In the words of Ebby Calvin “Nuke” Laloosh, you must play this game with fear and ignorance, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Give him a hand
A German man is recovering after receiving a double arm transplant. He is now considered armed but not dangerous.

Yuck
Roseanne Barr claims somebody stole a sex tape of her. Upon hearing there was a Roseanne sex tape, the double arm transplant demanded to have his arms removed along with his eyes.

Who would steal a Roseanne Barr sex tape? Even Tom Arnold couldn’t stomach that.

Roseanne received an anonymous note demanding that she please, please take the tape back.

Polled
A survey claims that 89% of men polled claim they prefer women with smaller natural breasts to women with larger fake breasts. Another survey reveals 89% of men are polled while standing next to their wife.

Bad week
You think you had a rough day in the market? I bought stock in the financial company that bundled the mortgage of Nick Nolte’s Malibu house.

Poled
A survey claims that 89% of men polled claim they prefer women with smaller natural breasts to women with larger fake breasts. Another survey reveals that 89% of polls are conducted by scary looking women with small breasts.

Bush league
Laura Bush and her daughter Jenna just co-authored a children’s book called “Read All About It” about a boy who doesn’t like to read. Or as they call him Dubya.

Not good
This market is a mess. My broker didn't jump off a ledge, but I did catch him chugging a glass of Chinese milk.

It take a playa to play the play we play today, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

This hurt me more than it will hurt you
Did you see the security footage of the big bear cub cruising into a Subway sandwich shop? You know how they got rid of the Cub? They put it in the baseball playoffs.

Better do ssssomthin’ ‘bout that sssssspeech impediment, Ssssssssonny, whooooooa.
I don’t want to imply that John McCain whistles when he talks, but, at one point during the debate, I thought McCain was doing voice-over work for Gopher in “Winnie the Pooh.”

Not good
To give you an idea how bad the economy is, today the Beverly Hills Chihuahua had sex-for-pay with the Encino Beagle.

Again, not good
David Duchovney finished his sexual addiction rehab, but I don’t know if he is serious about his recovery. Today Duchovney attended a sexaholics anonymous meeting at the Playboy Mansion.


How about that?
The good news about this financial crisis is that it has really forced me to diversify my investments. In fact my investments are so diversified, they diversified right out of my portfolio.

This market has really put back the dive in diversify.

Huh?
Nick Nolte had to jump out a window when his Malibu house caught fire. The weird part? When Nolte jumped out of the window he was at his next door neighbor’s house.

E-mail goggles
A problem is people send regretful e-mails when drunk so Google’s e-mail system, G-mail, has safeguards to stop it. They ask questions to determine if you’re drunk like what’s 199+87? What’s the capital of New York? Who is hotter, Sarah Palin or Hillary Clinton?

Ya sure ya know there
Sarah Palin referred to Afghanistan as a neighboring country. Yeah, apparently it’s where all those Akmed Sixpacks live.

Keep it fair
During the debate, John McCain referred to Barack Obama as that one. To be fair to the older McCain, the candidates really should have been wearing name tags.

You think that’s bad, at one point McCain referred to himself as what’s-his-name.

Sex therapy
David Duchovney checked out of sexual addiction rehab; the treatment for sexual addiction varies greatly depending on the sex. Female sex addicts undergo intensive psycho therapy and behavioral modification exercises; with male sex addicts they just take away their wallet.

Since you asked:
Dog’s Long Shadow is my new rock/blues/country fusion band. Our first single is Santa Ana Dreams. “A dream of you blew into my heart like a Santa Ana wind.”

OK, maybe not. Too eighties? Yeah.

Lord knows I am a fan of the comfort food. In these disquieting times we can use all the comfort we can get. Macaroni and cheese, grilled bologna with barbeque sauce, meat loaf, hot dogs, cheeseburgers and – pause for Herald Trumpets – the ol’ P.B. and J with a cold glass of milk.

But for decades we let our comfort foods choose us. Mac and Cheese? Kraft. Hot dogs? Oscar Meyer. Hamburgers? Mickie D’s. Meat loaf? However Mom, bless her heart, made it.

But with the tiniest bit of effort and the slightest increase in expense, you can make these comfort foods even better. Hot dogs? Nathan’s. Mac and Cheese? Do it yourself with Havarti and a fancy cheddar. Hell, Boar’s Head deli foods has an unbelievable bologna.

One of the things I do make that I could probably get in a bottle is barbeque sauce. But I loves me some my peach barbeque sauce, yo. Sautee some diced yellow onions, add peach preserve, a splash of apple cider vinegar, a big dollop of ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire sauce and dust with garlic powder. Simmer it down for 15 minutes. What? Are you kiddin’ me?

What comfort food did I sexy up a touch this morning? Cheerios.

“OK, hold on there, Lex. How is it possible to improve on or sexy up as you so gaily put it, Cheerios?”

Well, inner tirade, I will tell you. I grilled a banana. Yep, got the grill real hot, and plopped a banana right on it until there were black and brown grill marks. Five minutes total. Sliced it up and put it on the Cheerios. They tasted like a cosmic combination of bananas and roasted marshmallows, is all they tasted like.

Good googly moog, there has to come a time when I start charging for these pearls of wisdom.

It is what it is is what it is, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

That should do it
David Duchovney was checked out of sexual addiction rehab; they are taking drastic steps to make sure David doesn’t relapse into sexual addiction. They gave him a job at Radio Shack.

Do the math
In Florida, an 18-year-old man claims he was robbed by five topless women; when asked if he got a good look at them, he said “Are you kidding? I got a good look at all ten of them.”

A thigh slapper, donchyaknow
Did you see the Vice Presidential debate on Friday: Wasn’t Sarah Palin’s imitation of Tina Fey hilarious?

Who knew?
The Detroit Shock beat the San Antonio Silver Stars, 76-60 to win the WNBA title; incidentally the Shock are named after people’s reaction when they find out there is still a WNBA.

Outsider
Last weekend the world’s heaviest man, at 1232 pounds, got married. Normally there would be a fat guy joke here but I am a comedy maverick. I don’t do predictable. But his bride’s odds of surviving the honeymoon are six to one.

Two factions
Last week in Milwaukee a brawl broke out during a Celine Dion concert; There was a skirmish between the people who think Celine Dion stinks versus the ones who think she sucks.

Darn it, hang on
I’m telling you, this economy is bad. The other day I saw a . . . oh, shoot, just a minute, cling, cling, cling, sorry, I had to stop and put some quarters into my coin-operated computer.

Would it kill them to knock it off?
You know I think I’ve figured out the cause of our financial crisis. It’s all those New York Stock Exchange floor brokers who worriedly rub their brows and grimace and hang their heads. If the press didn’t keep printing their stupid picture the market would be fine. Smile, Slappy.

It’s the press’s favorite picture next to a Palestinian kid throwing a rock at an Israeli tank.

Make it simple
There is a website that sells cinnamon rolls wrapped in bacon. It’s perfect for those people who can’t decide if they want to die from diabetes or a heart attack.


Since you asked:
There was a new comedian on “TTSWJL” last night named Natasha and she was really good. Great stuff on how Rite Aid sucks. “These people wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and say “As little as possible.”

It has been my contention that Rite Aid is what all stores would look like if they were run by the government. If you want to feel better about the people who work at the DMV, go to Rite Aid. Rite Aid’s mission statement is “We want you to buy it, we just don’t want to ring it up.”

They have ice cream at Rite Aid. Have you ever seen the look of frustration and resentment on the employee who has to actually scoop out the ice cream? You’d think they were being sent in to diffuse a bomb.

One of the cashiers at Rite Aid couldn’t pronounce “Next” correctly.

This story is now over ten years old, but when Virg was preggers with AC, she sent me to Rite Aid to get an electric breast pump. When I got to the cashier she actually asked if somebody was pregnant. I am proud to say I did not blink and said,

“No, it’s for me.”

By the way, I would say that the Soup Plantation is the Rite Aid of restaurants, but my daughter loves that place. When she does drag me there, she takes me around and shows me how to best get stuff. It is very cute.

Like Ebby Calvin “Nuke” Laloosh, we wanna announce our presence with authority, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers.

It’s going to be fine
Our real estate values are plummeting, oil prices are up and the stock market is falling. But you want to know how I know everything is going to be fine? OJ Simpson is going to prison.

I’ve said it before
A survey reveals 96% of adults use e-mails, cell phones or the internet, none of which was readily available until the 1990’s. In fact, in 1995 if a guy asked a woman if he could Google her Blog with his Palm Pilot, he would get slapped.

In fact, in 1994, a digital advance was something a guy didn’t get until the third date.

It’s never happened
Financial experts continue to claim this economic crisis is a crisis of confidence. Which is odd because nobody ever had their check returned due to insufficient confidence.

The Juice ain’t loose
OJ Simpson was found guilty on all counts of kidnapping and robbery charges 13 years to the day he was acquitted of a double murder. “That’s too bad, OJ is such a great guy,” said nobody.

So what happens in Las Vegas stays in Nevada.

If only
Researchers at UCLA have discovered a way for women to have an orgasm in three minutes; now all they have to do is come up with a way to make the guy last that extra minute and a half.

That’s sweet
The world’s fattest man, at 1232 pounds, is getting married; his fiancé wrote the vows: “Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and always, always be on the bottom?”

More juice
OJ Simpson was found guilty on all 12 counts of kidnapping and robbery charges 13 years to the day he was acquitted of a double murder. There were no reports of wild celebrations, but it was reported at several Starbucks many customers exchanged awkward high fives.

Since you asked:

Not to be a Pollyanna, but I think a little perspective is due during this doom and gloom time.

In 1987, I had moved across the country to become a stock broker in La Jolla. About a week after my brokerage license was printed the market crashed on October 19th, otherwise known as Black Monday. What few clients I had were losing their shirts and they were very upset with me. Little did we know that a year later the market would be higher than it was before the crash.

That crash seemed like the end of the world to me. I was wrong. The end of the world came three days later when my father fell into a coma due to an aneurism. One day I was staring transfixed at a plunging market index and a few days later I was staring transfixed at my Dad’s heart rate monitor.

In the nightmare that followed after my Dad passed, I tried to follow the market on TV at my parent’s home in Winnetka, Illinois. This was before they had cable so there was no CNN. All they had was some guy in an echoing studio at WGN with a cheap card table and a lone microphone reading off the results of the falling market. All the while my Uncle, whose family had lost their fortune and steel company in the depression, was trying to be helpful by telling me, for my Mother’s sake, it’s time to stock pile canned foods, melt down the silverware and purchase fire arms to fight off looters and sell everything while we still can. It was breadlines and rioting time.

Cut to: 1994 and the market was screaming up. The market was screaming and yet there was nobody who owned a workable cell phone, nobody had e-mails and there was practically nobody on the Internet but a bunch of dorks. If you had a computer you used it to write on Word Perfect or do spread sheets, but more likely it was used just to play games.

Now look at us. Not only can you instantly see the “SNL” Tina Fey portrayal of Sarah Palin on YouTube, you’ll be able to buy the Larry Flynt porn DVD with a look-alike Sarah Palin titled “Nailin’ Palin” on Amazon.com.

Is this a great country or what? Don’t melt down the silverware quite yet.

Man, I had a rough day, I went to the airport to pick up a friend, went into the men’s room and Idaho Senator Larry Craig asked me to vote on his bail out package.


MSNBC featured celebrities and their favorite book. For example, Greg Kinnear’s was “Into the Wild.” Anne Curry’s was “The Once and Future King.” And President Bush listed that monkey George book with that feller with the yeller hat.

Saturday Morning Caffeine-fueled rant

Although most are great, there are a few parents we know through our daughter’s school who are, well, crazy a-holes.

It got me to thinking: how come none of adults I knew growing up were a-holes or crazy? Or were they?

Then I started thinking harder: my high school varsity football coach was a complete crazy a-hole. A full-fledged moron, but a crazy a-hole. He placed his winning record far above the health of the teenagers he was responsible for time and time again. If he tried now the verbal and physical abuse he did back in 1975/76, he would go to jail.

And then there was the blowhard neighbor down the street who, when I was ten, claimed to be a sailing expert. Every year he crewed on a boat that raced in the famous Chicago to Mackinac race. (Looking back, his fat ass was probably just used for ballast)

So when my Dad bought a broken down 15 foot sailboat from a broken down drunk - they didn't have alcoholics back then, just drunks - and fixed it up all summer, until it was finally ready by November, Mr. Gould insisted he would show us how to sail.

In retrospect anyone who wasn’t a total a-hole would not have chosen to go out on such a cold and blustery day on Lake Michigan in November. The sky was the same battleship grey as the lake except the Lake had white caps from the high winds.

When my brother and I weakly protested that it was cold – we were in blue jeans and thick sweaters and were still freezing –Mr. Gould blustered:

“Ahh, don’t tell me you’re a damn fair weather sailor?”

We didn’t know what a fair weather sailor meant, we just knew we didn’t want to be one. "Yes, of course we're fair weather sailors," we should have screamed; "anyone who isn't is a d*ckhead."

Out on the lake Mr. Gould was working hard to show us how great of a sailor he was which apparently meant terrifying me and my brother to death. We did not know that a sail boat under full sail heeled so far to one side and we did not like it to say the least.

Now after years of sailing and windsurfing I know that, if you are in a race or trying to sail at top speed, you heel as far over as you can and throw your weight over the side. But we were not in a race, we were on our 15 foot boat, the Swoose’s virgin cruise. On a blustery November day on Lake Michigan, no less.

What I also now know after years of sailing is that maybe on a rough day in a close, tough race, you haul the sails in tight and heel the boat over so far that you are on the edge of flipping. But any sailor who is any good won’t flip it. All you have to do is spill the wind out of the sails for a split second and or head into the wind a touch and it eases back.

You also learn to read the texture of water in front of you to anticipate a hard gust. You have to be an idiot or something has to snag or break to flip a boat over – especially a wide family picnic cruiser like we had, it was not a tippy, sleek narrow racer.

It turns out Mr. Gould was such an idiot.

Before we knew what happened we took in water on the leeward side, the weight of all the water threw Mr. Gould off and he panicked and lost control of the main sail and the tiller, so Swoose lurched all the way to the other side, the wind caught the sail and, as we were now sitting on the wrong side, it tilted way over the other way and we nearly flipped over taking in more water until it was totally swamped. The gunwales were even with the lake's boiling surface. All that was out of the water was the mast and boom and the sails.

We all clung to the side and held on for dear life. What we didn’t know then is that the boat had built-in floating buoys and it was not going to sink. And we all had life preservers on. But for a few horrifying minutes, with waves lapping over my head, I thought we were all going to drown.

Thankfully the Coast Guard had been watching us – they knew only a putz would try and sail in that weather – and they had figured out before we did that Mr. Gould sailed like a buffoon so they had a motor boat out to tow us back in right away.

When we got back to shore, we were blue and shaking. Now they would take us to the hospital for hypothermia. All we did then was take hot showers and eat soup.

What kind of idiotic a-hole risks drowning himself and two young boys and their Dad to show off his macho sailing skills, especially when it was obvious he didn’t really know what he was doing?

That winter I would look out at the jagged, forbearing ice-covered endless lake and tremble with horror imagining my body lying somewhere on the mirky bottom. They say when you get thrown off a horse you have to get back on. The same is true for a sailboat. That spring I was too terrified to go back out in Swoose and it broke my Dad’s poor heart. It wasn’t until about August that I really started enjoying sailing.

From that moment on, Mr. Gould was dead to me. For years after that he would say hello on the sidewalk and I would glare back, not trying to be rude, but mute with pure disgust. There was just no polite way to hide my contempt for him. One day in the backyard my Dad was enjoying an Old Style beer and I had a Seven Up as we listened to the Cubs game on the radio, and my Dad said Mr. Gould asked why I was still mad at him. I told my Dad;

“I’m not mad at him, I just hate him.”

It was one of the times I proudly got my Dad to laugh beer out of his nose.

The swamping of Swoose did teach me that there is nothing quite as satisfying as conquering your fears. Once I got over my abject terror of sailing, it added to the excitement and I fell deeply in love with sailing. I fell in love with the water as well. (It’s tough to do one without the other)

To this day when I am out on the ocean on my board and the swells start to come up a little higher than my comfort range, and I begin to notice the cresting waves sounding like a freight train, I remember that cold November day in Lake Michigan.

Maybe I owe that thrill to Mr. Gould?

No, he was a crazy a-hole.