from France to be my wife.  So, one day, outside a Starbuck's in Kathmandu, I ask her to marry me.  Fortunately, a passing sherpa was accomodating enough to take the following photo (that's me on the right).  As you can plainly see, I am very nervous (but she just looks so excited, huh?):

                                            

Now, there's also a sort of extra-credit thing to this assignment.  Who will be president in 2011?

That's easy!!   Keith Richardswill be president of the United States.  However, both the House and the Senate will have its members replaced by chimpanzees in 2011, and things in this country will suddenly begin to improve. 

Well, that's what I have to look forward to for the next five years.  That is, of course, if I ever DO decide to actually get around to doing that laundry. 

See ya,

DP

 

Screwing around.

Forgive me, I didn't realize that I could cut and paste a photo directly into my text-box.  That makes things a LOT easier. 

                                        

If any of you out there in Southern California need a street sweeper, I suggest you visit my good friends at http://www.socalstreetsweepers.com/

AND, I can now add more than one picture.  So, this next one's for a Norse psycho-chick in Chicago who has issues with Ikea and the Swedish.  Behold, the power of...

                                             

Anyway, here's a guy picking his nose:

                                                        

Thank you for your patience...

Going Postal...

Mahalo,

Now, since I started this little blogging project, I've gotten a lot of email.  Some of it's been good ("Dude!  You rock!"), and some of it's been bad ("Dude!  You suck!"), but it's nice to know that people at least read some of my lunacy and take the time to write.  Feedback's a handy thing, methinks (after all, I'm still trying to figure out this whole online thing.  Yeah...  I'm kinda dim). 

Anyway, since it's Thursday, and since the part of my brain that controls higher-cognative functioning and reasoning seems to have hung a "See ya Monday" sign on the door, I figured I'd take a little time to answer a few of those questions I found in my mailbox (don't worry.  I'll keep you annonymous).  So, here goes:

Are you insane????

I think sanity is a relative concept.  If you put me in a roomfull of people sitting in a corner contemplating a ball of yarn, chances are, I'm going to come across as fairly normal.  On the other hand, if you put me in a roomfull of more logic-minded, psycho-analytical folks, I'll probably focus the brunt of my attention on the nearest paperclip or some other small, shiny object, and look kind of crazy.  So, you make the call. 

However, in my defense, since I don't drool, and since I consider that sort of thing is a dead-giveaway to a person's mental state, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I'm actually quite normal. 

Hey!  I'm in Minnesota.  Where in Wisconsin do you live?

Now, I'm really not going to give you my address, but I will narrow it down for you a bit.  First, drive East until you hit the big lake.  Then, turn right.  Bring lunch.

Where do you get your ideas from?

Insofar as I'd like to tell you that these weird notions of mine come from a one-armed man in Cleveland named Dewey, the truth of the matter is, they just pop into my head and they seem to make an odd bit of sense at the time. 

 

Okay....  That's about all the questions I have time for at the moment.  Keep the comments and emails coming, and I do look forward to hearing from you.  Who knows?  Maybe every Thursday my mind may take the day off, leaving me to answer more questions.  Just don't expect an entirely serious answer, okay?

Aloha,

DP

 

The Meaning of Life (The Short Version)

I am once again pondering the usual existential question:  Why Am I Here? 

Somewhere on a mountain in Tibet, there is a malnourished Buddhist who will say that the meaning of life is the sound of one hand clapping.  I don't know about you, but if I were to brave the hazards of blizzards, high winds, hypoxia and Yeti outrage on some Himalayan death-march to receive that answer, I'd have to say that, at that point, I think the meaning of life would sound more like a sherpa being thrown to his death than any sort of single-handed applause. 

Furthermore, there are those out there who will say that you've never lived life until you've experienced a brush with death.  That's why I refuse to help old ladies cross the street.  After all, no one ever told me it had to be MY death that I'm having a brush with, and in this experience, I have no problem with getting a "second-hand" answer to my question.  Don't worry.  It's not like I'm going to be shoving them into traffic.  That would be mean AND illegal, and I am certain that the meaning of life is NOT to sit in a prison. 

On the other hand, there's also the concept that the meaning of life is to simply eat, drink and be merry.  I can embrace that, and where better to find this meaning of life than at the local Hooters Happy Hour?  I mean, there I can take a glipse into the mind of God while a cute girl in hot pants serves me beer and wings.  I mean, I don't know about you, but to me, it sure beats the hell out of climbing mountains or playing Frogger with the elderly.  

Oh well...    

Toodles,

DP

 

What the....?

Howdy,

Egads!  My brain feels like a rusty, old lawn-chair this morning.  I suppose there are certain Zen-like benefits in not being able to form a logical, coherent thought.  I mean, I could easily sit and gape at a houseplant and drool my way into enlightenment.  Granted, it's not particularly productive, and it might make the houseplant somewhat nervous, but it might be just the thing I need to do.  Besdies, there's one special cactus I have that definitely could use a little angst. 

Anyway, as many of you know, I'm not a particularly politically-minded person.  I tend to stroll the middle of that road rather than get in the middle of what seems like nothing other than childish bickering.  However, this latest, devisive kerfuffle our President has caused does certainly intrigue me. 

I don't understand why we would sell control of our ports to a foreign country that threatens us --be it directly or indirectly.  I'm certain that in time I'll learn more of the reasoning behind it.  My biggest concern is the fact that President Bush doesn't seem to really think things through all that much, and now he's saying with his usual Stalin-esque bravado that he will veto any bill Congress passes in order to block the sale of our ports to a nation which many in our country are kind of skeptical about.  I certainly do question the motives behind this sale, and I wonder who exactly is going to gain from this?  

Now, not to sound like a conspiracy nut, but am I the only one who sees that it's probably not a coincidence that Bush's desire to sell our ports to this conglomerate of oil-producing nations comes at a time when he is scampering about the country preaching the importance of reducing our nation's dependence on foreign oil?   Is he thinking that we owe these nations something simply because we are looking to decrease the amount of oil this country uses and thus imports?  

Yup.  It's an odd, little affair.  I for one won't feel any safer should this sale go through.  Bush is obviously welcome to try and change my mind, but I have zero confidence that he will address the concerns of his people.  He preaches against fear and trerror, but actually does little to make this country any safer.  If he feels we owe the Arab Oil Emerates anything, perhaps we should just send them a fruit basket and a thank-you note. 

Oh well...  Time to torture the cactus.  Have a great day!

See ya,

DP

 

Me & My Bomb..

Yes.  I carry a bomb everywhere I go.  Don't worry, it's not a very destructive bomb, and I carry it more for self-preservation than anything.  It's something I learned from Douglas Adams, and I believe that my reasons are logically sound. 

For example, let's say I'm sitting in a movie theater, okay?  What do you suppose the odds are that there will be a bomb in that movie theater? 

I figure they're pretty slim to begin with, but in this day and age, it could happen.  So, in light of that, I think I need to change those odds a little more in my favor.  That's why I carry my little bomb.  After all, what are the odds of there being, not one, but TWO bombs in a movie theater?  Pretty rare, don't you think?  

So, if you're walking around worrying about being blown-up, I suggest you carry a bomb.  It may just save your life. 

Weight-Loss Challenge

Now, before I begin, it should be noted that my height and weight are approximately 6'2", and 210-215 lbs..  Why is this important, you ask?  Well, I'll tell you.

A while back, I went to my doctor for a garden-variety check-up, and he noted that I'd put on a few pounds.  And, I do agree that I have, but I don't think it's anything major.  I mean, c'mon.  There was Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc...  I'm German.  My people invented over-eating.  And, during the holidays, there was more food at the table than happy hour at the Old Country Buffet.  I defy anyone not to pack on a pound or two grazing on that particular feast.  But I digress.

My doctor conveyed his desire for me to lose weight in a very serious tone.  He told me of the obvious hazards of being overweight and everything.  Then, he told me (and I'm serious here folks), "Instead of trying to lose weight all at once, why don't we just try to lose one pound a month, and I'll see you in three months?" 

Yeah.  Do the math!  He wants me to lose three pounds in three months.  That's hardly worthy of the typically humilliating weight-loss challenges we see televised on Dr. Phil or whatnots.  I mean, do I need Richard Simmons to come banging on my door in order to beat this?  Should I be "Sweatin' to the Oldies?"  What would Jared do? 

Anyway, after proccessing that odd, little challenge, I went home, weighed myself, then I took my change out of my pocket and saw that I'd lost a pound.  I figured, there's my problem:  I'm not overweight.  I just carry around too many quarters.  Calories are not the issue.  Currency is. 

So, after that epiphany, I decided to hit McD's, pick up a Big Mac and pay for it with all this unwanted change. 

Moreover, in my quest to lose three pounds, I figure I can lose at least another pound if I just stop wearing shoes.  AND, since I don't have any change to carry around anymore, do I really need pants?  Between shoes and pants, there's at least 5 pounds, and add the lack of money to that, and now I weigh about 209. 

So, in three months, I plan to show up back at the doc's office barefoot, penniless and naked, but at least my weight will finally be acceptible...

See ya,

DP

 

What a crazy day!!!

Sorry about not following-through with the tale of anodized aluminum stock pot love.  It's been a hell of a Monday, and I am just trying to soak it all in. 

First, I got horribly stuck in traffic watching my gas gauge creep slowly onto "E" while the President's motorcade took over the expressway and clogged the thing all to hell.  Oddly, he was in town giving a chat on the importance of Wisconsin corn, alternative fuel sources, and hybrid vehicles.  Oh no!  Don't think for one second that the irony was lost on me.     

When I got home, my cell-phone started chirping with the annoying little noise that I designated as one, special person's ring.  It was the ex-girlfriend. 

Now, don't get me wrong, my ex is a great woman.  She is the kind of girl who could make a bad day better and a good day great just by being in my life, and I'll probably never understand what went wrong between us.  But, I do feel lucky for the time spent with her.  But, c'est la vie. 

Anyway, she apprently called to tell me something that I apparently didn't want to hear, and then she didn't tell me.  I know...  It doesn't really make any sense when you try and wrap your mind around it.  It's kind of like walking up to someone and saying "knock-knock!"  And then walking away when they ask "Who's there?" 

Oh well...  Tomorrow is another day.  I hope all your Mondays made more sense than mine. 

Toodles,

DP

 

Snowy Cat

Now, before you alert PETA, the ASPCA or Pamela Anderson about my "cruelty" toward my pets, please keep in mind that not only does my cat enjoy the snow, he also loves running around in the pouring rain, playing in the mud, and his two favorite foods are cantaloupe and Roquefort cheese. 

Anywhoo...  I thought I'd slap this in here for y'all to gander at. 

 

Lottery Madness (Part Deux)

Hi all,

Now, Cmbtvet mentioned that the odds of winning the lottery are roughly the same as getting hit by lightning, and I'm inclined to agree.  But, those odds can be improved with a little common sense.  First, golfing in a thunderstorm would increase the chances of a lightning strike, thereby increasing the chances of winning the lottery.   Essentially, what you want to do to win the lottery is to turn yourself into the best lightning rod you can and embrace the universal aphorism that "What doesn't kill us can only make us richer."  Then, once you're richer, join a gym, lift some weights and get stronger.

Unfortunately, I lacked the electrical conductivity to win the lottery this time around.  It was simply too cold outside to stand on the golf course and wave a club in the air during our last episode of "thunder snow."  However, I did stick paper clips in the electrical outlets around the house to get just enough of an electrical "tickle" to win a few bucks at least. 

Now, since I'm dispensing valuable advice, I'd like to tell you all how to survive a shark attack should any of you find yourselves in such a dire predicament. 

First, one major rule of scuba-diving is to ALWAYS use the buddy system, and make a habit of knowing where that buddy is at all times.  This is important.  If you're going to survive a shark attack, you need at least one buddy with you. 

Now, when you see a threatening shark coming toward you, pull out your knife and give your buddy a poke, and swim like crazy in the opposite direction.  After all, there is a damn good reason why the terms "buddy" and "chum" are interchangeable.  So, when diving, just remember to always use the chum system.  But I digress...

The lottery?  Yeah.  Some lucky lightning rod had the only winning ticket.  And, I'm certain he's probably sitting at home right now fielding phone calls from ex-girlfriends who have suddenly realized they made a "mistake."  I don't envy the poor bastard. 

Well...  That's my rambling for now.  Thanks to Cmbtvet for the comments, and thanks for getting my brain rolling in a pretty odd direction.  Tomorrow, I will discuss my long, sordid love affair with the anodized aluminum stock pot. 

Toodles,

DP

On Curling.

Well now...  It seems I'm not the only meager-minded yahoo fascinated by the sport of curling.  Apparently, it's become the proverbial "Hot Ticket" in Torino.  I mean, who'd a thunk, eh?  The fans in the stands even do the wave, and the US Curling website shut down as a result of too many hits.  Yeah!  Curling! 

I'm a fan of the Olympics, and when they come around, my friends and I usually pick a mundane, rather unknown sport to poke fun at and gamble on for no real good reason (Badminton, anyone?).  Curling always seemed like a perfect target.  I mean, it's slow-paced and out of place in today's extreme sports' world of Shawn White 10-80's and whatnots.  So what's with the sudden fascination?

Perhaps the appeal of this odd little sport is that it just seems "old," and perhaps it gives one a sense of nostalgia for simple times.  It's just ice, brooms and a hunk of granite.  It's competitive without seeming to be.  There are no heated-rivalries, doping-scandals, steroids, or any other trappings of today's world of competitive sports.  It's nothing more than honest people playing an honest game.  Watching this sport and its players probably reminds us of other sports and the way they used to be. 

Sadly, once the Olympics wrap up in Torino, this quirky, little sport will once again fade into obscurity, and we will once again have to listen to the ridiculous squawkings of Terrell Owens, Barry Bonds and every other annoying, self-important sports figure who's forgotten why we play the games we play.  Today's atheletes could learn a thing or two from the people of curling. 

Ciao,

DP

Frozen.

Hi all and sundry,

Well, it's about 12-below zero here this morning, and in my world, that's booger-freezin' cold.  There's also a wind-chill that rolls in on a pleasant little 25-below breeze.  So, if this is hell, I have to say, I've always imagined it'd be somewhat warmer.  In fact, spending an eternity in a lake of fire sounds kind of appealing right about now.

Anyway, I've gotten some mail about the picture I posted yesterday.  So, thanks to everyone for all the comments.  Here's another picture to look at.

Things I Hate.

Now, a lot of people accuse me of being too laid back.  What they don't see, however, is that I'm usually standing on the verge of embarking on a maniacal spree of global devestation.   

For example, earlier today, our President was prattling on about the importance of education in mathematics, science and technology if our country is going to succeed in the 21st century.   

Now, I do agree that those things are very important.  However, it bothers me that this information is coming from a man who is lethally challenged by a freakin' bag of pretzels (When was the last time YOU got a black eye from eating a snack?)  Why doesn't he just say, "Study hard, kids.  Or you might just wind up being President someday!" 

Next?  The Emerald Nuts commercials:  They are absolutely the worst things I've ever seen.  I hate them, and I hate Billy Mays and his friggin' Oxy-Clean, Oxy-Boost, Orange-flavored Bam! household cleaner.  I'm sure they're great products, but does he have to scream at me like some desperate crack-addict looking for money?  He's simply one informercial away from having his head explode.

I also hate any commercial telling me to be friends with my adjectives.  If I want to be friends with my fast or my slow, that's my own damn business.  Besides, neither of those two friends will ever buy me a drink or chip in for gas on a road trip, so I'm pretty sure they'd be lousy friends.  And just why the hell is a German car company picking my friends in the first place?  They should stick with what they know and tell me to be friends with my beer, Jagermeister and bratwurst.  That's a concept I can easily embrace. 

So, as you can plainly see, I've got a lot to be angry about.  

Ciao, 

DP

 

Lottery Madness.

Forgive me, but I have to babble a bit about the 360+ million dollar lottery.  It's insane, and it's gotten to the point where desperate folks will brave the brutal Wisconsin winter to venture out to get their collection of numbers.  It's like ten degrees outside!  Sure, if you win, you can afford to repair those frostbitten digits, but the odds are sort of stacked against ya.

What would I do with that much money?  Hmmm....

I'm a simple-minded fool, so I'd probably just pick up a six-pack and a Big Mac with some fries.  I mean, 360 million is a LOT of money, but it's still not enough to accomplish my goals. 

Of course, I'd have a little more leeway to be a real prick to a lot of people.  Like when some pinheaded dolt parks his or her new car crooked in the grocery store parking lot for fear of getting dings and scratches?  I hate those people.  Needless to say, that shiny new car would be doused in gas and set ablaze, and when the dope comes out screaming, I can say, "Hey!  At least it's not scratched, right?"

Well...  It's Friday, and hopefully everyone reading this is having a good one.  If you bought your powerball ticket, good luck!  If not, then all I can say is park your car carefully. 

The Olympics

Welcome!

Well, it seems I finally have started a blog.  I created this thing as a sort of outlet for my  thoughts, frustrations and whatnots.  Those of you who know me know that I pretty much have an opinion on just about everything, and many of those opinions can be pretty damn funny.  But I digress...

Anyway, I have a new passion in my life.  And, believe it or not, it's a sport (at least I think it's a sport.  It seems more like a drinking game, but they're handing out gold medals for it in Torino, so it certainly deserves world-wide recognition in my book.  And, since this IS my "book," let's recognize it). 

The sport is Curling.  I don't understand a damn bit of it, but it is the most docile, placid, relaxing thing I've ever watched.  It's like bowling without all the noise, and it has none of the coma-inducing qualities of televised golf.  More importantly:  women's curling has some of this planet's most attractive women I've ever seen in the world of sport.  They are all absolutely gorgeous, AND this odd little sport requires them to use BROOMS!  And, not to sound too misogynistic, but is there anything more appealing than a woman with swimsuit model looks playing a sport that requires World-Class broom handling skills? 

Now, if any women find themselves reading this, I should also say that the sport of men's curling ALSO requires brooms.  And, as many of you probably know, it's an even greater rarity to find a man who can properly operate that particular piece of household equipment at ANY level --Olympic or otherwise. 

Other than that, the sport itself seems to require more finesse than this clumsy oaf's motor skills are capable of.  Trust me.  If you put me on a sheet of ice with a heavy hunk of granite in my hands, it's only a matter of time before something gets broken or someone gets seriously hurt.

The thing is, curling actually IS kind of entertaining to watch.  There's something oddly relaxing about watching boudlers bouncing around off of one another.  It's kind of like a full-contact fishtank (but that's a subject for a later date). 

Now, I hate to be cliche, but I think I need to hand out an "Idiot of the Week" award. 

This week, the easy choice for idiot would be Dick Cheney, and his propensity for peppering his best friends with buckshot, but I am going to have to stick with today's theme and go with the drunken yutz I recently met who thinks that NASCAR should be an Olympic sport. 

Obviously, there's something special about NASCAR fans.  And, it's clear that some are more "special" than others.  But, let's draw a line here, okay?  I mean, we get it!  Some people like to watch a bunch of cars make high-speed left turns as much as I like to watch a bunch of smokin' hot, broom-wielding women throw around hunks of granite on a sheet of ice.  But let's keep the growling engines out of the Olympics and focus upon the athletes. 

Well, that's it.  I think I've babbled enough for now.  Leave a comment, question, suggestion or universal truth if you please. 

Truly,

DP

P.S.  I'm told that in order to get the hit counter spinning, I need to add the following words:  Porn, Amish butter-churning, Dirty Bomb, MENSA, and Cheese.